The Windsingers Series: The Complete 4-Book Collection - Megan Lindholm

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stooped to snatch up his saddle pack, growling as he did. ‘There was no call for that, Ki. Just tell me to leave. I only meant well.’

      Her knees bumped the low table as she rose in awkward bewilderment. She spread the fingers of one hand, forced it to settle on his shoulder. She tugged him back to face her. His lips were tight, his scar a whiter seam across a pale face. Under her hand, rage coursed through his body.

      ‘And I only meant well,’ she explained. ‘Why do you take offense?’

      He looked down at her hand on his shoulder. Gradually his breathing slowed and his shoulders lowered. He glared around at the folk who stared at them, searing them with his eyes. Humans and Tcheria suddenly resumed conversations, picked up glasses again. Vandien dropped his saddle pack beside Ki’s folded blanket. Ki sat hesitantly, and Vandien settled cautiously beside her.

      ‘Among my people …’ Regret tinged his voice, and he began again. ‘Among those with whom I have had to deal these past days, to shorten a man’s name is insult most vile. It shortens the man. It implies he is a disgrace to the unnamed parent, or unclaimed by one.’

      ‘Among my people, it is a sign of affection. And the Romni do not cherish the possessions of their dead.’

      ‘I did not know you were Romni.’

      ‘Neither did I. But it is so.’

      Vandien refilled both their glasses. ‘We do not get many of them on this side of the mountains.’ He smiled speculatively. ‘They are a life-loving people, so I have heard.’

      ‘So we are.’

      Vandien looked at her steadily. ‘Your hair is longer than I supposed it, unbound like that.’ He touched it gently with the back of his hand. Ki smelled the fern-sweetness of his skin. She smiled.

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      The Windsingers

      Book Two of the Windsingers Series

      Robin Hobb

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      Contents

       Cover

       Title Page

       Two

       Three

       Four

       Five

       Six

       Seven

       Eight

       Nine

       Ten

       Eleven

       Twelve

       Thirteen

       Fourteen

       Fifteen

       Sixteen

       Seventeen

       Eighteen

       Nineteen

       Twenty

       Twenty-One

       Twenty-Two

       ONE

      ‘Excuse me, please?’

      The many-fingered arms of the Kerugi reminded Ki of a fringed shawl. It turned solemn grey-white eye specks on her. The symbiotic Olo twined about the Kerugi’s shoulders lifted its head and neck sinuously. Its mobile lips writhed around its little monkey mouth as it asked, ‘Did you require something of us?’

      ‘Yes.’ Ki fumbled, trying to decide which set of eyes to look into as she spoke. ‘I’m looking for a Kerugi inn, built right next to a weaving hive.’

      The squat Kerugi stood motionless while the Olo wrinkled its tiny brow in concentration. Ki waited patiently.

      ‘Look on any street in Dyal. We always build our inns near hives. It is good business,’ the Olo finally translated for her.

      ‘So I’ve found. I am seeking a face-scarred Human male, with dark hair and eyes. He said he would meet me in the Kerugi inn at Dyal that is built right by a weaving hive.’

      Again there was a long pause as the Olo wrinkled its simian features. Its furry coils rippled as it relayed her words and got the Kerugi’s reply.

      ‘We cannot be of much help to you. There are many hives and many inns in Dyal. The Human male should have given you better directions.’

      ‘My thoughts exactly. I thank you for your time, and for having speech with me.’

      Ki waited politely until her reply had been relayed to the Kerugi. The Olo offered her welcome and farewell. The Kerugi with its Olo waddled off.

      Ki scanned the length of the street. She had lost count of how many inns she had checked; but there was another of the tall pointed structures that housed a Kerugi inn in its shadow. She trudged toward it, trying not to breathe the fine dry dust that hung in the city streets like fog. The heat of summer filled the bowl of Dyal Valley as if winter would never come, yet she knew that in another moon the streets of this city would be flowing mud and blowing wind.

      A motley crowd moved through the early evening air. It was mostly Kerugi, with here and there a scuttling T’cherian or a striding Human breaking the pace of the traffic. A tall Brurjan in guard harness hulked past Ki, and she felt her belly muscles tighten as his shadow fell across her. If Dyal made a practice of hiring Brurjan guards, these streets would be safe after dark. Ki knew of no creature that would willingly cross a Brurjan. Hastily she stepped up onto a planked veranda that fronted the inn. Stooping, she swept the door slats to one side and peered within. Damn the man. He wasn’t in this one, either.

      She wrinkled her nose against the odors of the common room. A drunken tinker and his drinking companions were the only Human inhabitants. Kerugi huddled in clusters around the low feeding vats, Olos twined on their shoulders, twittering

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