Read Online Mystic: A Book of Underrealm by Garrett Robinson - Free Book Online Page B

you might be a jester, yet you wear clothing fit for a noble. The boy has the look of a city urchin, but this young woman carries herself like a wildlander. Whatever am I to make of you?”
    “We are companions of chance.” The scowl had not left Xain’s face nor the anger and anxiety from his voice.
    He will have us discovered .  
    The wizard had no gift for bluffing and lacked the silver tongue that Jordel had mayhap too easily used. Loren would have to control the conversation, or they were lost.  
    She stepped forward, further obscuring Annis behind her.  
    “Truly, we wish to offer a grand tale of our meeting. Alas, there is little to tell. I came here to fetch my little cousin—” she patted Gem’s head, “—for his parents have not returned from a voyage, and we fear them lost. I found him tossed from his home and abandoned on the streets. I mean to bring him to relations in Wavemouth. This man I met fresh from his contract in a sellsword company.” She gestured at Xain. “Battles here are few, and he means to sail to other lands where fighting men can command coin and drink. As we travel in the same direction, his services as a bodyguard came cheaply.”
    For the first time, the Mystic’s veil of calm shifted, and she smiled gently without any humor. “One of you, at least, speaks with courtesy. I would have taken you for a poor man’s daughter and not one given to easy words. Or to possess such a fine cloak.”
    Loren flushed, her fingers picking at the cloth’s edge. The merchant’s eyes finally found her, and she saw them narrow as if searching a memory. Fortinbras did not look at Annis, but Loren knew she must lead his mind from its current, dangerous path. She let the flush bloom in her cheeks and held her head high, slightly trembling, as if at once proud and embarrassed.
    “I am a barmaid in a tavern in Wavemouth,” she said. “The gentlefolk who go there are of high breeding and . . . some lords enjoy a girl with a quick tongue. The cloak was a present from one such.”
    Understanding flashed in the merchant’s eyes, followed by contempt. His gaze drifted away. But the Mystic’s stayed unchanging, and her cold smile simply widened.
    “Such a story would explain it, indeed.” The statement could have two meanings, and Loren did not wonder which she intended. “But you have given three accounts and not four. What of the mute behind you? Why does she hide behind such a colorful cloak?”
    Loren glanced behind her, as if she had forgotten Annis’s presence. “Ah, the beggar girl. I saw her being beaten in the street, by some stuck-up landsman from Dorsea. When I paid him off to leave her alone, she took to following me. She has yet to speak a word. I think she may be . . . well . . .” Loren put both hands to her temples and tilted her head—a universal sign for the mentally feeble.
    She turned to Annis, and the Mystic followed her gaze. Then Xain and Gem, until soon everyone on the boat was staring at the girl—all but the merchant. A moment of silence passed. Then Annis burst into a mad giggle and skipped back and forth on the balls of her feet, hands flapping like wings beneath her cloak.
    The Mystic looked to Loren with a frown. “It is sad to see a soul so broken. I think I would like the girl much better with a noble child’s tongue and a dress of fine blue cloth.”  
    Again, Loren shuddered at the words, this time at their not-too-hidden meaning, down to the description of what Annis had been wearing before her flight.  
    “You claimed you had no great tales of how you all met, and yet you have spun nothing but pretty words. You could have been a bard, girl. Mayhap you still can be.”
    Loren made herself blush again and tried to curtsey with her cloak—though she made sure the dagger stayed covered. “My lady is too kind.”
    “I speak selfishly. For I could wish for no better companions for my journey to Wavemouth. Tomorrow evening did you say, Captain? I shall meet