A Play of Shadow Read Free Page A

kept them from each other’s throats, as would otherwise be their nature and inclination. A shared past, common interests, and—to Bannan’s mind—a mutual disdain for the younger of their own kinds, had them seek each other’s company. Oh, and love of bickering. That too.
    Under it all, the truth that neither belonged with their own kind, not anymore. They’d been forever changed: Wisp by his love for Jenn Nalynn, Scourge by his exile as a warhorse for generations of Larmensu riders.
    Bannan had been the latest; he was determined to be the last. Beyond Marrowdell, the great beast had not only been mute; he’d forgotten who and what he was. Had he not found the Larmensus, with their ability to see the truth, Scourge would likely still be running loose, cheerfully hunting rabbits. Or men. The distinction seemed irrelevant when the blood lust was on him. The point being, the truthseer knew, that the kruar had come home, penance served and exile ended. And home was where he should stay.
    Not that Scourge would agree. “Bacon,” Bannan called again, louder. “Bacon and CHEESE!”
    He counted to ten, then grinned with relief and closed the door. “Maybe they won’t notice I’ve been gone.”
    The toad gave him a doubtful look.
    “I know what you’re thinking. If they do find out, the dragon will raid my larder—again. Which wouldn’t be your fault, in any sense,” he added hastily, house toads having a pricklish pride and, while peerless at keeping vermin out, having no such knack with dragons. Or at least Marrowdell’s.
    Humming to himself, Bannan made a quick breakfast of the last of the porridge from the pot, impulsively adding water to soften the crusty bits, then a full measure of fresh flakes to cook in case the dragon did move in—he hated being a poor host. Gulping down cold tea, he packed what little he’d need for travel.
    Bedroll. Shaving kit—being beardless had begun as a simple disguise and was now his preference. He picked up his soldier’s cup and folded the handle, tucking that into its usual spot in the saddlebag, then looked around for his sword and pistol.
    Both of which he’d left behind in Vorkoun.
    “Heart’s Blood,” Bannan swore, shaken. Were the old habits still so close? “I’m a farmer,” he declared, removing the offending metal cup and replacing it with the bulky, fragile, and far heavier one he’d used for his morning tea. Tir would mock him for it.
    He didn’t care. However ridiculous, the gesture made him feel better.
    Bannan dug into a trunk for his riding leathers; homespun didn’t cut the chill. Ready, he came back to the kitchen and found the toad waiting.
    The earnest regard of its oversized eyes made Bannan sit on a stool and shake his head. “You’ll not leave me in peace till I admit it,” he grumbled, hardly fair to the toad. “Heart’s Blood. Here’s the truth, then. The food doesn’t matter. The dragon’s welcome. It’s Scourge I’m worried about. If he catches wind of this, the bloody beast will follow me. We both know it. And he mustn’t. This is where he belongs.”
    Where those dreadful scars were the only thing left for Scourge to bear.
    Closing its eyes, the house toad tucked its wide chin atop clawed feet, plainly considering the whole business beyond either of them.
    The worst thing was, when it came to Scourge?
    Bannan knew it was right.

    For all their seeming silence, house toads had an abundance of opinion. Expressed, Jenn thought with some frustration, in the most awkward way possible. Like now.
    “Will you please move?” she pleaded under her breath.
    The Emms’ house toad paled slightly, but didn’t budge from the doorway, its huge eyes locked on hers with desperation in their limpid depths. ~You mustn’t try to leave, elder sister. You mustn’t intervene. Marrowdell relies upon you.~
    Toads. “I know all that,” she assured it, gripping the scraps of her patience. “I’m not going to—”
    “Your pardon, Jenn?”