Michelle West - Sun Sword 06 - The Sun Sword Read Online Free PDF Page B

Most days, she kept it turned palm-in; she disliked the
attention it garnered. Old habit, that; attention was something to be avoided at
all costs.
    But not today.
    Not today, please Kalliaris. She thought she'd never needed the goddess of
luck to smile more than she did today.
    The gates of the House of Healing were better guarded than the storefronts of
the most expensive of the jewelers in the High Market. The house itself was not
fenced in; it was
walled
. From the height of the wall, metal tines
extruded, ending in barbed points. Someone had taken the time to polish them;
they shone in sunlight as if they were golden.
    But Levec would have died before he wasted money on gold.
    Stopping at the gates, she held out her hand; her arm shook slightly, as if
the weight of the ring was too great. But shaking or no, the Terafin House
Council crest was recognized. The guards were no fools.
    "Please wait in the gatehouse," the man in charge said. He barked other
orders, and she noted them idly, turning to run her fingers along the carved
words that adorned the gatehouse walls. They were not in a language she could
read, although she recognized the stylized curves and runes: Old Weston.
    Old Weston was better than Weston; if Levec had had any hand in the words,
they would have been succinct and to the point:
Go away
.
    As if Daine could hear her, he smiled. "He's really not that bad," he told
her quietly.
    "I know." She did. Sort of. But Levec's single thick brow seemed etched
across his face like thundercloud in a storm without end; his voice was harsher
than Lucille's at her worst, and his hands, thick and blunt, seemed as likely to
strangle a man as to offer him succor.
    Gregori ATerafin waited with the perfect ease and grace that made most people
look clumsy and incompetent. She envied him his composure, although she wasn't
certain she wanted to live the life that led to it. He had been with the
House—and with the den—for weeks now, and she had no better idea of who he was,
what he wanted, what he feared, than she had the first night she'd met him.
    Devon hadn't been helpful either.
Ask, if you must
, he said,
but
accept the answer he gives
.
    Which, of course, was none at all.
    Still, she'd come to understand the nuance of his external expression, the
subtle shift in his posture, the almost unnoticeable narrowing—or widening—of
eyes.
    And because of this, she turned as a man in robes, flanked on either side by
two guards, approached the gatehouse.
    She didn't recognize him, although she thought he was a foreigner; his skin
was a shade too dark, his eyes a shade too wide, for Averalaan.
    But Daine, apparently, did. "Andaru!"
    The older man smiled. "Daine." He turned to the guards at his right. "Why
wasn't I informed that Healer Daine was present?"
    The guard brought his hand smartly to his chest and bowed his head, the
universal apology that the dignified offered.
    "Don't be too hard on them, Master Andaru," Daine said, apologetically.
    "Master, is it?"
    "I'm not wearing the medallion."
    Gray brows drew down in a frown over a straight, narrow nose. "And why would
that be?"
    "It's my choice," he said, a little too quickly.
    Great, Finch thought, as the iron gaze shifted and landed on her face. She
squared her slender shoulders and lifted her chin.
    "Alowan thought it best." Her voice came out too thin, but at least she
didn't stammer.
    They were, or appeared to be, the right words; the frown eased slightly.
"Politics and healers make poor bedfellows," he told Daine. "But this is not the
place for a lecture. Follow me."
    He led them to the House of Healing, but he did not choose to dismiss the
guards. Angel and Carver struggled with dignity, and for the most part—given who
they were—they won. Gregori, of course, fell into step with the House guards;
were it not for his crest, he might have been one of them.
    It was a way of hiding, Finch realized. Belonging was a way of hiding. Master