Queen of Ashes Read Online Free PDF

she demands, trying to gain control of her thoughts—and control of this foreigner, who has no right to be touching her, lifting her, without her consent—even as her foot continues to scream in agony.
    â€œHush,” he says, raising her leg. He pulls out the jagged clay shard as she bites her lip to prevent herself from gasping in pain, clenching her fists and writhing against the wall. Then he places her foot in his hands.
    Someone needs to run to the quarries to fetch little Sabu, the healer of wounds, Laila thinks, and in the meantime Brehan should call the chief physician. She pushes herself up to tell him so but sees that, strangely, his eyes are closed as he continues to hold her throbbing foot. Golden light radiates from his hands.
    Suddenly, she feels warmth spreading through the wound. More than warmth. Comfort. Peace. Even ecstasy. She’s floating in a pleasure so pure there are no words to describe it. Her foot, and his hands, are burning hot now, though it’s not a painful heat, but a joyous one.
    He removes his hands, and she is suddenly cold. She wants his hands back on her to keep her warm, but she can hardly say so. Instead, she pulls her foot toward her and examines the sole. There is blood there, but as she rubs it she finds there is no wound. Just the slightest pink line where the gaping slit used to be moments ago.
    She has seen this before. It is just like what Sabu can do, the ten-year-old boy from the quarries. She thought Sabu was the only one in the world who could knit flesh and bone with the touch of his hands.
    â€œWho are you?” she asks, her voice no more than a whisper in the loud patter of rain.
    â€œA seeker,” he replies, standing and dusting off his knees.
    â€œWhat do you seek?” she asks, looking up at him as if he were a god.
    â€œI think...” He takes her hands and pulls her up. She puts her weight gently on her right foot, but there is no pain.
    Lightning strikes somewhere just outside the palace. The air sizzles, and she smells something strange and fresh. Brehan seems to crackle with energy and glow with the buzzing light. His flesh pulsates gold, his eyes silver blue. His ripped tunic reveals a silver pendant in the shape of a six-petaled lotus blossom hanging from a chain around his neck, and it, too, glimmers with a strange luminosity. He says, “I think I seek you.”

PART II

Chapter Four
    IN THE UNBLEACHED, rough-woven tunic of a lowly servant, Laila walks across the empty retaining pool, her bare feet warm against the smooth limestone. A large straw hat shades her face, but the rest of her feels the warmth of the sun like a kind caress on her skin.
    In the center of the pool is a large wooden pole, and all around the edges of the pool are wooden stakes to attach the linen canopy that will prevent evaporation. It may not look like much, but to her it is more beautiful than her magnificent throne room.
    It was Brehan who told her the Nile wouldn’t flood this summer, and the grain he saved from the storm would not be enough to get her people through an entire year and a half until the next good harvest. He suggested creating a system he had seen at the edge of the Known World, in Bactria: channeling water from the river through underground pipes to a few large stone retaining pools spaced throughout the fields. He would build gates on the sides of the pools that could be raised and lowered to send water into the existing irrigation canals as needed.
    Three months ago, when they started constructing the new irrigation system, the governors of neighboring provinces laughed at her, but Brehan foretold a drought and she trusted him.
    His insight proved true.
    Two weeks ago, soon after the longest day of the year, the river was supposed to start its gradual spread across the flat fields to the south of the city. Every day since then, Laila and Brehan went to her Nilometer, a platform of stone steps in a field next to the Nile,