The Land's Whisper Read Online Free

elapsed before Garriel
returned. She laid Darse down and reluctantly moved to the
bedchamber to tend to the corpse.
    I’ll at least pull her outside. The
stench’ll be too much by morning, the nurse thought.
    When Garriel entered, however, the lifeless
body lay on the floor. Cold ran through her veins. Her pulse
quickened, but she leaned forward to peer upon the strange sight
more closely. She noticed a small knife sticking up boldly from the
floorboards like a dart in a bull’s-eye. And then her breath left
her.
    Etched into the floor was a single word: LIAR.

CHAPTER 1
    The worlds are connected; the wise tremble in this
knowledge.
    -Genesifin
    The queue progressed slowly.
    The scrutar Reven sat in the square,
wrapped in an air of importance, with his ledger and pen neatly
before him. He was a small man, soft around the gut and thighs, and
wore the usual uniform—navy blue slacks with copper buttons, tight
crimson shirt and collar, matching navy blazer, sewn gold emblem at
the breast—of his rank.
    As it was a smaller Alatrician town, Hael
did not have a permanent taxation edifice, but the booth rested in
a prominent location in the town center, where all could observe
its dealings. Or lack thereof.
    Reven scrutinized the local homesteader
approaching the table. His clothes were soiled and worn, with
mending that left him seeming more quilt than man, and he had a
face made ugly by orbits of toil. He placed two callused and filthy
hands to rest on the table. Reven leaned back in distaste.
    “Treak Birch. My son is Mart.”
    Reven scrolled his index down the list until
he came to the name. “Orbits?” he asked.
    “I’m forty-two. Mart is eight.”
    Reven nodded; the numbers matched his
records. “Have you enrolled the boy in study?”
    Treak shook his head but refused to grant
any further explanation. He need not, though; Reven knew very well
that apprenticeships were costly commodities. This man, like most
Reven had seen in the various rural towns, could hardly afford
bread, let alone to pay a master to teach his son a craft for six
orbits.
    “Is it only the two of you?”
    “Yeah,” Treak replied softly.
    “One male adult and one male child. Passes?”
Reven asked. “Or the honor of conscription?”
    Treak did not meet the scrutar’s eyes. “I’m
to set Mart down.”
    Reven’s brow narrowed harshly. “And you did
not bring him?”
    The farmer drew up his gray, edgy gaze. “But
he’s not to go ‘til ten,” Treak pleaded.
    Reven shook his head. “He still needs a
stamp and an assessment.”
    Treak grimaced. He had left the boy
purposefully, in hope that the scrutar would be too busy to enforce
the tattoo signifying the boy’s allegiance. “When?”
    Reven peered about in search of his inker.
The man was excellent at his job but rarely timely. “It will have
to be this evening before sundown. I expect you back before I close
for the day.” He glanced at the string of people waiting their
turn. “Yes, today,” Reven confirmed. There were only two more days
in Hael and then he would move his booth to the next town.
    Treak nodded weakly.
    “We will wait to settle your account until
tonight,” Reven continued. “But you shall collect this time, for
Mart’s induction will more than pay your pass, even though he is
young.”
    Treak nodded again and strode from the
table. His gait favored the left leg, but otherwise he appeared
hale. Reven noted the limp in his ledger—old injuries did not
warrant a mercy slip—and gestured sharply to the next in line.
    A man in the square frowned. He was past his
prime, with graying hair, a strong chin, and eyes the hue of the
sea. He leaned against the wall of the general store beside a
burlap sack of goods. He observed Treak stride from the stand and
maneuver his way past the few buildings of the town.
    He idled, deliberating, and his face
appeared stern under his musings. Finally, he shrugged his
shoulders and moved forward to greet the farmer.
    Treak glanced