Breaking the Gloaming Read Online Free PDF Page B

enough to turn back an invading fleet. He begged for vision. Then, the prior morning at dawn, his next step showed up as clear as the rising sun over the Aerith Sea.  
    He had spotted a cloaked figure scurrying up the stairs to the Mont. It happened rarely, but sometimes vessels would find their way to the island’s tiny dock. Usually it was someone looking for safe haven and fleeing something in Valemidas. Yates had met this man at the top of the stairs, before the only door into the monastery. The man had called himself Cid. He was from Sunan, and his harried appearance had left no doubt he was running from something.  
    Yates had introduced himself and invited the man to come inside for a warm meal. After that, Cid became surprisingly open about his story. A Sunan priest named Ilias had told Cid that he could trust a man named Yates. The old priest had smiled at the memory of Ilias, his Sunan friend from long ago.  
    Over dinner Cid explained he had once been royalty in Sunan. Twenty or so years ago, there had been a coup and he had barely escaped with his life. He had taken to the seas and made a fortune running trade between Sunan and Valemidas. Yet, two years ago, when the Sunan ruler died and his young son took his place, things had begun to change.
    Three men were ruling as stewards until the boy king reached eighteen. Ilias was one of the stewards. The other two were Malam and Seban. Seban was the boy king’s uncle. Malam was Ilias’s counterpart, a priest who worshiped the boy king. Malam and his radical followers were demanding conquest of those who would not worship the Sunan king. Seban usually sided with Malam over Ilias, for he believed Sunan needed war to avoid growing soft. The stewards had issued an order that there was to be no trade and no contact at all with Valemidas. They were preparing for war, ready for the boy king to turn eighteen and lead them. If not for Ilias, Cid had said, the Sunan people would have already invaded. Yates believed that to be true, for he already knew something about Malam. That dark priest had sent Ramzi to Valemidas, just as Ilias’s mentor had sent Ilias many years past.
    Cid then told Yates he would rather die than obey the Sunan stewards or the king. He could not bear a prohibition of trade. He lived for the freedom of the open sees, so he had kept up his voyages in secret. Some called him a smuggler. He called himself a liberator. Yates figured he was a little of both, because he drank and swore like a pirate, while speaking of things like a philosopher.  
    That night, while Cid slept, Yates had toiled over an encoded note for Ilias. He had passed it to Cid this very morning, with strict instructions that no one but Ilias was to break the seal. Cid had stood straighter after receiving the task. He had sailed off with determination, fresh supplies of food, and the smell of rum. Men who have long been denied their honor often find worth in being trusted. Yates prayed his god could use a man like that.
    Now here Yates was, docking his dingy in the crescent-shaped harbor of Valemidas. The rocky hill looming to the south blocked the sun and put the docks in the shade. He would dine with Jon Sterling tonight. His stomach rumbled at the thought, as he had fasted from food on the Mont.
    Even the docks’ dense smell of fish had some appeal. People had begun gathering in the many taverns lining the harbor. With trade to Sunan shut down, merchants and sailors found themselves at bars rather than on ship decks.  
    As Yates walked further into the city, better smells began to taunt him. Merchants stood on corners selling fresh baked pies. Families gathered inside to dine together. Yates delighted in every window that revealed a young boy dining with his family. These were the boys stolen from them by Tryst and Ramzi. These were the boys ripped from their homes and forced into harsh military service before their bodies had even matured. Now returned, those same boys brought