A Secret Atlas Read Free Page A

again if you go west.”
    The archer thought for a moment. “It is very crowded here. West, then.”
    Conoursai snorted with outrage, but said nothing. Moraven continued to ignore her and
    turned to Pavynti. “And now your fate must be decided.”
    “My lord’s will be done.”
    “You will go to the town of Derros, south, on the Virine coast. You will present yourself at
    the School of Istor. You will tell the Grandmaster I have sent you to join his school. He will
    see to your training. When he releases you, you will be xidantzu for nine years. You will wander and entertain bandits as you have been entertained.”
    “Yes, Master.” Again she put her belly to the dirt in a deep bow.
    “Care for your companions tonight, then go tomorrow. This is my will.”
    The farmers, between the two of them, lifted the mallet and broke the haft. The others in
    the group started forward again, following the farmers and allowing Conoursai to join
    them. All of them gave Moraven wide berth. Moraven moved past the bandits, but did so
    slowly, waiting for the old man and his kin, who were bringing up the rear.
    Moraven smiled at the boy. “When you get to Moriande, you will deliver that overshirt to
    Macyl’s family. They will honor you for it. Ward it well.”
    “I will.” Dunos nodded, then narrowed his eyes. “Are you really a Mystic?”
    “Dunos, hush.” Alait settled his hand on the back of the boy’s neck. “Don’t be offended,
    Master. He is just a boy.”
    “I’m not.” Moraven crouched again, looking the boy eye to eye. “I have studied many years
    and am blessed with skill. I am jaecaiserr, but you cannot believe all the stories.” He reached out and caressed the boy’s lifeless left arm. “If I could use my magic to heal you
    with a touch, I would have done so on the eve we met. My magic is not for healing, to my
    regret. Others have that skill, and you will find them in Moriande.”
    The boy nodded solemnly. “Thank you, Master.” He looked up at his father, and the two of
    them moved on.
    Matut reached out a hand and rested it on Moraven’s shoulder as he rose. “A moment
    more of your time, Master.”
    The swordsman nodded and let the two younger men get further down the road. “What is
    it, grandfather?”
    The old man kept his voice low. “In this place, when the bandits stopped us nines of nine
    years ago, a young man of our company challenged them. He told them to draw a circle,
    and they did.”
    “And what happened?”
    “He slew them all. An autumn breeze works harder stirring leaves than he did slaughtering
    them. He did not wear your name, but he did bear the crest of the black tiger hunting.”
    “That would be something hard to forget.”
    “I never have.” The old man sighed. “If my eyes were good, I could see that you are the
    same man, untouched by the years. Why didn’t you kill them this time?”
    “As you agreed, grandfather, that was something hard to forget.” Moraven’s blue eyes
    gazed again toward Moriande. “I haven’t forgotten, and I have learned.”

Chapter Two
    36th day, Month of the Bat, Year of the Dog
    9th Year of Imperial Prince Cyron’s Court
    162nd Year of the Komyr Dynasty
    736th year since the Cataclysm
    Anturasikun, Moriande
    Nalenyr
    Keles Anturasi leaned against the marble balustrade in the elevated garden at
    Anturasikun. The stone felt cool beneath his hands and he knew, almost by touch, where
    it had been quarried and how long it had taken to reach the capital. Solaeth, shipped over
    the Dark Sea, then down the Gold River. He smiled to himself, his hazel eyes bright in a handsome face with sharply sculpted cheekbones and a nose that had been broken once
    when he was a child. He’d known many a happy day in the garden, and knew today would
    be happier still.
    He looked over the city, casting his gaze to the southeast and toward the Imperial Palace.
    Through his mind flashed half a dozen routes for getting from the Anturasi stronghold to
    the