Read Online Dragon's Ring by Dave Freer - Free Book Online
Authors: Dave Freer
Tags: Science-Fiction
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glow leaking into the rainy air from the shuttered windows was all—except for a green lantern hanging from the eave of a building a little further down the canal-path.
The sight of it brought up an alarm signal in her mind. The ones who'd attacked her had said something about that. She started to walk in the opposite direction. But a group of men, swaying and laughing came around the corner from that side. So Meb turned hastily and walked back toward the Green Lantern, walking in the rain, rather than too close to the shelter of the buildings, until she was well past it.
Because she walked there she spotted the drunk. He was asleep—in the rain—on the little stair to the water-level, just beyond the Green Lantern's front door. If he hadn't been wearing something bright yellow she might still have not seen him.
He snored peacefully. And looking down, Meb saw that his hand rested on a pouch. It bulged.
She walked on. The revelers turned into the door of the Green Lantern and were soon noisily making merry inside.
The voice inside said: "If you didn't go back he'd be robbed by someone else." The Meb brought up by Hallgerd's strict principles said: "It's theft." The practical voice inside her head argued that he'd probably die of cold sleeping in the rain anyway. If she felt that way about it she could leave him something.
Biting her lip, she turned back. Her head still throbbed. Her shoulder—which had taken part of the blow, was just plain sore.
She crept down those stairs as quietly as she could. The Green Lantern provided enough light for her to see that what had caught her eye was a cloak—actually a motley of bright yellow and crimson. A traveling gleeman! Guilt plucked at her again. The gleemen and their 'prentice-boys had come to the village now and again. Wulfstan said they stole. But they always provided welcome news and laughter in exchange.
She nearly crept back up the stairs then. But her eyes hadn't deceived her—it was a pouch, protruding from under the edge of his cloak. It bulged. And right now she didn't care if he was a prince, if that bulge was bread and cheese or gold coins she was going to take it, or some of it . . . actually, bread and cheese might be better for her conscience.
Tentatively, slowly, she reached out a hand to the pouch.
As her fingers closed on it, it all went horribly wrong. A talon-like hand locked onto her wrist. The shut eyes snapped wide open, and the jester laughed evilly. She screamed as he pulled her towards him. She kicked out as hard as she could, and somehow she twisted free. Staggering, she tripped on the narrow stair . . . lost her balance, and fell.
Into the canal.
She screamed again, kicked and swallowed water. Went down. Somehow came up again.
And then her victim jumped into the water too.
He grabbed her by the collar, rather as if she was a kitten, and hauled her towards the steps, swimming strongly. He pulled her up onto them, and then picked her up over his shoulder, as if she weighed less than a bag of feathers. She coughed, spluttered and rid herself of a fair amount of water. None too gently he put her down onto the hard stone. Meb managed to get as far as her hands and knees, still coughing.
"Now what in hell did you do a silly thing like that for?" asked her victim-rescuer, looking down at her. "You poor clumsy little scrap of humanity." He was grinning as he said it. "Now I'm all wet and your screams will likely have frightened my targets off. They'd never believe I was asleep again."
Meb managed sit up. "S . . . sorry," she sniffed, between shivers. To her shame she started to cry.
It seemed to take the gleeman aback too. "Now, now. It's not that bad. I'm not for turning you in. You've had a wetting, and a lesson. You'll be better at it next time."
"There's not going to be a next time. You should have let me drown," said Meb miserably, knowing she sounded
The sight of it brought up an alarm signal in her mind. The ones who'd attacked her had said something about that. She started to walk in the opposite direction. But a group of men, swaying and laughing came around the corner from that side. So Meb turned hastily and walked back toward the Green Lantern, walking in the rain, rather than too close to the shelter of the buildings, until she was well past it.
Because she walked there she spotted the drunk. He was asleep—in the rain—on the little stair to the water-level, just beyond the Green Lantern's front door. If he hadn't been wearing something bright yellow she might still have not seen him.
He snored peacefully. And looking down, Meb saw that his hand rested on a pouch. It bulged.
She walked on. The revelers turned into the door of the Green Lantern and were soon noisily making merry inside.
The voice inside said: "If you didn't go back he'd be robbed by someone else." The Meb brought up by Hallgerd's strict principles said: "It's theft." The practical voice inside her head argued that he'd probably die of cold sleeping in the rain anyway. If she felt that way about it she could leave him something.
Biting her lip, she turned back. Her head still throbbed. Her shoulder—which had taken part of the blow, was just plain sore.
She crept down those stairs as quietly as she could. The Green Lantern provided enough light for her to see that what had caught her eye was a cloak—actually a motley of bright yellow and crimson. A traveling gleeman! Guilt plucked at her again. The gleemen and their 'prentice-boys had come to the village now and again. Wulfstan said they stole. But they always provided welcome news and laughter in exchange.
She nearly crept back up the stairs then. But her eyes hadn't deceived her—it was a pouch, protruding from under the edge of his cloak. It bulged. And right now she didn't care if he was a prince, if that bulge was bread and cheese or gold coins she was going to take it, or some of it . . . actually, bread and cheese might be better for her conscience.
Tentatively, slowly, she reached out a hand to the pouch.
As her fingers closed on it, it all went horribly wrong. A talon-like hand locked onto her wrist. The shut eyes snapped wide open, and the jester laughed evilly. She screamed as he pulled her towards him. She kicked out as hard as she could, and somehow she twisted free. Staggering, she tripped on the narrow stair . . . lost her balance, and fell.
Into the canal.
She screamed again, kicked and swallowed water. Went down. Somehow came up again.
And then her victim jumped into the water too.
He grabbed her by the collar, rather as if she was a kitten, and hauled her towards the steps, swimming strongly. He pulled her up onto them, and then picked her up over his shoulder, as if she weighed less than a bag of feathers. She coughed, spluttered and rid herself of a fair amount of water. None too gently he put her down onto the hard stone. Meb managed to get as far as her hands and knees, still coughing.
"Now what in hell did you do a silly thing like that for?" asked her victim-rescuer, looking down at her. "You poor clumsy little scrap of humanity." He was grinning as he said it. "Now I'm all wet and your screams will likely have frightened my targets off. They'd never believe I was asleep again."
Meb managed sit up. "S . . . sorry," she sniffed, between shivers. To her shame she started to cry.
It seemed to take the gleeman aback too. "Now, now. It's not that bad. I'm not for turning you in. You've had a wetting, and a lesson. You'll be better at it next time."
"There's not going to be a next time. You should have let me drown," said Meb miserably, knowing she sounded
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