The Foundlings (The Swords of Xigara)
Page 1
Contents
Cover
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Maps
Aniycay
Achowr
Darowm
Title
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Review and Respond
About the Author
Acknowledgements
More From J. Mark Miller
Claim Your Freebie!
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Maps
Aniycay
Achowr
Darowm
Title
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Review and Respond
About the Author
Acknowledgements
More From J. Mark Miller
Claim Your Freebie!
The Foundlings
The Swords of Xigara, Book 1
J. Mark Miller
Second Breakfast Media
The Foundlings
The Swords of Xigara, Book 1
by J. Mark Miller
@jmarkmiller
http://jmarkmiller.net
http://xigara.com
Copyright 2013 J. Mark Miller
Kindle Edition
All characters, incidents, and dialogue in this book are fictitious.
Any resemblance to persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.
Kindle Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please delete this copy and purchase your own. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
For Jerah, because you believed.
Maps
The Foundlings
1
Madhebah
Tenna ran down the crowded street, clutching a small leather parcel in her fist. Sweat poured from her brow as she scurried through the bazaar, dodging the moving vendor’s carts and weaving between clusters of citizens buying food and household wares. Some of them yelled at her, vexed by the need to alter their paths, but most ignored her presence, accustomed to boys and girls running to and fro delivering the city’s correspondence.
A quick glance backward showed no hint of black and gold, the colors of the Imperials and their ilk. She was sure she’d seen an imperial auditor near the drop site but couldn’t be sure if it was by coincidence, or if he’d been keeping watch. By the time she’d noticed him standing in the shadow the marble statue of Margosan the damage had been done. The only option left was to do her duty and try to appear as nothing more than a common courier, one of thousands serving throughout the city.
Now, she could only run and pray she’d been wrong.
A cry of “Halt!” echoed across the bazaar and she quickened her flight in sudden panic. A fruit stand blocked her exit at the crowd’s end, forcing her to slide beneath it and disappear into a narrow alleyway leading away from the bustle and noise. Once in the shadows she paused to look for black and gold, but all she could see were citizens going about their business. She turned and sped away.
Halfway down the alley, a rickety ladder hung down the side of a tall brickwork building. She climbed it and peered over the roof’s edge before bounding up and sprinting across to the far side. Her stride never slowed as she neared the gap separating her from the next rooftop, and she leaped across the gulf to land on the adjacent building with the lightest of touches.
Seven more breaches separated her from her destination, requiring
she repeat her jump several more times while keeping the pinnacle of the citadel and its golden leopard banner centered before her eyes. A dark spot appeared in the middle of the last rooftop, a heavy wooden trapdoor, came into view. Tenna slowed her pace, crossed her arms in front of her body, then jumped straight as a rod onto the door. It gave under her weight, and she fell down a chute into the building. The spring-loaded door snapped shut behind her, latching itself with a soft click.
Plunged into sudden darkness, Tenna gritted her teeth as her body raced down the shaft. It was one of the few times she was thankful for her thin, almost boyish physique. When she’d started using the channel, she’d emerged scraped and bruised until she’d learned just where to twist and turn her body along the way. Her courier’s garb helped mitigate the damage, the long sleeves and heavy linen pants protecting her skin from the worst of the scrapes, while a cap kept her hair from getting snagged on the duct’s riveted seams.
Most of all, she hated the loss of control during this last leg of her weekly mission. The warehouse was the easiest place to capture or kill her without commotion, and she always worried. Once inside the chute, there was nowhere else to run. What if they’d been discovered? What if their last safe house was compromised?
A final curve in the shaft signaled the end of the descent, and her body pushed through another spring-loaded door with a snap. She fell fifteen feet from the ceiling onto a mound of straw piled on the warehouse floor below. Her landing threw a puff of chaff up into the darkness.
Tenna lay in the straw for a few moments to catch her breath before moving on. The big room was dark and soundless. She was safe.
