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

the flask to his chest, and Ravi studied his face in the lamplight. At least some of his strangeness made more sense now.

He saved me.

Despite his own fears, and despite all the trouble Ravi had caused, Daks had saved him.

Why?

From the way Daks had talked, Samebar had plenty of Seers. One more, and an unreliable one at that, couldn’t be worth all this effort. Ravi had purposefully played up the guilt card, and Daks had given his word, but Ravi lived in the real world. He knew how much a man’s word was worth. If it weren’t for him, Shura and Daks could have just hopped on a boat back to Samebar and been somewhere safe by now.

“Why?” he whispered aloud this time.

“What?” Shura asked.

Embarrassed, Ravi mumbled, “Nothing.”

“Go to sleep. We have an early start tomorrow.”

“Good night,” he said as he curled his cloak around himself and turned his back.

“Good night,” Mistress Sabin said, and someone snuffed out the lamp.

All fell silent around them but for the periodic call of an owl, the chirping of insects, and Daks’s light snores. The air was heavy, cool, and damp, reminding Ravi of Daks’s concerns about rain. He curled into an even tighter ball and sent up a prayer to merciful Quanna that the weather would hold until they found shelter on the other side.

Tomorrow, his new life began. He clung to that knowledge as too many other worries, thoughts, and feelings vied for attention in his head.

Chapter Ten

DAKS HAD their gear repacked and secured to Horse well before sunrise. Not that he’d be able to tell the exact moment the sun crested the horizon beyond the heavy clouds that had rolled in, but he’d worked mostly in complete darkness despite his roaring headache and queasy stomach. Whatever was in that flask Vasin’s cousin gave him, it sure packed a punch.

Once he’d dressed in the less conspicuous, though slightly worse for wear, Rassan style clothing again, he roused everyone else. They all groggily agreed not to bother with breakfast. They could find something in the market square if they had time before the first ferry left. And if not, they’d eat at Eben’s comfortable and well-stocked inn on the other side. They were so close, Daks could almost taste Eben’s famous ale and meat pies already, and he licked his lips despite the angry gurgle in his belly.

Tipping his head back, he glared up at the clouds. He absolutely refused to allow whatever bad luck, sick twist of fate, or that Rassan god of mischief Ravi accused him of praying to even one more chance to get in the way.

“Everyone ready?” he called brusquely.

After receiving sleepy, disgruntled nods in return, he took Horse’s reins and started a brisk walk toward Traget. Luckily, Vasin’s cousin didn’t live too far outside of the town proper, and they reached the outskirts just as the temple bells began to ring for morning hymn. Like everyone around them, Daks reluctantly paused and piously bowed his head when the bells rang out, taking the opportunity to search their surroundings with his gift while everyone was busy praying.

The hum of a large town, with so many bodies crowded together, made it nearly impossible to discover any subtler magics from this distance, but at least he didn’t feel any members of the Thirty-Six. The rumors were accurate thus far.

Opening his eyes, he scanned the people around them and the market up ahead. He didn’t like the amount of guard blue he saw, but he wasn’t surprised. They’d been warned. He imagined, once the morning hymns were sung, there would be a great many bloodred robes joining the throng too, which made him itch with the need to get moving.

Since he was stuck until the bells stopped, he closed his eyes and sent his gift out again, just in case. And this time, a strange tingle caught his attention from the direction of the market. It was too subtle for active magic, but it didn’t feel like a charm or an enchanted object either. Frowning uneasily, he strained to find it again, but like a scent on the wind, it was gone before he could identify or locate it.

When the bells stopped and the people around them began moving again, Daks blew out a breath, clenched his jaw, and charged ahead. Whatever he’d sensed didn’t matter, as long as it didn’t get between him and that ferry. He was done being curious for the rest of his Rift-blighted life—or at least until he started getting fat and bored back home. At the moment, he was very much looking forward to a little comfortable boredom.

Traget’s marketplace was larger and more diverse than any other in Rassa, outside of the king’s city. Merchants and farmers were already at their stalls, hawking their wares to passersby as soon as the bells stopped and customers in garb from all over Kita had begun to fill the streets—perfect for a few strangers heading toward the ferry to blend in and remain largely unnoticed.

So why was he gripping the reins so tight his fingers lost feeling?

Because it would be just their shit luck for something to go wrong. And even if nothing went wrong, he still had the lovely river crossing to look forward to.

I hate water. I hate boats. I hate ferries. I hate everything about this cursed kingdom.

As they made their snaillike progress through the bustling market, he kept his head low and reminded himself not to scowl so much or he’d spook the locals. The ferry didn’t leave Pazar to return to Traget until after the morning bells. Vasin’s cousin had assured them the schedule hadn’t changed. And even when it arrived, passengers and carts had to disembark before anyone could board. They still had plenty of time.

Keep calm. Everything will be fine. You’re almost there and you’ve done the ferry before. It’s good and sturdy.

But even as he tried to convince himself nothing was wrong, a sensation of being watched prickled along his