Book Three of the Travelers Read Online Free PDF Page A

clapped his hands joyously. “Only six that time,” he said.
    â€œI will beat you,” she said. She picked up a rock and hurled it as hard as she could. Two skips and a violent splash.
    He laughed again. “Not so hard. Gently!” He searched for a stone until he found one he liked. On this throw it skipped so many times she couldn’t even count them. The king seemed to find this hilarious.
    Loor tried to envision old King Khalek a Zinj doing something like this. It was impossible even to imagine. A thing like this was beneath his dignity.
    She searched for a flat rock like the one he’d used. She tried her best to imitate the low arc he used in throwing his stones. This time her rock seemed to dance across the water. It only made about four skips. But still. “Yes!” she shouted, raising her hands above her head.
    â€œGood! Good!” the king shouted. Then he put his arm around her shoulder and gave her a quick hug. It seemed a simple and genuine—almost brotherly—acknowledgment of her accomplishment in this little game. But she could feel his muscles beneath the robe. He was stronger than he looked.
    Loor felt a strange glow spread through her. It took her a moment to realize what it was. She liked this man. A lot.
    A terrible thought ran through her mind. She had no way of getting back across the desert. She had no friends here. And this man, whom she was beginning to like, wanted her to stay forever. A frightening notion—and itwas only a notion—flitted through her mind. What if I just gave in? What if I just stayed?
    Her entire life had been nothing but struggle. Training, fighting, striving, working—it was nothing but pain and sacrifice.
    All along the banks of the great lake, she saw flocks of sheep munching peacefully on the grass. Shepherds sat around here and there, some by themselves, some laughing and joking in small groups. Small brooks babbled, pouring water into the lake.
    In Batu mythology there was a paradise from which all humanity had originally come. In Loor’s mind it looked exactly like this.
    King Allon stood beside her still, his arm draped across her shoulder.
    Loor froze. What am I thinking? she asked herself.
    The next moment her blade was in her hand.
    The young king twisted sharply—but not before her knife had entered the folds of his robe. And then his powerful hands clamped around hers. She was unable to move.
    â€œJust because I throw stones into a lake does not mean I am a fool,” he said softly. Then his face lit up with another mysterious smile. He pushed the knife back out of the fold of his robe. With a quick snap of his hands, he applied excruciating pain to her wrist. Her knife fell to the ground. He kicked it into the water.
    Loor felt a torrent of shame run through her. He’d evaded her knife effortlessly. She’d punctured nothing but cloth. She was sure her aim had been perfect. It wasnot normal for Loor to feel helpless. But right now she felt completely helpless.
    â€œI cannot be your friend,” she said. “I cannot be your wife. I cannot be one of your people.”
    The king waved his hand as though none of this was very important. “We have a saying, ‘There is much time in the desert.’”
    â€œWhich means what?”
    â€œThings happen. Circumstances change. What seems right today may seem wrong tomorrow.” He looked at the sun, which was starting to sink toward the horizon. “Are you hungry, Loor?”
    â€œI suppose so.”
    â€œLet us go eat,” he said.
    They began walking silently toward the crimson pennant over his distant tent.
    â€œWhere does all the water go?” she asked as they approached the cluster of brightly colored tents.
    â€œFrom the lake, you mean?” he said.
    She pointed around the margins of the lake. “I see all this water coming in. But there’s no river going out.”
    â€œThey say that once there was a