The Spaces Between (A Drunkard's Journey) Read Online Free

minutes, Torplug groaned and came awake.
    “Feeling better?” Zhy asked, gaze still on the stable outside.
    The small-man yawned and pushed himself to his elbows with a chorus of creaks and pops. “I am. Hungry, though.” The mage gave Zhy a brief hard glance.
    “Good. There is leftover rabbit,” Zhy turned and gestured to the tray placed in front of the fireplace.
    “Thank you.” He tore into the cold rabbit. It was odd to see such a small man eat with such fervor
     I could kill him now and save us all misery later , Zhy thought, and lurched at the sudden violent imagery that flashed in his mind.
    Torplug stopped abruptly, a greasy wad of meat poised before his open mouth. “What?” he snapped.
    Zhy colored but quickly tried to cover his thoughts. “I didn’t say anything.” He felt his face get hot and hoped the mage didn’t notice.
    The mage stared at him then shook his head and continued eating. The silence went unbroken for several minutes.
    Finally, Torplug wiped his face with a rag from the tray, set it gently back on the tray, and drained his mug of flat, warm ale. A grimace briefly flashed across his face, and then he turned to Zhy. His expression was blank, but his eyes were piercing slivers. He spoke quietly and calmly, “I am quite well-warded. Even though that spell drained me, I made sure I would stay protected even after it nearly killed me. Your knife would have hit a solid barrier and shattered your arm. Do not underestimate me again, or you will pay the price.”
    “I-I’m sorry,” Zhy stammered, returning his gaze outside. He hoped to cover his crimson face, but the mage had noticed.
    Torplug sniffed.
    Zhy shifted his weight, tried to change the subject. “So you are going home. To Welcfer.” It was not a question.
    The little mage looked at him, and he was prepared for another non-answer. “Yes. And I’d like to make sure we stick to the road from now on and not go blasting off into the wilderness.”
    “Like you did?”
    “I was five feet away from the horses, not half a league,” he spat. What Torplug didn’t have to say, and what Zhy was thinking, much to his shame, was, you just couldn’t see me .
    “You boys should sleep,” Qainur said from the bed.
    Torplug yawned. That look of shame passed over him, but quickly faded. “Fine.”
     
     
     

Chapter 4 — Lessons of the Dawn
     

     
    Secrets! Ah secrets! How would we ever function if we didn’t have secrets, hold secrets, or want to look for secrets? Secrets make us what we are and keep our true selves from others. But it is perhaps the insidious part of the Dark working against us. For what good does it ever serve to be able to say, “I know something you don’t know?”
     
    High Cleric Bertrand
     
     
    “They were not bandits,” Torplug said softly as they continued northward. The outburst sounded loud in the calm morning.
    “They?” Qainur wondered.
    “Indeed. You were lucky to encounter only one. I’m certain there were more. Perhaps the others were out hunting—too far away to help.” He seemed to be having a debate with himself, muttering: “They must be. Must be. Right?” Suddenly he threw up his hands. “Who else could it possibly be?” he shouted to no one in particular.
    “Who?” Qainur shouted. His face was red and he veritably bounced in his saddle. “Who are they? How do you know? And why have you said nothing?” he spat.
    The mage colored but answered quite calmly. “I recognized the warrior immediately. And yes they are warriors. They are a secret order of skilled assassins, and they are called—” He stopped abruptly and looked up and down the road. “What I’m going to tell you is supposed to be closely guarded secret. But we’ve seen them. Now we know. You can tell someone you saw them, but they may or may not believe you. You can tell the Guard, they will call you insane. Tell anyone from a Holy Order, and, well, who knows? Penance? Denial? Anything is possible.”
    “So,