Destiny's Rift (Broken Well Trilogy) Read Online Free PDF

my boy! Excellent, we have a most excellent feast on the way!’ He rubbed his hands eagerly, unconsciously gnashing his teeth.
    Too long with the sharks , remembered Losara. Hunting in packs that only abide one dominant male. He wondered if Battu was even aware that the time he’d spent dreaming on his way to Assedrynn’s Isle had had a serious effect on his soul.
    ‘And Lalenda, my beautiful prophet,’ Battu went on. ‘Welcome also.’
    ‘Not yours,’ said Lalenda, almost under her breath.
    Battu stared at her a moment, his grin frozen in place, but then he chuckled and pretended not to have heard. Losara raised an eyebrow at her slightly, and she ducked her head. She knew Losara intended to replace Battu as Shadowdreamer, who had already been stripped of the title by the gods – but she was bold to antagonise him so. Losara wondered for a moment if bringing her with him had jeopardised his chance of striking an accord with Battu. Such a small hope it was – did that make it more worth protecting, or easier to let go?
    ‘And is your ghostly companion with us?’ Battu said.
    In answer, Grimra’s skull-like head became briefly visible. ‘Grimra attends the vittles and celebratoriness,’ said the ghost, then faded again.
    ‘Excellent,’ said Battu. Losara had never heard him use the word so frequently. Was he nervous? Why were they being treated to this display of hospitality? ‘Please, take your seats.’
    Losara sat at the foot of the table, Lalenda by his side. The last remaining seat slid back.
    ‘Seats, seats,’ came the ghost’s muttering. ‘Grimra to sit in a seat? Who would have thought, for he has no buttocks. Still, Grimra tries to be polite. ’ White claws appeared to worry at the seat, the ghost obviously confused by what to do with it. He growled in annoyance, and splinters went flying. The seat shook violently, and a moment later collapsed into a mound of woodchips.
    ‘Bah,’ said Grimra. ‘Now me be embarrassed.’
    Lalenda giggled.
    ‘That’s all right, Grimra,’ said Losara. ‘Seats are not for everyone. I don’t imagine lord Battu will mind if you . . . waft.’
    ‘Not at all,’ said Battu. ‘Now,’ he turned to bark at an attendant, ‘bring us the food!’
    •
    Tyrellan watched, knowing that the time for finding his moment was dwindling. If worst came to worst, he could sacrifice himself by simply shouting a warning, but of course he’d prefer it didn’t come to that. The butterfly swooped down onto his glass and he waved it away irritably. He tried several times to catch Losara’s eye, but the trouble with having a pitch-black gaze was that no one could see precisely where you were looking, especially if you were trying to be subtle about it.
    Dishes began to arrive. As with all of Battu’s feasts, seafood was the feature. There were thin slices of tuna laid out on a platter and drizzled in oil. Mounds of sea urchins roasted in their shells were one of the few dishes Battu preferred cooked. A salad of kelp, a tubeworm stew, and chilled prawns stuffed with butter and parsley all arrived in quick succession to be placed around the table. There was no sign of the anemones yet, but they would not be far away.
    Battu’s appetite did not seem to suffer despite his obvious tension – if anything, he ate more when he was stressed. Meanwhile, food began to lift off plates, swirl up into the air and disappear to the accompaniment of satisfied slurps. Losara and Lalenda ate too, though far more moderately. In order not to rouse suspicion, Tyrellan reached for a serving, heaping food onto his plate as his mind ticked away.
    He decided that his waiting must cease – no brown huggers were about to attack. He shoved a forkload of mashed something in his mouth, then dropped a hand under the table and let the fork fall. Working it to the right angle with his toes, he waited until the next Grey attendant appeared through the doorway opposite. Giving the fork a sharp, swift kick, he