Read Online Wanderling (Spirit Seeker Book 1) by Hannah Stahlhut - Free Book Online Page A

of
another outcast, one who must be more terrible than Jarod if he was the ruler
of all the outcast criminals.
    “What’s this?” Burano said,
looking from Shem to Jarod with a scowl.
    Jarod glanced back to check the
doorway, then strode to Burano’s table and leaned across to whisper angrily,
“Your bloody contact in Gerstadt changed our plans the night we were about to
leave!” He sighed loudly and began to pace. “‘Get the boy to Burano,’ we were
told. ‘He’s more valuable than the supplies!’” He spoke spitefully, his voice
low and hoarse. “Well, he better be important, because Havard’s on his way to
his deathbed because a bloody woman stabbed him in the gut when we went to get
the kid!”
    Shem shrank back from Jarod’s
rant, trembling in fear of what these strangers might be planning to do with
him.
    Burano followed his captain’s
movements and remained calm, his voice low and matter-of-fact. “Were you seen
by the authorities?” he asked.
    “No,” Jarod replied irritably.
“I’m not an amateur, though you seem to think I should take orders from one.”
He spat on the floor. “I’m telling you, I’m sick of being ordered around
whenever I’m in the city!”
    “Who is this boy?” Burano changed
the subject to Shem.
    “Some city kid. His father’s a
merchant,” Jarod explained.
    “Why would I want him?” Burano
asked.
    “Here,” said Jarod, shoving a
piece of paper at Burano. “This is supposed to explain everything. What does it
say?” The note was folded and crumpled from days of travel in Jarod’s saddle
bag, but Burano spread it out neatly on the table.
    Shem caught sight of large
lettering on the paper, but didn’t know what the words said. His father had
taught him his letters, but Shem scarcely had material to practice his reading
skills at home. He wished he could translate the figures on this strange
outcast’s note.
    Burano’s expression immediately
changed upon seeing the script, and his eyes shot up to meet Shem’s nervous
gaze.
    “Jarod, thank you for your
service. You are relieved now. Take a day of rest and double rations for you
and your comrades.”
    Shem looked down at the floor,
uneasy beneath the scrutiny of this bearded man with a strange brand on his
forehead.
    “That’s it?” Jarod asked. “I can’t
even know what I brought him here for?”
    “Leave us at once,” Burano
growled, finally tearing his eyes off Shem to address his officer. “See that
your wounded hand is tended to. You don’t want to die because of a fight with a
woman, do you?”
    “’S’pose not.”
    “Go tend your wound and your
pride, Jarod. I have business with the boy.”
    “Bugger that, I’m headed to the
tavern,” mumbled Jarod over his shoulder.
    Shem backed against the wall as
Jarod left the room. He felt the cool stone against his back and shivered when
Burano walked around his table.
    The outcast leader knelt before
Shem and put a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t be afraid,” he said. “I won’t hurt
you, child. I’m sorry for what my men have done.”
    “They tried to kill my mom and
sister,” Shem sniffed, his vision distorting with tears. He looked away,
studying the dirt floor instead of Burano’s brand.
    “I’m sorry,” Burano said quietly.
“I didn’t order them to do anything like that.”
    Shem wiped tears from his cheeks
with the back of his dirty hand. “It’s no good,” he whispered, words spilling
out. He felt like for the first time in days, he had someone who would listen
to him. “They came in the middle of the night—Mum and Adala tried to fight them
off, but Mum was stabbed. I thought she was going to die.”
    Burano nodded in understanding.
“Here, have a drink,” he said, taking a wineskin from his belt and handing it
to Shem. “It will calm your nerves.”
    Shem sipped at the warm,
watered-down wine and sank to the ground, hanging his head between his knees.
“Can’t I go home?” he whispered. “I just want to be home