Free Kingslayer by Honor Raconteur

creator of all that is good, including fire. It is from fire that we are able to gain insight, and through fire that she is able to communicate with us.”
    The bodyguard listened closely as Darius explained, each candle being lit in turn. “You shaid two godsh, though.”
    “Well, we don’t pray to the other god. Just curse him. Darr is the god of chaos and is the source of all evil. He tries to destroy anything that is good. If anything bad happens, it’s always Darr’s fault.”
    Bohme thought on that for a moment and then stepped a little closer. “Can two people pray there?”
    Darius didn’t quite understand why he asked and twisted around enough to look at him in askance. The candlelight was not strong enough to completely illuminate the bodyguard’s face, though, which left him guessing. “Yes, there’s no limit to how many people can sit within a prayer circle. Why?”
    “I want to pray to Shaa ash well,” he responded quietly. “To thank her for shending you to ush.”
    Tears prickled the back of Darius’s eyes and he had to blink twice to keep them at bay. Huskily he invited, “Come, sit at my back.”
     

 

    In order to do anything in the desert land of Niotan without sweating bullets, a person had to either work very early in the morning or very late in the evening. The brutally hot sun would scorch a man’s skin otherwise. With that in mind, Darius rose early the next morning, well before his breakfast tray was due to arrive, and dressed in the loosest pants he had. He actually had something to choose from now, after Sego’s shopping spree. His concept of a wardrobe and Sego’s were apparently worlds apart. For Darius, five outfits or so were enough for a man to get on with. For Sego, if there was still room in the wardrobe, you were obviously missing something essential.
    Darius had managed to cram all of his acquisitions into the wardrobe, somehow, but it had been a near thing. He had half a mind to bring another wardrobe in here, but it might encourage bad habits.
    After dressing, Darius went through the open glass doors to the garden beyond. This space was not solely his own—actually he shared it with three other suites—but at this time of the morning, no one else could be found. Darius paused in the doorway and took a good look around, trying to decide where he wanted to start. The center of the square courtyard had a very dominating fountain of natural stones that spilled artfully into a small pond. There were benches of marble around the pond, with little pots of flowers here and there, but not much else in the way of vegetation. Well, that shouldn’t come as a surprise, really. For Arape, this place would look like a bare winter garden. But for Niotan, this was quite nice.
    Best yet, it suited his purposes. With this vast area of open tile, he could stretch out as he wished.
    Snatching his new sword off the desk, he moved into the courtyard proper and placed the sword on the bench. Then he walked several paces away and took in a deep breath. As he slowly released that breath, he extended his legs into a wide stance and flowed into the first stance of The Rising Sun.
    His muscles slowly unknotted as his hands rose and fell in the patterns, feet gliding from one stance to the next. He kept his breathing deep and even, putting more focus into each movement of the form than he normally did, partially because it had been far too long since he’d done this and he wanted to do it perfectly.
    When he finished the first movement of the Rising Sun, he moved onto the second movement, The Setting Sun. This movement didn’t have the smooth flow to it as the first part did: instead, it demanded absolute balance and power. Each stance, once made, had to be held for at least ten seconds before going to the next stance. The Rising Sun might warm up the muscles and quicken the blood, but the Setting Sun always made him sweat from the effort.
    When he released from the last stance, he let out a