The Living Sword by Pemry Janes Read Free Book Online

boy!”
    “Half a silver piece, that's twenty-four, ah, coppers. How does that sound?”
    “Like you don't want to spend the night here,” the Linesan fired back.
    He retrieved a single silver coin from his sash and placed it on the counter. Placing a single finger off-center on the disc, Eurik connected with the chiri in the currency and separated a quarter of it. He easily slid the bit under his finger away from the coin. “As I said, I can make my own shelter if needed. How about three-quarters of a silver coin? Thirty-six coppers for a place to rest, supper, two beers, as well as a bath.”
    The innkeeper picked up the quartered coin and examined the smooth edge where Eurik had separated one part from the rest. “Neat trick. Alright, you got yourself a deal. Teron here will show you where you'll be sleeping, but don't leave any of your belongings there if you want to go into the city. I ain't responsible if they go missing while you're gone.”
    “I'll be careful,” Eurik promised.
     
    ***
     
    Once again, Eurik followed Dak through the streets of Linese. The surface under his feet had gone from mud to solid stone, and many of the Linesans in this part of the city wore clothing of a finer make.
    Eurik had left his pack back at the inn, under the stables, in a hollow he'd created, but he'd kept Misthell with him. If he found something at the insurer's it could jog the sword's memory. He wondered if the stares he got were for Misthell as his singular eye cast about, or Eurik himself.
    Dak fell back. “Say mister, are you a knight?”
    “Ehm, no.”
    He looked back at Eurik. “You do magic and you're carrying around a magic sword. Sounds like a knight to me.”
    Eurik shook his head. “It's not magic.”
    “You're cutting metal and melting stone with your mind. How is that not magic?” Dak retorted.
    “Because it's not. It's, hmmm, I use a different philosophy.” That earned him a mystified look from his guide so Eurik tried again. “You can row a boat, or use a sail. They both get it where you want, but the method is different.”
    “Oh. If you don't use magic, then how do you do that?”
    Eurik found himself stymied. He hadn't ever had the need to explain such simple things. Everybody knew what the Ways were back on the island. So perhaps he should start there. “I use one of the Ways; it's called Rise of the Mountain. I connect with the ground, with the energy in stone and metal, and I shape it.”
    “Sounds like magic to me,” Dak muttered.
    “No, magic is … Okay, I don't know all that much about magic. But I do know that words are important in magic, and you don't use them at all in the Ways.”
    “Those mages do always seem to say stuff when they cast,” Dak agreed before he suddenly stopped. “We're here. Don't know which one is Dogall's since I hardly ever come here ...”
    “That's alright,” Eurik assured his guide as he looked down the street. On the front of every building a name had been painted, and one of them was Dogall's. “I see it.”
     
    ***
     
    It was darker inside Dogall & Sons than it had been in the Charging Anauceros. At the inn, the windows had been thrown wide open to let the sunlight in, but not here; there weren't any windows to be thrown open. The only light came from oil lamps hanging from the ceiling.
    Eurik entered alone, and his entrance drew immediate attention from everyone inside. All but one of them went back to work a moment later. “Our customers are rarely armed,” someone spoke up from the back. A single ring glinted on his right middle finger as the man got up from his desk. “Then again, you don't look like a customer.”
    Eurik bowed. “Good morning. I'm here for Rolan Ilad, I have a letter from Patheos is-Ilad.” He was a little embarrassed that he couldn't recall the exact relationship between the two.
    The Linesan's bushy eyebrows climbed up his forehead. “Rolan? And from is-Ilad,” he mused. “He's in the back.” The man indicated a