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

He huffed out a breath. She was right. The sooner they got going, the sooner he’d be free of these infuriating people and their equally annoying animals.

He plopped back on the ground and folded his arms across his chest as Daks shook out his cloak and put it on without a word. He didn’t meet Daks’s gaze when the man came over to him and grabbed the waterskin Ravi had drunk from earlier. Daks loomed over him as he upended it into his mouth, and Ravi tried very hard not to look at the part of Daks’s anatomy that was currently at eye level, encased in supple, form-fitting leather.

“Our next best chance at getting across will be Reyan,” Daks said. “We’re only half a day’s ride away. The town isn’t as large as Urmat, but we should be able to find someone with a boat for hire who won’t ask too many questions. If we hurry, we could get there and across the Matna long before any word of us could possibly come up from Urmat or Rassat. We’ll just be simple travelers needing a quick ferry across, nothing for the villagers to concern the guard with.”

Daks continued to hover as he spoke. The wool of his cloak brushed Ravi’s shoulders, making it hard for him to add much to the conversation. He felt the heat rolling off the man, and he scowled and hugged his own ragged cloak tighter around himself, pulling the hood up to hide his face even as he rolled his eyes.

At least the idiot hadn’t said “What could possibly go wrong?” But his blind optimism, given everything that had happened so far, didn’t inspire a great deal of confidence.

Shura didn’t seem to share his attitude either, judging by the pursing of her lips, but she didn’t contradict him.

“Do either of you know anyone in Reyan?” Mistress Sabin asked.

“I doubt it. It’s been quite a while since we’ve had to travel this far from Rassat,” Daks answered, sharing a look with Shura. “Other, uh, associates of ours normally deal in the more rural territories, but we don’t know who their contacts are.”

Mistress Sabin worried her lip. “I might know someone. Maran has family in the North, near Reyan. They could possibly be willing to help, but I make no guarantees.”

“That’s better than nothing if we run into trouble,” Daks replied. “Do you think they’ll have a boat?”

“I don’t know. They’re not fisherman. They’re farmers, from what I recall.”

“It might be worth it to look them up anyway,” Daks said, sharing another silent conversation with Shura with just a look.

The slight stab of jealousy Ravi experienced surprised him. Why should he be jealous? Their easy companionship? Their loyalty to each other? He’d had that with Vic and some of the others, and he’d have it again someday, once he got settled in Samebar.

Daks suddenly crouched down next to him and began to rifle through the packs they’d piled behind the saddles, pulling small cloth-wrapped parcels out. Ravi gave the man a disgruntled look and scooted farther away.

“There’s still enough food for today, but not much more than that,” Daks said as he stood, dusted his breeches off, and started moving about their campsite, finally putting enough space between them that Ravi could relax.

“I’ll take the horses down to the water and fill our skins, while the rest of you divvy up the food,” Daks continued.

Shura and Mistress Sabin moved as one to the parcels and unwrapped a couple of heels of bread, dried fruit and meat, and a small wheel of cheese.

Ravi got to his feet and hovered nearby, feeling useless. “Should I, uh, get some wood for the fire?” he asked as Daks disappeared into the trees with the horses in tow.

Shaking her head, Shura said, “We have enough coals to toast the bread and soften the cheese. We’ll be leaving soon, so there’s no need. Come. Eat. Everyone will need their strength.”

Mistress Sabin eyed him warily as he closed the last few feet between them, but Ravi was used to that look from anyone who knew his secret. Even Vic had worn a similar expression sometimes, when he thought Ravi wasn’t looking. He guessed he should be grateful Mistress Sabin didn’t make the Holy Trinity symbol of Quanna, Moc, and Chytel with her hands and sing a warding hymn every time he came near.

He claimed his share of breakfast from Shura, ducked his head, and hurried to the other side of the dying fire to eat, separate from the women. Shura hadn’t stinted on his portion, and he stopped halfway through his breakfast and opened the flap of his bag to save the rest for later.

“Eat it all, Ravi,” Daks’s deep voice rumbled behind him, making him start.

“You said it was the last,” he argued, tipping his head back but not quite meeting the man’s eyes.

“We’ll reach Reyan this afternoon,” Daks replied gruffly. “Even if something happens and we have to keep traveling, we aren’t going to be able to go much farther without resupply. The horses need more than a few spring shoots and grasses. Hells, even if all goes well, we’ll have to get more food from the town to tide us over on the other side… one way or another.”

He turned toward the women as he said that last, and Mistress Sabin shifted and frowned at him. Ravi glanced between the two of them until Mistress Sabin flinched away from his gaze. He silently swore and averted his eyes before tugging his hood forward and tucking into what was left of his food—doing it because he was still hungry, not because Daks had ordered him to.

When they had finished eating, Daks and Shura saddled one of the mares and Horse, while Ravi threw dirt on the fire. After some discussion, in which Ravi’s opinion was largely ignored, Daks and Shura decided to keep the riding arrangements the same as the night before. Begrudgingly, Ravi had to