The Outworlder by S.K. Valenzuela

hand.
“Let me go,” she whispered.
    She glanced back up into his eyes, and Jared
caught her gaze and held it. For a moment, he thought he could read
her very soul there in her eyes—confusion, heartbreak, pride,
embarrassment, insecurity, and smoldering resentment.
    Then she dropped her eyes and tugged against
his hand. “Please,” she begged. “Let me go!”
    He released her, watching as she slipped out
of the crowd and vanished.
     
     
     

Chapter 9
     
    Jared made his way slowly through the orchard
toward the library, still puzzling over the previous night’s
events. The afternoon was shimmering with heat, and as the rippling
of the river cut through his thoughts, the sultry air seemed
suddenly to weigh on him with oppressive force. He paused. A swim
would do him good in this weather, and might help clear his
thoughts.
    He began descending the gentle slope of the
orchard toward the river, but slowed his pace when he noticed
someone sitting on the bank. It wasn’t until he was within twenty
paces of the person that he realized who it was, and he immediately
groped his way behind one of the trees.
    Sahara.
    She sat staring out over the river, water
from her wet hair coursing down her skin. Three long scars marred
the rosy smoothness of her back. Two were cut crosswise from her
shoulder blades down to her waist, and the third ran straight along
her spine. Where they intersected, there was a strange tattoo.
    Jared ducked around the tree again and
knocked his head back against its trunk. I’ve been so
stupid! he thought.
    Without another moment’s hesitation, he tore
back up the hill. He entered the kitchen at the back of the main
hall and then ascended a small, winding flight of stairs that ended
abruptly at an oaken doorway. Jared paused a moment, his hand
raised, but with a shake of his head he dropped his knuckles
against the wood.
    He hadn’t been to see Childir in months, not
since Sahara had come to the city. He’d seen him in passing at
council meetings, but had never stayed around long enough to speak
to him. He didn’t think his former master would hold a grudge, but
he felt suddenly awkward about facing him anyway.
    “Come!” summoned a voice from within.
    Jared opened the door and entered quietly.
Light flooded the room from the open north windows, and the
faintest breath of a breeze whispered through bunches of dried
herbs hanging along the ceiling, releasing their sweet and savory
fragrances. An old man sat at a table facing the door, surrounded
by piles of books. A plate with cheese and bread and a cup of clear
water sat untouched at his elbow.
    “My lord Childir,” Jared said with a bow. “I
hope the day finds you well.”
    “As well as ever, my son,” Childir replied
with a twinkle in his eye. “But what brings you here?” He beckoned
Jared to a chair against the western wall of the room. And though
he didn’t say anything more, Jared felt like squirming in his
seat.
    “It’s…hot today, my lord,” Jared said. That’s a stupid thing to say. Why would I say that? Who cares
about that?
    Childir studied him. “It is…but that isn’t
why you are sweating.”
    Jared sighed. “No, it’s not.”
    Childir stroked his long beard with one hand,
the ghost of a smile on his face. “Then why don’t you speak what is
on your mind?”
    “It’s Sahara, my lord.”
    Childir’s eyes flickered. “Ah, yes. The
outworlder. I haven’t yet had the pleasure of meeting her, even
though I’ve heard so much about her.” He waited for a moment, but
when Jared said nothing, he prompted, “Well? What about her?”
    Jared took a breath. “I just don’t understand
her very well, even after all these months. And I have been meaning
to bring her to see you…it’s just never a good time.”
    The most recent time he’d planned to bring
Sahara to see his old teacher, she’d bruised her ribs in a bar
fight. He cleared his throat and continued. “But there’s something…
I think you need to know