Bridge of Dreams by Anne Bishop Read Free Book Online Page A

Teaser,” Kobrah said.
    Zhahar wiped her hands on the napkin, offered it to Kobrah, then folded it and put it in her pack.
    “We had better find the Shaman and get to work,” she said. “I’d like to hear more about your friend, but I think it best that this remains between the two of us. At least for now.”
    Kobrah studied her, then nodded.
    They hurried outside and found the Shaman waiting for them. There were Handlers, Helpers, and inmates all over the grounds, washing windows, weeding flower beds, draining the murky water out of a reflecting pond. But the worst job was on the other side of the pond from the main building—a small, two-room building that hadn’t been used in years.
    “We’re supposed to clean this?” Kobrah asked when Danyal led them inside.
    “Yes,” he replied.
    “How clean?” Zhahar asked.
    “What is precious to you will be held in this room,” Danyal said. “How clean does it need to be?”
    Zhahar sighed. “I understand.”
    He smiled. “Then I’ll leave you to your work.”
    She and Kobrah did work. They swept and washed and scoured and polished. By the end of the day, the small building was clean and the grounds showed noticeable improvement. Through it all, the Shaman walked among them, helping, listening, being.
    When she got home, she was more than ready for Zeela to come into view. She sank into a deep rest—not quite full sleep, but not participating with the others. True sleep came only when all three of them were at rest, and was something they needed at least once every third day.
    As memories of the day drifted through her mind, one realization brought her back to the surface.
    =What’s wrong?= Zeela asked.
    *Nothing.* When you were one who was three, you really couldn’t lie to your sisters. *Something I just realized about the Shaman.*
    =What is that?= Zeela sounded wary.
    *He has the most beautiful eyes, but despite all the times I spoke with him today, looked into his face, into those eyes…I can’t tell you what color they are.*
    Too restless to sleep, Danyal followed the lit walkways between the buildings. He had been at the Asylum only a day and already felt the weight of this place seeping into his body, into his heart. If he’d come here with any lingering doubts about his own sanity, this place would have crushed him. And it still might.
    Some of the inmates were truly ill beyond changing. However, many of them had simply lost their way, confused by the nature of the world. But until their minds were able to gain some peace and clarity, those people would remain in the Asylum, unable to see a future in a city that should have held boundless futures.
    Zhahar disturbed him. He had sensed nothing unusual about her until that brief touch of his fingers against her arm.
    Light, dark, shadow. Just like that strange place on the other side of the bridge.
    Then it was as if he’d touched three people, had picked up the feel of three distinct heart-cores. That shouldn’t have happened with one person. Unless she wasn’t a person at all. Unless she was something else.
    Was she, or something like her, the reason some of the streets had disappeared from the Shamans’ sight? Was she working at the Asylum because it benefited her plans in some way?
    “Why is this place so important?” he whispered, looking around at shabby buildings and unkempt grounds.
    heart wish
    He shivered despite the lingering heat. That voice again. Those words again.
    He was exhausted from the demands of his first day as Keeper and the rushed journey to reach the Asylum after receiving the letter from theShaman Council. Throughout the two days of travel, he had thought the council had been foolish to send him here on the advice of bone readers and fortune tellers.
    Now he knew they had been right. All of them had been right. Something was going to happen here. Something that required a Shaman’s presence. When it came, he had to be ready.
    He hurried to the apartment that would be his