The Chocolatier's Wife Read Online Free PDF Page A

strange but very interesting place. The natives mark themselves with blue and green ink in odd spiral patterns and dance along the sea edge at the beginning of every week, in devotion to God.
    It is so hot that I can hardly bear it, for the Stairs of Alessyn are part of what I have been assured is a dead volcano, and the island is in the hottest clime i n the world . The heat has created many strange birds and beasts and plants, so I have sent you some volcanic stone and soil, some feathers and some plants for your perusal.
    They think it odd that we wed by the choice of a spell, but after hearing their roma n tic tales, I am far more pleased with our way. The unknowing, the trying to find a life mate who truly suits, it all seems impossible. They are fond of stories, and the tales they tell me are filled with pain and betrayal. Why would I wish that for myself?
    Yours,
    William
     
     
    They would say, even years afterward, that the Tarnia hag arrived in a whirlwind.
    They would be right, in a way. The old carriage had been bought cheaply, for it was missing two of its wheels and one door and was far too small to contain more than one seat. A waste, indeed, and fit only for the wood pile. An extra coin coaxed the lads to strip it of the cracked and broken trim that was once supposed to have been flowers and a crest.
    Tasmin did not question the wind sprites. Secretly she thought the load far too heavy for her beloved clan to push, but she secured her cases, two for clothes (her mother insisted she pack more before heading off like a barbarian) and one for her work box, using the leather straps opposite the passenger bench. Her mother handed her a basket filled with provisions, and she strapped that down, too.
    “Sweetheart, are you most certain you would not rather ride in the family coach? Your uncle said he would lend you his four horses. Magnificent beasts—you’ll be there in three weeks, if not less!”
    She gave her mother a look much like she gave her pupils when they spouted sill i ness.
    “Well, ‘tis a little less dangerous than careening through the mountains of Deschta in a wheelbarrow pushed by you know what!”
    Everything was ready, there was no more putting it off. She sat down inside and tied a rope across the one open door. “Wish me luck, mamma. Please. I know William wouldn’t harm a soul.”
    Her mother gave her a sad smile, and then kissed her cheek.
    Tasmin leaned back, and dug her fingers into the leather handle that hung from the wall. She sang the calling song under her breath, telling them she was ready.
    She heard laughter as the wind picked up along the dusty highway. It blew around the carriage, but did not allow any dirt to go inside. She felt the floorboards under her feet lift, and then the carriage dashed forward, out of the village, through the orchard paths where it picked up the last of the fallen leaves, through fields put to sleep for the winter, and down the steep mountain paths. She was grateful she could not see, for she was able to keep the fear from her mind and heart and therefore able to keep the wind sprites happy and calm. In fact, they were thrilled, and gigged madly.
    In their happiness, the sprites generated a slight warmth. It was not much, but it kept her comfortable. After a time she got used to the feeling of the carriage, which was more like falling forever than riding along a road. The ride was smooth, but fast.
    Finally, darkness fell and everything slowed to a gentle stop in the brush next to a pond. Tasmin took care of her needs, and then drew a spell circle around her tran s port, one that would not make it invisible, just not seen. She buried herself in her cloak and slept. It was not uncomfortable travel, but neither was it pleasant, and she was glad they only had two more days of it.
    It was just afternoon when they approached the town that would soon be her home. She could see glimpses that the sprites sent back to her, and she could smell the sea. They