Read Online Barrenlands (The Changespell Saga) by Doranna Durgin - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Doranna Durgin
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solid, a sturdy four-wheeled box with a springed seat up front; deep compartments lining the outside edges held provisions and equipment and still left room for passengers or hay in the center. All very homey looking, and far too calm to be perched this genteel distance away from the hellish sumacs.
This particular camping spot offered an unusually wide section of the narrow valley. There was even room to picket Spike and Clang between the wagon and the mountain rising abruptly to the west of the trail. The couple dozen merchants and wagons strung out in a line behind his own were barely visible along the curve of the trail; only the everyday supper time noise and clatter gave them away.
Shette was nowhere to be seen. Spike's head jerked up from the hay Laine had spread out for him, his ears perked at full forward. He gave a challenging snort loud enough to pop Laine's ears; there was a clatter from behind the wagon— Shette, no doubt, startled by the noise. That'd put her in fine fettle.
In a moment she came out from behind the wagon, their half-empty laundry bag still in her hands— but her purposeful strides immediately faltered. Laine didn't think he'd ever seen that stunned look on her face before.
He rather enjoyed it.
It was easy to put himself in her place, to see himself leadingthe big, handsome horse— to see the stranger behind, leading that spirited, high-crested chestnut with its flaxen mane and tail. He was taller than Laine, and despite the bulk of the leather, metal-studded brigandine he wore, it was clear he was broad-shouldered, lean-hipped, and long-legged. His boots were faced with metal greaves, and his strides long and self-assured.
Surprise, Shette .
Shette took a few steps closer to them, her mouth hanging open, and Laine smothered a grin. Then the big horse stepped on his heel, and he had to take a few quick strides to keep his feet. When he looked up again, Shette had recovered her wits. She'd dropped the bag of laundry and waited with arms crossed.
Laine stopped at the wagon tongue, offering no explanation of it all but a tired and wry grin— not that Shette gave him a chance. Her eyes widened. "You stink !"
Laine's sharp reply, half-framed, was drowned out by Spike's abrupt braying, a greeting to the two horses who were wet with nervous sweat and not particularly interested in introductions. Behind Laine, the man snapped his horse's lead rope and said firmly, "Settle down." Shette's eyes went to him, and her face had a strange expression— almost disbelief.
"Are you all right?" Laine asked her, amused. He was the one with smelly sumac ooze on his shoulders and muck on his boots, his dark brown hair ruffled and messed, sweat dripping off his nose.
"Am I all right?" she repeated, truly looking at him for the first time. "I should be asking you ! What's going on, Laine?" She gave the man and horse behind Laine another look, one that grew bolder when no one challenged it. "Who's this?"
"Ehren," the man said. "Your brother helped me out of a bad spot. I knew there was magic wandering around, but I never expected such an intense spell."
"Neither did I," Laine grumbled. Or such an intense smell , for that matter. "We need to talk to the caravan master, Ehren, and let him know you've joined us. Not to mention that we've got to find another way through to the Trade Road."
"I'm not at all sure I've joined you," Ehren said. "But we'll talk to the master after I've checked my horses."
"I can go get him," Shette said. "And I'm sure I can find someone with supper still on— I'll bet you haven't eaten."
Laine raised an eyebrow at her, suspicious of such cooperation, but said only, "Let's take care of the horses first, so Ehren has a few minutes before facing Ansgare." Ansgare would react strongly to the notion of a blocked road and a stranger on it, no doubt about that. She made a face at him, but it was a quick one, and then her eyes were on Ehren again.
"Just pull that saddle off," Ehren
This particular camping spot offered an unusually wide section of the narrow valley. There was even room to picket Spike and Clang between the wagon and the mountain rising abruptly to the west of the trail. The couple dozen merchants and wagons strung out in a line behind his own were barely visible along the curve of the trail; only the everyday supper time noise and clatter gave them away.
Shette was nowhere to be seen. Spike's head jerked up from the hay Laine had spread out for him, his ears perked at full forward. He gave a challenging snort loud enough to pop Laine's ears; there was a clatter from behind the wagon— Shette, no doubt, startled by the noise. That'd put her in fine fettle.
In a moment she came out from behind the wagon, their half-empty laundry bag still in her hands— but her purposeful strides immediately faltered. Laine didn't think he'd ever seen that stunned look on her face before.
He rather enjoyed it.
It was easy to put himself in her place, to see himself leadingthe big, handsome horse— to see the stranger behind, leading that spirited, high-crested chestnut with its flaxen mane and tail. He was taller than Laine, and despite the bulk of the leather, metal-studded brigandine he wore, it was clear he was broad-shouldered, lean-hipped, and long-legged. His boots were faced with metal greaves, and his strides long and self-assured.
Surprise, Shette .
Shette took a few steps closer to them, her mouth hanging open, and Laine smothered a grin. Then the big horse stepped on his heel, and he had to take a few quick strides to keep his feet. When he looked up again, Shette had recovered her wits. She'd dropped the bag of laundry and waited with arms crossed.
Laine stopped at the wagon tongue, offering no explanation of it all but a tired and wry grin— not that Shette gave him a chance. Her eyes widened. "You stink !"
Laine's sharp reply, half-framed, was drowned out by Spike's abrupt braying, a greeting to the two horses who were wet with nervous sweat and not particularly interested in introductions. Behind Laine, the man snapped his horse's lead rope and said firmly, "Settle down." Shette's eyes went to him, and her face had a strange expression— almost disbelief.
"Are you all right?" Laine asked her, amused. He was the one with smelly sumac ooze on his shoulders and muck on his boots, his dark brown hair ruffled and messed, sweat dripping off his nose.
"Am I all right?" she repeated, truly looking at him for the first time. "I should be asking you ! What's going on, Laine?" She gave the man and horse behind Laine another look, one that grew bolder when no one challenged it. "Who's this?"
"Ehren," the man said. "Your brother helped me out of a bad spot. I knew there was magic wandering around, but I never expected such an intense spell."
"Neither did I," Laine grumbled. Or such an intense smell , for that matter. "We need to talk to the caravan master, Ehren, and let him know you've joined us. Not to mention that we've got to find another way through to the Trade Road."
"I'm not at all sure I've joined you," Ehren said. "But we'll talk to the master after I've checked my horses."
"I can go get him," Shette said. "And I'm sure I can find someone with supper still on— I'll bet you haven't eaten."
Laine raised an eyebrow at her, suspicious of such cooperation, but said only, "Let's take care of the horses first, so Ehren has a few minutes before facing Ansgare." Ansgare would react strongly to the notion of a blocked road and a stranger on it, no doubt about that. She made a face at him, but it was a quick one, and then her eyes were on Ehren again.
"Just pull that saddle off," Ehren
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