Certain she’d lost any potential followers, she rolled off of the haystack and padded over to the inside wall and felt her way along its rough brickwork until she found the portion she was looking for. She stuffed the parcel under one arm and drew a key that lay against her heart from her shirt. It hung from a strap of well-worn leather. She slipped it into a small crack in the brickwork and gave it a twist while pushing on a nearby brick with her other hand. A dull rattle sounded inside the wall.
A small section of the wall opened on greased hinges as she shoved, moving inward just enough for her to slip into the building’s secret interior. A larger person would have found the opening impassable, and Tenna’s own growth over the last few months made a once easy task an opportunity for more scrapes and bruises. She wondered how much longer she’d be able to keep up with her duties. If someone asked her if she’d miss it, she wasn’t sure what her answer would be.
The narrow portal closed once behind her and she looped the key back around her neck. She reached out in the darkness and pulled one of the torches resting in ring harnesses on the wall. A vinegar-like scent filled the air as she pulled a small vial from a hidden pocket and unstoppered it to pour its contents onto the torch. The greasy bundle of wood and stubble started to glow as Tenna blew a gentle stream of breath across its top. Soon, a bright flame lit up a long, gloomy passageway.
Tenna didn’t need the light to navigate the passage, but she wanted it to keep the vermin away. She wasn’t afraid of mice, but having one run up your leg and down your back in the dark was enough to unnerve even the bold of heart.
A familiar stench filled the passage, one meant to ward off any trespassers wily enough to make it this far. Tenna steadied herself against the wall as a moment of nauseous vertigo washed through her. Though immune from the deadly effects of the gas due to her monthly antidote, there was nothing to protect her from the repulsive scent, making her regret leaving her perfumed handkerchief behind. Bile rose up in her throat, but she forced it down as the passage took her deeper towards the lower city. The ill-effects of the rancid odor finally tapered away, allowing for deeper breaths.
She’d once asked Zalas where the odor came from but his response had been cryptic. He said she had much to learn first, and all would be revealed in time.
Zalas said that a lot.
A thick wooden door barred the end of the passage. Soft light filtered from under the threshold. Tenna knocked and waited to hear Zalas’s voice from within. She was welcome to walk in but she felt more at ease when he responded because it meant they were safe from the Imperials for another day.
“Come, child,” the familiar tenor voice came through the door. Tension drained from Tenna’s shoulders and she tucked her long, dark hair behind her ears, habitually primping herself for Zalas before entering.
She pushed the door open to reveal him sitting behind his large oak desk inside a cozy room. Tall and handsome, he possessed dark eyes and a short peppery beard. Long ebony hair shot through with light gray fell over his shoulders, framing a face always bearing an easy smile. His skin was tan and taut, but free of the deep wrinkles often developed from spending too much time in the sun. He stood to greet her, every inch of his fine overcoat and breeches giving credence to the role he played, that of the well-respected local merchant. He smiled and took her hands and greeted her in the manner usually reserved for royals, kissing the back of each hand. Tenna was his daughter, but he treated her like an empress, and never failed to make her feel loved.
No words passed between them as she took a familiar seat in front of his desk. He strode to an oak cabinet and poured them each a glass of dark amber ale. He brought her glass over on his way back to his own chair, and she took it with a smile. Tenna felt the warmth of the drink all the way down to her belly, and the weariness in her muscles washed. Zalas leaned back in his chair, savoring the rich taste before swallowing his portion.
Zalas broke the silence first. “Do you have the package?”
Tenna tossed the packet onto his desk. It was small, a rectangular pouch of blued leather tied closed with a length of black horsehair twine. Zalas nodded at the package but didn’t pick it up.
“You left the proper response?” he questioned.
She nodded in answer. “Aren’t you going to open it?”
He drained his glass and placed it on the desk with a thump. Leaning forward he looked Tenna in the eyes. Most would shy away, but she held his gaze.
“So, what does it say?”
