Read Online Lodestone Book One: The Sea of Storms by Mark Whiteway - Free Book Online Page B

regarded the morgren in
its pen with a dubious expression. Morgren were without doubt the
ugliest creatures he knew. Of course, one could almost deal with
that–if it were not for the smell. Fudoro, who was in charge of the
stables here in Lind, insisted that you got used to it after a
while, but Alondo seriously doubted that.
    The morgren stamped its splayed
feet and snorted from its single hairy nostril as if affronted. A
few specks of slobber hit Alondo`s coat, causing him to step back
out of range. The creature appraised him with its rheumy eyes and
apparently satisfied, resumed munching on a bale of
kalash.
    Morgren were considerably slower
than graylesh and had none of the latter’s grace of movement. They
were stubborn and ill-tempered. But they could survive in arid
conditions long after a graylesh`s bones would have been picked
clean. Morgren had been known to go fifteen days in the desert
without water. So there really was no option. He was purchasing
this malodorous beast whether either of them liked it or
not.
    “How much?” he heard himself
ask.
    Fudoro ran a hand through his
thinning hair. “One fourth…each.”
    Alondo’s eyes widened. “One
fourth of an astria? That seems a lot.”
    The stableman shrugged. “Times
are hard, friend. Everything is in short supply. The Prophet’s
servants cut the fat and leave nothing but bone…Tell you what; I’ll
throw in a pack saddle, bells if you need ’em and a full load of
kalash for each animal, at no extra cost.”
    Alondo nodded agreement
grudgingly and doled out payment.
    Fudoro`s palm closed around the
coins. “Will you wait while I outfit them for you or will you
return?”
    “We’ll wait.”
    Fudoro turned and headed towards
the back, casting a glance at the hooded figure in the corner.
Shann looked as if she were trying to appear unobtrusive. Still,
Alondo was starting to feel glad that she had agreed to come along.
He had set out with five silver astrias this morning, and it was
going down fast. At least she would be able to testify that he
hadn’t frittered it away swigging horge at every inn along the
way.
    Although he had known her for
less than three days, Alondo found himself growing profoundly
concerned for the slender, frail looking girl. Driven from her
home; pursued by soldiers; taken in by strangers; and now on top of
everything else, Lyall claiming they could solve the problems of
the entire world, when the poor waif scarcely knew how to cope with
her own.
    Last night she
had once again avowed her determination to join them on their
fool’s mission. A mission that will most
likely end in all our deaths. What was Lyall thinking? Alondo almost wished he had left her there at the
bottom of that crate of stinking moba root. She would likely have
lived longer.
    Fudoro had returned. The morgren
were out of their pens and the stableman was making final
adjustments to saddle packs. Alondo thanked him and took the reins
of one animal, motioning for Shann to take the other.
    Outside, he turned to her. “I
have to meet with someone briefly. Would you mind looking after the
morgren and the rest of our things for a bit? I won’t be
long.”
    Shann threw her hood back. Her
eyes narrowed. “You’re going to find an inn, aren’t
you?”
    Alondo smiled enigmatically. “Not
this time.”
    ~
    The eastern
canton. Home to the poor and destitute of the town of Lind. A place
of worn out rags and broken dreams, where squat wooden shacks sat
cowering like frightened children. Alondo, maker of music, bringer
of joy, felt totally out of place in this blighted neighbourhood.
Old and young alike watched his passing from hollow doorways and
through hollow eyes. This is what must
change. No-one should be forced to live like
this.
    He came to a ramshackle hut and
ducked at the low entranceway. An old man with white bones jutting
out beneath desiccated skin sat on a stool next to an unlit
fireplace. His eyes were bright but unfocused.
    Alondo walked up and placed