Silent Hall by NS Dolkart Read Free Book Online Page A

stared at her, but he didn’t argue. “Give me a hand,” he said to the boy called Narky. “No, just help me bind my leg. Obviously none of you know a damn thing about sailing, or you’d stop rocking the damn boat every which way.”
    Criton at least seemed to grasp what Phaedra was doing. “I have never seen a wolf before,” he said to Bandu, trying to placate her. His hands were an ordinary shape again, which for a moment made Phaedra doubt what she had seen. But the mast still had claw marks on it.
    â€œI’m sorry if we frightened it,” Phaedra said. “It frightened us.”
    The ragged girl put an arm around her wolf. “Nobody frightens Four-foot,” she said. “He just doesn’t like water. When my kind try to hit him, he gets angry.”
    Phaedra nodded. “Of course. I didn’t mean to insult him by saying he was afraid. I hope he’s not offended.”
    Bandu seemed to take this at face value, and turned to whisper to her wolf. After a few moments of listening to the animal’s incoherent growling, she announced that Four-foot was not insulted. Poor girl. What kind of life must she have had?
    â€œWhen we reach Atuna,” Hunter said, mostly to Bandu, “I would be happy to buy lodging for us all. Atuna is famous for its inns. If you’d be willing to leave your wolf outside the city, you could have a proper bed with silk sheets and pillows.”
    â€œPillows?” Bandu repeated uncertainly. She did not seem to recognize the word.
    Phaedra let out a breath and looked to the growing shoreline ahead. The danger seemed to have passed. She fell back onto the bench and put her head in her hands.
    Behind them, Tarphae sank into the distance.

6
    Tarphae
    O nce the fisherman’s boys were settled in the otherwise empty kitchens, Lord Tavener set out at a run for the festival of Karassa. He hated being late, but what could he have done? The Oracle had been very clear, and everyone knew it was unwise to ignore a prophecy.
    The fires had already been lit by the time Tav made it to the square. Commonfolk made room for him as he pressed forward toward the altar – as the king’s champion, he was to make the second sacrifice. King Kestan was relieved to see him: the bulls were already being brought forward. Any later, and it would have been a bad omen.
    There was tension in the air as the High Priest of Karassa said the preliminary prayers before sacrifice and handed the knife to Kestan. Tav tried not to breathe so heavily. He always felt nervous on holidays, and today was worse than usual. It came from being so close to the Goddess, from knowing that Her attention was on the island and its people, and it was worse because he was unable to focus on his duties. He had just sent his beloved son off into the world.
    The king’s bull stared at him through its right eye. Tav coughed nervously. The king approached and put one hand on its head, then turned to face the heavens. “O Karassa,” he began, “watch over us as we…”
    The bull collapsed. The knife hadn’t even touched it, but it fell lifeless to the ground between Tav and the king. There were gasps in the crowd, and Tav’s chest constricted as he stared down at the lifeless bull. What was happening?
    There was a gurgle behind him, and he turned to see his son Kataras vomiting onto the ground. It was seawater – there were even bits of seaweed in it. Tav tried to breathe, but couldn’t. His chest was too heavy, too full of saltwater and sand and kelp, and as he tried to scream, water poured out of his mouth and soaked his clothes. He fell to his knees and the crowd around him did the same, all drowning together in the warm summer air. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe! His lungs were burning with the salt and the strain of trying to expel water that would never run out, never leave his chest clear. O Gods, why? What had gone