Read Online A Turn of Light by Julie E Czerneda - Free Book Online Page A

during their endless patrols into the broken wilderness across the Lilem River, land Ansnor had claimed and defended as fiercely as Rhoth. The soldiers would curse the horse with affectionate pride by day, and sleep better by night.
    When anyone slept, he reminded himself. They hadn’t been at war; they’d never been at peace. Patrol was—had been—a weary sameness of hunting one another through the dark. They’d aimed to survive it, not win. He supposed the Eldad treaty accomplished that much.
    “He has his use,” Tir admitted, watching Scourge shove his head back into the shrubs, hunting whatever feckless rodent had his attention. “But on a farm? You can’t tell me, sir, he’ll let you hitch him to a plough.”
    “There might be bears.” Bannan grinned. “Or wolves. Rabbits—right, Scourge? You like rabbits.”
    An ear flicked in his direction.
    “Oh, and that’s going to be easy to explain.” At Bannan’s look, Tir added, “Sir. You do realize it’s not normal for a horse to eat rabbits.”
    “In Rhoth,” Bannan reminded him. “Scourge is Ansnan.”
    “If you say so, sir.”
    “I do. And so must you, from now on. After all, he could be.” Since no one had ever seen an Ansnan mounted, and they used tall horned cattle to pull their wagons, who was to know what their horses looked like? When it came to it, Bannan reasoned, Scourge easily passed for a horse—a powerful, oversized, and ugly one, to be honest—from a respectful distance. Any closer, and there was something odd about the lower jaw, a predatory awareness to the eye, and no stallion had balls quite that shape. Mind you, that close and you’d best be a friend or quick on your feet.
    In a public stable, Scourge would mouth hay, though he preferred the mice that nested in it, and delighted in sweet mash, provided Bannan or Tir slipped in meaty table scraps.
    Whatever the great beast was, he was a legacy. Bannan’s father had been his rider, as had his father’s uncle. Scourge chose whom he would endure, as he had ever since stalking from the mist that morning into the Larmensu paddock.
    Had the closeness of the Larmensu holding to the troubled border attracted him? Or simply a temporary overabundance of rabbits?
    Regardless, as a mount, Scourge proved more than ready for what he loved most. Battle and blood.
    If Bannan didn’t produce a worthy heir to Scourge’s saddle, he assumed the war steed would abandon him to seek his own. Eventually. He’d miss him. Cantankerous, irritable, dangerous. Tireless, courageous, and, above all, loyal.
    Well, above all, bloodthirsty. Scourge’s loyalty depended on his opinion of what his rider had in mind.
    That he so willingly took this road?
    “Rabbits,” Bannan said firmly.

    Jenn stormed all the way to the village fountain before she noticed her shadow. She stopped. Wainn stopped. He didn’t speak. His eyes were wide and sad and unutterably patient.
    “What do you want?”
    “I’m not allowed to visit alone.”
    Did he expect her to walk back to the Treffs’ with him and spend more time watching Wen mouth soundless words at perch? Before she could snap a reply, Wainn continued. “I wanted to thank you, Jenn Nalynn, but you walk very fast.”
    What was wrong with her? After dipping her finger in the water, Jenn shook her head and sat on the fountain’s ring. She patted the stone in invitation. “I’m glad I could help, Wainn. Wen’s talked to you before?”
    He dipped a finger in the water too, catching the droplets on his outstretched tongue, then sat his lanky frame with care. He did everything the same way, she realized, as if unsure the world around him could be trusted to wait as it was. “I hear everything she says. I’m a good listener.” A mottled gray toad hopped toward them over the cobbles and made itself comfortable against Wainn’s bare feet. He bent to look at it. “You won’t turn him into a man, will you?”
    Jenn eyed the toad. It blinked its limpid brown eyes at