Free Crimson Spear (Blood and Sand Book 1) by Jon Kiln Page A

beseech and pray to the gods in their own strange-sounding language.
    The gypsies did not understand the holy mandate from heaven that the Sin Eaters operated under. They saw themselves as kinds of messengers, deliverers of wisdom as they pedaled their fortune cards and crystal balls. The austere, sanctimonious, serious and quiet life of a Sin Eater was not one that fit with the gypsy life.
    “Yes, I know of their hatred for your kind. So I would advise you to stay here.”
    Not that I can move much anyway, Vekal thought, feeling his back throb and twitch.
    “And be prepared to take orders from me, and me alone. They wanted to leave you in the dirt and the sand, but I couldn’t leave someone who had saved Talon out there. You are lucky, Sin Eater, that it was me who went after the boy, and not one of the gypsies themselves.” Suriyen turned to leave the tent, before pausing. “Maybe it is true what all of you Sin Eaters claim, that you are beloved of the gods, and some lucky spirit does watch over you.”
    Vekal found himself chuckling at the thought. If only she knew what ‘lucky’ spirit had indeed saved his and the boy’s lives. Maybe it would indeed have been a much better idea to leave them both stranded and dying in the desert than to inflict the devil on the crowded city of Fuldoon.

12
    Vekal was given three days and nights to recover in his tent, during which time the only other person that he saw was the guard Suriyen, who came in to tend to his wounds and deliver his meals. He found that by the morning of the fourth day, when he heard the whistles and the calls of the gypsies announcing that it was time for them to move, he could stand, and even walk. He staggered to the edge of the tent flap and pulled it aside, to feel momentarily blinded by the hot southern sun as he stepped out.
    The light filled his eyes and he staggered, reaching out to hold onto the edge of a tent pole. A shadow crossed the man’s face, and he heard the unmistakable caw of one of the albino crows of the Sand Seas.
    Lord Annwn! You have not forsaken me! Vekal’s heart soared for an instant, before it came crashing down once more to earth.
    “Vekal! This is incredible!” It was Suriyen, hurrying towards him through the encampment. She looked busy and stressed. Her robes were drawn up to the sides of her belt, hanging with an array of pouches, knives, and tools, and she carried a staff with her which she used to prod the recalcitrant camel-type creatures that the gypsies were using to transport their wares.
    “Thank you, but I do not feel very incredible,” Vekal croaked, eyeing his new home uncertainly.
    The gypsy caravan was quite a large one, all told, with several large dome tents and a small herd of the smaller camel creatures. Three carts were already being strapped to the beasts, and loaded with crates, boxes, and blankets by the dark-skinned travelers. It was a large family group, he saw, with older men and women doing most of the work. They wore the traditional colorful saris and wraps of their kind, and whenever his eyes met theirs, they would turn away and spit on the dust, or wave three fingers to avert the evil eye.
    Am I that terrible? Vekal wondered, grinning through a crooked mouth. His scars that he had since childhood had never healed, and his face, along with the rest of his body, was a dense patchwork of white and silvered striations over dark skin. He was a monster, he knew, and now he contained one as well.
    “You may not feel it, but you can walk, which is miracle enough for me. Maybe there is some truth in your gods,” Suriyen joked, but Vekal could tell that she really didn’t believe it at all. “I was fully expecting to have to load you and your cot onto the back of one of the pack-beasts today, but thankfully you can walk yourself, so I will not have to.” She smiled wearily as though even this little piece of good news was welcome enough, then shook her head at him again. “Well, you heal quickly,