ARC: Sunstone Read Online Free

nose itch. “I am no philosopher. I leave the studying to others. As far as I am concerned, these names you mention could just be characters in a story. How do we know the tales are all true? I judge the world based on what is before me – by what I can touch and see. The Arbor needs to consume a living person each year – what does it matter whether the Selected reads scripture or not, whether he or she is holier than you or I? What does that even mean, anyway?”
    She stared at him. “You are the ambassador to our holy city. I am aghast that you should speak in such manner.” She looked at him as if he had stated that he ate live babies to break his fast each day.
    He studied her, watching the way a droplet of water ran from her hair behind her ear and down her long neck. “Have you ever been to Heartwood?”
    She glared. “No.”
    “Then you know nothing about that of which you speak. You have never seen the Arbor, or the city that surrounds it. I expect you envisage it as some shining settlement with streets paved with gold, and holy men and women in white robes singing its praises day and night?”
    Her cheeks reddened. “Of course not.”
    “Perhaps it was that way, in the early days – who is to know? Now it certainly is not. It reeks. Stinks of animal dung and rotting food and sulphur from the smoking mountain behind it. And at night the torches fill the streets with smoke. It is difficult to get near the Arbor itself because of all the pilgrims who stand in line for hours to file past and get one brief touch of its trunk. The King of Heartwood is a fat oaf who is the son of another fat oaf who was no doubt the son of another fat oaf before that, and I doubt they could even spell Oculus or Animus or if any of them would have even heard of the Darkwater Lords. They take money from those who wish to offer their offspring to the tree, and they spend that money on scarlet gowns and golden crowns and venison for their tables. So please do not criticise my faith or my loyalty to that place. It does not deserve it.”
    He finished, breathless, fists clenched as he sat upright in the bath, back rigid.
    Catena studied him wordlessly. For a moment he thought she might knock him out with a fist to his chin and wondered whether he should find something to hang on to. But then, to his surprise, her lips curved.
    “Some ambassador you are,” she said.
    His eyes met hers, and they both started laughing.
    “Tell me,” she said as they both settled back into the water and stretched out their legs. “Is it true what they say – that Anguis is stirring across the land, not just here?”
    Demitto nodded and rubbed his face tiredly, glad she had seen the funny side of it. He really needed to get some sleep before he insulted someone who would really take offence and cause a national incident. “Yes. The weather grows warmer by the day. Throughout my journey I have felt the rumbles beneath the ground. But none as bad as in Heartwood. The mountains behind the city emit smoke and ash on a daily basis.”
    They fell silent. Demitto surprised himself by wishing he could tell her what he knew and lighten the load a little. But the secret he carried with him could save the world, and he did not have the luxury of sharing it with others.
    Instead, he stretched his arms above his head, glad to feel his muscles finally softening, his bones loosening. “By the Arbor, it has been a long day.”
    Catena pushed herself up out of the water, accepted a towel from one of the waiting pages and began to dry herself off. “Come on. Get dressed and I will take you into the town. The Fat Pig has twelve different imported ales for sale at a reasonable price. I wager I can drink more than you before you slide under the table.”
    “Done,” he said wryly, rising to join her. He needed sleep, but the opportunity to drink himself senseless was too much of a draw, and besides, after what he had had to put up with that day, he felt as if he had