Requiem's Song (Book 1)

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Book: Requiem's Song (Book 1) by Daniel Arenson Read Free Book Online
Authors: Daniel Arenson
on tiptoes, she could even see that
home—the blue and gold palace with its rooftop gardens—rising upon
a distant hill. Issari had been away for only a couple of hours, but
already she missed that home so badly she wanted to weep.
    Making her way closer to the
water, she steeled herself, rubbing her eyes and tightening her jaw.
    I
must be strong, she
told herself. My
brother needs me. I came here to save him, and I can't do that by
crying or whimpering at a few smacks or taunts.
    She
stepped toward the edge of the canal. Many boats moored here at
piers, and others sailed back and forth, entering and leaving the
port. Some were the simple reed boats of fishermen, their single
sails barely larger than her cloak. Others were proud, oared merchant
vessels, built of sturdy wood, their hulls bedecked with paintings of
the winged bull—Kur-Paz, the god of plenty. Slaves sat in them,
chained to the oars, their skin bronzed in the sun. Not all were
Eteerian ships; Issari saw vessels of foreign lands too. The northern
barbarians sailed wide, oared cogs engraved with animal totems.
Issari shivered to see these foreigners—they were gruff folk, clad
in fur and leather, their beards bushy.
    These
men will sail back north, Issari thought, looking at the foreigners. They
will return to the open, cold wilderness . . . where Laira hides.
    Issari's eyes moistened.
    "Laira," she
whispered.
    She could not remember her older
sister. Laira had been only three when she fled with Mother into
exile, escaping Father's wrath. Issari had been only a babe.
    "But if you're out there,
Laira, you're twenty now," Issari whispered. "You're tall
and strong, and you can become a dragon, and you can save our
brother. I know you can."
    Issari lowered her head to
remember visiting Aerhein Tower. She had climbed the winding
staircases, approached the door, and peered through the keyhole. Sena
had knelt in chains, his face so bruised and swollen Issari had
barely recognized him. Issari had begged the guards—towering men all
in bronze—to enter the cell, to comfort her older brother, but they
had shoved her back. When the guards had told her father of her
visit, the king had struck her.
    Issari raised her hand to her
swollen cheek, still feeling the blow. "I cannot save you from
the tower, brother," she whispered as she watched the ships sail
by. "But a dragon can. Mother can. Laira can."
    For the first time in her life,
Issari wished she too were cursed. Why couldn't she have inherited
Mother's disease? So many times these past few days, Issari had tried
to shift, focusing all her energy on the task. She had screwed her
eyes shut, leaped into the air, and willed herself to become a
dragon. A dragon could fly to the tower top, smash the window's bars,
and fly away with Sena to freedom. Yet try as she might, Issari was
pure of body, a blessing unto Taal, the god of beauty and the human
form. She carried not the reptilian blood like her mother and
siblings, and so Sena languished.
    A blow hit the back of her head.
    Issari winced and scurried a few
paces away, half-expecting to see Father here. If he caught her in
this port, he would imprison her too.
    But it was only a towering,
gruff sailor. The man had a leathery face, one eye, and a chest
tattooed with leaping fish. Upon his shoulder, he carried a basket of
squid and shrimp.
    "Stop standing here, gaping
like a fool," he said and raised his hand to smack her again.
"Men are working here. Get back to whatever brothel you fled
from."
    As Issari stepped back, the man
walked by her, moving along the boardwalk. Several other sailors
walked behind him, spitting and snorting. One glob of spit landed
right on Issari's foot, and she winced and gulped down her disgust.
    "I . . . I heard a tale!"
she said, speaking in a high, hesitant voice. "I heard that the
prince could become a dragon, that he's imprisoned in a tower. Will
you be sailing north? They like stories in the north, and—"
    But the men only trundled

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