WindDeceiver Read Online Free

goodly time, but I do know who you are.”
    Balizar shook his head. “I am Balizar Arbra. Hern was my brother; he’s dead.”
    Pain, terrible, blinding, crushing pain settled on his chest and he drew in a hitching breath.
    “Oh, god,” he whispered, turning his head away. “I should have known it was too good to be true.”
    There had been such devastation on that reddened face, Balizar thought, there had to have been great affection between this boy and his brother.
    “You knew Hern, did you?” he asked in a gentle voice.
    Conar nodded, too grieved to do anything else.
    “I had heard he died. Do you know how?”
    He didn’t want to look back around, to see that dearly loved face that was a carbon copy of Hern’s, that had set him to thinking his dreams, no, his nightmares, had been just that.
    “Son? Do you know how my brother met his end?”
    And the voice! Exactly like Hern’s: deep, just a touch of a lisp about it, an odd accent that Conar had never been able to identify. He didn’t want to hear that voice that cut him so deeply.
    He wanted to put his hands over his ears and shut out the sound.
    “Was he a friend of yours?”
    A friend? Conar thought, tears welling. He had been like a father to me. I loved the man.
    “I haven’t seen Hern in forty years, but he was flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood. I still care deeply for him.” Conar felt the man’s strong hand on his arm. “Anything you can tell me of him, son, will be most welcome.”
    He gathered his courage and turned his head back around on the pillow. That face, that face he never thought to see again this side of paradise, was looking down at him with such gentleness, such encouragement, so like Hern’s expression of love, he wanted to scream.
    WINDDECEIVER Charlotte Boyett-Compo 13
    “He was dear to you, too, wasn’t he, son?” Balizar asked quietly, seeing the naked pain in the young man’s face.
    Conar nodded. “I loved him.”
    Balizar heard and recognized the great sorrow in the quivering voice. “Can you tell me how he died?”
    He searched that wonderful face, drawing in comfort from the wrinkles, wondering what young poggleheaded warrior had put them there. His lips trembled as he answered.
    “He died in my arms.”
    Balizar sucked in a long breath. “In the Labyrinth? That is where I am told he died.”
    “One of the guards--“ Conar squeezed his lids shut.
    “Cut his throat,” Balizar finished. “I heard that much. I just don’t know why.”
    To protect me, Conar thought with heartfelt guilt, but how did he tell the man that without revealing his own identity. He didn’t think he knew and when Balizar asked his name, he was sure of it.
    “There was no identification on you,” Balizar said, asking once more what his name was.
    He said the first thing that came into his mind. “Khamsin.” He thanked Sabrina, wherever she was, for putting that name on his lips.
    “A good Kensetti name,” Balizar pronounced and saw a flare of surprise enter the man’s strange eyes. “Is that where you have been living since escaping that hellhole they called the Labyrinth?” He narrowed his gaze at the look of shock on the young man’s face. “You are one with the Darkwind.” He pointed to the tattoo on the back of Conar’s sword hand. “I’ve seen that symbol a few times over the years. All the men of the Wind Force have it.”
    “Here?” Conar asked, surprised, alarmed that the man knew the symbol. “You’ve seen our men here?”
    Balizar shook his head. “In other ports where I took runaways.”
    Conar’s brows came together. “Runaways. You mean slaves?”
    “We have an underground here in Rysalia. We get runaways to safety outside the Inner Kingdom. The Darkwind’s men have aided us on more than one occasion.”
    “Balizar, let him rest,” a woman said and Conar turned his head, stunned once more to find himself looking into another dearly longed-for face.
    “This is Rachel,” Balizar explained. “It is