No Brighter Dream: The Pascal Trilogy - Book 3 Read Online Free PDF Page A

Ali said heatedly. “Would you go back on your word?”
    Andre gazed at the child in fascination. He’d never come across such a determined, fiery little soul as this one. That determination partially explained Ali’s remarkable recovery, but he was also intrigued. There was something in Ali’s eyes, a fierce blazing light that spoke so intently of life. Maybe that was why he had gone to the trouble of seeing that the life didn’t go out of them.
    “All right,” he said, thinking at the same time that he’d lost his mind. “I’ll give you a try. All the food you can eat and two pastries a week. If you have failed me by Minara, I’ll leave you there. If not, you may accompany us to Xanthos—but at Xanthos you will have to find other work, unless you have proved yourself so remarkable that I decide to keep you on.” He crossed his arms. “And I warn you now, that is as likely as finding yourself drinking tea with the Queen of England.”
    He turned to walk off, but Ali dropped to the ground and took his hands, fervently kissing the backs. “Thank you, Handray Bey, thank you! May Allah bless you and your children, and your children’s children.”
    “I thank you for the sentiment, but it’s entirely unnecessary,” Andre said curtly.
    Ali looked up at him, sooty lashes blinking in confusion. “You do not wish to be blessed?”
    “No, I don’t wish to be blessed. Furthermore, I have no children, so there’s no point in blessing them either. I am not married.”
    “Oh. I am sorry,” Ali said, appearing astonished. “But a man of your age, with no wives, no children?”
    “I’m not exactly in my dotage,” he said dryly.
    “Perhaps not, but you are still very old to be without a wife,” Ali said reasonably. “Wives can do all sorts of things for you.”
    Andre stared down at Ali for a moment, ready to take the child’s head off, then decided the remark was purely innocent. “I find my life easier without women to complicate it.” He pulled his hands away. “For God’s sake, will you get up? You’re going to make a terrible servant if you insist on kneeling at my feet. And my name is Banes—never mind,” he said, deciding not to complicate the issue. “Call me Andre. Just Andre.”
    Ali stood with alacrity. “As you wish, Handray. But you really must not blaspheme so much. Allah does not like it.”
    Andre’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Allah can like it or not. If you’re to remain my servant for any length of time, you would be wise to keep Allah to yourself.”
    Ali in return regarded him gravely. “I cannot keep Allah to myself. He belongs to all. But I suppose as an infidel it is difficult for you to understand such things.”
    An infidel? Dear God, what had he taken on? On the other hand, he supposed it was true enough, so there was little point in objecting. And why bother? Ali could cook. That would save them at least to Minara.
    He rubbed a finger over his forehead. “I believe it is time for bed,” he said, dismissing the subject, Ali, and the entire situation. “Since you have volunteered yourself as my servant, you may clear up the remains of the meal.”
    Andre strode off to his tent, intending to restore a degree of order to his life, an order that had been badly disrupted since the appearance of the blasted brat.
    But as he settled on his mattress to read by the light of his lamp, he found that his thoughts kept drifting back to dark, wide eyes that held an extraordinary innocence behind that fierce will.
    He sighed and leaned his head back against the pillow. Innocence. Ah, well, there was little enough of that in the world. Ali’s might as well be preserved for as long as possible.
    It was a damned joke that he’d somehow volunteered for the job. Still, he supposed he hadn’t saved Ali’s life to throw it into the sewer. He’d see what he could do to arrange for a decent situation once they reached a village.
    He put his book down and blew out the lamp, rolling over