Atlantis Rising Read Online Free Page A

as those huckleberry tarts.”
    The stunned baker peered at him. “But, lad—”
    Promi held up his hand. “No haggling for a higher price, now,” he said with a grin. Then, more seriously, he added, “But I’d suggest, if you ever need money, don’t try to sell the whole buckle. Too easily recognized. Just sell those sapphires one at a time.”
    The baker pinched his lips. “You stole this?”
    “Not from anyone who deserves to own it.” Promi gave him a wink. “Now it’s where it really belongs.”
    Taking another bite of the cinnamon bun, Promi spun around and walked down the cobblestone street. Seconds later, he turned a corner and disappeared.
    In front of the pastry shop, Shangri peered at the glittering object in her father’s hand. She’d never seen anything like it before. “Papa,” she asked, “does that really pay for the cinnamon bun?”
    “Aye,” he whispered. “It does.”

CHAPTER 4
     
    Spicy Sausage
     
    My favorite meals are freshly made, freshly spiced . . . and freshly stolen.
    —From Promi’s journal
    P romi stole through the twisting, narrow streets, always keeping in the shadows. That was, by now, a habit: The fewer people who saw him, the better. Why make his life as a thief any tougher than it already was?
    Besides, he now had a new acquaintance named Grukarr to watch out for. Not to mention some very angry temple guards . . . if, that is, the priest had allowed them to live.
    No need to worry about Grukarr,
he assured himself, passing a flower bed that overflowed with blue lilies. He paused a moment to savor their sweet smell, then moved on.
He’s probably still trying to put his pants back on.
    Yet even as he thought that, he knew it wasn’t true. He’d humiliated the priest, that was certain. And Grukarr wouldn’t spare any effort to respond. The man was deeply vengeful, jealous of his power, and extremely cruel—someone who enjoyed inflicting harsh punishments on commoners.
    Especially a commoner who had dared to make him look like a fool in public.
    Slipping around a corner into an alley, Promi couldn’t resist a grin. Already, he felt sure, stories must be circulating about the brave young vagabond who’d stolen Grukarr’s belt—and, in the process, his dignity. Just as there would be stories about the mysterious person (surely someone different from the vagabond) who had brazenly leaped off the top of the bell tower to escape a temple guard and then floated unharmed back down to the City.
    He tapped the golden earring, his new prize. All in all, it had been a good day.
And now,
he told himself confidently,
it’s about to get even better.
    For today, the feast holiday of Ho Kranahrum, he was going to attempt his most difficult—and most satisfying—job ever. Something he’d been planning for a full year. It wouldn’t happen out on the street, but deep inside the Divine Monk’s temple. Yes, right before the eyes of the Divine Monk himself, as well as his chief adviser, High Priestess Araggna. And maybe also her deputy—a certain priest by the name of Grukarr.
    Running his hand over his empty sheath, Promi reminded himself,
First, though, I’ll need a knife.
    He turned left, wending his way to the market square. As soon as he arrived, he almost bumped into a man selling snakes. The man wore them coiled around his arms, ankles—and even his head, wearing a cobra like a living turban. Promi could tell right away that the chaos he’d caused by his mad dash through the market had been replaced by the usual bustle of tradesmen, vendors, and common folks. Even the stampeding goats now stood calmly inside a makeshift pen. Only the splintered remains of a smashed cage sprinkled with brightly colored feathers showed any sign of what had happened earlier. That, and a faint humming that came from a table of magical fruit.
    A moment later, he spotted a woodworker whose specialty was carving bowls, mugs, and the handles of knives. With practiced ease, Promi plucked