Torn By War: 4 (The Death Wizard Chronicles) by Jim Melvin Read Free Book Online Page B

wide-brimmed hat. Utu held it in front of his chest and squeezed. At first the basin resisted the pressure, but soon after a crack formed on its rim that quickly spread. With an explosive blast, the basin shattered, casting shards in all directions.
    With Madiraa’s help, Henepola stumbled forward and stood before the snow giant. “I have misjudged you,” the king said.
    Utu nodded.
    “I thank you for healing my body,” Henepola said. “I am in your debt.”
    “We all thank you,” Madiraa said.
    “I do not blame you for your distrust,” Utu said. “I am lost. But my quest is not—at least not yet. I still desire to release Yama-Deva from his torment. In the meantime, I will attempt to behave myself—for your good and mine.”
    Then he turned to Kusala, who still felt slightly disoriented. “Do you require healing?”
    Kusala let out a deep breath. “Nothing that a hard slap on the face wouldn’t cure.”
    They all laughed with gusto.
    Even Utu.
    FOR SEVERAL DAYS afterward, Kusala did not feel quite like himself. Finally he told Churikā and the rest of the Asēkhas how the scrying basin had affected him. Rather than offer words of comfort, however, they’d laughed even harder than when the hags had trampled him near Lake Ti-ratana. The more he tried to explain the seriousness of the situation, the more they’d laughed.
    “I’ve been feeling strange every time I pick up my wash basin,” Podhana said, prompting another spate of revelry.
    Kusala gave up and guffawed along with them. Afterward he was his grumpy old self again.
    Four days after Kusala and Utu rescued King Henepola from near death, Kusala was summoned to visit the king. Madiraa and Indajaala, who now appeared to have become close friends, had been providing daily updates on Henepola’s recovery, including occasional visits from Utu on the balcony. But Kusala had stayed away. His relationship with Henepola had never included admittances of weakness on either side. He didn’t want to embarrass the king by visiting him during this period of frailty.
    Madiraa escorted Kusala to the door of the royal chambers. She’d discarded her usual armor for a long black gown. Before the squires granted him admission, the princess hugged him and kissed him on the cheek.
    “If you had not come to Nissaya with the snow giant, all would have been lost,” she said with a tearful smile. “My father would be dead—or worse. How can I ever thank you, Kusala? As I said before, you are like a second father to me. I owe you more than I can say.”
    “Your smile repays all debts,” Kusala said. “I love you, my lady, like the daughter I never had—at least, that I know of.”
    She laughed at that, but without derision—and then scampered down the hall, her gown fluttering behind her.
    When Kusala entered the royal chambers, Henepola was nowhere to be seen, but Indajaala was snoozing in a cushioned chair near the bed, his chin resting on his chest. When Kusala poked his shoulder, the conjurer sat up with a yelp.
    “Why didn’t you just take off my head with your uttara ?” Indajaala complained.
    Kusala laughed harder than he should have. He was cursed—or blessed, depending on your point of view—with The Torgon’ s mischievous sense of humor. “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t resist. I have never seen you look so vulnerable.”
    “You’d be vulnerable too, if you’d had as little sleep as I. Since Utu healed the king, only Madiraa has spent more time in these chambers.”
    Kusala’s face grew serious. “How is Henepola? And where is he?”
    “He awaits you on the balcony. There is a ewer of wine on the table near the window. The king asks that you fill your own goblet before joining him.”
    “How goes his recovery?”
    “Ask him, not me.”
    When Kusala stepped onto the balcony, he was surprised to see that Utu was with Henepola. Both were gazing northeastward, in the direction of Java, the dark forest that lay between Nissaya and Avici, home of