Water Sleeps Read Online Free

on the pursuit of ideals dark or shining.
    Long ago Murgen learned to leave his flesh while he slept. He retained some of
     that ability but, sadly, it was diminished by the supernatural constraints of
     his captivity. He could do nothing outside the cavern of the ancients without
     being summoned forth by Sahra—or, conceivably, chillingly, by any other
     necromancer who knew how to reach him.
    Murgen’s ghost was the ultimate spy. Outside our circle none but Soulcatcher
     could detect his presence. Murgen informed us of our enemies’ every plot—those
     that we suspected strongly enough to ask Sahra to investigate. The process was
     cumbersome and limited but still, Murgen constituted our most potent weapon. We
     could not survive without him.
    And Sahra was ever more reluctant to call him up.
    God knows, it is hard to keep believing. Many of our brothers have lost their
     faith and have drifted away, vanishing into the chaos of the empire. Some may be
     rejuvenated once we have had a flashy success or two.
    The years have been painful for Sahra. They cost her three children, an agony no
     loving parent should have to bear. She lost their father as well but suffered
     little by that deprivation. No one who remembered the man spoke well of him. She
     suffered with the rest of us during the siege of Jaicur.
    Maybe Sahra—and the entire Nyueng Bao people—had angered Ghanghesha. Or maybe
     the god with the several elephant heads just enjoyed a cruel prank at the
     expense of his worshipers. Certainly Kina got a chuckle out of pulling lethal
     practical jokes on her devotees.
    Goblin and One-Eye were not usually present when Sahra raised Murgen. She did
     not need their help. Her powers were narrow but strong, and those two could be a
     distraction even when they tried to behave.
    Those antiques being there told me something unusual was afoot. And old they
     are, almost beyond reckoning. Their skills sustain them. One-Eye, if the Annals
     do not lie, is on the downhill side of two hundred. His youthful sidekick lags
     less than a century behind.
    Neither is a big man. Which is being generous. Both are shorter than me. And
     never were taller, even long before they became dried-up old relics. Which was
     probably when they were about fifteen. I cannot imagine One-Eye ever having been
     anything but old. He must have been born old. And wearing the ugliest, filthiest
     black hat that ever existed.
    Maybe One-Eye goes on forever because of the curse of that hat. Maybe the hat
     uses him as its steed and depends on him for its survival.
    That crusty, stinking glob of felt rag will hit the nearest fire before
     One-Eye’s corpse finishes bouncing. Everyone hates it.
    Goblin, in particular, loathes that hat. He mentions it whenever he and One-Eye
     get into a squabble, which is about as often as they see one another.
    One-Eye is small and black and wrinkled. Goblin is small and white and wrinkled.
    He has a face like a dried toad’s.
    One-Eye mentions that whenever they get into a squabble, which is about as often
     as there is an audience but nobody to get between them.
    They strain to be on their best behavior around Sahra, though. The woman has a
     gift. She brings out the best in people. Except her mother. Though the Troll is
     much worse away from her daughter.
    Lucky us, we do not see Ky Gota much. Her joints hurt her too bad. Tobo helps
     care for her, our cynical exploitation of his special immunity from her vitriol.
    She dotes on the boy—even if his father was foreign slime.
    Sahra told me, “These two claim they’ve found a more effective way to
     materialize Murgen. So you can communicate directly.” Usually Sahra had to talk
     for Murgen after she raised him up. I do not have a psychic ear.
    I said, “If you bring him across strong enough so the rest of us can see and
     hear him, then Tobo ought to be here, too. He’s suddenly got a lot of questions
     about his father.”
    Sahra peered at me oddly. I was