Living With Ghosts by Kari Sperring

Author:Kari Sperring
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Speculative Fiction
ISBN: 9780756405427
Publisher: DAW
Published: 2009-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

11

IN THE DARK OF THE LOST HALL beyond the undercroft, Kenan sat with his eyes closed and counted down the seconds to sunset. Awareness of light and dark, sun and moons ran through his clan-blood. Quenfrida’s teaching had shown him how to awaken it, dilute as it was. He would never have the otter shape of his ancestors, but somewhat of their other skills lived on in him. He sat cross-legged on the floor, upper body naked, hair drawn back into a tight braid, hands resting loosely upon his knees, his breathing regular and slow. The priests had no idea he was here: he had slipped in from the scholar’s private entrance in the shop owner’s cellar. The shop owner would never again remember that entrance. Quenfrida’s instructions had included the art of clouding minds. And the scholar . . . He would never know anything again. As the last light slid below the horizon, Kenan stirred and opened his eyes. It was time.

His tools were laid out before him. A handful of earth from the temple grounds, a glass bottle filled with water from the river, a tallow candle, a stick of red pastel, a bundle of hairs—his own, his grandfather’s, and strands from various of his kai-rethin—and his thin bone-handled knife. He had not Quenfrida’s art of lighting candles with a look: for that he must use flint. In its flickering light, he drew a rough circle on the floor around himself with the pastel and placed the candle carefully beside him. Then he sprinkled the earth in front of him, shaping it into a small mound. The city, stronghold of Firomelle and her line, heart of Gran’ Romagne, which held his homeland in thrall. He held his hand over it, describing it in Lunedithin, first of tongues. Merafi, in small, for him to work his will upon. With the tip of the knife, he scratched a shallow trench around it, digging into the dirt of the cave floor. He untied the hair bundle and wrapped the strands about the base of the mound. Then he uncorked the bottle. All around him, the eyes of the painted creatures watched him. He saluted them and dripped seven drops slowly onto the mound. “River water, mother of the city, vein of its life-blood, hear me.” Another seven drops. “River water, born of the mountains, born of the sea, sweet and salt, to shelter the city and keep it secure.” Seven more drops, “River water, taken by me and summoned by me, be mingled in blood and break your bindings.” He set the bottle aside and picked up his knife. The edge shone slick and cold in the candlelight. He held his left wrist out over the mound and put the knife to it. “Blood of my body, clan-blood, old blood, enact my will on this river and city.” He looked up at the paintings and nodded, once. “Clans of my fathers be my witness.” And drew the knife along his vein.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.