Kindred and Wings by Philippa Ballantine Read Free Book Online Page A

remaining troops. Her spine stiffened and her lips twisted. Her inability to convince anyone that the arrival of a scion was the beginning of a new Conflagration was frustrating her.
    “Did you see Baraca use any magic?” she asked, glancing up at Equo with those haunting eyes.
    “No, I don’t think so.” He frowned and considered what he had seen. “He took the front line, but I didn’t see anything obvious.”
    Her shoulders relaxed a little. “Well, that is something, I suppose . . . but we have plenty of other worries.”
    Equo caught Varlesh’s eye, and his brother followed after as Nyree turned once more back to the center of the camp.
    The heat of midday was some hours off, yet already the temperature was working against them all. The two men paused to unwrap and soak their headscarves in a tub of water kept for this purpose in the middle of the camp. The chill was a great relief—even if just for a moment—but Nyree only let the men rest for a heartbeat. She hurried them into her tent, where the shade provided only minimal comfort from the oppressive weather.
    Si, the third fragment of the whole they’d once been, was seated near the trestle table, and spread out before him was a strange collection of items: the wing of a seabird, a handful of mottled blue stones, a twisted and bleached branch of wood, and a skein of tangled red wool. The ways of seers were indeed mysterious.
    The splintered Si was just as bad. He toyed with the objects as if they made perfect sense to him, his brow furrowed and concentrating on arranging them just so. Nyree stood at the entrance to the tent watching him out of the corner of her eye, hands on her hips, and spoke in a low voice. “The courier from the west did not arrive.”
    Varlesh slumped back into the deepest shade in the tent he could find. “You mean we have no way of knowing if they are rising in rebellion, as well?”
    “It is hard for me to see.” Nyree tapped her fingers on the table and looked out the flap. Baraca’s honor guard could be heard giving him a rousing round of cheers. “Something, or perhaps someone, is blocking my vision. I am more worried by what that could mean, than about the chance of any further people joining us.”
    Varlesh cleared his throat. “I am sure Baraca is worried about supplies, troops, and all those things reinforcements bring with them. This is important.”
    “Is it?” Now Nyree was describing a small circle in the tent, her hand pressed over her eyes, as if by narrowing her vision she could see the way ahead better.
    Si leaned back in his chair, watching her but contributing nothing.
    “You don’t know what you are saying,” Varlesh muttered while digging his clay pipe out of his pocket. “A scion has returned. If that is not a signal to rebel against the Caisah, then I do not know what could be!”
    He was just saying what Equo was thinking, but Nyree rounded on him. “Have you ever considered,” she said through bared teeth, “that there is more going on in this world than the Caisah?” Her eyes flickered between the three men who all seemed equally in danger from her sudden wrath.
    Seeing that they were not going to answer, she pulled out the remaining roughly-made stool and sat opposite them, for a moment saying nothing. Equo was sure that some of the fine writing on her skin was actually moving, flexing, almost as if it were alive or responding to something else.
    Pushing a hand through her hair, she looked down at the scattering of odd objects. When she spoke her voice was slightly unsteady. “I’ve been trying to understand what I see—there is so much. I can see it . . . but . . . I can’t understand . . .” Nyree trailed off.
    “It is not your place to do this,” Si said, reaching across the table and taking her hand. “Things will make themselves clear at the right time. You are the made seer, you need the born seer to make a complete vision.”
    The two of them looked hard at each other, until