Read Online Keystone (Gatewalkers) by Amanda Frederickson - Free Book Online Page B

eyes. He pulled a lantern from one of the shelves and set it on a table. Its dirty glass was thick and wavy, but the glowing pink thing inside was clearly Lallia.
    “I hate pixies,” Rhys said bluntly.
    Tom gave a cry of outrage and dematerialized. Blue sparks erupted from the lantern and Tom rematerialized inside it, staggering as if dizzy.
    “If you want them, bring them with you,” Rhys said. “The lantern is enchanted to keep them from escaping.”
    Charlie quickly scooped up Tom and Lallia’s lantern before scurrying up the stairs into the round room. Rhys emerged a few moments later, swathed in a thick black cloak with a deep hood that hid his face.
    “You opened the curtains,” he said, chiding.
    “I can’t see in the dark,” Charlie said, crossing into the entranceway.  
    Rhys slipped past her, opened the outside door and gestured her through.
    “I haven’t given up on you yet,” Charlie reminded him, stepping out onto the porch. He closed the door behind them and set off across the yard to step through the gap in the fence. Charlie followed.
    “You could fix that fence,” she said.
    “I like my house the way it is,” he said, striding down the street.  
    Right. Not interested in reward. New tactic. “You will be famous throughout the kingdom.”
    He genuinely laughed at that. “I do not need fame.”
    Charlie could have smacked herself on the forehead. Fame was probably the last thing he wanted, considering he barely escaped the mass slaughter of his family. Lallia had said not to bring up his bloodline, but that might be the only thing she had left. “I don’t suppose you would do it just to save the world?”
    “No.”
    “I’m not doing a very good job of this, am I.”
    “No.” Rhys said, but she heard a smile in his voice. That had to be a good sign, right?
    Charlie followed him through the town’s twisty, narrow streets. Drying laundry hung across courtyards, hole-in-the-wall fountains provided water for the neighboring dwellings, and dirty children played with dirtier dogs. The buildings showed signs of wear and tear, like moisture stains and sagging, and scuffed doors. Some of the streets were slick with mud and moisture runoff. All in all, it really felt like a real pseudo-medieval town, complete with donkeys, oxen, and the products thereof.   Not many games were willing to go that far to make things realistic, especially since the home editions cut out that kind of detail.
    ***
    Rhys turned off the street to mount the steps to a blue door. A neatly painted sign hanging over the door showed a stylized cat eye with a yellow iris, and beneath it a mortar and pestle. Graceful, unreadable letters scrolled vertically along the side of the sign.
    Charlie followed Rhys inside, and for the second time the fish smell of the town gave way to the smell of dried herbs. This time it was a much subtler transition, a harmonious blending of scents reaching out to envelop her rather than smacking her with a wall of smell.
    Sturdy wooden shelves held neatly labeled jars, bottles, and boxes. Some had additional pictographs or runes on their labels. Little honeycomb racks held sticks of incense and tied bundles of dried herbs. More racks held varied-colored candles that were probably scented as well; Charlie eyed them longingly, wishing they were real. The shelves next to the candles held little glass jars of honey.  
    “Don’t you dare release those pixies in here!” cried a shrill voice at Charlie’s feet.
    Charlie looked down. A tiny old man with brown skin more wrinkled than Mr. Patchett’s waved a tiny twig broom at her. Doll sized spectacles perched on his crooked nose and tufts of white hair stuck out from his huge pointed ears.
    The pixies pressed their faces to the glass of the lantern, smearing their features into strange contortions.
    “Pesky pixies!” the tiny brown man railed. “Wouldn’t they just love to make a wreck of Mistress Taryn’s shop. With all the work I do to keep