Fable: Edge of the World Read Online Free PDF Page B

from behind the closed doors of the great palace. There was still trade with other countries, but it was limited.”
    Kalin’s eyes went wide. “I do remember that—my father once lamented that trade had slowed down. He said nothing about an evil Empress.”
    “You were his daughter,” Page pointed out. “It was likely he did not want to disparage women to you—especially if the Empress’s reputation was based on rumor.”
    “It wasn’t,” said Shan, with a bitterness incongruent with his young age. “I do not know what your father knew, but it could not be worse than the truth.”
    “Sounds like you were very young when she came to power,” Timmins observed. “And you certainly weren’t part of the inner circle. Even what you are telling us is hearsay.”
    The king lifted a hand. Timmins had a sharp brain and a skeptical bent that had served the monarch well, but now was not the time for it. “While that might be true, what is
not
hearsay is what Shan underwent. We all know, firsthand, about the darkness.”
    “Of course, Your Majesty.”
    The king turned back to Shan. “When did the Shadows come?”
    Shan cringed at the word, then took a deep breath. “About three years ago. Slowly, at first. Rumors of dark things lurking in the mountains, in the deserts, in the old ruins. At the edges of the world. Then—I remember my father speaking to my mother of something he had found on the outskirts of the city. The body of a jackal.”
    “A jackal?” asked Ben.
    “It is a sort of … dog of the desert. A scavenger.”
    “I know what a jackal is, son,” Ben said kindly. “I’m just wondering why finding its body was worth mentioning.”
    The boy fixed him with his brown eyes. “It was not a jackal any longer.”
    Realization hit them all simultaneously. Ben let out a low whistle. “Balverine,” he said. At the boy’s look of puzzlement, he elaborated, “half wolf, which is our version of a jackal, and half man. And all nasty.”
    “Yes!” the boy said. “That is it exactly! And things—things long forgotten, out of stories, out of nightmares—they started hunting anyone who went out at night. It is said that she calls them, when she is braiding her hair at night, singing a song and weaving a spell as she weaves the braid.”
    “Now that’s definitely got to be a story,” scoffed Timmins.
    “How do you know?” asked Laylah, glaring at him. “Perhaps that is the way her magic works.”
    “Madame,” said Timmins, with a hint of exasperation, “I do not think Shan is lying. I’ve no doubt that a cruel woman sits on the throne of Samarkand. She probably murdered her husband to get there. And clearly she’s in league with dark forces—things that all of us here are too wise to dismiss as fables. But if we’re to defeat her, we must separate fact from fiction!”
    Shan’s eyes were drooping again.
    “What we must do now is permit Shan to rest,” the king said. “Sabine, he will return to Mistpeak with you when he is well enough to travel, will he not?”
    “Oh yes, we’ll gladly take care of the brave boy,” Sabine said.
    “Until then, Shan, as you recover, I’d appreciate your telling us all you can.”
    The boy nodded, almost asleep already. Quietly the adults rose and made their way out. The king didn’t notice that Rex lingered behind until the dog whined. Halting at the door, the king glanced back to see boy and dog curled up together. He smiled a little. Rex knew when someone needed cheering up, and frankly … well … the king would be just as glad to be completely alone with his bride tonight. He inhaled a breath to blow out the light.
    “Your Majesty?”
    “Yes, Shan?”
    “… please … can you leave the candle burning?”
    The king looked at the shadows in the corners of the room and understood. “Of course. Sleep well. You too, Rex.”
    Rex whuffed.
    The king closed the door behind him and faced his friends. “What do you think?” he asked bluntly.