Robinson Crusoe 2245: (Book 2) by E.J. Robinson Read Free Book Online

feared in every corner of the land. What is he to you?”
    Robinson saw no reason to lie. “He took someone I love.”
    The prisoner’s eyes drifted a moment and then snapped back.
    “The Gōngzhǔ ,” he said.
    “I don’t know what that means,” Robinson said.
    “The Aserra girl. She is yours?” He wanted to laugh but could only shake his head instead. “She is his great prize. He takes her with him everywhere he goes. He parades her at our village. Has her sit at the table of his brother, our king. She is alive. But she will never be returned to you.”
    “I don’t plan on her returning . I plan on going where she is and taking her.”
    This time, Black Hand did laugh. Never in his life had he heard anything so preposterous. But he saw the seriousness in Robinson’s gaze and admired the boy’s courage, even if it was folly.
    “Tell me how to find her,” Robinson said, patting the knife at his waist, “and I’ll give you a warrior’s death.”
    Black Hand tried to sit up, but his body would not respond. Already, he had grown tired of this dirt place, and it hadn’t even been a day.
    “Follow the river south. On foot it would take many moons. Five if you slept little. More if you encounter trouble. One day, you will see a port on the eastern side of the river with many ships. There, a great pyramid rises over an ancient city. It is in the shadow of the pyramid we call home. But be warned. We Flayers are a suspicious people. We hate many but none more than Aserra.”
    “What grudge lays between the two?” Robinson asked.
    Black Hand snorted. “It is not for me to say. Ask Arga’Zul when you meet him. I’m sure he will gladly tell you.”
    Robinson nodded and stood up. He was also tired. Tired in his bones. The road to Friday had just grown that much longer. But nothing on this continent came easy.
    “The blade?” Black Hand asked.
    Robinson took the knife out and dropped it in the dirt in front of him. It sank into the ground up to its hilt. Then Robinson stepped back and set his hand on the hilt of his axe.
    Black Hand looked back at the sunset one last time, filling his lungs with air still tinged with the scent of his handiwork. As he exhaled, he reached for the knife, but it never left its earthen sheath.

Chapter Nine
Ghosts
     
    Later that night, the villagers gathered together for supper. After a lengthy prayer in a language Robinson did not understand, a pig was slaughtered, roasted, and served with potatoes, carrots, and pickled relish. The men drank a homemade wine derived from beets, while Robinson drank fresh milk with the women and children. It was the first milk he’d had on this continent.
    The farmers ate mechanically, as if the dishes offered nothing more than sustenance, but for Robinson and Pastor, every bite was delicious. They offered little talk other than to thank their host for their meal. Robinson wasn’t sure if any conversation could’ve gotten through to them. The farmers were numb.
    The only person who seemed eager to reach out was the girl who looked like Tessa. Several times, Robinson caught her watching him. Eventually, her mother scolded her with a disapproving frown. At the end of the table, a boy her age brooded.
    Pastor nudged Robinson and whispered, “Finding anything to your taste?”
    Robinson rolled his eyes but was thankful they were eating by candlelight. Otherwise, someone might have seen him blush.
    Once the meal was over, the men gathered around a large fire in the village square and tapped a wooden cask of mead. It was thick and woody and made Robinson’s head swim.
    For the next two turns, Pastor worked his magic on the crowd. He spoke of past civilizations and man’s inherent thirst for violence. He spoke of the necessity of small villages like theirs to establish relationships with others up and down the river; how such alliances could not only create opportunities for trade but band together in times of attack or disaster. He spoke with wisdom