Witchlanders Read Online Free Page A

almost shy, and when he turned back, her pale blue eyes were clear as glass. “Haven’t you ever . . . wanted something else?”
    â€œElse?”
    â€œYou used to talk about going to sea.” The words made something tighten deep in his chest. Why was she bringing that up?
    â€œWhat I want,” he said, more sharply than he meant,“is for us not to starve. What I want is for us to get this hicca in. That’s how we honor our father’s memory, Skyla, not by bowing and bending on the prayer hill.”
    â€œAnd what do you think I want?”
    She was serious, he could see that, but he’d never thought of Skyla wanting anything more than what was right here under their feet. He was the one who wanted more—not that he’d ever get it now.
    Ryder shrugged. “What do you want?” His mind was a blank. “How should I know? To get married, I guess. To some boy. Have babies and nice dresses.”
    â€œBy the twins, how can you be my brother and know nothing about me?”
    â€œWell, what do you want, then?”
    He was baffled by the tears that were suddenly glistening in her eyes. For the first time, he noticed how tall and wiry his sister had grown in the past year, how womanish she was looking, even in her too-big men’s leggings.
    â€œAre you angry because I wouldn’t let you buy that cloth for a new set of prayer clothes?”
    Skyla’s cheeks went crimson. She looked at the sky as if there were someone up there who could witness his stupidity. Then she turned on her heel without answering and stormed down the hill, her long braid flicking back and forth behind her.
    â€œNow what did I do?” he yelled.
    Skyla turned again and shouted up to him. “You know, Ryder, you talk and talk about ‘honoring our father,’ but I remember how it was. Every time he told one of the old stories, every time he spoke about the Goddess, or about Aata and Aayse, it was all you could do to keep from laughing out loud.”
    â€œThat’s not true,” he sputtered. “I never laughed at Fa.”
    â€œYou and Mabis loved to sit up there on your high perch and laugh at everyone below you. ‘How stupid people are to believe in things. How much better we are than everyone else.’” Skyla put her hands on her hips. “Well, Fa was one of those people and so am I. And now so is Mabis! You’re all alone on your high perch, Ryder. Enjoy the solitude!”
    Ryder went back to working the hill, up one row and down the other, but his usual songs didn’t come to him now, and he couldn’t get Skyla’s words out of his mind. Girls were irrational creatures. You never knew what you did to make them angry, and they never just came out and told you.
    Above him on the prayer hill, Skyla and Pima were stretching out their arms, beginning the sun position, the first part of Aata’s prayer. From a distance, one looked like a miniature version of the other, with their long, skinny limbs and hair the color of the fields.
    â€œPrayer hill,” he muttered. “Next year I’ll plant hicca up there. Get us five more sacks of flour.”
    Pima saw him looking and waved, jumping up and down in the grass. “Hey, Ry-der!” she yelled.
    He thought of yelling back—that would really annoy Skyla—but instead he smiled and put a finger to his lips; Aata’s prayer was supposed to be silent. Pima put her hand over her mouth, remembering, then stretched her arms out and bowed low, lifting one wobbly leg behind her. Next to her, Skyla’s pose was as steady and graceful as a statue in the village shrine. It was a pretty sight, Ryder had to admit. Behind the girls, the jagged mountains rose up dramatically, scarlet with zanthias in seed.
    The witches are in their reds . Ryder thought he had heard the expression recently, but he couldn’t remember where. With a sigh, he turned from the view and went back to