Fall of Kings by David; Stella Gemmell Read Free Book Online Page A

man suddenly clapped
his hand on Gershom’s shoulder. “Here is another one of them!” he shouted
happily.
    As more men turned toward Gershom, he shook his head. “No, no,” he told them,
raising his hands. “I am merely a traveler.”
    Losing interest immediately, they turned their attention once more to the
other sailors. Gershom pushed on. A dark-haired girl stepped from the shadows
into the moonlight and linked her arm in his. Gershom glanced down into her
face. She was pretty, her eyes pale, either blue or gray. It was too dark to
tell. He could see that the girl was young though. Her white ankle-length tunic
was close-fitting, her small breasts barely stretching the fabric.
    Taking her hand, he lifted it from his arm. “I am in no mood for sport,” he
told her gruffly. “And if I was, it would be with a woman, not a child.”
    The girl laughed. “If you were in the mood, you could not afford
me—not even as a prince of Egypte.”
    Gershom paused then, his eyes raking her slim form, seeking any sign of a
hidden weapon. His identity had been kept secret, or so he had thought. If this
young whore knew of him, how many more had heard? Men who would seek the reward
still on his head. He glanced around nervously, half expecting to see Egypteian
assassins dart from the shadows.
    “Do I frighten you?” the girl asked him.
    “Go and find someone else to annoy,” he told her, walking on. The girl ran
after him. Gershom felt his irritation rise.
    “I saw you in the sea,” she said. “Great waves crashing over you. You were
very strong.”
    Gershom paused again, his curiosity aroused. “All right, you know who I am.
Who sent you, child, and for what purpose?”
    “Xidoros sent me.” Suddenly her head cocked. “Yes, yes,” she said, talking to
the darkness, “but that is just pedantic.” She frowned and seemed to be
listening. Then she threw up her arm. “Oh, go away!” she hissed.
    Turning back to Gershom, she said: “He says he didn’t send me, that he merely
said we should speak.”
    Gershom swore softly. Back in Thebes there was a house with high walls where
the moon-touched were kept for four years. In that time diviners and healers,
astrologers and magicians, would be called on to heal them or drive out the
demons that had robbed them of sanity. Surgeons would drill holes into their
skulls; healers would feed them strange herbs and potions. If at the end of four
years they still were not cured, it was taken as a sign that the gods were
calling for them. They then were strangled. Gershom had heard of no such houses
of caring in barbarous Troy. That was why sad lunatics like this child were
allowed to wander the streets.
    “Where do you live?” he asked the girl. “I will see you safely home.”
    She looked up at him, and her face was suddenly sad. “There is a mist inside
your head,” she told him. “It is swirling and thick, and it stops you from
seeing. You stumble around like a blind man.” She shrugged. “But then there are
times when I long to be blind myself. Just to listen to people and hear only the
words they speak and not the sly whisperings inside their heads.”
    She smiled again. “Come, I will walk you home.”
    “You know where I am going?”
    “Yes, I know. You are going to the Beautiful Isle with me, and then you will
be called to the desert, and there will be voices in the fire and fire in the
heavens, and the fire will melt away the mist in your head, and you will know
all that I know and see more than I will ever see.”
    “Very intriguing,” Gershom said, “but I meant do you know where I am going now ?”
    “Oh! Yes, I do. The House of Stone Horses.”
    “Well, that is true enough. Now, where do you live?”
    She gave a soft laugh. “My guards are looking for me, so I must go. But I
will see you tomorrow at Hektor’s palace.” With that she hitched up her white
tunic and darted away.
    Gershom thought of chasing her and handing her over to