Dreamspinner Read Free Page A

formidable glower.”
    “Has he?”
    “I don’t think you’ll have words, but you never know. It is Sìle, after all.” Sgath put his hand out and reached for something on his far side. He turned and handed it to Rùnach.
    It was a sword.
    “Just steel,” Sgath said with a shrug.
    Rùnach drew the sword halfway from the sheath. He had to stop, because just holding the hilt long enough to do that had left his hand cramped beyond reason. The steel glinted dully in the faint twilight of evening. The hilt glinted a bit more intensely, which led Rùnach to believe there were things there he would have to examine later. He resheathed the sword and looked at his grandfather. “Thank you.”
    “You’re welcome.” Sgath smiled. “Sìle provided you with a knife—here it is—though I’m not sure what it’s fashioned from.”
    Rùnach wasn’t going to speculate. He took the slim, sheathed dagger and slid it down the side of his boot.
    Sgath tilted his head back toward the house. “One more thing, if you’re interested. Just the right thing for a hasty exit, if that’s what you’re about.”
    Rùnach looked, because it would have been impolite to have refused yet another gift he was uncomfortable accepting. Then he felt his mouth fall open before he could stop it.
    A horse stood there. Well, perhaps
stood
wasn’t the right word. A horse occupied space on the greensward in a way that gave the impression that it was on the verge of sprouting wings and flinging itself up into the air.
    It was a chestnut lad with a white blaze beginning in the center of his forelock and sweeping majestically down to his nose. His profile, something he turned his head to show Rùnach, was unmistakable. Rùnach looked at his grandfather and knew he must havegreatly resembled a boy of ten-and-two looking at his first properly folded sword.
    “An Angesand steed,” he managed.
    Sgath only lifted an eyebrow briefly. “His sire was Geasan, his dam Maiseach, who you might recall is descended from Màthair of Camanaë.”
    “I thought only Lord Hearn was so interested in bloodlines. When did you start memorizing names of steeds?”
    “Ah, Rùnach, lad, what else have I to do but argue with Hearn’s get about breeding lines and pick flowers for your grandmother’s table?” Sgath asked with a smile. “Tùr of Angesand is, as you may or may not know, the youngest of Hearn’s five sons and the most opinionated of the lot. He was discussing bloodlines with me when he was eight.” Sgath shook his head slowly. “That lad has a feel for it that not even any of his very illustrious line of progenitors can match. And aye, since you’re obviously asking, Tùr has come to oversee the breeding of my sweet Maiseach, several times as it happens. But that one there…well, Iteach is a horse without peer.” He shot Rùnach a look. “I daresay he would even eat hay out of a simple, unmagical stable if you asked him to.”
    “Has he offered?”
    “He has, actually. He had a look at you before Ruith’s wedding and decided he might like to come along on your adventures.”
    “I won’t be having any adventures.”
    “Iteach feels differently.”
    Rùnach laughed, because he could do nothing else. “Grandfather, we are standing here talking about a horse having opinions as naturally as if we were discussing what you’d found in your lake before dawn.”
    “Four very fat, very feisty lake trout, and aye, we are. But what can you expect from a steed that majestic?”
    Rùnach considered. “Does he shapechange?”
    “Go ask him. Your cloak’s over the saddle, if you’re interested.”
    Rùnach thought he just might be.
    “And best of luck with your quest.”
    “Quest?” Rùnach echoed in disbelief. “Oh, nay, don’t wish thaton me. My only quest is to find myself a position in the garrison of some obscure lord, earn enough to put a roof over my head and food in my belly, and live out my life in obscurity.”
    Sgath put his hand on