Templar's Destiny (9780545415095) Read Online Free

die. Outside the lash of the rain and the wind’s howl made me glad to be where we were this night. I spoke the prayer of the Lord quietly as I stared at the rough, wooden beams above my head. What was a gypsy? And where were Torquil, the carving, and Alexander?

“Keep yer head down an’ yer feet nimble,” Bertrand said as we stepped out of the dark alley beyond Fabienne’s rooms. Aine and I would travel apart from Bertrand to avoid suspicion. “I will take a room under the name Monsieur LeGotte. Ask for me only when ye know none are about,” he continued.
    I nodded. Aine was far away — not in body, but in mind. I watched her eyes dart to and fro looking for something. “Aine?” Bertrand said.
    â€œRobert.” She reminded him of the name we had agreed to call her.
    â€œAye. I’m sorry, I forgot. Ye heard me, did ye no’?” he asked.
    â€œAye. Head down. Feet nimble,” she murmured, still craning about. The rain had stopped sometime in the night, but a fog hung over the Île de la Cité. The streets were filling with vendors who moved in and out of the mist like wraiths in a kirk yard.
    â€œI’m off, then,” he said as he pulled his cloak up over his head and ducked deep into the cowl. “God go with ye both.”
    â€œAn’ with ye, Bertrand,” I said, a chill running through me. The last time I had seen the Templar Alexander, we had parted with similar words. I turned to follow, albeit at a slower pace, but Aine stopped me with an outstretched hand.
    â€œNo’ yet,” she said, moving off toward a cart filled with figs. I thought she wanted some, but she didn’t seem of a mind to choose. I bought several, packing them away to break our fast later. Aine fussed with the edge of the vendor’s tarp, lost in the far-off expression she had worn all morning.
    â€œWhat is it? God’s toes, lass, ye’re driving me mad,” I said, exasperated.
    â€œI thought for sure that he would be here,” she answered.
    â€œWho —” I began, just as Gaston bolted around the bend, knocking me into the fig cart, much to the outrage of its owner.
    I gave Gaston a sharp look. “Does yer mamere know ye are out?” I straightened the vendor’s fruit and bought two more figs.
    Gaston shrugged. “Come. I will take you a shorter way,” he said, and was off before we’d barely moved to follow. The road he chose wound along the banks of the Seine, off in the direction Bertrand had headed, but within moments we had turned away.
    Gaston took us through a myriad of narrow lanes that snaked and branched throughout the city. As we moved, I drew a fine net of power around the three of us. Aine felt the change and joined my efforts, reinforcing the strands. The net would not hide our presence completely, but would blur our edges from the eyes of any who passed us. I felt the tingle of the net on my skin, and my heart began to race.
    People traversed the twisting streets with little care that we were among them. For that I was grateful. “The men who seek you are new to the ranks of the Templars,” Gaston said over his shoulder, jarring me from my task. Gaston moved with his usual grace. His feet hardly seemed to touch the surface of the ground. It made me feel large and lumbering.
    â€œHow d’ye know?” I asked.
    Aine’s song rang strong and loud inside my head. It gave me the reach I needed to keep the net of power around us, but it also distracted me, for with it came an awareness of the animals in the trees and bushes. Only through concentration could I understand what Gaston said.
    â€œThey’re young. No more than a year out of black robes. I know one of them — Zachariah. He came from our village,” he said.
    We were passing through a stand of poplars, and the wind grew harsh, tearing at my cloak. With little thought I commanded the power to sit down upon it. At once