3: Black Blades Read Online Free PDF

Rifter, would it have changed their lives? Would some of them have become priests or heretics? Would there have been a new war?  
    There was no way for him to know.   
    Kahlil heard water running in the bathroom. The shouts and conversations sounded distant and dull. They grew softer and then fell into silence as the runners departed. Kahlil slept.
    He dreamed of another room, one with the same strong smell of men, but higher walls and sharp northern light. He was sitting on a large bed, reading a book. A lean blonde man sat on the edge of the bed next to him. He smelled like pine and rain. Kahlil could feel heat radiating from his body even through the heavy gray clothes they both wore.
    Kahlil said, “You aren’t supposed to be here.”
    The man smiled and said, “You haven’t forgotten about the key, have you?”
    Kahlil woke suddenly. Instinctively, he grasped Alidas’ key, though he now realized that it had never been the key he had wanted it to be. Still, holding it reassured him.
    The canvas panels twitched and Yu’mir peeked between them. Seeing that he was awake, she waved. The bright noonday light edged her brown hair in gold. Kahlil secured the blankets around his waist and sat upright.
    “Feeling better?” Yu’mir asked.
    “Yes.”
    Though they were alone, she looked nervous. Kahlil glanced down and noticed the folded piece of paper in her hands. She curled her fingers around it, but not enough to crumple it.
    “Fensal’s bed is to the left of mine.” Kahlil pointed in the general direction.
    Yu’mir lowered her face as a scarlet blush flooded across her cheeks.
    “I wasn’t...”  
    “The note is for him, isn’t it?”
    Yu’mir nodded. “I wasn’t going to wake you up to ask you, but I thought that if you were already awake...”
    “I’m awake.”
    “You don’t think I’m being too forward, do you?” Yu’mir asked and Kahlil knew she didn’t mean about waking him.
    “Not at all. I left a secret note for someone myself. Yesterday, in fact.” It seemed as if it had been weeks ago. “I won’t tell anyone that I saw you here.”
    “Do you promise?”
    “I swear,” Kahlil assured her.
    She rushed to Fensal’s bed. Kahlil took advantage of the canvas panel hanging between them to get dressed. His clean pants were cold from hanging against the wall.
    “Put it under his pillow,” Kahlil advised. “Otherwise the other runners will see it and want to know what it says.”
    “They should mind their own business.” Yu’mir hesitated at the edge of the canvas panels. “Are you getting dressed?”
    “Yes, I’m nearly decent.” Kahlil dug through the box under his bed for his spare shirt and some socks.
    “Was it Wounin’an?”
    “What?” Kahlil tucked his shirt in. The sleeves were too short for him, so he rolled the cuffs.
    “The woman you sent the note to, was it Wounin’an?”
    “Wou—” Kahlil began to ask who she was, but then he remembered the kitchen girl with the freckles. “No. Did she get a note as well?”
    “I don’t know. You two seem to flirt all the time.”
    “I don’t think she’s serious.” Kahlil found his belt and threaded it through the loops of his pants.
    “Why is it,” Yu’mir asked, “that whenever a man isn’t serious he says that he thinks the woman isn’t?”
    “An attempt at delicacy, I don’t know. You can come in now. I’m decent.”
    Yu’mir stepped back through the panels. She frowned when she saw Kahlil lacing up his boots.
    “You’re not going out, are you?”
    “I need to see if there’s been any response to my note.” Kahlil combed his tangled hair back from his face with his fingers. He probably still looked like hell.
    “But you’re supposed to be sick.”
    “I’m fine, thanks to your medicine,” Kahlil assured her.
    “Was that an attempt at flattery?”
    “Did it work?”
    Yu’mir sighed. “Fensal will be annoyed if he sees you running around the city. He gave you the day off to recover, not to