Chosen (The Warrior Chronicles #1)(96)

“No,” the bearded man answered. “He’s headed to the Shadow Lands, I hear. The Chosen, I mean.”

“What is that damn thing, anyhow?” the third said, a wiry man with quick hands, by the look of him. “All I hear anymore is about how they finally found the true Chosen. These are the same people who got some idiot calling himself the Being Supreme or some damn thing—“

“Shut up!” the man with the beard hissed, glancing at the next closest table. The solitary man didn’t even raise his eyes from his plate. “You’ll get strung up for saying a thing like that.”

“All’s I’m saying is, they got some war lord, right? What do they need with this Chosen person?” the wiry man said in a loud whisper.

“He’s supposed to be able to control the Shadow Land.” The man with the beard didn’t hide his shiver. “Why any man would want to mess with those people, I don’t know.”

“I hear they eat their dead,” the robust man whispered in a disgusted tone.

“No, they eat those they find wandering on their island. The Chosen is supposed to tame that. The Being Supreme wants that army for his mercenaries, it’s said.”

“Don’t know why,” the robust man leaned on the table. “They’re a bunch of savages. They’d just go wild and kill the army they were supposed to fight for.”

“Instead of desert it, like you?” the wiry man smirked, earning a loaded warning delivered in an icy stare. The wiry man put up his arms in surrender. “Not that I blame you, I’m just sayin’ is all—“

“Well don’t say nothin’, you hear me? If they find me, I’m as good as dead. Torture, too. They’ll slice me up in front of a cheering audience. I’ve seen it. And you, too, for being with me. Best to steer clear from that whole lot.” The robust man hunched a little more, dipping his face.

“Which is why we’re going south. But that’s what I’ve been saying about the Shadow People—the Chosen is supposed to tame that,” the bearded man growled.

“How do they know he’s the real deal? I’ve heard of some of them before.” The robust man motioned for the bar maid, currently delivering ale to another table.

“Passed a bunch of tests or something. He’s an Inkna--has a ton of that mind-power stuff. More than anyone ever—that’s what they’re sayin’.” The bearded man let out a huff and flicked something off the table. “Load of bollocks if you ask me. Anyway, he’s on his way to get those Shadow People, but he’s waiting in Mirasoma for some scrolls or something.”

“Mirasoma…sounds familiar.” The wiry man squinted his eyes, apparently trying to picture that place on his mental map. Shanti did likewise, but without the visual contortion.

“By the ocean. Anyway, doesn’t matter,” the bearded man continued. “That ghost is back.”

All three men hushed as the bar maid bustled over, a smile in place, ready to take their orders.

Shanti’s mind was whirling. Another Chosen! One with a bunch of power. And he’d passed the milestones…

It was a he. The scrolls the Shamas had had always spoke of the Chosen as a male. It was thought the ancient Seers couldn’t predict sex and just went with a male default, but…if the man proclaiming himself the Chosen passed the tests, it meant he was truly the Chosen. A he.

Something in her chest constricted, and then sank, confusion soaking up her thoughts. She didn’t really know how she felt. She’d lived with that burden for so long… All her people had sacrificed themselves so that she might live. For all of that to be a lie… For her whole life to have been a lie…

Rushing filled her ears and her head got light. A strange disappointment settled deep into the pit of her stomach.

“Miss?” she heard, having her looking up distractedly.

The bar maid’s eyes went wide as she met Shanti’s gaze. Shock and fear radiated from her, a reaction to the violet eyes, no doubt.

Bloody—

Shanti stayed deadly still, gripping each mind within that room. Wondering which way the winds would blow.

“Do you want more water, Miss?” the woman asked in a whispy voice, taking out a charcoal and paper from the pockets of her apron. She angled her body and brought her hands in close, hiding her activity under the shelf of her large bosom. “Or shall I call the bath for you?”

The charcoal worked for a moment before the woman dropped the paper to the table. On it was written, “Not safe. U brin truble. Go room.”

“A bath will be fine. Please get me when it’s ready,” Shanti said in an even voice.

“’Course, Miss.” The bar maid bobbed and hurried away, anxiety shedding from her mind in sheets.

“Yeah, he took out another Commander last night. A hundred spans from here. They say he’s fair, like that violet eyed girl,” the bearded man was saying.

Shanti furrowed her eyebrows with that description, the disappointment from a moment ago turning into shock. There would only be one person matching her description who would travel across the land after her.

“There ain’t no such thing as a violet eyed girl.” The wiry man shifted with a wave of his hand.

“Yes there is!” the robust deserter said adamantly. “Yes there is. They tried to keep that hushed up, but I know a guy that saw her. Chased her, too. She’s this huge woman, though. Massive. The strength of two men. It’s no wonder she always got away, you know what I’m saying? And she’s got that mind mumbo-jumbo, too, so…”