BooksBarbecue
Back Master of Poisons Save as PDF
Chapters (102)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Notice
  3. Dedication
  4. Map
  5. DRAMATIS PERSONAE
  6. BOOKI
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. 6
  13. 7
  14. 8
  15. 9
  16. 10
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. BOOKII
  30. 1
  31. 2
  32. 3
  33. 4
  34. 5
  35. 6
  36. 7
  37. 8
  38. 9
  39. 10
  40. 11
  41. 12
  42. 13
  43. 14
  44. 15
  45. 16
  46. 17
  47. 18
  48. 19
  49. BOOKIII
  50. 1
  51. 2
  52. 3
  53. 4
  54. 5
  55. 6
  56. 7
  57. 8
  58. 9
  59. 10
  60. 11
  61. 12
  62. 13
  63. 14
  64. 15
  65. 16
  66. 17
  67. BOOKIV
  68. 1
  69. 2
  70. 3
  71. 4
  72. 5
  73. 6
  74. 7
  75. 8
  76. 9
  77. 10
  78. 11
  79. BOOKV
  80. 1
  81. 2
  82. 3
  83. 4
  84. 5
  85. 6
  86. 7
  87. 8
  88. 9
  89. 10
  90. 11
  91. 12
  92. 13
  93. 14
  94. 15
  95. 16
  96. 17
  97. 18
  98. Glossary
  99. Acknowledgments
  100. Also by Andrea Hairston
  101. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  102. Newsletter Sign-up

Awa groaned. “Someone could jump us in the night and—”

“All right. I’ll keep watch. You’re exhausted. Put your head in my lap.”

Awa curled up against Meera. “If we die before the festival—”

“We’re almost there.” Meera stroked Awa. “Think of smoke-walkers escaping, indigo fire on their last breath.”

Awa held up her Aido bag. “If I don’t make it. Keep this. A shadow warrior gave it to me.”

Meera put a hand to Awa’s lips. “You get worried at night, but I say Hezram will choose someone else to sacrifice, not us. Someone worthy of the gods.”

“He doesn’t do it for the gods.”

“I’ll sing Rokiat’s song. You’ll dream of green hills and sea creatures dancing and you and me riding to Arkhys City.” She sang softly in Awa’s ear. Not the best singer, yet Awa drifted off and dreamed of Holy City exploding. She and Meera rode warhorses through indigo sparkles.

To have found such a good friend was impossible luck. Begrudgingly, Awa thanked the crossroads gods.

7

Yari

The Wild Dog whimpers. Yari shoos him away. The Dog woofs and stands his ground. He must warn Yari. They tussle outside a clay cottage built over a stream of water from Ice Mountain’s glacier. Hezram’s cottage. It reeks of the witchdoctor, of blood and oil, void-smoke, and the power piss of a big predator.

The Dog jumps up and licks Yari’s face. Vie turns from his reassuring tongue and sets paws on the dirt. Vie smells of cinnamon, jasmine, and desert rose. Nut bread crumbles in a pocket and goat skin on vie’s talking drum tenses in the chill. Dry cocoons on swollen ankles smell of bugs long gone.

Yari should leave. The Dog sniffs fresh blood conjure on the wind. Hezram approaches, from a nearby waterfall. The temple stink clings to him despite a shower. It is still dim. The sun hides behind the mountain, lighting the sky, and not the bushes. They could run away. Hezram would not catch them. The Dog is strong. He jumps against Yari’s chest, knocking vie to the ground. He grips a sleeve and tugs vie toward an escape route.

“Stop,” Yari says. Vie glares at the pathway from the temple.

The Dog sits and sniffs. Yari is a jumble of feelings: anger, fear, frustration, and other scents the Dog can’t quite read.

“You’re a loyal friend.” Yari scratches the Dog’s head. The Dog puts a paw on vie’s shoulder. “I must persuade Hezram, trick him to his right mind.”

The Dog tilts his head, whining. Yari should prepare for a hunt, a fight to the death.

“If I can’t talk sense into this witchdoctor, go find our friends and get them far away from here. Survive!” Yari hugs the Dog’s neck, tears rolling down vie’s cheeks. The Dog whines too. “You don’t understand me, do you?”