Labyrinths of the Heart (Swords & Salt, Tale 2)

By Lindsay Buroker

After months of working in his uncle’s mine, Yanko longs to see his family and friends again, especially Arayevo, the woman he has adored from afar since he was a boy. When she travels two days and asks to see him, his mind dances at the possibilities.

But the mines are busy: there’s a political delegate to humor, a maiden in distress to help, and a wedding that must go perfectly—or else. Yanko will be lucky if he finds a chance to talk to Arayevo before she disappears from his life forever.

Labyrinths of the Heart is a 21,000-word novella.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lindsay Buroker
• Release date: Dec 21, 2013
• ISBN: 9781310761362

Lindsay Buroker

Lindsay Buroker war Rettungsschwimmerin, Soldatin bei der U.S. Army und hat als IT-Administratorin gearbeitet. Sie hat eine Menge Geschichten zu erzählen. Seit 2011 tut sie das hauptberuflich und veröffentlicht ihre Steampunk-Fantasy-Romane im Self-Publishing. Die erfolgreiche Indie-Autorin und begeisterte Bloggerin lebt in Arizona und hat inzwischen zahlreiche Romanserien und Kurzgeschichten geschrieben. Der erste Band der Emperor’s-Edge-Serie „Die Klinge des Kaisers“ ist jetzt ins Deutsche übersetzt.

Book preview

Labyrinths of the Heart

(Swords & Salt, Tale 2)

by Lindsay Buroker

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2013 Lindsay Buroker

Part 1

Yanko parried the attack smoothly, then countered by advancing and lunging with a quick feint before tapping the toe of the saber against his opponent’s chest. The miner muttered something in a language Yanko didn’t understand, but he read the disgust easily enough. The man dropped his sword and stomped for the exit of the training chamber. He had to push through men who’d come up to watch on their lunch breaks, men who shared murmurs—and traded money—in the aftermath of the sparring match.

Uncle Mishnal stood against the wall near the weapons rack.

Yanko tried a smile on him. That was my fifth victory today. I believe I’m improving, honored Uncle. What do you think?

That these peasants and outlaws are all boast and no bite—they claim they have a knack with weapons, but few of them have shown any skill. It’s unfortunate the Turgonian got away.

Ah. Yanko kept his tone neutral, trying to keep the disappointment off his face. Of course, he’d known he wasn’t facing great warriors, but he’d thought… at seventeen, surely it still said something of his competence to beat so many grown men, men who’d doubtlessly had to defend themselves at one time or another in their lives.

Are there any other challengers? Mishnal called to the lurkers in the tunnel.

This surprised Yanko. After his uncle had dismissed the men as unworthy opponents, why would he call for more? The question must have shown on his face.

Any practice is good practice for you, Mishnal said. With only four months until your entrance exams, the more fighting styles, however scrappy, you see, the better.

Some of the men at the entrance were jostled. Yanko waited, expecting a new opponent. After over an hour of practice and challenge matches, he wouldn’t have minded a break, but his uncle would only put him back to work swinging the pickaxe or pushing the giant screw that raised carts of salt from the mine depths. This was a more desirable way to spend an afternoon.

The figure that shoved past the others wasn’t at all what Yanko expected.

For one thing, it—she—was a woman. At least he was fairly certain she was. The way her short black hair stuck out in all directions made it look like she’d been the recipient of a lightning strike that morning. She wore brown trousers and a shaggy sheepskin vest that left her muscular arms bare, aside from a pair of faded leather arm guards, the sort favored by archers. Maybe she’d come from the surface? Nobody except guards was allowed weapons in the mines, and they had distinctive uniforms. She wasn’t carrying a bow, though. All she had in hand was a rolled up piece of parchment.

What is it, Lakeo? Uncle Mishnal asked.

She pressed her palms together for a quick bow, one that bordered on the edge of disrespect. Sans Su sent me to find someone who knows what a— she unrolled the parchment, —yukliptika vine looks like. For the frieze. He wants accuracy.

Mishnal’s jaw had tightened at the brevity of the woman’s bow and lack of appropriate honorifics in her speech. "I am certain Overseer Sans Su intended for you to find a book and research this on your own rather than interrupting us."

No, actually he said your nephew knew all about plants. The woman—Lakeo—surveyed Yanko from head to toe.

He straightened under her frank appraisal, realizing with some distress that even at his straightest, she stood two inches taller. She might have only been a couple of years older than he, but she certainly wasn’t cowed by her overseers. She must know that continuing disrespect would earn her punishment, especially if she was here as a prisoner of war or a criminal working off a sentence rather than as a salaried peasant. Of course, Yanko had never seen her before; maybe she wasn’t a worker at all, but someone with skills in the mental sciences, hired to craft a… what had it been? A frieze? But if she were a practitioner, one would expect her to wear her hair long and wrapped in a bun atop her head, the women’s version of the male topknot.

My nephew is busy with his training, Mishnal said stiffly, his robes still twisted over her attitude. Unless— an unkindly smirk flattened his lips, —you’d like to challenge him to a sparring match.

Yes, thank you, Uncle. Use me to sooth your irritation. That’s sure to add to my popularity here. He’d already had trouble making friends, both because of his youth and because he was moksu—an honored one—even if his family was currently on the bottom rung of the Great Chief’s ladder. He was beginning to look forward to the dreaded entrance exams for the warrior-mage school, if only because he’d be able to travel back to his village and see his cousins and friends first. And Arayevo… the woman who didn’t even know she’d been the reason Yanko had been sent to the mines for hardening. All because of that silly poetry his father had found on his desk.

Lakeo propped her fists on her hips. If I win, can I have him for a half hour?

Yanko wouldn’t have expected a bunch of hardened miners to titter, but that was exactly what the men in the tunnel did, along with murmuring lewd comments, just low enough that Uncle Mishnal couldn’t hear. Yanko, standing closer, caught a few.

With him, ten minutes ought to be enough.

Probably doesn’t even know how to unfasten a girl’s robe yet…

Yanko wasn’t that young and inexperienced, but his cheeks warmed nonetheless. As his father’s son, he had the right to punish men who slighted him, but that wouldn’t earn him any friends here either, and it might make trouble for his uncle. Miners who accepted his authority might not appreciate an upstart seventeen-year-old wielding the snake whip.

If you best him, you may have him for an hour, Uncle Mishnal said.

Yanko did his best to ignore the second round of titters. Though he’d been practicing with his great uncle for more than

Reviews for Labyrinths of the Heart (Swords & Salt, Tale 2)

[billygenetaylor · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

great story