Free The Lodestone Trilogy (Limited Edition) (The Lodestone Series) by Mark Whiteway Page B

great distances. I don’t know exactly how they work, but the Keltar use them. It seems unlikely that Keltar would be stationed at a desert outpost, but I would rather not take any chances.
    “When we reach the desert we travel by night to conserve water. We rest during the day. Try to stay covered up to avoid sunburn. And keep alert. There are dangerous creatures in the desert.”
    “What happens when we get to Gort?” Shann asked.
    “Yes, well…I have a plan, but I think it best we discuss the details when we get nearer our destination. If we can free the tributes, I believe many of them will join us. In any event, we will have dealt a serious blow to the Prophet’s supply of the stones. And that is only the beginning.”
    He poked the fire with his stick once again. The fire coruscated into the night sky. What will be the Prophet’s reaction when we start poking sticks into his schemes?
    “At any rate, it seems we are not followed,” Alondo offered, “That part of the plan seems to have worked, at least.”
    ~
    Keris sat on the bed in her room at the Silver Flagon in Lind. A small closet stood in the corner and there was a table by the bed with a bronze oil lamp. As Keris watched, it flickered slightly.
    This investigation was taking its toll. She had arrived at the town in late morning to find that the Spring Gratitude Festival was in progress. Acolytes in red robes herded people into the chapel, relieving them of “offerings” and marking young people for tribute.
    She needed information, but with the service in progress, there wasn’t much more she could do but watch the proceedings. It struck her as ironic that the name had been retained; the participants looked anything but grateful. Before the Prophet’s arrival, the festival had been a joyous, pastoral occasion. Now, gratitude for the Three had been replaced by “gratitude” to the Prophet, although for what she wasn’t sure exactly. You’re starting to sound like a heretic.
    A burly acolyte stepped up and grabbed a youngster by the arm, yanking him away from his mother. Keris watched as the woman cried out and tried to hold on to the boy. A brief tug of war ensued until a second acolyte strode over and struck the woman in the face. She cried out as the boy was dragged off to have the flame marking of the Prophet branded into his neck. The woman fell to her knees. Hands covered her face as she sobbed uncontrollably.
    Keris felt her eyes starting to water. What “grand purpose” of the Prophet could justify this?
    “Faith,” Mordal would say. “Faith and Patience.” The words had a hollow ring as she watched the celebrants file silently past the woman, who was still kneeling on the grey stone floor.
    There could be no question of her intervening. Keris the diamond merchant was a simple trader, nothing more. Keris the Keltar had no authority to interfere in the selection of tributes. She turned away, feeling as helpless as a flame at the mercy of every draught of air. The lamp by her bed guttered once more.
    Keris centred herself on her obligation and her duty. It was time. She raised the back of her hand to her mouth and spoke a word into the Ring on her third finger. The Ring was bronze, set with a single dark stone.
    “Keris.” The Ring glowed with a delicate green phosphorescence as she spoke.
    A moment later, the Ring glowed once more.
    “ Report.” It was Mordal. He had never had any time for pleasantries.
    Keris spoke directly into the device. “There is no word on the impersonator. He does not appear to be known by anyone I have spoken to. However, I have discovered that his accomplice fled to Lind, so I have journeyed there to pursue the investigation.”
    “Captain Sallidor has returned.” The Ring luminesced. “He says you ordered him to return to the Keep.”
    His men attacked me! Keris realised that to tell Mordal that, however, would only make her reasons for ordering the withdrawal appear petulant. “He was making no