The Black Star (Book 3) Read Free

it."
    Dante still hadn't had a sip of tea, but the climb down the knotted rope got his heart pumping fast enough to clear his head. He strolled across the plaza, holding the pot away from himself to avoid splashing. A couple dozen ropes dangled down the cliff like the world's biggest loom. People came and went from the stone buildings. Smoke rose from chimneys. The smell of baking bread, roast mutton, and fried greens filled the square.
    The odor above the yawning latrine was less wonderful. Dante emptied the pot, careful not to pitch himself into the pit along with it, walked to the stream to wash his hands, then returned to the plaza.
    There, Lew stood on tiptoes. He spotted Dante and his eyes lit up. "Breakfast this way!"
    He led the way to one of the structures. Inside, a score of people poked at stovetop pans. Steam rose from the cooking. Vinsin waved, grabbed a kettle, and brought them hot mugs of minty tea. It took Dante a minute to understand what he was seeing: the kitchens and indeed much of the village was communal; privacy (and most private property) was reserved for the cliffside homes. Vinsin finished at his station and brought them plates of bread, grits, fried mushrooms, wilted greens, and a few shreds of chicken. They ate outside. Though Dante didn't know what Ast Modell looked like, he couldn't stop himself from glancing around the square.
    "Ah," Vinsin said as they were busy scraping up the last of the grits with heels of bread. "There's your man."
    Ast Modell stood out from the others like an albino. Or, in his case, the opposite: while Gaskans were notoriously pale, Ast had a brush of color to his skin. Could easily pass for a citizen of far southern Bressel, yet there was something else foreign to his features which Dante couldn't place.
    "I wasn't sure you'd come," Ast said, making no effort to shake hands. "It's just a few lights."
    "And gutted sheep!" Lew said, with a little too much enthusiasm.
    "Whatever it is, it's unnatural," Dante said. "Narashtovik is happy to look into it and ensure no harm comes to your people."
    Ast shrugged his thin shoulders. "No one's being hurt. Strange things often appear in the mountains. In time, they disappear."
    "I hear these signs have persisted for weeks. We'd rather be safe. Even if they're completely innocuous, a phenomenon like that is of interest to the Council."
    "Getting to them will require a walltent. Are you aware of their use?"
    "I'm not aware of their is ," Dante said.
    "Portable sleeping platforms," Ast said. "You secure them to the sides of cliffs at night."
    "Is that safe?" Lew said.
    "Safer than sleeping on the ground."
    "They won't be necessary," Dante said.
    Ast gave him a long look. "You prefer to be shredded and devoured?"
    "We won't need portable tents when I can create portable caves. All you need to do is provide a few supplies and lead the way."
    The thin man looked skeptical, then nodded. "If that is your wish. The hike will take three days."
    "Three days?" Dante said. "Where are we walking to, the moon?"
    "This isn't Narashtovik. These are the Woduns. There are no roads."
    "Well, that's ominous," Dante muttered.
    Ast went to gather the requisite food, clothes, and climbing gear, some of which he had stored in his cave, some of which he had to barter from other villagers. Compiling these goods took a couple hours, which Dante spent frustrated and bored. All he wanted to do was help these people. Yet Ast—whom Olivander swore by; he'd fought for Narashtovik during the Chainbreakers' War—seemed reticent to take a single step outside town.
    Terrified of kappers, no doubt. Dante had seen their horns displayed as trophies, admittedly. At the same time, he'd lived in Gask for a decade. Had traversed the lands from the norren hills to Pocket Cove. In all that time, he'd never seen evidence of a live one.
    He decided to quit grousing about how much time they were losing and go save some instead. At a stone structure that housed ten different