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

they always wanted, anonymously in a faraway library somewhere, maybe the scholar’s guild library in Zehir or….” He shot a quick glance at Daks. “Or maybe the great library at the Scholomagi.”

“Well, if they were at the Scholomagi, there’d be a record of it somewhere in that dusty old heap,” Daks said with a chuckle. “They love their records.”

He’d had no idea Ravi was such a romantic under all that crabbiness. It was sweet. His enthusiasm was contagious, and Daks briefly toyed with the idea of hanging around Scholoveld for a while after they delivered Ravi, to see if they could solve the mystery. But he quickly came to his senses again when a cold breeze blew smoke from the fire into his face. He shifted uncomfortably under Ravi’s bright, hopeful gaze and added, “But we need to get there first, so enough stories for one night. Let’s get some sleep so we can get to Traget all the faster tomorrow.”

He felt a twinge of guilt when Ravi’s open expression shuttered, but it was for the best. They’d all be parting ways soon enough, getting all romantic and dewy-eyed over a story—or a storyteller—would only lead to more pain later.

Shura took the first watch, and Daks curled up in his bedroll. One more full day of riding and they’d be out of this eerie place for good and in Traget buying their passage to freedom.

Chapter Nine

IN THE morning, Shura roused Ravi from another uneasy dream of that terrifying gray wall with a steaming mug of tea and some melted cheese on toasted three-day-old bread. He mumbled a hoarse thank-you as he sat up and took the offered meal, struggling to shake off the last cobwebs of sleep.

The ubiquitous fog crowded around them, much like his dream, shrouding everything beyond their little circle in dirty white and concealing the rest of the boglands from view. Ravi couldn’t decide if this was a good thing or a bad thing as he bit into his toast and chewed.

Like he’d admitted to the others last night, after perhaps too much ale, the bogs had been a lot more romantic in his childhood imaginings. But the reality possessed a certain haunting charm of its own, a sense of mystery, of waiting and longing that could definitely fuel countless stories. Who knew? After this adventure, he might have a story or two of his own to tell… if they ever made it out of Rassa.

“The fog is worse today,” Shura said, drawing him out of his thoughts before his mood could sour any more.

“We should be out of it soon enough,” Daks replied with his characteristic unwarranted optimism, though his tone seemed more clipped and businesslike than his usual smug drawl. “We head back toward the Matna and the King’s Road today.”

He stood by the horses, checking straps and fiddling with their packs, his back ramrod straight, his attention fully focused on the task. Instead of the leather breeches Ravi had come to appreciate, he’d donned wool trousers and a linen tunic cut in the Rassan style. He’d also tamed his bushy mane of hair into a braid down the back of his head that ended in a severe knot wrapped tightly in a leather cord. Even his whiskers had grown out enough to mask the scars on his jaw and neck, making him look almost respectable in the morning light.

The clothes should have been comfortingly familiar to Ravi, but they didn’t hug the man’s ass and thick thighs nearly as well. And for some reason Ravi couldn’t quite fathom, his fingers itched to free Daks’s hair from that uncomfortably tight-looking braid.

He shook his head and turned his attention back to what was left of his breakfast. Too many days of close contact with the man after more than a decade without touch had his mind going places it had no business. Whether or not he found the man attractive at all was pointless and irrelevant. Besides, Daks hadn’t so much as looked in his general direction this morning. He’d obviously imagined the interest he’d seen in the man’s eyes last night during his story.

Tales were tales and real life was real life. He was doomed if he hadn’t learned that by now.

“Let’s get going. We’re wasting daylight, such as it is,” Daks ordered without bothering to look up from whatever he was doing.

With a sigh, Ravi stood, walked to a pool of brackish water, and rinsed his mug before washing the grease from breakfast off his hands. After relieving himself behind one of the few moss-covered, drooping trees, he moved to stand behind Daks to silently await his turn to mount.

Without acknowledging him, Daks called out, “Shura, I want to give Horse a bit of a rest today, so I’ll ride your mare for a while.”

Ravi frowned at Daks’s back before swinging a nervous glance in Shura’s direction, hoping that didn’t mean what he thought it meant.

The woman’s black brows furrowed. “Is he showing signs of strain?”

Daks shrugged, still without deigning to acknowledge Ravi’s existence. “I don’t think so, but he’s borne double the weight of the others for most of our journey. I think it best not to push him, just in case.”

Much to Ravi’s dismay, Shura simply shrugged and came toward them as Daks stepped away from the stallion. Ravi was tempted to voice an objection. He might be able to use his curse as an excuse not to come in close contact with yet another person. But they were in the woods, still a day’s ride from Traget, so even if he had a Vision, it probably wouldn’t be a big deal. Plus, it would mean admitting he was as scared of Shura as he was, and that he preferred having Daks pressed against his back. Neither seemed appealing, so he kept his mouth shut and prayed the woman wouldn’t dump him off the horse at the first opportunity… or knock him out again at the first sign of a Vision.

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