The Assassins of Tamurin Read Online Free PDF Page B

hollow of a rock, and set off into the drab moming.
    In a while the clouds parted in the east, and the sun poked rosy fingers through the rents. But the growing brightness did not cheer me much, for I was beginning to realize how utterly alone I was and how uncertain my future had become. However, there was nothing to do but go on, so I tried to bolster my spirits by imagining all the wonderful things I might do once I reached Gladewater.
    But after a few miles I decided that Gladewater, being just a village, would be too small a compass for my ambitions. I’d stay there only long enough to get a new supply of food, and then go on to the town of High Lake, where there would surely be opportunities for a clever and resourceful person such as myself. I’d become rich and successful in no time, and I’d ride back to Riversong on a horse—an animal whose appearance was hazy to me, since I’d never seen one—and show everybody how stupid they’d been not to recognize my talents.
    Such bright pictures sustained me till mid-moming, but at length my mood changed again and I began to feel very low. What did I have in the world? A few scraps of food in a smelly sack, a cloak, a smock, and a length of cane. And my wits. I was no longer sure how much my wits were worth.
    I tramped onward nevertheless. The sun went in; more rain fell; the sun came out. The air was humid and thick, full of the smell of greenery, damp bark, and the fragrances of the wet-season blooms that grew beside the road: honey hibiscus, cinnivar, white glory, silverfoil. But I was too downcast to take much pleasure in their beauty, though back in Riversong I’d delighted in their hues and scents.
    After a while I came to a place where the road cut shaiply around an outcrop of stone. And there, just beyond the bend, was a blaze of red and orange, like a great fire frozen by sorcery. It was a flame magnolia.
    I'd never seen one so ancient and enormous. It had impressed other people as much as it did me, for beneath its flower-weighted limbs was a stone pillar with niches cut into it, and in the largest niche was the round plump face of a place god. His stone features were old and worn, but I could still make out the cheerful grin below his mustache and his bushy eyebrows.
    I had knelt and was sprinkling a few crumbs as an offering for him, when a man strode around a bend in the road ahead. I stood up quickly, but I didn’t flee into the trees although I knew he might be a bandit. Maybe I thought the place god’s presence would protect me. Also, I had nothing worth stealing.
    I watched him approach. He wore a straw hat, loose knee-length tan trousers, and a sleeveless brown tunic. A short sword dangled at his waist, and on his back he carried a pack. His hair was brown and fell unbound to his bare shoulders.
    And slung over one of those shoulders was the slim leather case of a musical instrument. I stared at it in disbelief, and as the man came nearer I burst out, “Master Lim?”
    Recognition dawned on his face and he exclaimed, “Why, it’s young Lale, isn’t it?”
    “It is. What are you doing here. Master Lim?” I couldn’t imagine why he’d be on his way to Riversong. He’d gotten only his keep, and scanty keep at that, during his earlier visit.
    “And what are you doing here, young mistress?” he asked, grinning. “I'm a wanderer, but I didn’t know you were one, too. Have you run away, or are you on an errand?”
    I thought it better not to mention my Negation, and said, “I'm running away to find my fortune. I'm going to become rich and powerful and famous.”
    Master Lim threw back his head and laughed. It was a happy, warm sound. He had a wonderful voice, and I was old enough to know that he was a very handsome man.
    “I see,” he said. “But aren’t you afraid they’ll catch you and drag you back to Riversong to scour the pots?”
    “They won’t,” I told him. “Nobody cares if I’m gone. And I don’t have any ancestors in