Ring of Intrigue by Fancher Jane S

Author:Fancher, Jane S [Fancher, Jane S]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, pdf
Published: 2011-11-03T05:00:17+00:00

Chapter One

There was a new poster on prominent display on the posting wall outside Bharlori’s Tavern. Even so, Thyerri very nearly missed it in his rush for the door.

He was late, very late; his fellow employees were not going to be happy with him. But it had been too longfar, far too longsince the goat trails and high meadows had called. When, early that morningfor the first time since the Collapsethe mountain winds had whispered in his ear, he’d chased that ancient enchantress deeper and deeper through the false dawn, into the rocky crevasses, farther and farther from the City and his growing responsibilities there.

He’d thought at first it was Mother calling him. Ever since the night the mountain had come back to life, he’d waited for her summons, but for all the mountain’s increased vitality, Mother’s voice had never echoed in his dreams.

As he’d chased the wind this morning, he’d called and called and calledto no effect. But his cries had been as much a song of joy as a plea for attention, a song to assure Mother that this child at least had found a home.

Not the home he’d dreamed of years ago when the rijhili first raised the dance rings, but a contentment that Thyerri would never have believed possible only a few short weeks ago.

Because Thyerri no longer merely survived; Thyerri danced now, whenever he felt the urge. And as word of his dance had filtered through the city, Bharlori’s business had taken yet another forward surge as rijhili, hungry for entertainment, flocked to this newest diversion.

Sometimes he danced alone, sometimes with Sakhithe.

And sometimes he danced with other hiller dancers who, hearing of the coins being flung about, came to display their skills.

But those other dancers rarely returned. Sakhithe insisted it was because they couldn’t stand the comparison, that once they saw Thyerri dance, they realized a level they could never achieve, and pride kept them from taking his leavings.

Thyerri didn’t know, didn’t really care. Thyerri cared that Bharlori, who had given him this job, was happy. Sakhithe was. And if Bharlo’s new help were occasionally jealous, and if Sakhi had had to find a loose stone in the kitchen floor under which to hide his purse from those jealous eyes, it was a price worth paying.

Shifting shadows and warming air had warned him of a day more than half gone. His return to the city had been arrow-straight and breakneck, leaving scratches on his arms and legs where he’d chosen to leap into a tree’s embrace rather than take the long route down a steep hill.

He darted past the sleepy guard on duty at Khrishim Gate, and dodged between the late afternoon bartering crowd along Farmer’s Row South, waved at Zeiin, carrying baskets for Cook, and sprinted the final stretch to Bharlori’s

Only to find his passage blocked at the tavern entrance.

A small knot of men had gathered beside the posting board, and none were inclined to notice a dirty hiller wanting past. Thyerri skidded to a halt, made a dart for the alley, only to find his way blocked by a second group.

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