Read Online The Sterkarm Handshake by Susan Price - Free Book Online Page A

the tower, and ducking out through its small door into the damp, chill night.
    There was a small space before the tower, and it was crowded with horses and men—thickset, shaggy little horses, and men wearing homemade tin-pot helmets, and jakkes and long boots. Some carried longbows and quivers. The iron heads of long lances stuck into the air. Beyond the men and horses, pushed into the narrow ways between the crowded outbuildings, were the women and children of the tower, and the old men who no longer rode.
    A shifting yellow firelight fell over it all from above, making deep shadows under jaws and brows, fetching an occasional gleam from helmets and lance heads. The light came from the beacon high above on the tower roof—the beacon that would soon bring riders from other Sterkarm towers. Toorkild’s people would send them after their own riders.
    Sweet Milk was crouching, rubbing the chest of a middling-size dog and playing with its long ears. It was the only dog that would be going with the ride—Toorkild’s sleuthhound, a most valuable animal.
    Toorkild seized Sweet Milk by the arm, and the man stood and listened while Toorkild spoke to him urgently. Per, turning back, found Andrea and Isobel close behind him in the doorway of the tower. He touched his mother’s breast, put his arm around her and kissed her cheek—but then leaned past her to touch Andrea. “Give me a kiss for luck!”
    Isobel pulled down his head and gave him several kisses haphazardly, wherever she could reach. “You must—” she said, between kisses, “bring every kiss—back to me.”
    â€œI will, I will.” He was still looking at Andrea.
    She came forward and wrapped her arms tightly around him, feeling the hard iron plates in his jakke shift and scrape. He was thinner than her, and younger, and holding him made her feel, suddenly, desperately protective; she wanted to hang on to him with all her strength, so he couldn’t go anywhere. Stupid, since he was far stronger than she was and certainly wouldn’t thank her for trying to shield him. But what did he know, silly kid, being brave and showing off? “Don’t gan, Per, don’t gan! Tha’ll be hurt!”
    He laughed as he broke her grip on him, delighted to be worrying her. From the yard, his father was shouting for him. He gave her a quick kiss that landed on the side of her nose, and ran to his father.
    â€œGood luck!” Andrea shouted, waving wildly, feeling guilty because she hadn’t given him the lucky kiss he’d asked for. “Good luck, good luck!”
    Toorkild, his hands cupped for his son’s foot, was waiting beside Fowl, Per’s horse. Per could jump into the saddle without using the stirrups, but that night his father wanted to be his stirrup, and Per obliged. Straightening, Toorkild threw him up easily, then stood by as Per tightened Fowl’s girth. Setting his hand on Per’s knee, Toorkild said, “Harken to Sweet Milk.”
    For answer, Per stooped down and kissed his father’s head, then urged his horse forward. The whole firelit yard was full of movement and noise as horses shifted and men mounted and then reached to take their lances from the women or children who held them. Over it all, the bell rang, giving warning.
    As Sweet Milk’s mount followed Per’s, and passed Toorkild, Andrea saw Toorkild look up at his foreman. Sweet Milk nodded, as if in answer, though nothing was spoken. It hadn’t needed to be: She knew what favor Toorkild had silently asked, and Sweet Milk had silently promised. Look out for Per; bring him back whole.
    The riders followed the main path to the gate, which was a little wider than the other tower ways. Their followers filtered by narrower alleys between the tower’s many outbuildings. Some crowded through the gate behind the riders, others climbed to the walkways on the wall.
    Andrea wouldn’t have believed,