The Dragon Reborn Read Online Free Page A

of the floor. A mastercraftsman from Lugard had worked nearly a year on that. This time he barely saw it.
    “Sharbon!” For once his body servant did not appear. The man was supposed to be readying the rooms. “The Light burn you, Sharbon! Where are you?”
    A movement caught the corner of his eye, and he turned ready to shrivel Sharbon with his curses. The curses themselves shriveled as a Myrddraal took another step toward him with the sinuous grace of a serpent.
    It was a man in form, no larger than most, but there the resemblance ended. Dead black clothes and cloak, hardly seeming to stir as it moved, made its maggot-white skin appear ever paler. And it had no eyes. That eyeless gaze filled Carridin with fear, as it had filled thousands before.
    “Wha. . . .” Carridin stopped to work moisture back into his mouth, to try bringing his voice back down to its normal register. “What are you doing here?” It still sounded shrill.
    The Halfman’s bloodless lips quirked in a smile. “Where there is shadow, there may I go.” Its voice sounded like a snake rustling through dead leaves. “I like to keep a watch on all those who serve me.”
    “I ser. . . .”
    It was no use. With an effort Carridin jerked his eyes away from that smooth expanse of pale, pasty face and turned his back. A shiver ran down his spine, having his back to a Myrddraal. Everything was sharp in the mirror on the wall in front of him. Everything but the Halfman. The Myrddraal was an indistinct blur. Hardly soothing to look at, but better than meeting that stare. A little strength returned to Carridin’s voice.
    “I serve the. . . .” He cut off, suddenly aware of where he was. In the heart of the Fortress of the Light. The rumor of a whisper of the words he was about to say would have him given to the Hand of the Light. The lowest of the Children would strike him down on the spot if he heard. He was alone except for the Myrddraal, and perhaps Sharbon—
Where is that cursed man?
It would be good to have someone to share the Halfman’s stare, even if the other would have to be disposed of afterwards—but still he lowered his voice. “I serve the Great Lord of the Dark, as you do. We both serve.”
    “If you wish to see it so.” The Myrddraal laughed, a sound that made Carridin’s bones shiver. “Still, I will know why you are here instead of on Almoth Plain.”
    “I . . . I was commanded here by word of the Lord Captain Commander.”
    The Myrddraal grated, “Your Lord Captain Commander’s words are dung! You were commanded to find the human called Rand al’Thor and kill him. That before all else. Above all else! Why are you not obeying?”
    Carridin took a deep breath. That gaze on his back felt like a knife blade grating along his spine. “Things . . . have changed. Some matters are not as much in my control as they were.” A harsh, scraping noise jerked his head around.
    The Myrddraal was drawing a hand across the tabletop, and thin tendrils of wood curled away from its fingernails. “Nothing has changed, human. You forswore your oaths to the Light and swore new oaths, and
those
oaths you will obey.”
    Carridin started at the gouges marring the polished wood and swallowed hard. “I don’t understand. Why is it suddenly so important to kill him? I thought the Great Lord of the Dark meant to use him.”
    “You question me? I should take your tongue. It is not your part to question. Or to understand. It is your part to obey! You will give dogs lessons in obedience. Do you understand
that
? Heel, dog, and obey your master.”
    Anger wormed its way through the fear, and Carridin’s hand groped at his side, but his sword was not there. It lay in the next room now, where he had left it on going to attend Pedron Niall.
    The Myrddraal moved faster than a striking viper. Carridin opened his mouth to scream as its hand closed on his wrist in a crushing grip; bones grated together, sending jolts of agony up his arm. The scream never left