The Ghost King by R.A. Salvatore Read Free Book Online Page B

grinned at her brother, as clearly amused by Pikel’s gyrations as was Temberle.
    “Uncle Pikel says he’ll make them grow bigger than ever,” Hanaleisa remarked as Temberle came through the gate.
    “Evah!” Pikel roared, and Temberle was impressed that he had apparently learned a new word.
    “But I thought that the gods weren’t listening,” Temberle dared say, drawing an “Ooooh” of consternation and a lot of finger-wagging from Pikel.
    “Faith, brother,” said Hanaleisa. “Uncle Pikel knows the dirt.”
    “Hee hee hee,” said the dwarf.
    “Carradoon awaits,” said Temberle.
    “Where is Rorey?” Hanaleisa asked, referring to their brother Rorick, at seventeen, five years their junior.
    “With a gaggle of mages, arguing the integrity of the magical strands that empower the world. I expect that when this strangeness is ended, Rorey will have a dozen powerful wizards vying to serve as his mentor.”
    Hanaleisa nodded at that, for she, like Temberle, knew well their younger brother’s propensity and talent at interjecting himself into any debate. The young woman brushed the dirt from her knees and slapped her hands together to clean them.
    “Lead on,” she bade her brother. “Uncle Pikel won’t let my garden die, will you?”
    “Doo-dad!” Pikel triumphantly proclaimed and launched into his rain dance … or fertility dance … or dance of the sunshine … or whatever it was that he danced about. As always, the Bonaduce twins left their Uncle Pikel with wide, sincere smiles splayed on their young faces, as it had been since their toddler days.
    * * * * *
    Her forearms and forehead planted firmly on the rug, the woman eased her feet from the floor, drawing her legs perpendicular to her torso. With great grace, she let her legs swing wide to their respective sides, then pulled them together as she straightened in an easy and secure headstand.
    Breathing softly, in perfect balance and harmony, Danica turned her hands flat and pressed up, rising into a complete handstand. She posed as if underwater, or as if gravity itself could not touch her in her deep meditative state. She moved even beyond that grace, seeming as if some wire or force pulled her upward as she rose up from palms to fingers.
    She stood inverted, perfectly still and perfectly straight, immune to the passage of time, unstrained. Her muscles did not struggle for balance, but firmly held her in position so her weight pressed down uniformly onto her strong hands. She kept her eyes closed, and her hair, showing gray amidst the strawberry hues, hung to the floor.
    She was deep in the moment, deep within herself. Yet she sensed an approach, a movement by the door, and she opened her eyes just as Ivan Bouldershoulder, yellow-bearded brother of Pikel, poked his hairy head through.
    Danica opened her eyes to regard the dwarf.
    “When all their magic’s gone, yerself and meself’ll take over the world, girl,” he said with an exaggerated wink.
    Danica rolled down to her toes and gracefully stood upright, turning as she went so that she still faced the dwarf.
    “What do you know, Ivan?” she asked.
    “More’n I should and not enough to be sure,” he replied. “Yer older brats went down to Carradoon, me brother’s telling me.”
    “Temberle enjoys the availability of some young ladies there, or so I’ve heard.”
    “Ah,” the dwarf mused, and a very serious look came over him. “And what o’ Hana?”
    Danica laughed at him. “What of her?”
    “She got some boy sniffin’ around?”
    “She’s twenty-two years old, Ivan. That would be her business.”
    “Bah! Not until her Uncle Ivan gets to talk to the fool, it won’t!”
    “She can handle herself. She’s trained in the ways of—”
    “No, she can’no’!”
    “You don’t show the same concern for Temberle, I see.”
    “Bah. Boys’ll do what boys’re supposed to be doin’, but they best not be doin’ it to me girl, Hana!”
    Danica put a hand up over her mouth in a