3: Black Blades Read Online Free PDF Page A

Yu’mir’s hair was pulled back into a smooth bun at the back of her neck. She’d probably been up for a few hours already, overseeing the morning baking.
    “So, he’s poisoned?” Fensal asked Yu’mir.
    “I’m not sure.” Yu’mir poured more water for Kahlil and handed him the cup.
    He drank slowly, letting the cool liquid soothe his throat. The bruises Jath’ibaye had left on his throat were probably beginning to darken by now. They’d be black and yellow in a day. He didn’t know how he’d explain them. Perhaps he’d be gone by then. Maybe sooner.
    “Kyle.” Yu’mir lightly touched his hand as he set the empty cup down. “Can you tell me more about the plant you ate? The goatweed?”
    “It won’t kill me,” Kahlil assured her. “I just got some on my hands and forgot about it when I ate dinner. I wasn’t thinking.”
    “I’ll say.” Fensal frowned at him, then looked to Yu’mir. “So, this goatweed will wear off eventually. It’s not going to kill him, is it?”
    “Why do you keep asking me?” Yu’mir asked. “I’ve never even heard of the stuff before now.”
    “It grows in the north, on scrub hills. Three gray leaves with orange tips,” Kahlil said. “If the leaves are eaten they purge the body. Only goats and sheep can keep it down. It’s an unpleasant plant, but the leaves alone won’t kill a grown man.”
    “I’m just going to tell Desh’oun and the others that you’re ill. Don’t tell anyone else about this weed-eating of yours. It just makes us all look stupid.” Fensal paused for a moment and then added, “Particularly you. It makes you look the stupidest.”
    “I won’t do it again.” Kahlil couldn’t help but find Fensal’s terrible bedside manner somewhat endearing.            
    “Stop lecturing him,” Yu’mir said, “and get him to his bed. I have to go before the other runners see me here.”
    “Go, go.” Fensal waved her away. “Thank you for coming.”
    Yu’mir smiled when Fensal turned his back to her. Then she slipped quietly away.
    “Can you walk on your own?” Fensal asked.
    “I think so.” He stumbled out of the bathroom back into the quiet barrack. The canvas panels were still spread around the other runners’ beds, creating an illusion of emptiness. Kahlil went to his own bed. He stripped off his thin, stinking underclothes and lay down naked. The cold sheets smelled clean.
    Fensal followed him to the edge of his bed. Kahlil had expected that Fensal would just go back to bed himself, but then he realized that it was too late for that. Thin rays of dawn sunlight were already seeping through the small windows.
    “How did the races go?” Kahlil whispered.
    Fensal grinned and sat on the edge of Kahlil’s bed.
    “Good. The only one who came close to me was Nam. He’s one of Jath’ibaye’s runners. The bastard is a beast on hills. But I know the streets better. I took him at Baker Cross. He pulled off when he saw the trolley coming and I tore right past him.”
    “I’m sorry I missed it.”
    “There’s always next year.” Fensal rose. “I’m getting the rest of the men up now. You stay here and sleep. I want you well tomorrow.”
    He pulled the canvas panels around Kahlil’s bed closed. Kahlil could hear Fensal rousing the other runners. It sounded like he was assaulting them with their pillows this morning. They groaned, coughed, and grumbled. Kahlil watched their blue-toned shadows jump and stretch across the white folds of the canvas panels. Fensal laughed at something. One of the younger runners started singing a song about his morning erection.
    Kahlil rolled his eyes at the absurd lyrics.
    He had allowed the Rifter to live, but the whole world hadn’t been ruined for it. People still laughed and made their livings all across the country. These men didn’t even know that their fates were meant to have been different. He wondered who they would have been if things had gone differently. If he had killed the