Season of Sacrifice by Mindy Klasky Page A

had been dunked in the ocean in the middle of winter. He heard Maida moan beside him, and he wanted to tell her that he would protect her, that he would keep her safe, but he could not think of the words. He could not think of anything except that dogs ate boys.
    Donal barked some other command to the massive beast and then strode away. Crusher sat on his haunches, his head almost level with Reade’s own. The boy did not let himself meet the dog’s dark brown eyes, did not let himself see how hungry the dog was. Crusher opened his mouth and began to pant, his breath stinking like rotten meat.
    Reade forced himself to stand as still as he could, trying to forget the trembling ache in his legs. He made himself not see the men setting up camp. He made himself not hear the little sobs that caught in Maida’s throat. He made himself not feel the hot trail down his leg as he wet himself, and he did not move his toes in the muddy puddle that formed beneath his golden robe.
    Dogs ate boys.
    Reade could not keep from starting, though, when Duke Coren strode back across the site. “Crusher!” the duke exclaimed, and the dog tilted his ears toward the man, all the while keeping his eyes on the children. Duke Coren followed the animal’s gaze, and Reade quailed beneath the double stare.
    He and Maida had been bad. They had been afraid. They had asked to go back to the People. They had asked, repeatedly, for Mum. They had disappointed Duke Coren. And now, Duke Coren could feed them to the dog.
    “All right, Crusher.” The duke snapped his fingers and made a gesture with his hand, as if he were tossing a hunk of meat to the far end of the camp. The dog rose to all four feet and edged his nose beneath the duke’s hand for just an instant before trotting away from the children.
    Reade’s relief washed over him like a wave on the People’s beach. He dared to fill his lungs with air. Duke Coren had saved him, saved him and Maida, even though Reade had been bad! He stepped forward, away from the clinging mud beneath his feet. For just an instant, his heart clenched as he saw Duke Coren register that mud, and a hot flush of shame painted the boy’s cheeks.
    The duke nodded slowly, and said, “Come along, Sun-lord. Sun-lady. Your supper is ready.” Reade was so relieved at the kindness in the duke’s voice that he almost ran to the man, almost threw himself against the duke’s armored chest. That was how Reade used to launch himself at Da. When Da came back from fishing. Before Da had gone off to fish with the Guardians.
    Maida hung back, though, and Donal finally had to drag her over to the cookfire. Even when the soldiers gave her food, she only sat and cried. She wanted Mum, and she hated the hard bread that the soldiers told her she must eat. Reade showed her how she could hold it in her mouth and work her tongue around it. She could make it soft enough to chew. That made her stop sniffling for a little while. Reade’s chest swelled like a bantam rooster. Mum would be proud of him.
    Before Reade could ask for a second helping of bread, the duke brought him a golden cup filled with sweet water. After the boy had drained the goblet, a soldier tossed him a scratchy blanket. Duke Coren’s saddlebag made a poor excuse for a pillow, but Reade was fast asleep before he could complain.
    And so it went for a week. Every morning, the duke roused Reade from a deep sleep. Reade would drink from the golden cup, swallowing every drop of the sweet water. He would chew the dry bread. He would be lifted up to sit in front of Duke Coren.
    If he ever thought of complaining, ever thought of asking for Mum, he remembered Crusher’s intent gaze and the dog’s dripping tongue. Duke Coren had saved him from Crusher. Reade should not bother Duke Coren. He should go with Duke Coren and be good, even if that meant riding away from the People, away from Mum.
    The days passed in a haze.
    They left the forest behind and made their way across open land.