In Pursuit Of Wisdom (Book 1) by Steve M. Shoemake Read Free Book Online
Authors: Steve M. Shoemake
poorly-kept bread shops. There was only one bread shop in the village, and the Elder called for men to torch the shop, claiming it was to prevent the spread of disease. Of course the Elder wanted revenge; it was easy to blame others for the difficulties of life in this Dark World. Trevor recalled the chants: “ Burn the rats! Burn the disease before it spreads!” Up in the tree, he couldn’t help but smile again at the memory. Leaving the Elder’s home, he waited for the crowds and impending mob to gather and changed his disguise, this time blending in as a concerned farmer. Soon he picked up the chants and was leading the charge.
He’d whipped the two-dozen members of the Elder’s mob into a frenzy before he quietly disappeared into the night, heading to the home of Renee’s parents, where she “lived.” Of course she was with the baker that night, as he knew she would be from hidden observations over the course of a couple weeks. They lived close, but she apparently was content to spend most evenings with that fat slob of a man. As Trevor suspected, the mob grew and it did not take long for Renee’s parents, who knew exactly where their daughter was, to come running out of their home to the unruly crowd gathered around the bread shop with torches.
Trevor calmly entered after they left, and stole anything of worth. Didn’t even leave me a lock to pick—how pathetically easy. He was out of the house inside ten minutes and on his way to another village before the fires really got going. Never did find out what happened to Renee.
~Veronica~
Recalling the night of her first foray into murder, Veronica remembered the details of her revenge vividly.
After killing the man, she spun around wildly, looking to see if anyone was coming. Carefully, she rose and snuck around to the other side of the house to check on the small wheat field. The slaves or the guards were nowhere to be seen. After living in the woods for a month, the thought of an empty house with a bed and a roof was simply too enticing to pass up. But that meant a bit of clean-up work.
Both puzzled and relieved to be alone, she set about the task of getting rid of the bodies. It took her half the night to roll them into a burn pile, where she set them ablaze in the wee hours of the morning. The home being a bit removed from the rest of the village, she hoped it wouldn’t cause much of a stir. Folks were used to the smell of burning flesh, anyhow, and it’s not like people in Fostler went out of their way to ask questions. Heads down, find food for the day, prepare for winter. Those were the priorities most people lived by.
By early morning, having been up all night, Veronica decided it was time to explore her new house. It was large, with wooden furniture, a wood stove that actually could warm the entire dwelling, and the centerpiece of this man’s wealth—a large bed. Veronica found lots of food, lots of clothing. Stripping naked, she washed away the mud and blood from her body and with it, any hint of guilt. She then changed into clothing that was probably the boy’s, but which fit her loosely and comfortably, albeit a little short in the legs. She turned to the bed, her mouth almost watering at the prospect of a night’s sleep on something softer than the ground of Tenebrae.
“May I speak with you, Veronica?” came the voice of a young man from behind her.
Startled, she spun around. Her knife, clean and sharp, was on a table several feet away. The man smiled. He wasn’t brandishing a weapon, but how he got in without being heard was disturbing.
“Who are you? What are you doing here?” Veronica asked, casually sliding closer to the table.
“My name is Samir, but that’s not important. I have an opportunity for you. Your exploits from last night have reached our ears. Loose talk at an inn always reaches our ears. My Master has sent me to speak
He’d whipped the two-dozen members of the Elder’s mob into a frenzy before he quietly disappeared into the night, heading to the home of Renee’s parents, where she “lived.” Of course she was with the baker that night, as he knew she would be from hidden observations over the course of a couple weeks. They lived close, but she apparently was content to spend most evenings with that fat slob of a man. As Trevor suspected, the mob grew and it did not take long for Renee’s parents, who knew exactly where their daughter was, to come running out of their home to the unruly crowd gathered around the bread shop with torches.
Trevor calmly entered after they left, and stole anything of worth. Didn’t even leave me a lock to pick—how pathetically easy. He was out of the house inside ten minutes and on his way to another village before the fires really got going. Never did find out what happened to Renee.
~Veronica~
Recalling the night of her first foray into murder, Veronica remembered the details of her revenge vividly.
After killing the man, she spun around wildly, looking to see if anyone was coming. Carefully, she rose and snuck around to the other side of the house to check on the small wheat field. The slaves or the guards were nowhere to be seen. After living in the woods for a month, the thought of an empty house with a bed and a roof was simply too enticing to pass up. But that meant a bit of clean-up work.
Both puzzled and relieved to be alone, she set about the task of getting rid of the bodies. It took her half the night to roll them into a burn pile, where she set them ablaze in the wee hours of the morning. The home being a bit removed from the rest of the village, she hoped it wouldn’t cause much of a stir. Folks were used to the smell of burning flesh, anyhow, and it’s not like people in Fostler went out of their way to ask questions. Heads down, find food for the day, prepare for winter. Those were the priorities most people lived by.
By early morning, having been up all night, Veronica decided it was time to explore her new house. It was large, with wooden furniture, a wood stove that actually could warm the entire dwelling, and the centerpiece of this man’s wealth—a large bed. Veronica found lots of food, lots of clothing. Stripping naked, she washed away the mud and blood from her body and with it, any hint of guilt. She then changed into clothing that was probably the boy’s, but which fit her loosely and comfortably, albeit a little short in the legs. She turned to the bed, her mouth almost watering at the prospect of a night’s sleep on something softer than the ground of Tenebrae.
“May I speak with you, Veronica?” came the voice of a young man from behind her.
Startled, she spun around. Her knife, clean and sharp, was on a table several feet away. The man smiled. He wasn’t brandishing a weapon, but how he got in without being heard was disturbing.
“Who are you? What are you doing here?” Veronica asked, casually sliding closer to the table.
“My name is Samir, but that’s not important. I have an opportunity for you. Your exploits from last night have reached our ears. Loose talk at an inn always reaches our ears. My Master has sent me to speak