Raven's Shadow Read Free Page A

it.
    Tier handed the innkeeper the silver coin and began digging in his purse, eventually coming up with the twenty-eight coppers necessary to make two silver and four. He was careful that a number of people saw how few coppers he had left. They didn’t need to know about the money in his belt.
    Wresen settled back, as if the Traveler’s fate was nothing to him. His response made Tier all the more wary of him—in his experience bored noblemen seldom gave up so easily. But for the moment at least, Tier had only the girl to contend with.
    Tier walked to the stairs, ignoring the men who pushed back away from him. He jerked the girl’s wrist and pulled her past the innkeeper.
    â€œWhat she has we’ll take,” Tier said. “I’ll burn it all when we’re in the woods—you might think of doing the same to the bed and linen in that room. I’ve seen wizards curse such things.”
    He took the stairs up at a pace that the girl couldn’t possibly match with the awkward way he kept her arm twisted behind her. When she stumbled, he jerked her up with force that was more apparent than real. He wanted everyone to be completely convinced that he could handle whatever danger she represented.
    There were four doors at the top of the stairs, but only one hung ajar, and he hauled her into it and shut the door behind them.
    â€œQuick, girl,” he said, releasing her, “gather your things before they decide that they might keep the silver and kill the both of us.”
    When she didn’t move, he tried a different tack. “What you don’t have packed in a count of thirty, I’ll leave for the innkeeper to burn,” he said.
    Proud and courageous she was, but also young. With quick, jerky movements, she pulled a pair of shabby packs out from under the bed. She tied the first one shut for travel, and retrieved clothing out of the other. Using her night rail as cover, she put on a pair of loose pants and a long, dark-colored tunic. After stuffing her sleeping shift back in the second pack, she secured it, too. She stood up, glanced out the room, and froze.
    â€œUshireh,” she said and added with more urgency, “he’s alive!”
    Tier looked out and realized that the room looked over the square, allowing a clear view of the fire. Clearly visible in the heat of the flames, the dead man’s body was slowly sitting upright—and from the sounds of it, frightening the daylights out of the men left to guard the pyre.
    He caught her before she could run out of the room. “Upon my honor, mistress, he is dead,” he said with low-voiced urgency. “I saw him as I rode in. His throat was cut and he was dead before they lit the fire.”
    She continued to struggle against his hold, her attention on the pyre outside.
    â€œWould they have left so few men to guard a living man?” he said. “Surely you’ve seen funeral pyres before. When the flame heats the bodies they move.”
    In the eastern parts of the Empire, they burned their dead. The priests held that when a corpse moved in the flame it was the spirit’s desire to look once more upon the world. Tier’s old employer, the Sept, who had a Traveler’s fondness for priests (that is to say, not much), said he reckoned the heat shrank tissue faster than bone as the corpse burned. Whichever was correct, the dead stayed dead.
    â€œHe’s dead,” Tier said again. “I swear to it.”
    She pulled away from him, but only to run back to the window. She was breathing in shaking, heaving gasps, her wholebody trembling with it. If she’d done something of the same downstairs, he thought sourly, they wouldn’t be looking to ride out in the rain without dinner.
    â€œThey were so afraid of him and his magic,” she said in a low voice trembling with rage and sorrow. “But they killed the wrong one. Stupid solsenti, thinking that being a Traveler makes one a