Read The Reach Between Worlds (The Arclight Saga, Book 1) for Free Online Page A

room.”
    “Can’t we stay with you?” Nima asked.
    “Despite the lavish amenities and helpful guest service, my wagon isn’t a hotel. Get moving or sleep in the snow.”
    Aris left without another word. Taro and Nima decided to have a look around as they made their way towards the inn adjacent to the carts.
    The first cart was owned by a red-haired bard plucking at a six-stringed lute and singing a rather scandalous song. Beside him sat a bowl that listeners tossed iron pennies into.
    The next wagon was uncovered and filled to with books. Not scrolls or sheets of parchment on twine loops (both of which were far more common and much less expensive). These were real books, bound in leather and quite valuable. The sign hanging over the side of the cart said, with no apparent sarcasm, ‘damage a book, lose a finger.’ Beside this was a jar of severed fingers floating in thick clear syrup.
    The greasy shopkeeper’s eyes scanned his stock like a searchlight, and when they met Taro he slithered towards him. Taro was flipping through a first edition copy of The Witch of the Well that had been curiously propped up beside much less valuable books.
    “I always thought Dad made that story up,” Nima said.
    The shopkeeper placed a boney hand on their shoulders. “You have great taste.”
    Taro peered up. “This always scared the living hell out of me.”
    “A fiendish curse, a deal with the Old Gods. Not for children, and very expensive. I’d be willing to part with it for three crowns.”
    Three crowns was a week’s wages for most men, but this book not only appeared to be an original, the silver bindings on the cover were worth more than that by themselves. Knowing the value of things was something Taro was good at, and the man’s offer was suspicious.
    Taro looked at Nima and knew they were both thinking the same thing. He placed the book back on the shelf. “No, thank you.”
    The shopkeeper’s voice turned sour. “You’re passing up quite an offer.”
    They retreated to a safe distance beside the red-haired lutist and kept an eye on the book cart.
    “He was trying to work us,” Nima said as they crouched.
    “Without a doubt.”
    They waited and a well-dressed woman with her hair in a bun appeared and examined the books until she found the same copy of The Witch of the Well . From her expression, it was like stumbling upon a king’s tomb. She leafed through the pages delicately and ran her fingers along the binding.
    “Is that my favorite customer?” the shopkeeper said, pretending like he’d only just noticed her. “Moira, I was beginning to think you’d stopped making rounds, things as they are.”
    She held up the book and tapped the cover. “How much, Rashkal?”
    “For an esteemed customer such as yourself, I could let it go for a paltry twenty crowns.”
    She examined it further, checking every ruffled page and frayed corner.
    “You’ll find it’s genuine,” Rashkal said.
    “Should I find otherwise, I’ll be paying you another visit.” Moira placed twenty silver crowns in the shop keep’s hand.
    “You wound me. I’d never dream of cheating you.” He grinned, showing off his long, white teeth.
    Taro and Nima watched and waited, following behind Moira as she hurried towards the lower city exit. She placed the book in a large sack (heavy with other books) flung over her shoulder. Then the show began. A boy walked into her and when she fell, he apologized a dozen times. At the same time, another boy casually walked passed. Taro never saw his hands move, but he knew what’d happened.
    “Stay here,” Taro said. He charged off and seized the boy just a few feet from where Moira was dusting herself off.
    “Let me go!” the boy shouted and struggled.
    He was no more than twelve, and Taro was able to hold him without much effort. Tucked under his right arm was the book, and Taro shook it out of his arm.
    He pushed him along and the boy ran off. Taro handed the book to Moira. “You should be