Kirith Kirin (The City Behind the Stars) by Jim Grimsley Read Free Book Online Page A

statue of the woman, giving me ifnuelyn to kindle the wood. Ifnuelyn is a kind of powder which kindles fire quickly following a slight spark. I unwrapped the viis cloth that protected Uncle Sivisal’s store of the chemical, and soon enough had a good fire going. I sat watching the flames contentedly as the sun descended into the trees and beyond. We would have no lamp tonight, only the fire, but in the wild I supposed a fire would serve.
     
    A moment later, horses stepped through the underbrush from every direction on both sides of the road. I stood, confused, my back to the fire. Most of the riders halted, but two came toward me without fear. One wore a leather jerkin and red cloak much like the one Uncle Sivisal wore, but the other was more grandly dressed, in a red cloak trimmed in black fur.
     
    “You’re the son of Kinth,” the man said, speaking Upcountry with elegance and a peculiar lilt. “Where is your kinsman?”
     
    “Uncle Sivisal is lying under that tree. He was wounded this morning.”
     
    “Wounded.” The commander sat very still for a moment. He rode to the pallet where Sivisal drowsed and called out in a tongue I did not know. He dismounted and knelt to study my uncle. The people he had called hurried to him quickly, among them a physic. I heard Sivisal speaking in that language, and I heard my name once or twice. But I stayed by the fire where the commander had found me.
     
    Apparently it was better to await summons. A moment later the silver-eyed man sent everyone away but Sivisal and the physic and called for me, without any sign of impatience. I ran to the place where he stood over Sivisal. “There were two parties of Blue Cloaks,” Sivisal was saying, in Upcountry now, his voice strained some since the physic was probing his wound to make certain I had picked out all the arrow’s barbs. “The riders broke toward us as soon as we got onto the Girdle. They knew we were coming. The storm was blowing pretty good by then too, and I knew something was up. We slipped past one party but the other looked like it was going to catch us. I used the ring the Prince gave me and told Nixva to save the boy, but I was afraid it was no use by then, the White Cloak was coming fast.”
     
    “A White Cloak?” The commander leaned toward him, kneeling under the soft menumen leaves. “Did you recognize which one?”
     
    Uncle Sivisal shook his head. “Once we were inside the woods she let down her hood and we saw her face, that was all.”
     
    I said, “She had red hair and a silver headpiece. Her skin was very fair, not like a woman who works in the fields.”
     
    The commander received this as bad news, turning away from Sivisal and me. He looked at me keenly. I could hardly read his expression for the fascination of watching his eyes. “Don’t speak about this to anyone. Don’t describe the white-cloaked woman again.”
     
    We affirmed that we would keep the story to ourselves.
     
    To my uncle he said, “You’ve done good work, Sivisal, as I knew you would. Your nephew is safe.”
     
    “Yes sir,” Sivisal said; and then they both switched to that more sibilant language that I did not know. From Sivisal’s expression it seemed plain that the commander’s earlier orders were being repeated. When they were done, the commander walked away from the menumen, gesturing for me to follow, and Uncle Sivisal indicated I should go with him.
     
    We walked to the shrine in a circular garden between the statues. Everything was in perfect order, as if the grounds were carefully tended. The commander found a clear spring behind the shrine. The water running had smoothed the stone to the slickness of glass, and its gurgling over the pebbles made a pleasant song. The commander looked down into the water for a long time. He was a tall, fair-haired man with fine bones in his face, and long, tapered hands. His slender body gave the impression of strength. This man’s skin and eyes were silver, like