should be given no more privilege
than the stones that paved his floors. Not surprisingly, the whisperers didn’t
take kindly to this idea, and they rebelled.
But what started
out as a show of unrest quickly became something much more sinister. As they
won victory after victory over land and sea, the whisperers began to realize
what a power they had — and they wanted more. It wasn’t long before they
marched on Midlan and tried to seize the throne for themselves.
After three long
and bloody years, the Kingdom finally won. Banagher perished in battle and
because he left no heir to succeed him, his warlord was elected to take the
throne.
The warlord’s
name was Crevan, and he was an evil man. Shortly after the war ended, he
summoned all the surviving whisperers to Midlan. He said he wanted to make
peace with them, to rebuild the Kingdom with their help. But it was all a trap.
No one knew
precisely what happened that day, but Amos said not a whisperer who walked into
the fortress was ever heard from again.
A week later
came the decree: whispering had been outlawed. Anyone caught in the act would
be executed immediately; anyone who turned a whisperer over to the crown would
receive a bounty of two hundred gold pieces. In the war-ravaged Kingdom, that
was coin enough for a man to live on for three lifetimes — and plenty
took him up on the offer.
And any
whisperer left alive fled to the mountains.
Though Amos had
lived in Tinnark for as long as anyone could remember, he never told a soul of
his abilities. “These people are superstitious enough,” he’d always say. “What
do you think would have happened if I’d gone around snapping bones back
together? They would’ve lopped off my head and buried it.”
Not telling had
ultimately saved his life.
Kael watched as
Amos sealed the gash. His fingers moved surely until he reached the middle, and
then he stopped. “Her skull is cracked. I’m going to have to mend it before I
can finish the skin,” he said with a frown. He slid his index finger gently
inside the wound. “Let’s see. I think — ouch!”
He let out a
string of curses and jerked back, slinging his fingers around like he’d
accidently stuck them to a hot cauldron. Kael grabbed the bowl of water, but
Amos shook his head.
“No, the cloth!”
“But it’s filthy
—”
“I don’t care!
Wipe!”
The shrill in
Amos’s voice startled him. He grabbed the cloth in one hand and Amos’s wrist in
another. Fresh red blood covered his fingertips, but it wasn’t the normal sort
of blood. This blood bubbled, and steam rose up from it. Amos groaned as Kael
dragged the rough surface of the cloth over his hand. His stomach flipped when
he saw how red and raw Amos’s fingers were. The blood soaked into the cloth and
cooled, hardening almost immediately.
“What happened?”
Kael said.
Amos dunked his
hand into the bowl and jerked his head at the girl accusingly. “What does it
look like happened? She burned me!”
“But, how
—?”
“I don’t know,”
he snapped, which only worried Kael further: very rarely did Amos not have an
answer. He walked back to the girl, toting the bowl with him, and bent to look
at her wound. “Huh, it’s already scabbed over. Well I’ve never seen anything
like this … it must be magic. Yes, I’ll bet she ran afoul of a mage and got
herself hexed.”
“But how could
that be? I thought Crevan had all the mages in chains.”
Amos made a
frustrated noise. “Well she must’ve done something to get the King’s attention.
I can see no other way around it.”
Kael’s heart
leapt excitedly as an idea came to him. “You don’t think she’s a whisperer, do
you?”
“There wasn’t a
mark,” Amos said after a moment, and Kael felt disappointment slide back down
in the place of his hope. “No, I think it was a spell.” He looked at Kael, and
his gray brows shot up in surprise.
When he saw what
Amos stared at, he drew in a sharp breath. A drop of blood
than the stones that paved his floors. Not surprisingly, the whisperers didn’t
take kindly to this idea, and they rebelled.
But what started
out as a show of unrest quickly became something much more sinister. As they
won victory after victory over land and sea, the whisperers began to realize
what a power they had — and they wanted more. It wasn’t long before they
marched on Midlan and tried to seize the throne for themselves.
After three long
and bloody years, the Kingdom finally won. Banagher perished in battle and
because he left no heir to succeed him, his warlord was elected to take the
throne.
The warlord’s
name was Crevan, and he was an evil man. Shortly after the war ended, he
summoned all the surviving whisperers to Midlan. He said he wanted to make
peace with them, to rebuild the Kingdom with their help. But it was all a trap.
No one knew
precisely what happened that day, but Amos said not a whisperer who walked into
the fortress was ever heard from again.
A week later
came the decree: whispering had been outlawed. Anyone caught in the act would
be executed immediately; anyone who turned a whisperer over to the crown would
receive a bounty of two hundred gold pieces. In the war-ravaged Kingdom, that
was coin enough for a man to live on for three lifetimes — and plenty
took him up on the offer.
And any
whisperer left alive fled to the mountains.
Though Amos had
lived in Tinnark for as long as anyone could remember, he never told a soul of
his abilities. “These people are superstitious enough,” he’d always say. “What
do you think would have happened if I’d gone around snapping bones back
together? They would’ve lopped off my head and buried it.”
Not telling had
ultimately saved his life.
Kael watched as
Amos sealed the gash. His fingers moved surely until he reached the middle, and
then he stopped. “Her skull is cracked. I’m going to have to mend it before I
can finish the skin,” he said with a frown. He slid his index finger gently
inside the wound. “Let’s see. I think — ouch!”
He let out a
string of curses and jerked back, slinging his fingers around like he’d
accidently stuck them to a hot cauldron. Kael grabbed the bowl of water, but
Amos shook his head.
“No, the cloth!”
“But it’s filthy
—”
“I don’t care!
Wipe!”
The shrill in
Amos’s voice startled him. He grabbed the cloth in one hand and Amos’s wrist in
another. Fresh red blood covered his fingertips, but it wasn’t the normal sort
of blood. This blood bubbled, and steam rose up from it. Amos groaned as Kael
dragged the rough surface of the cloth over his hand. His stomach flipped when
he saw how red and raw Amos’s fingers were. The blood soaked into the cloth and
cooled, hardening almost immediately.
“What happened?”
Kael said.
Amos dunked his
hand into the bowl and jerked his head at the girl accusingly. “What does it
look like happened? She burned me!”
“But, how
—?”
“I don’t know,”
he snapped, which only worried Kael further: very rarely did Amos not have an
answer. He walked back to the girl, toting the bowl with him, and bent to look
at her wound. “Huh, it’s already scabbed over. Well I’ve never seen anything
like this … it must be magic. Yes, I’ll bet she ran afoul of a mage and got
herself hexed.”
“But how could
that be? I thought Crevan had all the mages in chains.”
Amos made a
frustrated noise. “Well she must’ve done something to get the King’s attention.
I can see no other way around it.”
Kael’s heart
leapt excitedly as an idea came to him. “You don’t think she’s a whisperer, do
you?”
“There wasn’t a
mark,” Amos said after a moment, and Kael felt disappointment slide back down
in the place of his hope. “No, I think it was a spell.” He looked at Kael, and
his gray brows shot up in surprise.
When he saw what
Amos stared at, he drew in a sharp breath. A drop of blood
Similar Books
