The Seer by Rowan McAllister (reading comprehension books .TXT) 📕

in that bag was hard, sharp-edged, and heavy, and he wished he’d had time to untangle it so he could leave it behind, but too late now.

He’d just reached the shadowed alley he’d come through earlier when flickering torchlight wavered across the buildings on the far side of the square. He cast one quick glance behind him to gauge the level of threat and nearly stumbled in surprise at what he saw. The men who had come to the brother’s call were definitely armed, but they weren’t wearing the blue of the King’s Guard, nor were they wearing the red robes of the Brotherhood. They weren’t in any kind of uniform at all.

What the…?

Whoever they were, he couldn’t afford to be caught by them. Grunting with the strain, he adjusted his heavy burden and huffed and puffed back the way he’d come, swearing at every bruise that damned bag made on his rump. Shouts rang out in the night behind him, orders made, but they echoed strangely through the empty streets. He had no way of knowing if the others had found his trail or not, so he simply plowed on while his legs, back, and shoulders screamed in protest.

Eventually, he ran out of strength and had to stop to catch his breath and think. He couldn’t go back to the Dog and Duck. Even if he could make it that far, it was too dangerous to Faret and his family. Plus, someone was bound to see him carrying a body across his shoulders eventually, and report him to the guard.

He let out a low groan as he set his burden down and slid to the ground next to him. Judging from the signs of neglect and disrepair of the neighborhood, he’d taken a wrong turn somewhere. From the smell alone, he figured he’d somehow looped back toward Arcadia.

Seven Hells.

At least he’d lost his pursuers. That was something.

With a hiss of pain, he climbed to his feet before his muscles could seize up and began to search for somewhere to hide. Near the end of a small street lined with run-down, rotting buildings, he found a little hovel that looked like it hadn’t been inhabited by anyone but rats in a long time. It would have to do for now. The old latch on the door had rusted shut in the salty damp, and Daks had to force it open, but he took that as another good sign no one would happen by and discover them.

Slinging that heavy body over his shoulders again wasn’t the worst thing he’d ever had to do, but it certainly wasn’t the best. He’d been tempted to drag the still-unconscious man the last bit, but he didn’t want to leave any telltale ruts in the muddy ground. Plus, the muck under his boots smelled pretty awful, and he certainly didn’t want to bring any more of that in with them than he had to.

Once he’d dumped his burden inside, closed the door, and slumped onto the dirt floor next to the inert body, he finally let himself acknowledge just how royally he’d fucked up.

Shura’s not only gonna kill me, but she’s going to take great pleasure in making it as slow and painful as possible.

Chapter Two

RAVI JOLTED awake, his heart pounding. Every muscle in his body complained at the sudden movement, and he clamped his eyes shut again as he stifled a moan. He tried cracking one experimental eye, only to close it again as an all-too-familiar knife of pain stabbed through his skull—a Vision hangover, a big one. Fear quickly replaced shame as he realized he wasn’t home, and he also wasn’t alone.

“Are you finally awake?” a gruff male voice asked peevishly in trade tongue.

Ravi squinted through his pain at the gloomy interior of the room. The voice seemed vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t place it past the throbbing in his head. A large body moved in the shadows, but thankfully didn’t come any closer. Still, Ravi quickly made another scan of his surroundings, noting the window and door to his right and the shabby, abandoned feel to the place.

Once he’d identified the only exit, he swung his wary gaze back to the man in the shadows. The guy sat far enough away that Ravi could probably make a run for it. Hard to tell under the thick wool of his cloak, but he looked too bulky to be fast, especially if Ravi caught him by surprise.

Biting his lip, Ravi surreptitiously tested his limbs as he strained to remember what had happened. He’d been in the warehouse district, because Vic had finally come through with a time and place for one of the night markets. He’d packed his bag and taken off as soon as the others had gone to sleep and the mighty bells of Blavod Keep had rung the correct hour.

By the time he’d reached the square, his knees had been shaking so badly he could barely stand, and then a Vision had hit him out of the blue—an embarrassingly intimate one that left him sweating and confused. The Visions were coming too often now, but this one had happened without any provocation at all. He’d been alone, for gods’ sakes. It was only a matter of time before the Brotherhood caught up to him. No matter how scared he was, he had no choice but to leave.

That first step toward the door after the Vision had cleared was hard, but he’d taken courage from it and forced himself to take another… only to stop again as someone started yelling at him.

Ravi’s heart sped, his face flushed, and his hands curled into fists as the memories began coming through much more clearly. A small, distressed sound escaped his throat before he could call it back, and the shadowy figure sharing the hovel with him moved closer. He loomed over Ravi before he bent down and peered at him closely in the dim light.

“Are you all right?” the man asked in a