The Usurper's Crown by Sarah Zettel Read Free Book Online Page B

that his blood so missed.
    “I spent my life telling Medeoan she could not change what she was,” he murmured to the fire. “It seems I did not listen to my own good teachings.”
    And I have given my word to help . He chewed on the stem of the pipe. He did not move to relight it. What did his word mean here? The word of a fisherman? The word of Avan? Nothing. He was no one in this place, with neither reputation nor honor to guard, and better off so. Power, and the revelation of power, could endanger him, forcing him further away into this world.
    And the next time a power finds you? How much worse will it be next time?
    Avanasy sighed. He removed his pipe from his mouth, knocked it out against the edge of the tin can he kept for the purpose, and stood. In the corner of his shack waited a heavy wooden chest which he kept locked with an iron lock, and which he now opened with an iron key he wore on a thong around his neck.
    Inside lay his old clothes and boots, wrapped in oiled brown paper he’d purchased after his arrival, along with some gold stored up against emergency, and three silken scarves, woven with his own hands, each of them tied with three different knots.
    Avanasy chose the blue scarf, and tucked it into the pocket of his coat. After locking the chest again, he turned to consider the contents of his cabin. He really should have wine for this, but there was none. He set some fresh coffee on to brew, wrapped up a packet of tobacco and his spare pipe, and set out some bread and smoked fish on the least battered of his tin plates. Rough fare, but the best hospitality he had, and that was what would count.
    As the coffee finished, he went outside and laid a fire on the sand, lighting it with kindling of pine needles and splintered driftwood. The night was silent, except for the noises of wind and water. The other huts were dark and the men within them snoring loudly in their sleep. Avanasy laid his offerings out on the far side of the blaze and drew the scarf from his pocket. He spat on the knot and breathed across it, and tossed the scarf into the fire.
    For a moment the fire burned bright blue, and a shower of sapphire sparks rose from the flames, then it shone red, and then white, but gradually, the pure white light faded, and the fire glowed golden again, as if it were nothing more than a blaze of driftwood. Avan sat down on a stone, and waited.
    The moon had worked its way another inch up the dome of the sky when the rabbit came hopping down the beach. Its round black eyes reflected Avanasy’s firelight as it advanced, hopping tentatively forward a few inches at a time, pausing to sniff the air. At last, it sat up on its haunches, combing its ears and twitching its whiskers.
    Avanasy stood, and reverenced in his best courtly manner to the creature.
    “I would be honored, sir, on this chill night, if you would join me at my fire, and share my poor fare.”
    The rabbit cocked its head to one side, considering. Then it hopped up to the plate bearing the smoked fish and bread. It used its teeth to drag one scrap of bread off the plate, and began to eat. It ate all that bread, and the next piece, and the next, and then all the fish.
    Then, it ate the plate.
    Avanasy held himself very still. The rabbit advanced on the tobacco, snuffling it eagerly, drew a leaf out and ate that, and the paper it was wrapped in, and the pipe. Still, Avanasy did not blink, although he could not hold back some regret that he was about to lose his coffeepot. The rabbit stuffed its face into the coffee mug and drank it dry, swallowing the cup whole when it was finished. It knocked over the pot with one blow of its paw and crawled halfway inside, guzzling up the hot brew.
    Then, to Avanasy’s mild surprise, it withdrew its head, and sat up again on its haunches. And it was no longer a rabbit. Instead, it was a fat little man with copper skin and black hair bound in thongs hanging down past his shoulders. His ears were as long as his