Tenna’s back arched and her face flushed bright red. She’d never once opened a package she’d been entrusted to relay, and the accusation stung, especially from her father. He smiled and held up a hand before she could sputter a protest.
“Hold on, girl, you know I meant no slander. You know was well as I do that the package itself is the message, not its contents. So I ask again, what does it say? Or rather, what does it mean?”
Tenna relaxed and eased back down into the softness of her chair. She bit her lip in anticipation of giving the answer she thought she might never voice.
Zalas raised his eyebrows. “Well?”
“It’s here,” Tenna replied.
“Yes!” Zalas sprang from his chair and threw a fist into the air. “It’s here. After all this time, all my planning, all our waiting, it’s finally here.”
Since the time Zalas had pulled the little beggar girl named Tenna off the streets and given her a home he’d taught her about a treasure he sought, the real focus of her foster-father’s activities. Many in the Doxy, Zalas foremost among them, had been awaiting its discovery for centuries. Whole generations of his family had dedicated their lives to scour the world searching for clues of its existence, and now it was here. All of her work as a courier, her role as the socialite daughter of a rich merchant, had led her to this day.
“What is it?” Tenna asked.
Zalas came close and bent down to whisper in her ear. “The Sword.”
Tenna’s face screwed up in disbelief and she pushed herself to her feet. “That’s it? A sword? All this secrecy, all this commotion and scheming in the name of the Doxy has been about a sword?”
Zalas came back and placed a gentle finger on her lips. His eyes were so intense they seemed to burn, and she nearly looked away.
“Quietly, quietly,” he said, his eyes darting to and f
ro about the room. “Even here, evil ears might be awakened by a precise mixture of words. Calm down and I’ll explain everything, but you’re going to have to listen.”
Tenna hesitated a bit and then sighed, “Fine.”
She sat back down uncomfortably while Zalas began to pace across a thick woven rug. “Yes, it’s time for you to know all I can tell.”
He trod back and forth across the room, hands behind his back. He took his time gathering his thoughts, trying to find a way to tell Tenna what she needed to know without revealing things better left unsaid. Tenna waited, anxious for him to begin. When he did, he took on his teacher’s tone, one she’d heard him affect many times before.
“You’re likely wondering what’s so special about this particular sword,” he began. “Swords are everywhere. Nearly everyone has one, whether they carry them or not—some dusty old heirloom locked up in a chest at the foot of the bed. And you likely passed five or ten sword smiths on your run today, while I, myself, am a sword peddler.”
Tenna nodded her head, her suspicions coming together.
“Your answers lie in the distant past. Remember the stories I’ve taught you of the true history of our world? I must take you back even further, to a time shrouded in myth and mystery.”
“Yes?” Tenna sat forward in anticipation.
“There is another story, more folklore than anything else.” He stopped in mid-stride, waving a hand in front of his face. “You must feel grimy, my dear. Why don’t you take some time to freshen up while I talk?”
Tenna thought about protesting the interruption to insist she was fine as she was, but she recognized the look on his face. He wouldn’t go on unless she complied. She gave him a quiet nod, then stood and made her way over to a corner of the room. There, a huge wardrobe stood behind a screen. Inside was clothing of many different styles and sizes, both male and female. Zalas called the wardrobe his charlatan’s closet since it’s where he kept all of his outfits meant to deceive prying eyes.
She stripped off her courier outfit, took advantage of a nearby basin of water to cleanse the grime and sweat from her body, then chose one of her favorite dresses, an exquisite silk gown of blue with a white lace overcoat. A trifle ostentatious perhaps, but the populace of Madhebah expected nothing less from the daughter of Zalas the merchant. Tenna played a flirt at the society balls, a role thrust upon her by the families of Zalas’s business associates. She hated the games necessary to keep up the cover story they’d made for themselves, but understood the need. Most of the people in those circles were vapid popinjays, none of them kept the Faith, and any one of them could be a spy in the emperor’s employ.