The Rock of Ivanore Read Online Free Page A

crumbs. He licked up a handful of the bland fragments of his dinner.
    â€œI’ll start the fire,” he said, clearing a spot of earth and arranging the kindling he had gathered. He reached in his pocket for his key. It was a simple key, just a finger-length rod of iron with a plain oval loop on one end and a notched extrusion at the other. Still, it would not be wise to judge any charm solely on its appearance.
    He gripped the key in his left hand and waved his other over the kindling. “Ignite!” he commanded. Not a flicker appeared. He waved his hand again and repeated the order, but the wood remained stubborn.
    â€œI’ve got flint and wool,” offered Clovis, but Marcus ignored him.
    â€œIgnite, you stupid shrub, ignite!” When the fourth attempt was equally unsuccessful, Marcus sheepishly put away the key for Clovis’s flint and wool. The fire soon engulfed the tinder and Marcus added to it three larger logs. He warmed his hands against the flames. He then removed his cape and spread it out on the ground, resting on it with his back to the fire. Beside him, Clovis did the same and was soon fast asleep.
    Marcus searched the darkening night with wide eyes, but except for the small circle of light cast by the fire, the forest was as black as coal. He could see nothing but the faint silhouette of the nearest trees; the thought of what might lie beyond them made him apprehensive. To calm himself, he turned his thoughts to the quest and to tomorrow’s journey. He knew of a library in Noam, a town on the other side of the mountains, and thought that might be a good place to inquire about the Rock of Ivanore.
    The sound of Clovis snoring convinced him he had better rest as well. He laid down his head on his satchel and closed his eyes. Meanwhile, from the safety of a low-hanging tree branch, a pair of eyes watched him as he slept, their pupils narrowed into fine slits as they studied him.

Five
    n the opposite side of the Isle of Imaness, the sleepy city of Dokur lay atop a sprawling plateau, as content in its security as a napping lion. The claw-like rock formations encircling the harbor were as menacing as the most lethal of weapons. The great tower looked out over the rocky shores of Imaness like an ever-present sentry, and no enemy ever dared approach the island under its ominous gaze. To do so would be to play into the hands of fate toward a certain defeat by means of the royal navy.
    No one escaped the Eye of Dokur.
    Perched on the hill just behind the tower, the Fortress appeared from a distance to be no more than a child’s toy planted on some lonely dune. But those who lived in thesettlement beneath knew the truth about its menacing power and shuddered to think of it. They preferred to go about their business as discreetly as possible, doing nothing to single themselves out from the mass or to attract the attention of His Lordship of Dokur.
    Only one dared to wander from the city and stand upon the cliffs to watch the sea. Every day at twilight, the young woman lay down her bundle of kindling to stare at the vast blue horizon. Almost fifteen years had passed since she had begun this ritual—nearly a lifetime of breaking away from the ebb and flow of daily routine to which everyone else was so fettered. But no one seemed to care or even notice. Not even the Eye of Dokur wasted energy on the dark-haired woman with the distant look in her eyes, the one known only as Mouse.
    She had first come to Dokur when she was five years old. A wayward child, she spent her days in the streets scrounging for food; her nights were spent on the cliffs. When people asked her about her home and her parents, she said nothing, choosing instead to meet their questions with a defiant, tight-lipped stare. At some point she began working to earn her keep. A full belly and a warm bed were temptations no child could resist. She worked long hours, often to the point of exhaustion, but no matter where she