Crystal Doors #3: Sky Realm (No. 3) by Kevin J. Anderson, Rebecca Moesta Read Free Book Online Page B

of your father’s needs,” Jabir said in a reproving tone.
    Sharif walked forward. “Yes, my father summoned me, and we came as quickly as we could. He said it was important.”
    The Vizier nodded somberly. “There is little time. We may have a month, certainly no more, and we have much to do. Hurry.”
    “Much to do for what?” Gwen asked, but received no answer.
    Sharif’s expression did not seem troubled as they all hurried in the old wizard’s wake. When Jabir’s robe swirled behind him, its pastel colors had a dizzying effect. The Vizier pushed thick hangings aside, working his way through one row of curtains after another. Vic felt as if he were struggling through a crowded dress shop as it was getting ready for a sale. He wrestled the cloth out of his way, trying to clear a path forward.
    Sharif explained, “These hangings are more than just decorative. They provide a colorful defense against assassins.”
    “They cannot protect against all assassins, unfortunately,” Jabir said as they finally emerged into the Sultan’s bed chamber.
    Sharif’s father lay stretched out on an enormous bed surrounded by plump silk cushions, all of them tasseled and embroidered. Tapestries and open-weave mesh hung around the bed. Sharif stopped, staring in disbelief at the sticklike figure amongst all of the pillows.
    The old man looked shriveled and drained. He lifted his head and blinked his eyes, at first not even recognizing his own son. The Vizier leaned closer to Sharif. “Your father the Sultan is dying, and you must take his place to save Irrakesh.”

7
     
    SUDDENLY SHARIF’S COMPSURE FELL away, and in his reaction to the news, Gwen could see a lonely vulnerability. She wanted to reach out and put an arm around him to show her support. They had all come along on this mission to convince Sharif’s father that the prince could do more good for his people by staying in Elantya. None of them had guessed, however, that the Sultan was so close to death.
    “What has happened? Who did this to him?” Sharif demanded. He went to the bed and flung aside the thin hangings with such vehemence that he knocked the rings loose. With a sound like a sigh, the cloth crumpled onto the embroidered crimson carpet that covered the tiled floor beneath the bed. Piri floated behind the prince, glowing a sad dull blue.
    Tiaret thumped the end of her quarterstaff on the floor. “Is there danger here?”
    Lyssandra said, “He looks sick. Why would you think anyone did this to him on purpose?”
    “He was so healthy when last I saw him,” Sharif insisted, then lowered his voice. “It has been too long.”
    The Sultan stirred on the bed. His eyes were at first blurry and distant, but then like a candle being lit, they grew bright. Gwen could see similarities between the father and son. Though the old man’s eyes were sunken, they were still dark and evenly set below arched eyebrows. His face was thin, emphasizing high cheekbones and a cleft chin.
    The Sultan drew a deep breath and struggled to push himself into a sitting position with birdlike elbows. He swung a heavy head and his gaze locked with Sharif’s. “Ah, my son . . . but not Hashim. You are my son Ali. At least
you
have come.” He heaved a great sigh, drew another breath, then struggled into a straighter sitting position. With a surprisingly strong voice, the Sultan barked at his Vizier. “Jabir, you should have given me notice. I did not wish for them to see me like this.”
    The old wizard shook his head sternly. “They must know, Sultan.”
    “They do not need to know everything all at once. Sharif will have enough to deal with.”
    “These are my friends,” Sharif said. “I brought them with me to Irrakesh.”
    “You no longer need friends,” the Sultan said. “You need advisors.” Then he began a long succession of coughs accompanied by a rattle in his throat.
    “But . . . what happened to him?” Gwen whispered. She could think of all sorts of sudden