Poor World by Sherwood Smith Read Free Book Online Page B

with Dejain. She is the most accomplished magician I know. I’m afraid her duties now keep her busy enough that your real training, in magic, cannot begin until after the first stage of the plan is complete, but I wish you to visit her, get acquainted, and perhaps begin a course of study that you can pursue on your own. You will also need to train in other areas, but there is time for that.”
    Another quick movement, then he was at the window again. “Your former friends in the prison. You may tell them, if you like, that you have bought them an extension of their lives. I expect, if you visit them, you will exert yourself to convince them to widen their views. There is no other reason to visit them.”
    Even I could hear the threat there.
    I tried to swallow, but my throat was too dry.
    â€œI have much to do; Alsaes is just returned. He can take you to Dejain’s work area. I’ll see you later, Cherene.”
    â€œOkay.”
    He gave me that look of enthusiasm again, the odd smile. “You can use my name. No titles, no false courtesies appended. You are one of us.”
    â€œAll right, uh, so long. Kessler.”
    I went out, my knees wobbling like water had replaced my kneecaps while I wasn’t looking.
    Outside, the air was warm and slightly dusty. Alsaes, he of the jaunty green feather, leaned against one of the wooden awning supports over the next building down from Kessler’s. He was talking into a flat little square thing. It looked like an Earth communication device.
    When I appeared, he gave me a mean smirk. “Will your highness deign to accompany your humble servant?” he drawled as he pocketed the square thing. His sarcasm was especially jarring after Kessler’s words about no titles and whatnot.
    â€œMy,” I said, blinking up at that cap. I don’t know why I hated it so much. “Aren’t we pretty!”
    He extended a hand toward the street, and started walking. The day was already warm, and the dirt road beneath my bare feet even warmer. Reluctantly I fell in step beside Alsaes, and sneaked a peek upward. Alsaes was busy eyeballing the other people with that chin-up swagger you see in bullies, and I longed to puncture that gasbag conceit. Yet he had to have some kind of power because everyone whose paths might have intersected ours — even two brawny young men pulling a cartload of hay in the direction of the stable — veered aside, or else waited for us to pass.
    Alsaes, of course, walked directly down the middle of the road.
    Presently the street became less crowded, and Alsaes said abruptly, “Watch it, o perfect princess.” His drawl was as sneering as you can get. “One of these days I might forget you’re Kessler’s pet and cut that tongue out like you deserve.”
    â€œBloodthirsty, aren’t we?” I trilled, knowing how to talk to bullies from way back. I snorted so loud my nose hurt. “You’re a poopdeck and a fatwit, and you don’t scare me.”
    He gave me a nasty little smile, squinting down against the bright sun. Another street away, a squad of tough-looking young men and women trotted by, fully armed, their faces sweaty but their shouted chants loud and in unison.
    â€œBy the way,” Alsaes said, “your friends in the prison. If you don’t get them to cooperate very soon, it’s up to me to say when on their execution. Do you like executions, o bloodthirsty princess?”
    All the fun went out of bully-baiting, just like that.
    I said nothing.
    â€œWe’re going to have one very soon,” Alsaes went on, giving me a smug grin. “As Kessler’s pet project, you’ll be right there with Kessler and me, with the best view. I hope you won’t feel faint, little pet. Kessler doesn’t like weakness. It’s stupid. Let us hope you won’t be weak, Cherene Jennet Sherwood, famed enemy of Shnit of the Chwahir.”
    I fumed, trying not to hop