Read Online A Turn of Light by Julie E Czerneda - Free Book Online
Authors: Julie E Czerneda
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travel to scholarly Mellynne, with its fountains and art, or to cross the inland sea to Eldad’s great cities, said to spread across the horizon—even mysterious, dangerous Ansnor had its charm. Anywhere, she decided, coming back to her problem, but here.
“I’ve heard there’s a way to change a toad into—” Jenn paused. She didn’t need or want a prince, she needed a way to leave Marrowdell. “To change a toad into the perfect husband. For me.”
“I would be a perfect husband,” Wainn asserted, looking at Wen.
Wen actually blushed.
She was doing an excellent job helping other people’s futures, Jenn fumed to herself, just not her own. “Wen. I need a toad,” she insisted.
“Toads prefer other toads,” Wen told her, pushing the curl from her forehead. She appeared amused. “Why would one want to marry you?”
“I don’t want to marry a toad.” Jenn collected herself. “I want to know how to change a toad into a man. A man to be a husband.” Now her cheeks burned.
“Have you tried this?”
“How could I? I don’t know how.”
“Then toads should be grateful. For if anyone could do such a thing, it would be you, Jenn of Night’s Edge.”
For a woman who hadn’t spoken for most of her life, Wen Treff had no trouble robbing Jenn of speech.
“I can’t tell you how to accomplish this,” Wen continued. “Nor would I betray the small ones. But I do know a change in shape does not bring a change in nature. If you want someone to give you his heart, I suggest you follow your own.” Wen bestowed her glorious smile on Wainn once more, then bent to the water again, her face behind a fall of cobwebbed curls, to talk to fish.
“Well, isn’t this convenient.”
The ox thought so, having pulled the wagon halfway off the road before agreeing to stop.
“I’d say someone wanted to help new settlers, sir,” Tir agreed, coming back to the wagon. He’d been walking alongside the animal to stretch his legs and escape the dust.
“The ideal spot, too.” Bannan glanced upward. What sky showed between treetops was the deep blue of a late summer twilight, a warning they’d soon have to break out lamps to see the way ahead. And here they find the first roadside clearing since Endshere wide enough for one or more wagons, complete with a patch of grass beside a burbling mountain stream? Pretty.
Unfair. Having left the border guard, he’d hoped to look at a pleasing landscape and not see where lurkers could hide or how easily any escape could be cut off. For that matter, he’d like, for once, to look at an earnest face, like any in Endshere, and not see the lie.
Tir leaned on the wagon as Bannan jumped down. “Do they think we’re fools, sir?”
“The good people of Endshere did warn of bandits.” And been willing to provide escort—for a steep price. An escort likely to be the bandits themselves, in his opinion, but he’d been polite in his refusal. No sense leaving ill will behind.
Or revealing himself.
Doubtless word had gone ahead. The wagon and its contents had worth here; there was always the chance a once-wealthy settler had hidden something valuable, not that he had.
“A fire,” Bannan decided. “And a good supper.” He took an appreciative sniff. The afternoon’s warm pine lingered, mixed with road dust, fresh ox droppings, and the grass underfoot. Nothing of the city, nothing of before. “We may,” he added cheerily, “need to open the brandy.”
“Here? Sir?”
“Relax, Tir.” Bannan pursed his lips and gave a soundless whistle. Scourge jerked his head from whatever had him rooting in the bushes. “Watch,” he told the horse.
There was something anticipatory in the baleful stare this produced.
“No bandits tonight,” he announced. Scourge rarely had to attack. Few on foot waited to learn what crashed toward them in the dark, and no strange horse would approach if they had his scent. The wily veterans of his company had valued that assurance, especially
“I’ve heard there’s a way to change a toad into—” Jenn paused. She didn’t need or want a prince, she needed a way to leave Marrowdell. “To change a toad into the perfect husband. For me.”
“I would be a perfect husband,” Wainn asserted, looking at Wen.
Wen actually blushed.
She was doing an excellent job helping other people’s futures, Jenn fumed to herself, just not her own. “Wen. I need a toad,” she insisted.
“Toads prefer other toads,” Wen told her, pushing the curl from her forehead. She appeared amused. “Why would one want to marry you?”
“I don’t want to marry a toad.” Jenn collected herself. “I want to know how to change a toad into a man. A man to be a husband.” Now her cheeks burned.
“Have you tried this?”
“How could I? I don’t know how.”
“Then toads should be grateful. For if anyone could do such a thing, it would be you, Jenn of Night’s Edge.”
For a woman who hadn’t spoken for most of her life, Wen Treff had no trouble robbing Jenn of speech.
“I can’t tell you how to accomplish this,” Wen continued. “Nor would I betray the small ones. But I do know a change in shape does not bring a change in nature. If you want someone to give you his heart, I suggest you follow your own.” Wen bestowed her glorious smile on Wainn once more, then bent to the water again, her face behind a fall of cobwebbed curls, to talk to fish.
“Well, isn’t this convenient.”
The ox thought so, having pulled the wagon halfway off the road before agreeing to stop.
“I’d say someone wanted to help new settlers, sir,” Tir agreed, coming back to the wagon. He’d been walking alongside the animal to stretch his legs and escape the dust.
“The ideal spot, too.” Bannan glanced upward. What sky showed between treetops was the deep blue of a late summer twilight, a warning they’d soon have to break out lamps to see the way ahead. And here they find the first roadside clearing since Endshere wide enough for one or more wagons, complete with a patch of grass beside a burbling mountain stream? Pretty.
Unfair. Having left the border guard, he’d hoped to look at a pleasing landscape and not see where lurkers could hide or how easily any escape could be cut off. For that matter, he’d like, for once, to look at an earnest face, like any in Endshere, and not see the lie.
Tir leaned on the wagon as Bannan jumped down. “Do they think we’re fools, sir?”
“The good people of Endshere did warn of bandits.” And been willing to provide escort—for a steep price. An escort likely to be the bandits themselves, in his opinion, but he’d been polite in his refusal. No sense leaving ill will behind.
Or revealing himself.
Doubtless word had gone ahead. The wagon and its contents had worth here; there was always the chance a once-wealthy settler had hidden something valuable, not that he had.
“A fire,” Bannan decided. “And a good supper.” He took an appreciative sniff. The afternoon’s warm pine lingered, mixed with road dust, fresh ox droppings, and the grass underfoot. Nothing of the city, nothing of before. “We may,” he added cheerily, “need to open the brandy.”
“Here? Sir?”
“Relax, Tir.” Bannan pursed his lips and gave a soundless whistle. Scourge jerked his head from whatever had him rooting in the bushes. “Watch,” he told the horse.
There was something anticipatory in the baleful stare this produced.
“No bandits tonight,” he announced. Scourge rarely had to attack. Few on foot waited to learn what crashed toward them in the dark, and no strange horse would approach if they had his scent. The wily veterans of his company had valued that assurance, especially
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