Wren (The Romany Epistles) Read Free Page B

supper.” Gripping his
cane, he rose from the bench and hobbled toward the door. “I hope to be seeing
ya about,” he called over his shoulder, and then he was gone.
    I studied the door in his wake. He was a strange old man and
his message about Lord Iselyn’s son was stranger yet.
    I frowned down at my dinner. If there was no likely place
for a falconer, hunter, or stable hand nearby, I was not going to be able to
afford a meal like this any time soon. I took a mouthful. The turnips were well
cooked and the meat tender. I closed my eyes and let the thick gravy coat my
throat.
    On the trail, I rarely took time to cook. Most meals were
bread and cheese or salted jerky. Occasionally, after a capture, I would treat
myself to a stew, but it never was this good. This taste could only be produced
by cooking it all day over a low fire. I was hardly ever in one place that
long.
    Now there wasn’t a chance of finding a place before the
frost. I worked on breaking up the chunk of bread. I couldn’t help wondering
about Lord Iselyn’s son. Even if the roof was meager, it would be more roof
than I possessed. I was certain that I could definitely earn my keep by
contributing to the communal pot, if that was the only price. As I loaded my
spoon for another bite, I decided that I would ride by the ruins on my way out
of the valley. If it didn’t work out, I would keep riding. I spent one winter
on the road; I could survive another.
    Shoveling the stew into my mouth, I savored the taste and
relaxed. No matter what, Deus always provided for me in some way. He had done
wonders in the past; I didn’t expect Him to start failing now.
     
    ~~~~~
     
 

Chapter II
     
Tourth
    The stinging scent of the brine made me grimace as I hung
the last haunch of boar on the rack in the smokehouse. As much as I was
thankful for the previous morning’s kill, I hated the job of preparing the meat
for smoking. The scent of the spices in moderation would have been pleasant,
but mixed in concentrated form for the meat to soak in, they overwhelmed. At
the moment, only extreme hunger would motivate me to work past the smell to gag
down the meat.
    Leaving the haunch to drip before I began the fire, I walked
out into the crisp mid-morning. A well-fed buck hung from the tree by its hind
legs in the barren courtyard. Ignoring it, I took a deep breath of cool autumn
air and let it out slowly. The bright sunlight warmed my face and shoulders as
birds called to each other from the vines climbing the side of the ruined keep.
If I closed my eyes and beheld my surroundings without my vision, I could
believe the keep towered strong and tall above me and–
    “Hello there.”
    I opened my eyes and turned to find the source of the voice.
Once I located her, I frowned.
    Despite the masculine leather jerkin and leggings, I was
certain of her gender. Perhaps it was her diminutive height or the long, thick
braid of rich brown hair that fell gracefully over her left shoulder. Either
way, I would have never mistaken her for a boy.
    Her hand rested lightly on the well-worn hilt of the throwing
knife at her waist as she balanced on the fore of her feet. She wasn’t one to
be taken lightly. This woman knew her way around a knife and I didn’t need to
see her throw one to know it would land where she intended.
    “I seek Lord Iselyn’s son.” Her horse nudged the back of her
left shoulder. “Do you know where I might find him?”
    “It matters the reason that you are seeking him.” I met her
gaze. Her dark brown eyes studied my face for a few moments as I returned the
favor. She wasn’t classically beautiful, but something was attractive about her
even features and honest, open face.
    “Old Alec sent me here. He said that Mynth’s son might be
interested in my help this winter.”
    “What kind of help would that be?”
    “I can track in almost any kind of weather and rarely lose
the prey. I have lived through the winter on my hunting skills alone, and I
know my way