The Spirit Gate by Maya Kaathryn Bohnhoff Read Free Book Online

a child too, and he must be
fed.” She felt guilty the moment the words were out of her mouth. It was the
truth, but it was also a brazen bid for sympathy.
    “I
have an alka,” the woman said and, shifting her tiny bundle to one side, she fished a
coin from the pocket of her fine woolen skirt. She held it out to Kassia who
took it and stood, putting it in her own pocket.
    “May
I see the child?” she asked.
    The woman nodded, a smile beginning at the corners of her
mouth. She was proud of her little boy. He was the image of her husband. He was
her greatest joy. Kassia smiled in return, folding back the soft blue blanket
that covered the baby’s
face to peer in at him. He slept, tiny and perfect in his warm cocoon, his
fingers curled beneath his chin, lower lip twitching in a milky dream.
    “His
name is Yarodan,” the mother murmured, and Kassia could feel the love radiating from her
soul.
    “He’s beautiful,” she said and gazed at the infant, touching him gently with her senses . . .
and feeling nothing. She nearly sighed aloud with frustration. What if she
couldn’t read the
child—what then?
Did she make something up? Concentrating as hard as she could, she reached her
hand in to touch the baby’s
soft cheek.
    The cold that grabbed at her heart ripped her breath away.
She choked on a gasp of horror and pulled her hand back, trembling, trying
desperately to school her face to a calm she didn’t feel. But before she could break the touch, her
heart had twisted in her breast and her face had given her away.
    “What
is it?” The woman stared at her, smile slipping away. “What do you see?”
    Kassia wrenched her gaze from the baby’s face, but found she
could not meet his mother’s
eyes. Nor could her mouth form words. What could she say—that she saw nothing, that her precious child had
no future?
    The woman grasped her arm, shook her. “Tell me, White Mother!
Tell me what you see?”
    “He . . .
he’ll . . .” Kassia shook her head. “Mistress,
I can’t—”
    “You
beast!” the woman cried, eyes prying at her face. She pulled the baby close to
her bosom, waking it. “You’re going to tell me
what—that my
little Yarodan will sicken and die? Why? So you can sell me one of your useless
elixirs? Is that your game, shai witch?”
    “No,
mistress, please. Let me touch him again, let me see what I may see. Perhaps
there is a way—”
    “Oh,
why not one of these?” The woman jerked her head toward the cartful of little bottles and
satchels. “Surely
you’ve something
there you can sell me to cure my baby’s
ills?”
    “No,
mistress. I’ve no
potion for him. He has no ills. What will happen will happen suddenly.”
    The woman’s
face twisted and terror, stark and consuming, glittered in her pale eyes. “Witch! Liar! You want
to sell me a potion, that’s
all. Well, fine! I’ll
buy a potion.” Her hand fumbled toward her pocket again. The baby bleated and began to
cry. His mother pulled money from her pocket and threw it upon the ground. She
was sobbing now. “Tell
me which potion, White Mother! What may I give my son?”
    “Give
him love,” Kassia said, trembling. “Give
him care.” Her hand lifted again toward the child, but his mother drew him back,
stepping away, unable to believe that Kassia did not mean to trick her into
buying some poultice or elixir.
    God, please ! Kassia prayed. Itugen mine,
please! Let me touch him. Let me see —
    What she saw, as the woman pressed the child to her breast
and turned to leave was the startled look on the tiny face that peeked, for only
a moment from the folds of the blue blanket. Flame. A wall of flame. “Fire!” Kassia cried after the retreating form. “Mistress, please! Beware the flame!”
    She had no way to know if her warning was heard; the woman
reached her circle of friends and was at once enveloped in them and trundled
away.
    Fire , Kassia thought. Beware, the flame .
    She was exhausted, suddenly, and her heart lay in her