Michelle West - Sun Sword 01 - The Broken Crown by sun sword Read Free Book Online

at full morning, when the serafs were out in the fields, sun
burnishing their forearms with color and the glow of sweat seen at a
distance, but when the darkness had not yet been broken, and an old
woman could take the time to sit beside the earthen shroud that lay
over so many of her once-bright futures. It happened that way sometimes.
    She lifted a goblet carefully, searched the still, dark
surface of its liquid, and then spilled the contents, drop by careful
drop, over the graves. The wine was almost finished for the season, and
she'd little taste for it otherwise; it was folly to drink alone, a
type of weakness that she'd sometimes longed for but never truly
approached.
    Harvest was around the corner; a day, maybe three, away. She'd
seen enough of them to know that it would be a good year, Lord willing.
The Tor'agar would be pleased.
    Ashaf kep'Valente had much to be thankful for. She served a
Tor who was just, if at times harsh; she had her health, her sight, her
teeth, and the kind of strength that years of labor cannot destroy. Not
labor.
    But other things hurt, and over time it became harder and
harder to ignore them. She was tired. The Lady knew it, if no one else
did. She wanted to see her children again, and there was only one way
she could ever do it. One way.
    "Ashaf kep'Valente."
    She looked up from the Lady's blessing, although the sun had
not yet robbed the sky of all its hidden shadows, its quiet darkness.
And she saw him for the first time.
    He was neither young nor handsome as Ashaf reckoned either,
but in his face she saw the conjunction of cool distance and absolute
certainty that spoke of power. He did wear a fine and heavy cloak, out
of season in the Averdan summer. It was the colors of harvest, gold and
green and brown—but it felt black to her, and that was unsettling.
    Had they a new Tor? It would not be the first time she had
found out this way. But it would be the worst, and it would be painful;
this Tor was a good man, a known one.
    This stranger, she thought, although she did not know why,
would be neither. Ah, age and family made a coward of a woman. Bow and
scrape and beg and give way, if it kept you alive for your family.
    But she had no family now.
    Her eyes fell at once to his collar, his breast, but he wore
no sun with rays to mark his importance among the clansman.
    "No," he said quietly, "I am no Tor or Tyr; if you bow to me
here, it is at the desire of your courtesy, no more."
    "And have you come to find the Tor, then?" She rose, standing
implacably between this stranger and those graves, as if by putting
herself there she could guard her heart. As if she knew, even then,
that it was necessary.
    "No," he said quietly. "Your Tor has little of interest to
offer me." He paused. "You are not a very curious woman, are you?"
    She shrugged, wondering if she had time to raise a shout and
call the men from the field. Wondering, in truth, if it was worth the
effort. Perhaps the Lady heard her prayers, and if this was not the
method she would have chosen to end her time and toil, one couldn't
argue with the Lady. Sometimes the answers to your prayers were
answers, like them or no, and once asked, very little could be taken
back.
    When he saw that she wasn't about to tender an answer, he
smiled, the expression shrouded and somehow dangerous, although she
thought he meant it to be friendly. She would learn the error of that,
and many things, in time. "I was right," he told her. "The Averdans are
different. Ashaf kep'Valente, I have come to purchase your service."
    "Then you do want to speak with the Tor," she said firmly,
thinking that he would take her from this place, these tangible, buried
memories, and not much liking it.
    "Perhaps. Perhaps not. You are the first woman I have met that
I think suitable for my needs. But I will not take your service if it
is offered unwillingly."
    At that, the daylight broke; the Lady's time passed. Ashaf
kep'Valente snorted and settled into things practical. "You