Palace of Stone by Shannon Hale Read Free Book Online Page B

royalists and tossed onto the fire with the rest.”
    “And I’m somehow supposed to find out on my own?” said Miri.
    “I told you, I’m a delegate ,” Katar said, annoyance in her voice answering Miri’s grumpy tone. “And do you really trust the other girls to keep—”
    Katar straightened. Gummonth was strolling down the corridor, shoulders back and chin up, sure of his importance. No, Miri decided, he was definitely not handsome.
    “So many Eskelites,” he said. “It does make one ponder. I don’t think the king has ever received a tribute from your people.”
    Miri froze, still as a mouse under a hawk’s shadow. She heard Katar hiss under her breath.
    “I must check the books. Surely Mount Eskel has a hefty debt to pay. Delegate Katar,” he said, nodding as he walked past.
    “Lord Gummonth,” Katar said, as if his name tasted like moldy cheese. As soon as he was gone, she cursed.
    “How much tribute could the king take?” Miri whispered.
    Katar slumped against the wall. “As much as he wants. A common tribute is a gold coin per person.”
    Miri thought of the two gold coins her family kept wrapped in her mother’s old shawl. At least once each day, she and Marda would unwrap the red shawl and marvel at the coins, beautiful as tiny suns. They’d never had money before this year. Coins meant hope, coins meant safety.
    The threat of the tribute made the palace feel like a cage, and her longing to be with Peder sharpened into a keen ache. Miri told Inga she was going for a walk and ran outside.
    Her fear of what Gummonth might do displaced her fear of the city. Britta had described the way to Gus’s workshop. Hoping she remembered, and with a deep breath before the plunge, Miri entered the streets of Asland.
    When she was not killed instantly, her mind returned to churning over tributes. What if two gold coins were not enough? Would the officials demand a goat as well, or even all five? No more milk and cheese. No more meat during a hard winter. Even with goat milk, some families nearly starved before spring.
    “Watch it!” yelled a man, reining in his mount just a handsbreadth from trampling Miri.
    Miri bolted to the nearest building and hugged its wall. Her legs wobbled as if afraid the ground beneath her would give way.
    She took a shaky breath and continued on, determined to keep focused. There were a few more near misses with carriages, but she was mostly unscathed when she found the entrance to Gus’s workshop, a narrow alley between a grocer’s shop and a potter’s. Down the passage she discovered a small courtyard hedged by other buildings. Cluttered with stone blocks, heaps of rock chippings, an open shed, and a small square house, the workshop was like a slice of home hidden in the middle of the city. Despite the fear that tributes and thoroughfares had rattled in her, she could almost relax.
    Gus was a stout man, his forearms thick with muscle and his belly thick with fat. Miri tried very hard not to stare. She had never seen that much fat on a person.
    “Umph,” he said when she introduced herself, and he nodded in the direction of Peder on the other side of the shed.
    Peder was leaning over a table, examining an intricately carved block of gray stone. Miri stood behind him.
    “Whoa, did you do that?” she asked.
    Peder spun around.
    “Miri! Cough or something before sneaking up. You’re like a she-wolf in winter.” He straightened his filthy apron. “It’s Gus’s work. He’s very good.”
    “He’s not the only one. The king installed your mantelpiece in the royal breakfast chamber!”
    “Oh no,” Peder groaned.
    That was not the reaction Miri had been expecting.
    “I’m so embarrassed, Miri. I had no sense of proportion, no understanding of scene movement, no depth.”
    “Oh,” said Miri, not sure what that all meant. But he seemed so disheartened, she did not want to burden him with worries about lost savings and goats. Besides, the king could not really be so