About Heartsense

Written by K.L. Richardsson
Print Information:
196 pages / 53500 words / 5x8 trade paperback
ISBN: 978-1-60370-353-6, 1-60370-353-5
eBook Information:
138 pages / 53500 words
Available file types - html, lit, pdf, prc
ISBN: 978-1-60370-478-6, 1-60370-478-7

The only son of a traveling merchant, Katjin spends his summer in the clan lands with his grandparents. He wishes his father, his apa, would take him along, but despite the promises that someday he’ll get to go, Katjin is left behind while his apa heads away on business that seems more and more suspicious the older Kat becomes. During one such summer, Katjin finds Mikael, a lost young man, who draws Kat to him by answering his song.

In a world where the Empire brands all people as either ‘paths, people with psychic talent, or as non-’paths, Mikael is remarkable in that he has no brand. Fearing that the cavalry, who are arriving to recruit new members, will find Mikael in their clan and bring the Empire’s fury down upon them, the clan sends Kat and Mikael to hide away until it is safe - along with his cousin Soren to keep them both safe.

Knowing the best way to keep Mikael from being taken is to make him a member of the clan, Soren and Katjin plan a blood bonding ceremony, but they have no idea what kind of trouble they’ve started with their actions. Katjin learns soon enough that he won’t be able to escape his bond with Mikael, and that danger lurks around every corner. Danger that he never knew existed.

Can he keep Mikael safe long enough to figure out exactly what their future holds?

Sample

Katjin hummed to himself, letting the city noises distract him from his chores. Even in their small camp, Apa still piled chores on him. It was probably fair, since it was just the two of them on the road. He still wished that Apa would lay off a little sometimes. It almost seemed like his father deliberately made up chores to keep Katjin in camp. He couldn’t get into that much trouble strolling through the city streets, and it wasn’t as if they were in one of the really dangerous cities anyway. This town was barely more than a collection of houses and shops that clustered around the mouth of the harbor. Most of the inhabitants were fishermen and crafters. He still wasn’t entirely sure why they would need the selection of nets Apa brought to show them, since they could probably make their own just as easily. But Apa swore they were the best nets, and his father should know. He was the trader, after all.

If some of their cargo hadn’t seemed so random, so oddly chosen, Katjin wouldn’t have made so much of it. They carried pearl rings and other trinkets to the coast, trading them for some of those fancy headscarves the farmers’ wives of the Lowlands liked to wear when they worked in the fields. They brought tapestries and robes down from the plains for curious Lowlanders who wanted to own a piece of the ‘barbarian’ past. Apa had been speaking for moons about a deal involving Highlands wool, something even the most daring trader didn’t usually try for. No one went into the Highlands. Not if they could help it.

At least they had a couple more days here. If he tried, he could probably sneak out later and meet some of the local fellas, even though Apa didn’t encourage too much of that. Katjin still wasn’t sure if it was because he always chased after the fellas, or because there was some ancient Lowland prejudice against it. There had been a couple Lowlanders, here and there, ones who had actually seemed interested in him as a person, and not just an exotic Clansman. Those kinds of fellas seemed to be few and far between. It was too bad that the girls all drove him crazy.

“C’mon, Kat. Time to pack up.”

Apa came striding into the yer just as Katjin was folding his clean clothes. He’d taken advantage of the sunny weather to try and wash some of their dirtier breeks and shirts while Apa handled negotiations with the merchants here in town.

“We’re leaving already?” Usually Apa gave him a day or two notice. Not that they had a schedule to follow; they were freelance traders, after all, reporting to no one but themselves. “Your robe is still damp.”

Apa shucked out of the robe he was currently wearing, balling it up and tossing it on his pallet in the corner of the yer. “It’ll dry as we ride. Come. Time to move.”

He eyed Apa skeptically, but did as he was told. His father was in a habit of not telling him everything. It was possibly because of the ‘paths that patrolled the city streets, hunting down every thought or emotion that might bring harm to the empire.  Or it could even be that it was just time for them to leave. They were Clanfolk after all, not always welcomed in the more ‘civilized’ cities of the Lowlands. While there hadn’t been war between the plains and the Lowlands for generations, the Lowlanders were still slow to forget. Katjin couldn’t blame them; hordes of barbarians on horseback, all wielding vicious bows and knives, would be rather fixed in his memory. And while the Empire tried to promote unity and brotherhood amongst its people, that still didn’t mean it happened. Especially with the how rarely the two people interacted. Clanfolk stayed to the plains, and Lowlanders remained in their towns. It was simple as that.

“Any reason why?” Katjin couldn’t help asking, quickly tossing the rest of their clothes in a few saddlebags. The yer itself wouldn’t even take half a hand-span to take down, even once they folded up the woven horsehair panels and rolled up the lattice of flexible willow branches. As it was now, the sun hung about three hand-span from the horizon, meaning they could be back on the road by dark.

“No reason,” came Apa’s curt answer. He was already rolling up the pallets, putting them aside to be loaded on the packhorse.

Over the years, Katjin had learned to estimate when they’d overstayed their time in town. Apa’s goods were always welcomed, and his half-blood son was always welcomed with them, showing that he really did have a legitimate tie to the Lowlands. But, inevitably, someone always started drinking, and always made a remark that either fired Apa up or made him deadly quiet in his anger. His father tended to be mild-mannered in most things, genial as any trader should, but when something frustrated or infuriated Apa, he held the thing in his jaw until he shook it to death.

Katjin sighed. He hadn’t been that fond of Alanisport anyway. It was a smaller town, even for their out-of-the-way treks. And there had been a few too many ‘paths around to make either of them comfortable. ‘Paths meant Katjin spent most of the time muttering or humming under his breath, giving him an air of craziness. He wondered what his reputation was now, in the Lowlands, since Nolan Redwind and his half-blood son were rather well-known in their own trading circles.

At least it wasn’t something they’d have to worry about anymore. This was their last stop before heading to the plains, and he was right sick of the Lowlands rain and constant winter gloom. He could almost feel the spring sunshine warming his face, the damp earth under his feet, the smell of Meke’s fry bread.

“Be ready soon, Apa,” he called as Apa left the yer. Just a bit more, and then they’d be free on the road again.