Read Online The Lodestone Trilogy (Limited Edition) (The Lodestone Series) by Mark Whiteway - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Mark Whiteway
Tags: Science-Fiction
Ads: Link
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 a hand
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 a hand
Similar Books
