Atlantis Rising Read Online Free

there could be no mistaking the carrot color of her twin braids. “Papa, wait!”
    “Back inside, child,” the baker commanded, without turning from the young rascal he intended to strike. “I got some punishin’ to do here.”
    Undeterred, his daughter clamped her arms around his apron. So wide was her father’s body that she could only reach a small way around his waist. But she squeezed hard and begged, “Don’t hurt him, Papa.”
    “An’ why not? He’s a thief, bad as a rotten egg.”
    “Because,” she explained breathlessly, “he’s the one who saved my life!”
    The baker caught his breath. “From them tramplin’ goats? In the market?”
    “Yes, Papa.”
    Turning to her with disbelief, he asked, “Are you sure, child?”
    “Totally sure.” She nodded, making her braids bounce up and down. “He’s the one! Snatched me out o’ harm’s way, jest in time.”
    The baker sighed, then released Promi. “Lucky for you, thief.”
    Rubbing his sore neck, Promi nodded. He looked down at the girl, and their eyes met for the second time that day. “Right you are,” he agreed. “Lucky for me.”
    The girl giggled, blushing beneath the flour on her cheeks. “My name is Shangri.”
    “Thank you, Shangri. My name’s Promi.”
    Raising his gaze to the baker, Promi said, “I promise you this. I’ll never steal from your pastry shop again.”
    For a long moment, the baker scrutinized him. Though still scowling, he said, “Fer all your mischief, lad . . . I’m guessin’ you really are a virtuous sort.”
    “Me?” sputtered Promi, surprised. “No, no. I’m definitely
not
virtuous.”
    “You love pastries, don’t you?” asked the baker, a new twinkle in his eye. “There’s virtue in that.”
    “I surely do,” Promi replied, licking his lips. “The sweeter the better.”
    Shangri giggled again. “Then maybe you should go to the spirit world up in the clouds. They say it’s full o’ sweet things everywhere, in sugary streams an’ honey trees an’—”
    “Quiet, child.” The baker’s severe tone cut her off. “You know that travel between the worlds is strictly forbidden! Even talkin’ about it can get you punished by them angry priests, Araggna an’ Grukarr.”
    “But Papa—”
    “Hush, I said.”
    The baker scowled down at her. Now, young as she was, Shangri might have felt only her father’s reprimand. But Promi could see the fellow’s real concern for her safety. And he was sure the baker’s vehemence sprang from love rather than any religious dogma. Despite how they’d met moments before, Promi decided he genuinely liked this burly, flour-covered fellow.
    Shangri nodded to her father. “All right, Papa.”
    He tousled her hair, sending up a puff of flour. “Good girl.”
    She turned and ran into the pastry shop. Barely five seconds later, she ran back out again, this time holding a steaming hot cinnamon bun. With a smile that revealed several missing teeth, she offered it to Promi.
    The smell of cinnamon tickled his nostrils as he took the pastry. “Why, thanks, Shangri.”
    “You’re welcome.”
    Promi started to take a big bite of the cinnamon bun, but then stopped abruptly. Lowering it, he looked questioningly at the baker. “Is this . . . um, all right with you?”
    The baker grinned. “It’s all right, lad. You’ve earned that pastry.”
    Promi took his first bite, savoring the sweetness as he chewed. He swallowed, then said, “Still, I want to pay you for this one.”
    “Not necessary.” The baker patted his belly. “’Tis payment enough to see how much you’re enjoyin’ it.”
    Promi shook his head. “No, I insist. Let me pay you as you deserve.”
    The baker shrugged. “All right, lad, seein’ as you’re insistin’.”
    Casually, Promi reached into his tunic pocket and pulled out the jeweled belt buckle. He tossed it to the baker, who stared at it in utter astonishment.
    “That should cover the cinnamon bun,” said Promi dryly. “As well