Salome at Sunrise Read Online Free PDF Page A

their song and the horses nickered behind them. Domic stared into his ceramic cup for a long while, rolling the pottery between his hands. Bryton waited. Evening sank to night, the children giggled in the wagon back, and Domic reached some decision. He pitched the preciously expensive drink into the night and laced his fingers together. “The Bridge Troll.”
    “What’s that?”
    Domic angled his frame away from the wagon. “When you deal in gold, you occasionally hear from…less-than-honest men who have items to sell. They talk, try to impress you with their importance to scum. I won’t deal with them. I’ve enough business without tarnishing my name with filth. Others in my guild have no such compunctions.”
    “But you hear talk.”
    Domic nodded. “Marlo’s Pass. The Bridge Troll is a tavern I wouldn’t go in without two daggers and a boot knife. Supposedly the tavern master has an arrangement with certain foreign men. He supplies whiskey and whores, they let him live.”
    “Windmere and Sotherby are seaports. There are many foreign men there.”
    “Gold skin with paint that doesn’t wash off, eyes like topazes, all from the same boat, set to die but someone bought them like cattle and freed them like a plague. Sound familiar?”
    “Very. Thank you.”
    “Javon, be careful. The bounty on these men is not worth your life.”
    Bryton grunted. A warm breeze lifted his hair and the sweet aroma of honey filled his nose. He took a deep breath that suddenly cramped in his chest. Domic’s tunic did not flutter in the wind and the grass did not move. A soulful note vibrated in his ear.
    “Do you hear that?”
    “Hear what?” Domic’s hand went to his dagger and his posture tensed.
    Bryton angled his head. The song grew louder, wordless but stirring, until the melody wrapped around him.
    Domic arched an eyebrow at him. “What do you think you hear?”
    “Nothing,” Bryton murmured, pushing to a stand.
    The song grew stronger. The black streak in his hair lashed his eyes and he ran his hands through it, relacing the leather tie at his nape. Still the breeze played, tugging at it like a woman running it through her fingers. He fought it for a minute then gave up. Resigned, he tucked the tie in his belt and looked at Domic. His host regarded him as if nothing was wrong, as if the wind wasn’t swirling around him like a tempest.
    Bryton faked a smile. “Your wife spoils you and me with you. I’ve not eaten so well on a trail before. I’m going to walk for a while. I’ll see you in the morning.”
    He barely heard a reply. Motioning to the guard standing watch, Bryton headed straight into the darkness. He had no clue where he was going but followed the call of the wind. Grasses, tree roots and brambles grabbed at his boots but his feet never slowed. Fear did not touch him. Concern for his path never crossed his mind. Only the song mattered, the mournful lilting of wordless melody.
    Prairie gave way to forest. The forest grew thicker then thinned to sparseness. The gusts dried his eyes and he blinked. A taste of honey burst onto his tongue when he licked his lips, the sweetness blending with the bitter drink. Without thought, he opened his mouth to draw more of the flavor inside.
    “I am called for you. I come to soothe the ache inside. I come to give you peace.”
    Bright in the satin sky, the moon shone full with a throng of stars twinkling like torches. Bryton scanned the heavens but could see nothing but light and dark. An outcrop jutted over a vale. The funneled wind pushed at him until he stood at the precipice, the forest tops silvered below him. Icy-green leaves frosted by moonlight didn’t move, though his tunic snapped like a sail.
    “I am called for you.”
    “Who are you?” he yelled into the night. “Who sent you?”
    “I am called to heal your wounds.”
    His ragged breath battling the gale, he fisted his hands. “Show yourself to me then.”
    The wind calmed but his pulse pounded with a