All That Glitters Read Online Free Page A

soon both of them were on their hands and knees at the top of the chimney, coughing, wheezing, vomiting out the disgusting remnants of their would-­be killers.
    Tyvian wiped a film of green slime off his face and gasped in the clean, fresh forest air. “I . . . I told you there was a third trap.”
    Artus rolled over on his back. “Saints . . . I thought I was a goner . . . I thought I was dead . . .”
    Tyvian shook his head to try and get the gunk out of his ears. “Would have been, were it not for my heroic efforts. I hope you appreciate the lengths I go to.” Slowly, he got to his feet, letting his eyes adjust to the midday sunlight.
    Artus opened his pack and pulled out the Heart of Flowing Sunlight. “We got it.”
    Tyvian, though, didn’t react. “Artus,” he said calmly, “You know how you thought you were dead a few moments ago?”
    Artus sat up. “Yeah?”
    Tyvian put his hands up slowly. “You might still be right.”
    â€œWhat?” Artus rubbed the goop out of his eyes and looked around.
    The only thing he saw were the arrowheads of a score of drawn bows and the angry, filthy faces of the Forest Children surrounding them.

 
CHAPTER 2
    A LOW-­DOWN DIRTY GETAWAY
    T he Forest Children, also known as the woodkin to those of a more Galaspiner bent, or the Vel’jahai, if you happened to be one of them, were barbarous savages who lived within the vast confines of Isra’Nyil, or, more simply, the Great Forest. Tyvian had heard an awful lot of rumors about them over the years, and none of them had been flattering. His observations of their movements during the last few weeks had confirmed more rumors than they dispelled. They were superstitious, violently territorial vegetarians who “lived in harmony with nature,” which evidently meant sleeping in burrows like human badgers, bathing infrequently, and rutting like wild animals in open daylight, where any passing fifteen-­year-­old farmboy might gawk at them and ask his partner/mentor extremely inappropriate questions about human anatomy.
    Tyvian prepared to be shot with at least a dozen arrows immediately. When it didn’t happen, he found himself talking. Talking, he had found, usually got him out of a lot of sticky situations. “Greetings, friends! I have wonderful news!”
    Tyvian’s smile and cheery tone took the savages temporarily aback. They muttered among themselves in their slippery, silvery language. It sounded like pigeons trying to coo at each other with polysyllabic words.
    Tyvian kicked Artus out of his open-­mouthed shock. “Bow-­wards!” he hissed, and then kept turning on the charm. “My partner and I have performed an in-­depth investigation, and we have discovered that your god is false!”
    Artus slowly took off his pack and began to rummage around.
    Tyvian shot him a withering look. “My pack, fool! In my pack!”
    The arrows quavered in their bows as the petite, wiry builds of the Forest Children struggled to hold them. They looked confused, perhaps even afraid. Tyvian just kept smiling. “Now, I know this comes as a shock to you all—­I understand. However, consider the advantages! No longer must you pitch your hard-­earned fruits and vegetables down a dark hole in the midst of a forest—­Isra isn’t eating them, believe me—­and you can now devote that time to more productive pursuits such as, for instance, the knitting of pants. I mean, let’s face it, gentlemen—­some of you fellows are one misguided falcon’s dive away from compulsory celibacy!”
    Artus was elbow deep in Tyvian’s pack. “I don’t see them anywhere.”
    The Forest Children had stopped muttering among themselves. Their faces were now grave. Tyvian kept smiling, but growled out the side of this mouth, “Artus, bow-­wards now,