An iron-shod cudgel smacked the outer cedar gatepost with a sharp crack.
“Step back, merchant!” a booming apprentice voice barked through the timber slats. “Master Vance is entering a profound state of spiritual comprehension! Keep your cabbage cart fifty paces away, or we split your axle!”
A startled donkey brayed in terror, followed by the clatter of wooden cart wheels retreating down Stone-Willow Lane at full gallop.
A second later, another apprentice yelled from the corner.
“And you, clan messenger!” the boy bellowed, brandishing a stout oak stave. “Take your sealed invitation back to the western quarter! Master Vance does not attend luncheons during deep cosmic contemplation!”
Kaelen turned another page of Book 5 of The Bandit King’s Secret Bride.
He lay stretched out in his hemp hammock on the shady veranda. A warm breeze rustled the maple leaves overhead, carrying the scent of dried jasmine from his steaming porcelain bowl.
Twenty-four hours had passed since Mina’s Absolute Zero Yin-Vein had stabilized.
