Gardens of Mist (The Traveler's Gate Chronicles: Collection #2) Read Free

report to their fields.
    As I did every morning, I picked up my equipment: hoe, gloves, hat, spade, shears. I made sure it was all in place, and I made the usual hike down to the Fields.
    When I got to the edge of town, a little collection of propped-up wooden shacks next to the tangled rainbows of the Midnight Fields, I noticed two things. First, no one was working. Everyone on my crew was gathered up in the town, silent, tools hanging forgotten at their sides.
    Second, a woman with loose, stringy hair was walking from worker to worker, asking a question that I couldn’t quite make out. A woman in a white nightgown.
    Eventually, as I knew she would, she made her way over to me.
    “Have you seen Adrian?” Phelia Corydon asked. She had panic in her eyes, but none made it into her voice. “I woke up, and he wasn’t there.”
    Later, the foreman made it very clear that I should not have told her. She almost had me brought up on charges before the Overlord. By telling Phelia what happened to her husband, I might have made her vulnerable to the Mist, and thus endangered all of us.
    But as it happens, Phelia Corydon acquitted herself well. I told her the story that I’ve just told you, and she didn’t scream. She didn’t attack me, or break down into tears, as I might have in her place.
    Like a true woman of Asphodel, she made a mask of her face. Then she spat at my feet.
    Without looking at anyone else, she walked into town. I don’t know where she was going, but I heard later that she had reclaimed Adrian’s body and was taking the case to the Overlord. It’s probably true.
    So I’ve told you the whole story, even the parts that I should probably leave out, for my reputation’s sake. But as I said already, I don’t have much of a reputation.
    I know, I should have realized immediately what the Mist had done to us. I should have insisted that we take Adrian inside, wait for morning, and examine the evidence.
    It hasn’t been long. I’m still shaken by the whole thing. I’ve had enough practice staying calm that you’d think I’d be able to keep my head in any situation, but I’ll tell you what: this one gnaws at me.  
    But, given time, I’ll pack it away. Shove it down. I’ll bury the memory so deep that I don’t feel anything, so it can’t be used against me. As much as I can, I will forget Adrian Corydon.
    I have to.

    In their attempts at self-preservation, Travelers of Asphodel often throw away the only parts of themselves worth protecting.

    -Elysian Book of Virtues, Chapter 4: Rose

M AELSTROM OF S TONE
    There is always time for patience…
    -Elysian Book of Virtues, Chapter 5: Green

    When Chloe etched the final rune into her knuckle-sized sapphire, it felt like being let out of prison.
    She dropped the sapphire—cut into two dozen facets, all covered in fresh, blocky runes—on her workbench, next to a sprawling collection of her tools.
      “That’s one sapphire heartstone done!” she called into the swirling tunnels of her house. “In record time! You should go ahead and retire, I’ll take over for you.”
    She always tried to make jokes when she needed to leave the house in a hurry. Sometimes she could slip away while her grandfather chuckled.
    Chloe pulled her padded leather jacket on with one hand and opened the door with the other. Maybe, if she were only quick enough, she could make it outside.  
    The scuff of her grandfather’s slippers behind her warned Chloe that she had been too slow.
    She spun around, favoring him with a bright smile. “I was just heading out, grandfather…I mean, ah, Grandmaster Ornheim. Can I get you anything while I’m out? Something to eat, or…”
    Chloe’s grandfather, whose name was once Deiman Uracius, looked like nothing more than a village child’s idea of a wizard. He sported a white beard long enough to reach his belt, had he worn one. But of course he didn’t, because that would mean forgoing his traditional thick, brown robes. Rings of