Read Online The Very Best of Kate Elliott by Kate Elliott - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Kate Elliott
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light in the darkness means the other man can see you but you can’t see him.”
Hansi chuckled. He was a good-natured young man, slow to take offense to his pride. “My apologies, Mother Anna. Is that Uncle Joen I hear?”
“It is,” said Joen,“and I would ask you to get everyone dressed.”
Anna grabbed Joen’s thick forearm.“I thought you said no trouble.”
“There’s been a skirmish fought in and around West Hall. Rumor says the Forlangers are involved. The family should hide in the caves until we are sure they’ve moved on.”
Anna’s daughter Mari appeared beside Hansi, resplendent in her bride’s shawl and so heavily pregnant that she lumbered. Her face was solemn as she took the candle from her young husband and examined first her mother and then her uncle by its smoky light.
“We’ll get the children up and go at once,” Mari said.
Hansi brushed his fingers down Mari’s forearm, and the gesture of affection made Anna glad all over again that her daughter had found a good man.
Joen nodded, shifting his crutch. His empty trouser leg swayed. “Take provisions, everything you can carry and cart, but be quick about it. But I need you, Anna, if you will. There are dead and wounded at West Hall.”
She turned on him, her mood gone bitter at once.“I will sew up none of those cursed Forlangers. They can die in their own rot.”
“Truly,” he said, patting her shoulder, “but it was General Olivar’s men they fought.”
“That changes matters then. For the sake of the general, I will do everything I can to help. I’ll get my things.”
Now that she was awake, the sour morning taste was rising in her stomach, a reminder that her husband’s death had not left her entirely alone. But she did not speak of it. Mari suspected, but it was ill fortune to count on the harvest of fruit that might not ripen. If the gods willed it, then they would bless her with his last child.
Hansi rousted the children as Anna dressed and afterward collected her bag. She kissed them all and left, Joen shifting impatiently as he waited. The full moon bathed the world in a glamour. She had many soft memories of this time of night, for summer’s tide had washed her youth in many sweet meetings. But now he was dead.
The houses of the village sprouted in clusters along a cart track that led to the tavern and the temple and, most magnificently, the new market hall built under the supervision of General Olivar ten years ago. She had to measure her pace to allow Joen to keep up without it seeming she could easily out-stride him and, because he was her older brother, she dared not joke with him about it; he would take it amiss, for he had been a soldier for ten years under the general’s command before he had lost his foot.
Her husband would not have cared. His sense of humor had never failed, even as he was dying of a rotting wound her herbs and wise nursing could not heal.
The treacherous Forlangers had the king’s ear and bragged that they were his most loyal subjects. But out here beyond the King’s City people knew them for the greedy, cruel mercenaries that they were, always ready to steal from villages wherever they guessed the king would not notice. Only the general and his men stood between the villages and the raiders.
Someone had lit the crowing cock lamp atop the market hall’s steep roof. This beacon called to the folk hurrying forward now, carrying their children, cages with chickens, and bags stuffed with grain and such produce as they could carry. It was not late enough in the season that beasts had been slaughtered for the winter’s meat, so the older boys and girls were being dispatched to drive the animals out to the far pastures where they might hope to bide unseen until the danger was past.
The headman’s daughter, standing among a cluster of whispering women, saw Anna and broke away from the others to meet her.
“Mistress Anna, if you will, can you go with my husband to West Hall? He is
Hansi chuckled. He was a good-natured young man, slow to take offense to his pride. “My apologies, Mother Anna. Is that Uncle Joen I hear?”
“It is,” said Joen,“and I would ask you to get everyone dressed.”
Anna grabbed Joen’s thick forearm.“I thought you said no trouble.”
“There’s been a skirmish fought in and around West Hall. Rumor says the Forlangers are involved. The family should hide in the caves until we are sure they’ve moved on.”
Anna’s daughter Mari appeared beside Hansi, resplendent in her bride’s shawl and so heavily pregnant that she lumbered. Her face was solemn as she took the candle from her young husband and examined first her mother and then her uncle by its smoky light.
“We’ll get the children up and go at once,” Mari said.
Hansi brushed his fingers down Mari’s forearm, and the gesture of affection made Anna glad all over again that her daughter had found a good man.
Joen nodded, shifting his crutch. His empty trouser leg swayed. “Take provisions, everything you can carry and cart, but be quick about it. But I need you, Anna, if you will. There are dead and wounded at West Hall.”
She turned on him, her mood gone bitter at once.“I will sew up none of those cursed Forlangers. They can die in their own rot.”
“Truly,” he said, patting her shoulder, “but it was General Olivar’s men they fought.”
“That changes matters then. For the sake of the general, I will do everything I can to help. I’ll get my things.”
Now that she was awake, the sour morning taste was rising in her stomach, a reminder that her husband’s death had not left her entirely alone. But she did not speak of it. Mari suspected, but it was ill fortune to count on the harvest of fruit that might not ripen. If the gods willed it, then they would bless her with his last child.
Hansi rousted the children as Anna dressed and afterward collected her bag. She kissed them all and left, Joen shifting impatiently as he waited. The full moon bathed the world in a glamour. She had many soft memories of this time of night, for summer’s tide had washed her youth in many sweet meetings. But now he was dead.
The houses of the village sprouted in clusters along a cart track that led to the tavern and the temple and, most magnificently, the new market hall built under the supervision of General Olivar ten years ago. She had to measure her pace to allow Joen to keep up without it seeming she could easily out-stride him and, because he was her older brother, she dared not joke with him about it; he would take it amiss, for he had been a soldier for ten years under the general’s command before he had lost his foot.
Her husband would not have cared. His sense of humor had never failed, even as he was dying of a rotting wound her herbs and wise nursing could not heal.
The treacherous Forlangers had the king’s ear and bragged that they were his most loyal subjects. But out here beyond the King’s City people knew them for the greedy, cruel mercenaries that they were, always ready to steal from villages wherever they guessed the king would not notice. Only the general and his men stood between the villages and the raiders.
Someone had lit the crowing cock lamp atop the market hall’s steep roof. This beacon called to the folk hurrying forward now, carrying their children, cages with chickens, and bags stuffed with grain and such produce as they could carry. It was not late enough in the season that beasts had been slaughtered for the winter’s meat, so the older boys and girls were being dispatched to drive the animals out to the far pastures where they might hope to bide unseen until the danger was past.
The headman’s daughter, standing among a cluster of whispering women, saw Anna and broke away from the others to meet her.
“Mistress Anna, if you will, can you go with my husband to West Hall? He is
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