Free Shadow Gate by Kate Elliott Page A

escaped them.
The shopkeeper’s thoughts might as well have been words spoken aloud, they were cast like seeds in a broad spray, everything about him caught between his small, fatal victory and his simple fear that the blade, striking him, would hurt terribly as it cut and smashed his flesh.
    We all live in terror of pain.
    â€œYou not least,” she said to the captain. “You are one of those who will die in pain. You have sown with cruel seeds, and the bloody harvest will devour you.”
    His sword point dropped. She studied his face so she would remember it no matter how much time passed before they met again: a broken nose; a scar under his left eye.
    His lips parted as he trembled. “You are death. Where did you come from?”
    â€œAnswer your own question. Go from this town. Don’t come back. I know you now. I’ll hunt you down if harm comes to any here.”
    His thoughts spilled as water over the lip of a fountain.
I’ll be rewarded for this message, for telling them I’ve spotted one of the cloaks walking abroad in daylight. Or what if she is already acting in concert with them? What if this is a test? To see if I act rightly, follow orders? What if they punish me? Aui! Aui!
    â€œGet out,” she said, wondering if she’d have to try and grab the sword out of his hand and kill him.
    But he fled.
    The shopkeeper began gasping, spurts of sobs punctuated by racking coughs. The door slid back. The pretty daughter stuck her head in, eyes seeming white with fear.
    He spun, hearing the door tap against the stop, and before she could cringe back he slapped her. “Get back in the closet, you witless girl! Can’t you stay where you’re told?” The purse of his mouth betrayed his shame. He looked back at Marit.
    An onslaught of thoughts and images tumbled:
She’ll run away, find a temple, any place to take her in, but what if the soldiers capture her as they did Sediya—
? A young woman—his own sister—staggers into their humble house, sneaking in out of the alley and huddling in the chicken house until dawn. She’s much younger than her brother, the last child of their parents. Like her niece, she’s pretty enough, but haggard with misery. Her thighs are sticky with blood and she stinks of piss; she limps as her sister-in-law supports her into the house. She is crying,
“They’ll come for me. I ran away. Please hide me.”
    The shopkeeper jerked his gaze away from Marit.
    â€œThey’ll kill us when they learn we’ve gone against them, that we’re hiding one of the captives they took,”he said hoarsely to his daughter, but she was too stunned to speak or move with her cheek flushed red from the blow. Her silence infuriated her father. He raised his hand just as the captain had raised his sword.
    â€œDon’t take your anger out on her,” said Marit, “or she’ll run and you’ll have bartered away your honesty and your honor and your good name for nothing.”
    â€œJust get out, I beg you,” he said, his movement as stiff as that of an aged elder as he kept his gaze averted. “Take whatever you want.”
    Reeves could accept tithes, receiving from those they aided the necessities that allowed them to live. She grabbed what she wanted: a feed bag, a pair of brushes one stiff and one softer, a hoof pick, a lead line, rope, and a bundle of tough rags.
    She paused with the goods stuffed into the feed bag. What if a reeve became greedy? It happened; they took more than they needed, or they taught themselves to take what they wanted and told themselves they deserved it all. “He passed under the gate into the shadow.” In every one of the Ten Tales of Founding, more than one man and woman crossed the Shadow Gate to the other side, where corruption takes hold in the heart. With each step, the path got smoother as you told yourself why it was acceptable to walk farther down this