Free The Keeper's Shadow by Dennis Foon Page B

tight. When they finally open, they’re blazing with fury.
    Squeezing the healer’s hands tightly, Mabatan pulls her even closer. There is so much this girl does not understand and so little time to explain. “The area of the Dreamfield that you, the Dirt Eaters, and the Masters of the City know is only one small country among millions. But what you have done in this small space has caused a rift that is destroying all. The children hold this rift together. They will do it for as long as they can, but time is short and we must act quickly. Willum believes you are needed. And so you must be cleansed. I will bring herbs to help with the discomfort.”
    â€œDiscomfort?”
    â€œYou will see.”
    The healer’s eyes still harbor suspicion. Mabatan understands her doubt; the task will be a test for them both. Not everyone survives the cleansing.
    It is already dusk and the journey so far has been gloomy, exceedingly gloomy. Though Stowe is immensely grateful to the white crickets, it is difficult to get used to having…well…bugs, perched on her head and shoulders; plus she is surrounded by four Apsara. They talk incessantly with Willum, like old cronies, drowning her in idiotic banter.
    â€œUnhappy, Stowe?”
    Why does Willum have to sound so caring, so concerned? She hates that tone. That insistent, persistent, I-have-the-patience-of-mountains voice Willum so likes to use on her. “You neglected to mention a crowd would be accompanying us,” she says, her voice dripping with sweetness.
    â€œThis territory is plagued by Fandor, so I asked for an escort.”
    Stowe can feel Willum’s inward sigh. Now he’s patronizing her! “We do not need the Apsara. You and I have more than enough power to defeat an attack.”
    â€œDemonstrations of our kind of power are extremely unwise. It takes only one hidden observer to report back to Darius.”
    She feels stupid suddenly. Why are her thoughts so muddy? Darius has spies everywhere. No one knows this as well as she. Darius, eyes sharp as daggers, hands like claws combing through her hair, Darius calling her. Daughter…daughter…daughter…
    â€œStowe. Stowe, listen to me. I am doing my best to block him, but it is exhausting us. It will be easier if you sleep. Sleep. When you wake, you will meet my family. My sister and my grandmother. We will be safe.”
    She feels Willum’s mind touching hers, soothing her. Soon , it says. Soon you will be free of Ferrell. Soon you will be home.
    As she drifts into sleep, she reaches to touch Willum’s cheek. His face is wet with tears. Silly Willum. Whatever could he be crying for?

A STORY WORTH TELLING
    THE SON AND THE DAUGHTER OF LONGLIGHT WILL RISE AGAINST THOSE WHO HOARD THE DIRT. STAND WITH THEM AND YOU WILL REAP ALL THE BENEFIT OF THEIR VICTORY. TURN YOUR BACK AND YOU WILL LIVE FOREVER IN SHAME.
    â€”THE BOOK OF LONGLIGHT
    S TOWE IS CLOSE. R OAN CAN SENSE IT. He can’t reach her, though, because there’s a wall around her, like the Dirt Eaters used when they were trying to hide him from the Turned. But unlike their engulfing sands, or obliterating threads, this barrier is fluid: it leads him straight to Stowe and then shifts her presence elsewhere. Could it be Willum? Protecting her? Maybe he’d been too hasty in his decision to go in search of Ferrell’s library, maybe he should be more actively searching for Stowe. But despite his yearning to see his sister, he knows he’s made the right decision. Something’s drawing him to Ferrell’s library, something other than the map he seeks.
    The effort to stay warm and the strenuous ride down the mountain have made Roan ravenous and the aroma of Lumpy’s cooking soon commandeers his attention. “Smells ready,” he declares, greedily eyeing the stew.
    Lumpy smiles broadly. “Dig in.”
    Roan plunders the pot that hangs over a small fire. Lumpy’s improvised a