THE (tlpq-4) Read Online Free

sun
    had set, but the gates to the wayhouse courtyard were still open. The
    carriage Eiah had heard described was at the side of the house, its
    horses unhitched. The two women, she knew, were presenting themselves as
    travelers. The man-old, fat, unpleasant to speak withwas posing as their
    slave. Eiah let the servant take her horse to be cared for, but instead
    of going up the steps to the main house, she followed him back to the
    stables. A small shack stood away at an angle. Quarters for servants and
    slaves. Eiah felt her lips press thin at the thought. Rough straw
    ticking, thin blankets, whatever was left to eat after the paying guests
    were done.
     
    "How many servants are here now?" Eiah asked of the young maneighteen
    summers, so four years old when it had happened-brushing down her horse.
    He looked at her as if she'd asked what color ducks laid the eggs they
    served at table. She smiled.
     
    "Three," the servant said.
     
    "Tell me about them," she said.
     
    He shrugged.
     
    "There's an old woman came in two days ago. Her master's laid up sick.
    Then a boy from the Westlands works for a merchant staying on the ground
    floor. And an old bastard just came in with two women from Chaburi-Tan."
     
    "Chaburi-Tan?"
     
    "What they said," the servant replied.
     
    Eiah took two lengths of silver from her sleeve and held them out in her
    palm. The servant promptly forgot about her horse.
     
    "When you're done," she said, "take the woman and the Westlander to the
    back of the house. Buy them some wine. Don't mention me. Leave the old man."
     
    The servant took a pose of acceptance so total it was just short of an
    open pledge. Eiah smiled, dropped the silver in his palm, and pulled up
    a shoeing stool to sit on while she waited. The night was cool, but
    still not near as cold as her home in the north. An owl hooted deep and
    low. Eiah pulled her arms up into her sleeves to keep her fingers warm.
    The scent of roasting pork wafted from the wayhouse, and the sounds of a
    flute and a voice lifted together.
     
    The servant finished his work and with a deferential nod to Eiah, made
    his way to the servants' house. It was less than half a hand before he
    emerged with a thin woman and a sandy-haired Westlands boy trailing him.
    Eiah pushed her hands back through her sleeves and made her way to the
    small, rough shack.
     
    He was sitting beside the fire, frowning into the flames and eating a
    mush of rice and raisins from a small wooden bowl. The years hadn't been
    kind to him. He was thicker than he'd been when she knew him, an
    unhealthy fatness that had little to do with indulgence. His color was
    poor; what remained of his hair was white stained yellow by neglect. He
    looked angry. He looked lonesome.
     
    "Uncle Maati," she said.
     
    He startled. His eyes flashed. Eiah couldn't tell if it was anger or
    fear. But whatever it was had a trace of pleasure to it.
     
    "Don't know who you mean," he said. "Name's Daavit."
     
    Eiah chuckled and stepped into the small room. It smelled of bodies and
    smoke and the raisins in Maati's food. Eiah found a small chair and
    pulled it to the fire beside the old poet, her chosen uncle, the man who
    had destroyed the world. They sat silently for a while.
     
    "It was the way they died," Eiah said. "All the stories you told me when
    I was young about the prices that the andat exacted when a poet's
    binding failed. The one whose blood turned dry. The one whose belly
    swelled up like he was pregnant, and when they cut him open it was all
    ice and seaweed. All of them. I started to hear stories. What was that,
    four years ago?"
     
    At first she thought he wouldn't answer. He cupped two thick fingers
    into the rice and ate what they lifted out. He swallowed. He sucked his
    teeth.
     
    "Six," he said.
     
    "Six years," she said. "Women started appearing here and there, dead in
    strange ways."
     
    He didn't answer. Eiah waited for the space of five slow breaths
    together before she went