Excerpt: Whispers of the Ehon

The ragged banner read "toast" in a very different language than the old market signs and flags that crowded it on the wall. Erik stopped and stared at the words while his father walked on with the dye maker. The boy looked around, searching. There was another sign in the odd language, handpainted and leaning along with others. He could understand it too.

Kynan stopped and glanced back at the boy. "Erik, come on! The dye maker will be closing up shop."

"Father, can you read that?" Erik pointed, looking excited. There was a testing look on his face, as if the teen were playing a joke.

The man smiled and obliged, staring at the signs his son showed him. Like the rest of the crowd streaming through the intersection of market streets, his eyes passed over the strange characters without comprehension. "No, it's just nonsense, son. I've seen them around, it doesn't mean anything."

Erik drew himself up and grinned. "It means something to me. That one says 'toast', and that sign over there says 'and furthermore'. Where are others, can we go read them?" His grin faded rapidly as his father's face took on an expression of shock, and then fear.

Kynan quickly took his son's hand and began pulling him through the crowd, back the way they came. Erik didn't ask if they were still going to see the dye maker, keeping quiet as the older man's fear grew in him too. As they moved through unfamiliar side streets and alleys, the older man's attention was just as much on the way behind them as it was the path before them, and he cast glances back as if fleeing a hunter.

Finally, they swung into the recessed doorway of a shuttered shop, and Erik caught his breath as Kynan watched the street they'd just hurried down. Pedestrians were light here, the main roads of the city a distant murmur.

"Did... I do something wrong, father?" Erik muttered, his gaze already guilty.

Letting out a breath, the elder stepped to his son and knelt, resting his hands on the boy's shoulders. "No," he said. "Whatever happens, I don't want you to ever think you did anything wrong. But tell me, can you truly read the writing? You aren't making it up for fun?"

The boy hesitated, before nodding minutely. "I can read it. I found... a book, in that writing."

"From the priests?" Kynan hissed low, cutting him off. His grip tightened on the boy's shoulders.

"No!" Erik was insistent, lingering guilt making him defensive. "I found it. It's just stories, I can give it to you, I didn't steal it or anything..." He trailed off into silence, large eyes staring at his father.

Kynan was grim and resigned, the story about this book his son had found not helping his mood. He studied the boy's face a moment, as if memorizing it, before he said, "I want you to listen carefully, Erik. We need to go home. We need to get your mother, collect a few things, and leave Allinar tonight. This is very important, and I believe you. You need to trust me and do what I say. Alright?"

Erik's answering nod began hesitant and ended firmly. "What about my..." He stopped. "Yes, sir. I'm sorry, for whatever it is."

"Never apologize again for your gift, least it turn to a curse in your mind. Let's hurry."