Read Ashes and Rain: Sequel to Khe (The Ahsenthe Cycle Book 2) for Free Online

were away from Nez.
    “I’m glad Fundid didn’t want to hear more of the story,” I said. “In the future, if you want to tell your part in what happened in Chimbalay, do it, but not in front of me. I don’t need reminding of what happened.”
    Azlii startled out of her own thoughts. “Did you see Fundid’s neck after I suggested she decide what her commune would do? We’re in for trouble, Khe, and I don’t have the first idea how to stop it.”
    She sped her step, leaving Nez and me behind. A slight rain began to fall.

Five
    Wall left the gate open behind Azlii, waiting for Nez and me to follow through. The misting had turned into true rain, with drops as soft as hatchling down dusting our skins. I leaned on Nez’s arm. She walked slowly, but made it seem like it was the pace she wanted, rather than the only speed I could manage.
    “You’re angry at Azlii,” she said as Wall shut the gate behind us. “I can feel it through your skin.”
    “Turn of phrase?”
    “No,” she said. “I don’t know why, but I can feel your emotions. Sometimes, back in Chimbalay, I could feel Mees and some of the hatchlings, but not all of them. I never told anyone.”
    “But you’re telling me.”
    She shrugged. “There’s no one on this planet more strange than you, Khe. I trust you to keep my secret.”
    Strange was an interesting choice of words. Interesting, too, that she thought she could tell me because as different as she might be, I was more so — and therefore safe.
    We trundled slowly toward the central commons, our hoods drawn up to protect our scalps from the falling rain. In the distance I could see a small group of corentans gathered in commons, their cloaks thrown off, their faces turned to the sky. I was different — and had sharper eyesight than any doumana should. Another gift from the lumani.
    “What’s it like,” I asked Nez, “to feel a doumana’s emotions?”
    She shrugged again. “I can’t describe it. It’s knowing someone’s true passion, in their depths. We see our sisters’ spots light, and we think we know what they’re feeling, but we don’t. We only imagine that they feel what we do when that emotion arises, that we’re the same. But we’re not. I never would have known the difference without feeling .”
    “Maybe you are an empath after all,” I said. “It would make Inra proud if you were.”
    Nez sniffed, and I didn’t have to be an empath or see her spots to know that thinking of her kler-sister, destroyed by the lumani, made her sad.
    “Perhaps I’m her legacy,” she said.
    My heart closed like a fist, resenting the idea. I couldn’t say why but, in my depths, if Nez were to be anyone’s legacy, I wanted her to be mine.
    We were close enough to the commons now that Nez, too, could see the rain-loving doumanas. More had joined them while we walked. Azlii, who’d already reached them, waved to us and rushed back, the crimson of joy lit on her spots, all thought of Fundid and any coming troubles evidently banished from her mind.
    “Early rain is lucky,” she said, holding out her arms as if to embrace us. “It’ll bring lush crops, and everyone will have enough to eat. We’re celebrating. Come join in.”
    “Does rain turn them into babblers?” Nez asked, but smiled.
    The corentans could have been mistaken for babblers easily enough. Some still had their faces upturned to the sky, thin rivulets of water sluicing down their cheeks. Others were hopping up and down, and still others swaying with their arms in the air, like trees in a wind. Azlii had set her carry-sack down on a flat rock on the Commons edge.
    “Come on,” she said. “I’ll teach you both to dance.”
    Nez pulled up her shoulders. “Khe is tired.”
    “Pftt,” Azlii said. “You set-place doumanas have no idea how to enjoy yourselves.” She turned and headed back toward her sisters, swinging her hips in rhythm to a song only she heard.
    Nez took my elbow and started toward Home, but her