The Spirit Gate Read Online Free Page A

eyes at that.” The baker’s
own eyes slid sideways to Kassia’s
face. “You’ve read the kites over
Lorant. They seek applicants for initiation.”
    “Beyla’s too young yet.”
    “Beyla?
Who said I was speaking of Beyla? What about Kassia?”
    Kassia shot a startled glance at her friend’s round face. “What? You can’t be serious. I’m a widow. I have a
child.”
    “And
so?”
    “And
so . . . I’m
not the sort that usually—”
    “And
so?”
    “Devora,
I’m shai !” Kassia thumped her chest.
    “So
much the better. That means you have exactly what the Mateu pray daily to find
in their Initiates. You should go up there.”
    Kassia stood. “It’s a ridiculous idea!”
    “Are
you calling me ridiculous? See if I give you any more free bread!” Devora reached out and laid a hand on the younger woman’s shoulder as she
moved to leave. “Perhaps,
Kassia Telek, you should cast your own fortune. It may lead you to Lorant.”
    Head shaking in exasperation, Kassia pocketed her two alkas
and headed back to the marketplace to earn more.

Chapter Two — Augur
    Kassia spent the entire afternoon in the marketplace,
flaunting her pale, bright hair, trying to look mysterious to those who did not
know her, trying to look less than silly to those who did. From shy to brazen,
from terrified to bored, she plied her new trade with mixed results. The
strangers were easy enough to deal with once she got past the initial bout of
nerves. They purchased her divinations freely—most amused, a few eager or fretful. It was the
familiar faces that galled her; the angry, the scandalized, the disapproving,
the smug, the pitying. Underlying her anger was a buzz of unease; in the
moments when she allowed her self to think about what it meant to be in a
public market hawking her shai talent, she felt as if she would like to wriggle
out of her skin and find something else to cover her soul.
    Once she looked up to find a Mateu staring at her from
beneath his finely embroidered cowl, disapprovingly, she was certain, and twice
her prospective clients insulted her by mistaking what she was offering to
sell. In either case, it made her want to go home, but there was no home, there
was only Asenka’s
house, where she and Beyla were only half welcome—where they would be even less welcome when Blaz
Kovar heard what his sister-in-law was doing in the marketplace. So she stayed,
feeling more ambivalent with every coin that crossed her palm. Every time a
client murmured, “Thank
you, White Mother,” satisfaction and discomfiture hit her in quick turns. Still, she smiled
and bid them welcome and good fortune and took their money.
    As to that, she soon found that not all were willing to be
so generous as the two would-be priests. Even the most regally appointed of her
customers refused to pay more than a half rega for her service. Most balked at
that, haggling with her over every rez and pitar. Still, the day passed in a
blur of faces, leaving Kassia with the impression that she had divined every
fortune in Dalibor.
    The Sun was kissing the tops of the charred hills west of
town when she finally remembered that her family’s washing yet hung on the drying lines by the
river. Grimacing, because after all, Blaz would be sure to take her tardiness
as a sign of irresponsibility, she pocketed the last of her earnings, hiked up
her skirts and headed for the riverside drying plaza.
    It was all but dark when she got down the last of the
washing; it was absolutely dark and quite cold when she got back to Asenka’s and trundled the
handcart up onto the porch. Entering the house, she found the family seated
around the kitchen table beginning the evening meal. Warmth from the hearth
molded itself to her cheeks, making her skin tingle. Blaz, in the midst of
saying the blessing over the food, shot her a quelling glance. She froze where
she stood, the laundry basket an inadequate shield, and waited until he’d finished to continue
to the circular