The Forgotten (The Lost Words: Volume 3) Read Online Free

changed somewhat, but the principle remained. She had to fuck affluent men in dominant positions to get what she wanted. And when it came to raw appeal, General Pacmad was not ugly. He sure was more handsome than Leopold under that rugged, primitive mien. And his eyes were beautiful. Shame about his cock.
    Sonya allowed herself a moment of weakness and wiped the itching tears away, then went back to planning what she would do once she had the power of the Kataji tribe in her hands.

CHAPTER 2
    J arman Wan’der Markssin watched the big city grow in his vision with a mix of wonder, apprehension, and vague memories from back when he was six, a child in a huge, smelly city. This was the place where his third mother had been killed.
    And now, he was coming back. With an agenda.
    He stood in the prow of the
Sleek Maid
, a cutter used for quick voyages with small but important cargo, in this case, passengers—two men. The ship rode the dark waves with speed and elegance, rising in a hiss of spray before it sliced down into the water like a huge ax. The land rose and fell rhythmically, and each undulation revealed more details.
    Jarman watched as the nearby hills, brown and blue at a distance, coalesced into terraced farms and vineyards and rows of olive trees. He saw the shiny colors of buildings transmute into filthy shades of gray as his gaze went from the high, rich parts toward the vast, sprawling harbor. This place was the heart of Caytor. Eybalen.
    They still had more than an hour before they reached that stench. Strange, how his nostrils remembered the flavor of the city with alarming accuracy when he had all but forgotten thesights and sounds. He just recalled streets strewn with rubbish—narrow, hot, dense—and tall buildings that leaned onto each other and blocked the sun away. So much different from the lovely Tuba Tuba. So much different from the Temple of Justice, where he had spent the last ten years of his life. It should have been one year, but he had stayed.
    “How do you feel?” Lucas said, standing at his side.
    Jarman turned toward his friend, the true nature of his age hidden beneath a veil of blue tattoos. He had never considered asking Lucas about his age; the man had never considered giving it. Anada wizards had their way with information and knowledge. For them, both were extremely precious.
    For them
, he thought.
For me. I’m one of them
.
    He had been elected to wizard status only this last winter. It meant decades more of hard learning and training before he could become a master at his craft, like Lucas. But he could only look forward to that journey with excitement and wonder. Ten years at the temple, and he still felt like a baby making its first hesitant steps into the world. Not timid or shy or clumsy. Exhilarated.
    “I am fine,” Jarman answered.
    Lucas nodded once. The man was probably his father’s age, but it was really hard to tell. With no hair and almost completely blue skin, Lucas did not merit ordinary human measures. Jarman would get his first ink only the next year. Probably.
    “This is an evil city,” Lucas offered, a rare emotional moment for him.
    Jarman did not remember the night his third mother, Inessa, had died. Sometimes, he felt ashamed for having been so young when it’d happened, for not being able to understand the tragedy. He wanted to have that memory etched in hismind, but all he had was a recollection of stories, which he had twisted into a tale of his own, complete with its false images and words and feelings.
    His father, Armin, had taken Inessa’s death badly. He had never returned to Eybalen since, even though the High Council of Trade would invite him often. Lucas had gone there to avenge her, but he had failed to find the killer. Oh, he had gotten to the assassins, but not the mind behind the plot. When he had finally learned the identity of the man responsible, it was already too late. He had already been killed by someone else. The death should have