Dark Lightning by Janet Woods Page B

nostrils so it made him dizzy, and he could almost taste the vicious scent of her need for revenge. Then the earth fell away under him and he was enveloped in mist, and he could see nothing more. He came back to his senses, dizzy and disorientated.
    When the world lightened all was as it was before. Orish’s hand was under his elbow, steadying him. ‘Stop dawdling Hal, we have to sell the amulets before we can afford a room at an inn.
     The stableman advised, ‘The inns are filled with listening ears and wagging tongues. There’s a room attached to the stable if you don’t mind the flight’s whispering to one another during the night. It gives some people the creeps. It’s a poor room but my mother is a good cook. You’re welcome to stay, and can pay what you think my hospitality is worth.’
    ‘Thank you,’ Hal said.
    Access to the room was through a false wall of rough planks that had various leathers, blankets and implements for tending to the comfort of the flights. A plank swiveled to one side and could be bolted from the inside. The room contained bales of fresh straw, and a table and chairs. They placed their bedrolls in the straw bales, observing the usual protocol of concealment.’
    ‘This is a handy bolt hole,’ Hal observed with a grin. ‘One thing puzzles me, though. I’m wondering why we’re trusting you and you’re trusting us.’
     The stableman shrugged. ‘My instinct tells me to, and so do the flights. I once worked in the Karshal stables.’
    ‘I’ve never been to Karshal, so that means nothing to me. Come ... I am sick of all this secrecy. What is your name?’
    Orish took in a sharp breath. ‘His name is Sharn. His mother died during the sacking of Karshal when he was barely twelve seasons. He was kept concealed and escaped the slaughter.’
    ‘How do you know all these things, Orish?’
    ‘His name is on the permit over the door. As for the rest, he told me himself. If you cannot trust your own instinct yet then you can comfortably trust mine, Hal. Sharn is one of us.’
    ‘That I am.’ Sharn moved to the wall of the building, where a door was set, camouflaged by a thin layer of straw. ‘If you need to leave in a hurry you can get out through this door. There’s a waterspout on the outside wall if you need water, and the convenience is at the end of the garden.’
    ‘Arles is a city that is uneasy, and rumors abound,’ their host told them. ‘Two people on the list to be euthanized have absconded and the people are unsettled. The girl shows a talent towards healing, whilst the lad has ... magic.’
    Orish’s ears pricked up and he smiled and nodded. ‘They are the children of Lord Cynan’s chief advisor, are they not?’
    Sharn nodded. ‘It’s said that their brother Emrys, who is the most experienced tracker in Cynan’s service, has been sent after them. If you run into them first I wouldn’t object if you brought them back here. Not that I’d expect you to break the law ...’ He shrugged and his voice trailed off with, ‘They’re only youngsters.’
    Hal felt sorry for the pair.
     
    Within two days Hal was familiar with every laneway and building. If he’d hoped to see the princess Azarine he was disappointed. As strangers in town they drew attention, but only one of the troops wandering the streets questioned their business in being there. He asked for a permit, which Orish provided from a pocket inside his sleeve.
    Orish had never been out of Hal’s sight, and he asked him, ‘Where did you get that permit from?’
     ‘Didn’t you see? I got it from inside my sleeve,’ he teased.
    ‘But how did it get in your sleeve in the first place?’
     He laughed. ‘Mind your own business.’
     Their stories, of which Orish seemed to have a never-ending supply, began to draw crowds. ‘I should do them a wizard show,’ he said. ‘It always draws in the people in the other towns.’
    One evening, Orish took up position in the marketplace and began his