And Night Descends (The Third Book of the Small Gods Series) Read Free Page B

returning. Captain Bryder nodded, too.
    “We have an agreement. Ash.”
    Behind the captain, the crew dispersed, heading back to their duties. As the crowd parted, a boy Teryk hadn’t seen amongst them made his way to the captain’s side. He looked to have seen no more than twelve or thirteen turns of the seasons, and his diminutive stature explained why the prince hadn’t noticed him before.
    “Taylor, this is Ash, my cabin boy. Seems the two of you might have somewhat in common.”
    Teryk nodded toward the boy. “Hello, Ash.”
    He took a step to his left, half hiding himself behind the captain.
    “Don’t worry, he’ll get used to you quick enough.” Bryder put his hand on the cabin boy’s shoulder and Ash looked up at him. “You’ll be showing our guest around the boat, Ash. Get him some bedding and clothes and find him some jobs so the boys don’t get riled by him being here.”
    Ash nodded and took two tentative steps forward, reached out and grabbed Teryk by the wrist. The captain spoke again before the cabin boy led him away.
    “Before you do all that, take the poor lad to the galley and get him some food. Looks like he hasn’t eaten in a long while.”
    Wood scraped wood as Bryder spun on the block of a foot and strode away across the deck. Clomp-thump. Clomp-thump.
    Teryk tilted his head back, gazing skyward and filling his lungs with salty air. Ash tugged at his arm, but he stayed put for a moment, enjoying the sun on his face and noticing a bird circling in the cloudless blue high above. It wasn’t a gull like he’d have expected, but a black bird with wide wings and a long, blunt beak. He watched it until his stomach gurgled, confirming what the captain had noted but what, in his excitement and then fear, he hadn’t realized until now.
    He looked away from the raven, rubbed his belly, and allowed Ash to lead him away.

II Trenan –A Familiar Voice
    Godsbane’s hilt felt foreign in Trenan’s hand as he gripped it tight. The man called Stirk knelt before him, forced to his knees by Dansil. Jeers and cheers rose from the crowd, each taunt and holler grating on the swordsman’s ears, disgusting him that the mob so enjoyed watching the deaths of others. He took no joy in death, no matter what the reason or how deserved; any soldier would tell you the same.
    What must be, must be.
    He raised the crownsword, his face pulled into a frown, and the rabble gathered in front of the platform fell into relative silence. Stirk shifted, staring at the wooden boards, and Dansil tightened his grip on the man.
    “Trenan! No!”
    The words reached him clear and loud, spoken in the princess’ voice as though she stood beside him. Trenan jerked his head away from the task at hand, blade still held aloft, and for an instant the crowd parted. He glimpsed two figures—one clad in the drab green smock and wooden mask of the Goddess, the other in red—then they disappeared. The mob’s noise rose in angry tones calling for blood, but the master swordsman ignored their pleas.
    Trenan leaped from the platform and waded into the sea of onlookers, its members doing their best to move aside and avoid Godsbane’s sharp edge, but their mass impeded him. He shouldered his way through, growling in his throat, and finally burst out the far side into the open.
    The lanes beyond lay empty.
    Three of them opened into the square. In his haste to pursue the voice that sounded like the princess, he hadn’t seen which one they’d followed. He stared first down one, then the next and the next, hoping to spy a green smock, a flash of red, but saw nothing. With no other reason than a feeling in his gut, he took a step toward the lane to his right, halting at the touch of a hand on his shoulder. Trenan wheeled, sword poised ready to defend himself, but held up when he found Osis standing behind him, arms raised defensively. The sword master lowered his weapon and spun on his heel to continue his survey of the lanes.
    “It was Danya