Read Online Dragon's Winter by Elizabeth A. Lynn - Free Book Online

she asked. “I hear the beer is excellent in Sleeth.”
    The chief guard looked pleased. “Down this street and to the left: the Red Oak. You can’t miss it. Tell them Bjom Skalson at the gate sent you.”
    In the Red Oak, the tables were filled with traders from the south, farmers in town for supplies, and craftsmen taking their midday break. At a table beside the door, three men hunched over a keph board. There was an empty chair beside one of them; Hawk sat in it. She was served red ale and a bowl of lamb stew. It was excellent, flavored with onions and dill.
    Across the room a chair tipped with a bang as an argument broke out between two flushed youths. A man with a sandy-red beard and no hair on the top of his head hurried from the kitchen, calmed the combatants, and competently eased them both out the door. Hawk lifted a hand to attract his attention.
    When he came to the table, she said, “My respects to your cook, and to whomever makes your red ale.”
    His experienced appraisal took in the quality of her boots and the silver inlay on her dagger’s hilt. “Thank you,” he said. “We like our customers to be satisfied.”
    “I came from Ujo. I am friend to Illemar Dahranni, whom most people call Wolf. I’ve not seen him since he left Ujo. But I know he came north to live, that he married a woman of Sleeth, and that they have a son. Can you tell me, are he and his family well?”
    “A friend of Wolf’s! Luvia! A fresh glass of ale for this customer. My name’s Egain,” the innkeeper said. “That ale you’re drinking was brewed by Serret, Thea’s mother. As far as I know, they’re both well. Of course, it’s been a while since I’ve seen them; at least a month: it was a bad winter, which tends to keep folks inside, and then what with planting, and the traders coming—” He waved a hand at the crowded room.
    “How do I find them?”
    “Follow the river. They live north of here, in a meadow above Sleeth. Wolf built the house himself. You’ll see a stand of birches, and a well. Are you on foot? I can lend you a horse from my stable.”
    “Thank you, but I need none,” Hawk said.
    The meadow was not hard to find. A neat house squatted beside white-trunked birches. A hill sheltered it from the bite of the northern wind. To the east, beyond a dark outline of trees, the river, high now with snow melted from the mountain passes, sang a distant song. As she spiraled down into the small clearing, Hawk smelled woodsmoke—apple wood, by the scent—and heard the sound of an ax. To the rear of the house, a man was chopping wood, and laying it neatly on a woodpile. His black hair was tipped with silver, and he swung the ax in a way that she knew. She saw his face lift to follow her flight.
    She landed, and changed. They looked at one another.
    “It’s summertime. So you came,” Wolf said. He brought her into the house. “Thea. Here’s someone I want you to meet.” Thea came from the kitchen. “Thea, this is my friend Terrill, called Hawk, from Ujo. This is Thea Serretsdatter Dahranni, my wife.”
    The two women gazed gravely at each other. Thea said, “Welcome to the north, Hawk of Ujo. My husband has spoken to me of you.”
    “And he has written to me of you,” Hawk said, “and of your son. May I see him?”
    Thea brought the visitor to the cradle beside the hearth. Shem lay on his back, strong legs kicking. He was singing softly. “This is Shem,” Thea said. She lifted him from the cradle. He gurgled, and swung a hand at her face. The fine dark hair that had covered his head at birth had fallen off, to be replaced by thicker dark hair. His eyes were wide and light, with eyebrows that swept across his face like wings: Thea’s eyes, Thea’s brows.
    Hawk laid her smallest finger against his fingers. “He has a wolf’s grip,” she said, as the infant’s hand curled tightly. He nestled against his mother’s cheek. His questing eyes moved from her familiar face to the face of the stranger.