Free The Godspeaker Trilogy by Karen Miller Page A

scorpion-shell bound to the godspeaker’s forehead was white. Its claws were painted crimson, its sting banded purple and gold. She had never seen a scorpion-shell so fine.
    Around her neck the godspeaker wore a chunk of green crystal, large as a fist and threaded onto a leather thong. She pulled it over her head and held it in her hands. When the crystal touched her flesh it flared into life. Abajai’s slaves cried out then, pressing against each other and the pen’s railings. Yagji and the two Traders snatched at their amulets and closed their eyes, trembling. Abajai stood quietly, his gaze calm upon the godspeaker.
    The godspeaker said, “The godstone sees the hearts of those known to the god.”
    Abajai bowed his head. “What slaves the god sees I gladly gift to its godspeaker and the godhouse of Et-Nogolor. Come into the pen with me, that the godstone might seek for hearts known to the god.”
    The godspeaker nodded, then released the crystal to dangle from its leather thong on the end of her finger. There it swung gently, all its blaze dead like a cold fire. Abajai opened the pen’s gate. The black dog cowered as the godspeaker passed by, it did not growl or bite.
    “Hekat,” Abajai said, not looking at her. “Leave this pen and stand with Yagji.”
    The godspeaker said, “The god looks at all offerings, Trader Abajai.”
    “Forgive me, godspeaker,” said Abajai. “This one is not mine to offer.”
    The godspeaker nodded, and Hekat went to Yagji. For once he touched her, his fingers taking hold of her shoulder. He felt frightened.
    Abajai clapped his hands. “Obid!”
    Obid came and poked the slaves with his spear until they stood in a line around the pen’s edge. The godspeaker walked to the nearest one and held up the leather thong so the crystal was in easy reach.
    “The god sees you,” she said. “Take the crystal.”
    Panting with fear, the boy clutched the crystal but nothing happened.
    “The god sees you,” said the godspeaker. “But not your heart.”
    She took back the crystal and gave it to the next slave. “The god sees you,” she said. “Take the crystal.”
    Whimpering, the woman took it. For the second time, the crystal did not wake.
    “The god sees you, but not your heart,” said the godspeaker, and moved to the next slave.
    Hekat had counted, there were thirty-seven slaves in Abajai’s caravan. One by one the godspeaker gave them the crystal and said her words and waited. One by one, the god did not see any hearts. If the godspeaker was angry or disappointed her face did not show it.
    She gave the crystal to the slave calling himself Vortka. When that slave’s fingers closed around the rock it came alive in a blaze of light. The slave Vortka gasped, and stared without words at the godspeaker.
    “The god sees you,” said the godspeaker. “The god sees your heart.” She took back the crystal. “Stand apart from the unseen. You belong to the god until it strikes you dead in its eye.”
    Dazed, the slave Vortka stumbled away from the others. Hekat looked at Abajai, to see how he felt about the god taking one of his slaves. She couldn’t tell. His face was quiet, and so was the scarlet scorpion in his cheek. Yagji’s face she could tell like the open sky. He was pleased to please the god, he was sorry to lose more coin.
    The godstone saw no other slave’s heart after Vortka’s. The godspeaker put the leather thong with its threaded green crystal around her neck and clicked fingers at the chosen slave Vortka. He followed her out of the pen and waited, looking only at the ground.
    “The god sees your gift, Trader Abajai,” said the godspeaker. “The god is pleased. Ask one thing of the god and that one thing shall be granted.”
    As Yagji gasped, Abajai bowed to the godspeaker. “The god is good. The one thing I ask, for myself, my fellow Trader and our possessions, is passage from Et-Nogolor to Et-Raklion in a godspeaker caravan.”
    The godspeaker nodded. “Granted. Go