Thief of Silver and Souls by Eva Chase EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: Eva Chase
- Language: English
- Genre: New Adult & College Fantasy
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
The scars on my back scrape the wagon’s underside through my
hooded tunic. I creep onward in my hunched pose, absorbing the
prickle of pain.
It’s a reminder of where I came from.
The heroes in fables and histories don’t scuttle around beneath horsedrawn wagons in the shadows and dirt. They stride forward under the sun to
carry out their virtuous deeds.
If the stories are true, you’d figure most of them stood ten feet tall and
shone sunlight out of their exalted asses too.
But I’m not any kind of hero. I’m a monster with a broken soul.
I’d like to think that qualifies me to identify other sorts of monsters.
Like the charm merchant who owns this wagon, whose soul I’m willing to
bet is at least badly smudged.
He’s parked off to the side of the ramshackle square on the fringes of
the city, and a small crowd has already gathered to ogle his wares. With
every false promise that rolls off his lying tongue, my grimace deepens.
The trinkets jingle as he holds up one and another. “Blessed by Elox
himself! Keep this charm close, and you’ll be free of illness for a year. This
one, touched by Prospira’s promise—plant it with your gardens for twice
the yield.”
Sure, and my spit turns shit into gold.
The arid breeze sends a tickle of dust into my nose. I stifle a sneeze and
ease even closer to the swarm of legs just beyond the wagon.
The shadows and the dirt-brown fabric of my tunic make me all but
invisible. Just in case, I tug the hood farther over my pale face and tuck
back a few stray wisps of my reddish-blond hair.
A voice I recognize speaks up, sweet but thin. “Will the Elox-blessed
charm help someone who’s already sick? My son—he’s been down with a
fever.”
I wince. It’s Zuzanna—the housewife with the dotted curtains and
Elox’s sigil carved into every wall of her rickety house. Her appeals to the
godlen of healing haven’t brought any miracles yet. Her frail son is ill more
often than he’s not.
But she can’t help grasping at any slim chance she gets.
The merchant answers in a tone slick as oil. “Oh, for one already ill, I
have a stronger charm. It only costs a few bits more.”
Murmurs ripple through the gathered onlookers. I can taste the tang of
hope in the air—but it’s all in vain.
Charms imbued with godlen-blessed magic exist, but not for the prices
at which the merchant is hawking his fakes. The residents of this
neighborhood could never afford the real thing.
I’ve crossed paths with legitimate relics a few times, and they give off a
thrum of power that quivers right through the center of me. From the
trinkets hanging from the display over my head, I sense only a brief tingle.
It’s probably a dusting of conjured happiness that will satisfy the buyers
for the first week or two.
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