The Legend of El Shashi Read Online Free PDF

“Thank you exceedingly for your custom, Honoria Jyla. You are as gracious as you are radiant. I shall convey your compliments to Janos when next I see him.”
    “Does this Janos not trade his own wares?”
    “He does not travel much,” I replied quickly. “I act as his agent … ah, in this region. For a small commission, you understand. Business is business.”
    “Of course,” Jyla agreed, adjusting her hood to allow me a glimpse of her eyes. “Business is business, trader. A good eventide to you.”
    “Likewise be yours.”
    My reply was automatic; my fingers, clasping the pouch against my thigh, were as cramped and immobile as the branches of a petrified tree. A shadow had crossed my quoph just then, a chill deeper than mere bone or flesh could endure–for I was certain of what I had seen.
    Her eyes were black. Sclera, iris and pupil alike were as black as onyx, holes of nothingness bored into a statue’s perfect face; twin voids out of which no good thing could conceivably emerge.
    I could not suppress a shudder.
    *  *  *  *
    I own, I tried to forget all about the Honoria Jyla. But, just a few makh after I departed Elaki Fountain, I had the double misfortune to encounter another Honoria. As my fingers deftly stitched a red-crested parakeet’s broken wing, I was leagues away in ruminations worthy of any cud-chewing jatha, thinking:
    I have always loved animals. Janos labelled my way with animals ‘magic’. This, mark my words, from an otherwise rational man … utter hogs-breath! Granted, I can calm a wild black bear enough to treat its injured paw, and even the most ferocious storm kestrel will bend its wing to my touch. My greatest boast is this: I have touched a blue condor. Truly told, I have touched that rarest of birds, which is said to signify Mata’s favour and is indeed, the embodiment of Her presence in the world. Let the credulous attend! The condor brought me no good fortune. That selfsame makh, I learned of my parents’ murder.
    Magic? I expect it requires respect. Animals mistrust fear, but warm to respect. Janos insists it is more to do with heart. He once said that I could not knowingly abide the suffering of any of Mata’s creatures, nor allow them harm. Ay. When I see a jatha limping, or a hedgehog torn by the spotted salcat’s cunning claw, something i nexplicable happens within my quoph. It is a desire to help, but at once more fundamental and more compelling. When as a child I used to hold my breath, my father would smile and say, ‘You’ll need to breathe sooner or later, Arlak.’ This desire was akin to spring water welling up; an endless upward and outward pressure. It must spill over. A powerful river, it could not but flow.
    In those unbearable seasons after the Faloxx slew my childhood, I tried desperately to fill the ache hollowing out my breast from the inside. But it was Mata’s creatures that saved my sanity. I began to bring animals home, great and small, furred and feathered. Janos said that caring for them taught me to care for myself.
    So that is what I was doing with the little girl’s pet parakeet when the Honoria Telmak happened by in her violet-liveried takibuge.
    “Arlak Sorlakson!” shrilled a familiar voice. “Halt, driver!”
    My head jerked. I took in the driver’s colours, and almost lost my grip on the bird. A silent curse, ‘Oh, larathi!’ What awful timing!
    The takibuge crunched to a stop. The door creaked, the footman muttering obsequiously as he adjusted the alighting-step. I drew myself up, careful to keep my gaze modest and low. The Honoria Telmak –Rubiny’s mother, no less–was a commanding woman, rumoured to keep her husband in strict tow.
    I soothed the iridescent red-feathered head with a fingertip. “Hush, little one.”
    The lady stepped down, doubtless surveying the scene–my trader’s cart with its great ironbound wheels, drawn to the wayside behind a smaller family wain, and a family of six children and their mother