Phoenix Rising Read Online Free PDF Page B

leaving, as he’d said to his mother, and crying didn’t quite make sense to that part of him.
    But the other part was afraid he would never see his mother Talima, his brothers . . . Vanilar, Terimur, Donalan . . . his sisters Karili, Mindala, Sundrilin . . . or Skysand itself ever again. He had never imagined that he’d miss the endless gray-gold sands, broken by outcrops of black stone, occasional oases . . . but he would. Skysand was his home.
    And yet . . . it isn’t.
    That internal voice had spoken to him before. It wasn’t so much a different voice as a different part of himself, something deeper, something that had no clear reason or history behind its existence. Or a history that led me to this.
    Now the sun had risen higher, and the black polished obsidian of the Seven Lesser drank in the light and returned only small, brilliant highlights around the Lord of Waters’ Great Tower. He looked at the highest point of the Tower, pretending for a moment that his eyes were sharp as a Dragon’s and he could see his mother standing there, watching from the Spire of Legacy, the solemn, empty room at the very top of the Great Tower.
    Finally he sighed and turned away, wiping away the traces of the tears. He made his way towards the cabins across the wide silver-gold zhenwood decks; above, the Captain’s deep voice sent T’oltha’s commands echoing to Lucramalalla ’s crew. I think T’oltha probably means “Captain” in Ancient Sauran, because I think that was the name of the other Sauran captain I met when I was a kid, and it can’t have been the same one. The huge draconic creatures’ names tended to be long and descriptive, difficult to remember and sometimes even harder to pronounce. Or . . . maybe it is the same one.
    The wide stairway down to the cabin level was darker than outside, but still lit by lightstones; Tobimar shook his head in bemusement. Skysand made good use of many forms of magic, but this vessel—five hundred feet long, two hundred or more wide, and with only enough mast and sail for emergencies—was a wonder in itself. “Built only two centuries after the last Chaoswar,” T’oltha had claimed. Tobimar wasn’t sure he believed that—it would make the Lucramalalla something like twelve thousand years old—but then again, it was known that the Saurans themselves lived for thousands of years. It was possible that T’oltha was simply speaking of something she’d witnessed .
    He reached his cabin and entered. It was reasonably large, but spare in its furnishings; a bunk, a writing desk made fast to the floor, a simple locker which, despite being not overly large, still had ample room for the few possessions he carried.
    Tobimar sat down and took a deep breath. Now .
    From the inside pocket of his robe he took the Mynoli leaf, inscribed with the peculiar rune-like symbol that Khoros used as a signature, and unfolded it.
    Clear white light poured from the leaf, dazzling Tobimar and causing him to nearly upset his chair. He blinked as a figure rose out of the light. “M-Master Khoros?”
    “Tobimar.” The immensely tall form of the wandering enchanter nearly touched the eight-foot ceiling of the cabin; the strange wide, five-sided, peaked hat that Khoros wore obscured, as always, the details of his face; and his staff with the complex gold-crystalline head chimed softly. “Do not make the mistake of believing I am here. As with many things, what you see is less important than what you believe.
    “As you are receiving this message, there are two possibilities. The first, and least likely, is that you have ascended to the Lordship of Skysand; you are, then, the Lord of Waters. If that is the case, I shall be before you soon, as you shall be in grave need of my advice.
    “Far more probable, however, is that you have now left Skysand on the quest that only a Silverun may complete, at the sight of the card of your patron.” The half-hidden mouth gave a smile that Tobimar found extremely