Read Online Sons of Destiny Prequel Series 003 - The Shifter by Jean Johnson - Free Book Online
Authors: Jean Johnson
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right age for this. It takes a young man to play a young man, but some are too old, and the remainder are too young," the other elder stated. His hair was more gray than black, but lacked the white of the first one, and his mouth shadowed by a mustache that ended in long points on either side of his chin.
"Tell me about the boy I'd be imitating," Kenyen offered, "and I'll tell you whether or not I can do it."
Tunric chuckled darkly. "How arrogant. Keep it in check, boy . We've been playing this for as long as you've been alive."
Kenyen knew that wasn't true; the words of his sister-in-law's mother hadn't hinted at anything remotely related to the theft of Corredai identities, and he was older than his sister-in-law. He didn't argue, though.
"He's the son of a farmer. A dirt grubber and a cow milker. He's also best friends with the daughter of a certain blacksmith and his Healer wife... and apparently became her betrothed right before leaving the area," Tunric stated, mouth twisting.
"If he's a farmer, why do you need to know if I know blacksmithing? Shouldn't you be asking if I can fake farming like a Corredai?" Kenyen asked.
"You're fresh off the Plains. Unless you went out of your way to avoid it, you know how to tend animals and grow food," Zellan dismissed.
"We believe the blacksmith knows the secret for making a certain something which interests us," Tunric explained.
"It's not bluesteel, is it?" Kenyen asked, puzzled by the possibility. While it was true only a few blacksmiths on the Shifting Plains knew how to make the metal, which was the only metal capable of solidly wounding and permanently scarring a shapeshifter, he couldn't figure out why Banished criminals would want to get their hands on more of it.
"No. Not bluesteel—what it is, you don't need to know. Not at this point in time," Tunric dismissed. "But if you're going to imitate the betrothed of the blacksmith's daughter, then it's possible you'll have the opportunity to hang around his workshop without nearly as much suspicion hanging over your motives as anyone else would have."
"Do you want me to apprentice to him?" Kenyen asked, lifting a brow.
"Only if he offers," the white-haired elder countered. "Don't push. Things go badly when you push. As it is, you'll be walking into this role with the handicap of suffering from a blow to the head."
Kenyen twitched, taking a half step back in pure, instinctive defense. Tunric chuckled, eyeing his raised hands. "Relax, boy. We'll teach you how to fake a concussion. Though we might have to rough you up a bit to make it look believable. Your betrothed's mother is a Healer, after all—what do you think of females?"
The sudden change in subject threw Kenyen. He blinked, recalling belatedly the women-hating words written down in the book that had sent him and the others into this land. Aware that all four men were studying his reactions to his words, Kenyen answered the question. "Ah... nothing, really. They're important for cooking and tumbling and begetting sons, but... I guess you could say I really don't care, either way."
"Can you seduce a woman?" Zellan asked him. "You'll want to stay on the blacksmith's good side; you can't just take her and tumble her. Though she is an outkingdom woman, and therefore no different than any earth-whore from the Plains."
If he hadn't already read the accounts of the horrible ordeals suffered by his sister-in-law's mother, Kenyen might not have been able to keep his face calm. Calling an earth-priestess an earth-whore was a deep insult to the time-honored, culturally honorable task of giving physical comfort to unmarried men, back on the Plains. Women were to be respected, and maidens allowed to remain chaste, untouched.
After the Aian Empire had shattered, its capital literally turned into a crater during the Convocation of the Gods, the survivors in the area had been about as civilized as the deeds written about this Family Mongrel. That the Shifterai had pulled
"Tell me about the boy I'd be imitating," Kenyen offered, "and I'll tell you whether or not I can do it."
Tunric chuckled darkly. "How arrogant. Keep it in check, boy . We've been playing this for as long as you've been alive."
Kenyen knew that wasn't true; the words of his sister-in-law's mother hadn't hinted at anything remotely related to the theft of Corredai identities, and he was older than his sister-in-law. He didn't argue, though.
"He's the son of a farmer. A dirt grubber and a cow milker. He's also best friends with the daughter of a certain blacksmith and his Healer wife... and apparently became her betrothed right before leaving the area," Tunric stated, mouth twisting.
"If he's a farmer, why do you need to know if I know blacksmithing? Shouldn't you be asking if I can fake farming like a Corredai?" Kenyen asked.
"You're fresh off the Plains. Unless you went out of your way to avoid it, you know how to tend animals and grow food," Zellan dismissed.
"We believe the blacksmith knows the secret for making a certain something which interests us," Tunric explained.
"It's not bluesteel, is it?" Kenyen asked, puzzled by the possibility. While it was true only a few blacksmiths on the Shifting Plains knew how to make the metal, which was the only metal capable of solidly wounding and permanently scarring a shapeshifter, he couldn't figure out why Banished criminals would want to get their hands on more of it.
"No. Not bluesteel—what it is, you don't need to know. Not at this point in time," Tunric dismissed. "But if you're going to imitate the betrothed of the blacksmith's daughter, then it's possible you'll have the opportunity to hang around his workshop without nearly as much suspicion hanging over your motives as anyone else would have."
"Do you want me to apprentice to him?" Kenyen asked, lifting a brow.
"Only if he offers," the white-haired elder countered. "Don't push. Things go badly when you push. As it is, you'll be walking into this role with the handicap of suffering from a blow to the head."
Kenyen twitched, taking a half step back in pure, instinctive defense. Tunric chuckled, eyeing his raised hands. "Relax, boy. We'll teach you how to fake a concussion. Though we might have to rough you up a bit to make it look believable. Your betrothed's mother is a Healer, after all—what do you think of females?"
The sudden change in subject threw Kenyen. He blinked, recalling belatedly the women-hating words written down in the book that had sent him and the others into this land. Aware that all four men were studying his reactions to his words, Kenyen answered the question. "Ah... nothing, really. They're important for cooking and tumbling and begetting sons, but... I guess you could say I really don't care, either way."
"Can you seduce a woman?" Zellan asked him. "You'll want to stay on the blacksmith's good side; you can't just take her and tumble her. Though she is an outkingdom woman, and therefore no different than any earth-whore from the Plains."
If he hadn't already read the accounts of the horrible ordeals suffered by his sister-in-law's mother, Kenyen might not have been able to keep his face calm. Calling an earth-priestess an earth-whore was a deep insult to the time-honored, culturally honorable task of giving physical comfort to unmarried men, back on the Plains. Women were to be respected, and maidens allowed to remain chaste, untouched.
After the Aian Empire had shattered, its capital literally turned into a crater during the Convocation of the Gods, the survivors in the area had been about as civilized as the deeds written about this Family Mongrel. That the Shifterai had pulled
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