Page 28 of Embrace the Serpent

Tents of all colors and styles; the squat style preferred by the desert nobles, the tall steepled type for withstanding heavy rains, the ornate multipeak styles preferred by the rich nobles of the plains.

The boy stopped at a small beige one-room tent that looked likeit was trying to shrink in on itself, lest anyone notice it.

Inside was a small table with two chairs.

“Wait here,” he called over his shoulder as he darted back out.

Waiting in a room that had all the personality of a holding cell took more trust than I was capable of. Or maybe I didn’t like taking orders from a kid. Anyway, I followed him. He turned down a corridor of three tents: sandy beige, faded navy, maroon. Turned right. Pale white, splotchy green, deep blue. Dusty orange, goldenrod yellow, faint pink. My head spun with colors, with patterns.

For having such small legs, the boy sure could run. Each time I turned a corner, his grubby little head disappeared around the next.

My shoulder ached with the weight of my bag, and with every stride some tool jabbed at my thigh. I would surely bruise, but I was more worried about my tools jangling against each other. I hated that I had run out without wrapping them properly in leather—it was so stupid—and then my mind conjured an image of Galen looming over me—

No.The past is dead.

A stitch in my side slowed me down. I was lost. I turned a corner, and there he was, standing before a dead end. The tents on either side made a corridor the color of desert sand, and at the end, cutting off the path, was a tent the dark bluish-green of an oasis.

A massive tent, impressive even from the backside. It had four domes, each flying a thin silver flag, like a serpent.

My heart thudded. This was the tent of the Serpent King.

The boy had pulled the edge of the tent up enough to shimmyhis head and shoulders in. He shouted, “I got one!”

A muffled bit of cursing came from inside. Then a man’s voice: “This isn’t a good time, Pod.”

“But she’s a real jewelsmith! She’s waiting!” The boy wriggled himself back out from under the tent.

A seam appeared in the blue-green tent, and a tall figure slipped out of it. They were clad in a heavy cloak that shadowed their features.

Shock had turned me to stone. I thumbed my mother’s ring, but instead of finding comfort, I found the jagged edges of the crack. Anyone could see me very, very clearly.

Oh, crowfeathers. I gathered my remaining wits and backed away.

“Saphira?” The tall figure pulled his hood down to reveal dark waves and amused eyes.

Pod stammered, “I told her to wait!”

“Hello, Rane,” I said faintly. It seemed a bad idea to be rude to the Serpent King’s men, but I had to get away. “I just—I came to say... Galen can’t take the job. He’s so sorry. I’ll just be going.”

“Wait!” shouted the boy named Pod, sprinting and cutting off my exit with his hands thrown wide. “You promised, lady.”

“Oh, yes, right.” I dug in my pocket for the gold and amethyst necklace.

Pod wiped his nose, smearing his snot in a line across his cheek, and held out that same hand to me.

I lowered the necklace into his grubby palm. “There you go. I’ll just—”

Rane plucked the necklace out of his hand. “What’s this?”

Pod scrambled up his leg, reaching for it. “She made it fer me!”

“You saw her make it?”

Pod, the betrayer, nodded.

“Suddenly, so much makes sense,” Rane said, closing the distance between us. He returned the necklace to Pod and followed it with a coin. “Go on, then.”

“Thankee, sir,” said Pod, bowing as he backed up and disappeared around the corner.

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