Spirit Walker Read Online Free Page A

wounded mouse from its burrow. There was no understanding or comfort in those dark eyes, only pain.
    Even to Tull, his words sounded hollow. It would take a more skillful speaker than he to paint a peaceful face on Denni’s death.
    The only hope for his mother would be if those close to her could rescue her from her grief. So the Neanderthals gathered around her in a tight knot, touching her, whispering words of comfort.
    Tull felt helpless, and the sentiment weighed him down like a stone. As a halfbreed, he was an outsider among the Pwi, tolerated more than welcomed, like a beggar who perpetually haunts a city. He let others carry the grim news to Tchar’s family, wishing that he could do more.
    For nearly an hour he waited near the docks while the crowd swelled. One old woman mentioned that Chaa was still on his spirit walk, that after five days he was unconscious. Fava ran home to see him, so Tull and Ayuvah unloaded the boat and each carried two kegs of honey up to Theron Scandal’s inn.
    It was late afternoon, and a warm gravitational wind had begun to sigh down from the mountains, hissing through the redwood trees. Up on the ridge above town, a tyrant bird, one of the smaller breed of dragons, swerved down the sky toward a redwood. It beat its stiff feathers once, twice, clutched the uppermost limbs in its talons, and swayed in the treetop.
    Tull watched the tyrant bird, with its gaping teeth and blood-red serpentine head adorned with a venomous horn, and its cold intelligent eyes. The tyrant bird posed no threat to him, since the ancient human Starfarers had genetically programmed it to hunt for different prey, yet Tull shivered at the sight of it, for a rage in its eyes spoke of judgment and an eagerness for execution.
    Tull and Ayuvah carried the kegs of honey uphill to Moon Dance Inn. Tull flipped his shoulder-length copper hair back to let the wind cool his neck.
    Moon Dance Inn was a long two-story building. Its lower level was made of round river rocks held together by mortar, while the upper floor was carved of fine cedar, stained red.
    Eight columns of hand-carved oak supported an upper balcony where, later each evening, half-clad ladies would call down to invite sailors and passersby up to their “bridal suites.”
    Great thick vines of red roses climbed the oak columns, and flower boxes on the balcony trailed red trumpet vines.
    Two albino peacocks strutted in the grass at the front of the inn. The muted colors in their plumage hinted at greens and blues as vibrant as an opal. They called “Ayaah, Ayaah,” as they fanned their tails in display and warily watched the whores' bastard children dash about the streets.
    Theron Scandal, the owner of the inn, shambled out the front at that very moment, his thick arms covered with sweat and flour from working in the kitchens. He was a burly man, with a blunt nose and hair as dark as a black bear’s. He surveyed the street, scratched his beard, and nodded at Tull and Ayuvah.
    Scandal waved impatiently. “Bust a testicle, boys! Get those kegs up here.” Ayuvah and Tull hurried into the stifling warmth of the inn and dropped the honey kegs on the counter of the bar.
    The inn smelled of yeast and sizzling meat—the mouth-watering scent of rising rye-bread rolls coupled with the pungent odor of fermenting beer.
    Scandal escorted the young men to a table, called to a serving boy for plates and mugs. “Only four kegs?” Scandal asked. “I wanted six.” Leatherwood honey was a prize, and Scandal was the only trader who dealt in the stuff. He’d regret losing the sixth barrel.
    “We got only five,” Ayuvah apologized. “We have one more down in the boat. We had trouble—slavers.”
    “Hunh,” Scandal said, as if preoccupied. He seemed to be gazing inward, and did not ask for details. “Time to settle up then,” he said. “But first, sit with me a moment. Have a fine dinner.”
    Tull immediately knew that Theron had another job offer for him. It wasn’t