The Crown of Stones: Magic-Price Read Free

safe, being on our own with no neighbors to speak of.”
    “She’s got a point,” I said, putting my knife away. Bending, I bore the man’s slight weight and helped him stand. “King Raynan’s law doesn’t reach these outer regions. And Langor’s border is no more than a day’s ride.”
    “A point,” he grumbled. “Rosalyn’s always got a point. But that border’s been nothing but a crooked line on a map for years. The Langorians don’t cross it to bother us. They don’t bother nobody. Not since the war. And you know that,” he said to me, as I took the crutch from Rosalyn and positioned it under his arm. “You
saw
to that.”
    Rosalyn shushed him. She turned to me. “I’m sorry. He’s always going on.”
    “It’s fine.” I stepped away to my horse. Having wandered off the road, the mare was uprooting great clumps of grass from the pasture, and swallowinglike she knew it wouldn’t last. “I don’t have much food,” I called back to them. “I haven’t seen a village for a while and I’ve been hunting on the road for weeks. But I’ll give you what I can.”
    “That’s kind of you,” Rosalyn said, coming over. “But unnecessary.” She lowered her voice. “My father doesn’t mean any harm. You seem to be in a hurry, and…we don’t want any trouble.”
    “Your father is trouble,” I grinned.
    Rosalyn hid a giggle behind her hand. “I know. I’m sorry,” she said again.
    “Your attacker, did she leave you anything?”
    “Just the one horse. And the wagon. Really though, we’re all right,” she said firmly. “I appreciate your charity, but we don’t have far to go.”
    “It’s not charity.” I pulled out a flask and put it in her hand. “It’s water.”
    Rosalyn offered me a grateful smile. Her close-set eyes were ringed and tired, but I saw strength in them, and outright, unremitting endurance. It was a trait I was familiar with. And added to her brown hair, brown eyes, and her normal, every-day features, I was able to say with confidence, “You’re Rellan.”
    “I am.” Her stare flitted to my hair. “And you’re Shinree.”
    There was something in her voice. “You can’t decide if that should worry you.”
    Rosalyn shrugged. “Our village is small. We don’t go into the towns much, so...”
    “Am I the first you’ve seen?”
    “No, but you’re not like them. You’re not like the slaves I remember.”
    “Because he’s not one.” Hobbling closer, her father wormed in between us. He leaned over toward me so far I thought he would fall off his crutch. “Got business out here, do you? Planning on sneaking over and dealing those Langorian fuckers another round? Maybe you ought to shove one of them spells of yours right up Draken’s ass while you’re at it. I’m all for that,” he chuckled slyly, eyes twinkling like we were in on some great conspiracy together.
    “Sorry,” I said. “I’m just passing through.”
    “Are you now?” He let out a snort. “Like they just let you Shinree folk run around all wild and free like you please. Only them healers get to do that, or one of them showy, oracle types. And since every oracle I’ve ever met was looser than a bow-legged whore, I’m guessing you’re not that.”
    Rosalyn gasped in horror. “Father! How can you say such a thing?”
    “It’s okay,” I told her. “He’s right. I’m not an oracle, or a healer.” I glanced at her as I tied my bag shut. “And I’m not bow-legged,” I said, making her blush.
    Muttering to himself, her father backed up a step and made no attempt to hide his in-depth study of me. He peered boldly at my swords, my boots, the braces on my arms, even my dusty, leather coat, like they told him everything he needed to know. “Yep,” he said, decisively, “you’re him. You’re that soldier. That, Troy fella, that fought in the war.”
    “The war’s been over ten years, old man.”
    “You think I don’t know that?” His tone turned serious. “I know what you