Kieran (Tales of the Shareem) Read Free

somewhere.
    “No,” the patroller snapped. Her hand went to her sidearm. “Now, get out of here, before I change my mind and arrest you.”
    “Yeah, yeah.” Kieran raised his hands in surrender. “I was just saying.”
    The patroller’s derisive snort echoed among the crates as Kieran turned away and wandered toward the entrance to the dockyards. He took his time leaving, even hummed tunelessly to himself. All the while his heart was pounding, sweat trickling down his back, his feet itching to run, run, run .
    Kieran made it to the entrance and out into the main street, the avenue shaded all the way along. Quiet today, because everyone was at the festival for the gods of the Crystal Mountains, but that had been the point.
    Now to find out if his mysterious, dirt-covered woman had decided to wait for him as he’d told her, or if she’d fled, never to be seen again.
     

Chapter Two
     
    Felice hunkered into the shadows at a corner where two canopies overlapped the intersection of two market streets, and waited for her mysterious man to appear. She hadn’t made up her mind whether or not to trust him, but if he could point out a place for her to stay, she’d trust him long enough for that. She suppressed the voice that told her she also wanted to have another look at him.
    The corner where the man had told Felice to wait was a popular place—a lot of people were trying to smash themselves into the deeper shade the canopies provided while they shopped at the markets. They didn’t pay much attention to Felice, though. She’d pulled a fold of robe over the lower half of her face and remained against a wall, but no one behaved as though this were unusual. Perhaps they thought her a tired shopper trying to get out of the sun for a bit.
    Despite it being a festival day, the place was thronged with people both buying and selling. Felice couldn’t believe the variety and quantity of stuff changing hands. She could tell that Bor Narga was a planet with wealth, because the goods for sale in this working-class area—probably third- or fourth-hand by now—were of high quality.
    Felice watched languid Bor Nargans drink water, and swallowed, her throat parched. A few people had water systems strapped to their backs, small hoses in their mouths, so they could suck cool water whenever they wanted. She tried not to imagine the liquid sliding down her throat and wetting her desperately dry mouth. She’d been trained to stay strong for long periods, but there were limits, and she was sure she’d reached hers.
    After a nerve-wracking long time, Felice saw her giant man called a Shareem—what the hell did that mean?—approaching. People moved out of the way for him, but not overtly. As he came striding through, they drifted to the sides of the streets as though pushed by the bow wave of a ship. But curiously, they didn’t stare at him, only turned and made for the stalls as if only interested in the wares.
    Not interested at all in the big and bulking man in his skin-baring tunic, dark hair tamed into a tight queue, and his square, handsome face. The black chain glistened on his bicep, and his very blue eyes roved the crowd.
    What set him apart from the well-covered men and women around him, notwithstanding the chain, the bare skin, the hair, and the eyes, was his size. He dwarfed everyone. He looked different, he moved differently, and everyone got out of his way. Even in Felice’s old life, during her training and after, she’d never met anyone as huge as this man. And yet, he was well at ease with himself.
    Women turned to glance at him after he walked by, sizing him up and pretending not to. A few men did too, though they pretended not to even more.
    When he reached Felice, he seized her by the arm and pulled her along with him, not stopping, not speaking. He was strong, and Felice had no choice but to hurry beside him, nearly dancing to keep her feet.
    In any other circumstance, Felice might be terrified, might fight to