The Light of the Oracle by Victoria Hanley Read Free Book Online Page A

a strong voice, enunciating every syllable.
    Bryn heard snickering.
    Alamar held up a hand, and the snickers died. “Not quite, Gridley. I said Kiran doesn't trouble himself with civilization, which keeps him close to manure.”
    Loud laughter. Bryn clutched her robe where it lay over her heart, all her sympathies with Kiran. What would he do? What could he say?
    Kiran gestured with both hands over his head, as though receiving something from above. He bowed quickly, his two fists meeting over his chest. He opened his hands as if flinging something down. Straightening, he stamped his foot against the floor with a ringing thud. He finished with one hand pointing at Alamar, palm up.
    Silence fell as Alamar glared at Kiran. “Leave at once,” the instructor said. “I will consult the Master Priest about your punishment.”
    Kiran held his shaggy head high as he left.
    * * *
    When Dawn guided Bryn out through the Temple doors in midafternoon, Bryn was so glad to be outside she nearly broke into a mad run.
    “I'll never, ever be able to understand what Ishaan is talking about.” She felt as if someone had been pounding numbers into her skull with a rock hammer. She looked up at Dawn with awe. “How do you understand everything?”
    “My first day I wanted to go home and never come back,” Dawn answered, waving her hands sympathetically. “If Ishaan had prophesied that I'd get to be head of the math class, I would have thrown my abacus at his head and called him a liar—except I wouldn't insult an instructor, of course; only Kiran would dare such a thing.” Dawn was walking so fast Bryn had to skip to keep up with her. “Promise me you'll never insult a teacher, Bryn?” The door to the stables was open and Dawn led the way in without waiting for an answer. “Kiran!” she called.
    Bryn stood in the wide entry, breathing the reassuring scents of horses and sweet hay. Slits cut high in the walls let in shafts of sunlight.
    “Up here,” said a voice. Kiran, holding a pitchfork, looked down at them from a loft. He'd changed out of his student robes into pants and a shirt. Muscular forearms bulged out of his unbuttoned cuffs. “Look out,” he said, and tossed a bale of hay from the loft to the dirt floor. It landed with a thump, sending out puffs of dust as it burst its binding.
    “Did the Sendral tell you Bryn will be doing chores with you?” Dawn called up to him.
    Kiran nodded. He climbed down the loft ladder to stand in front of them.
    “Good, I'll leave you here. See you at dinner, Bryn, and I'll help you study in the evening.” Dawn rushed away.
    Bryn gazed about, hoping to see Jack. For no reason, a blush began burning her face. “Is your dog here?” she asked.
    “He's off exploring the far side of the pond. Likes to roam now and again.” Kiran was looking at her with the same unnerving keenness he'd shown when they met. Bryn had the feeling he could tell just how little work she was accustomed to and exactly how much she'd be capable of. She hoped he wasn't thinking she'd be more trouble than help.
    She gestured at the stalls, most of which were empty. The horses must be outside. “What needs to be done?”
    “The water trough filled. Grain measures made ready.”
    Bryn nodded. “I'm glad you stood up to Alamar,” she said impulsively.
    He raised cinnamon-colored eyebrows. “It was foolish. I expect a summons from the Master Priest any moment.”
    “What did it mean, the bow you gave?”
    He was silent a minute, and she wondered if she'd offended him. Maybe he wouldn't answer. Then he said, “It meant that although there is wisdom in theworld, he doesn't have any, and the subject he teaches is less than manure.”
    “ You said
that
with a bow?” Bryn's eyes widened.
    “ Yes.” He bowed to her, one arm tucked behind his back, raising a foot as he straightened, putting the foot down gently while lifting both arms up. He finished with one hand pointing to himself and one to her. “Welcome to