Read Online Young Warriors by Tamora Pierce - Free Book Online Page B

sighed. “And if I help you, what? You’ll go back to your hawks and greyhounds, your hunts and feasts, your feather beds and spiced wines. And what will I go back to?”
    He looked confused. “The Count, my father—he would double the size of your land. Please. My side feels as if it is on fire.”
    â€œWhat land?” She wished that he would just go ahead and die so that she could get back to robbing him, but instead she dipped her finger into a nearby pool of blood and smeared it across his neck. She brought her face close to his. “Play dead, your lordship, and hope none of the other women find you. They are even less kind than I.”
    The part of her that would have been pleased by his pleading and his fear was long gone, and with it the part that might have pitied him. She reached for the grubby string around her neck and felt the smooth bone hanging there. Her mother had cut off the end of her finger once the spell was complete, but Ada could never bring herself to get rid of it. Her heart.
    The wind picked up, whipping at her as she walked back to the encampment. She thought little of it until she noticed that the leaves on the nearby trees remained still. Then something tore at her skirts, ripping them enough so that the spurs dropped onto a carpet of oak leaves and acorns. A cawing started overhead as a mass of black birds circled and began to land around her.
    â€œStop it!” she called. Her knowledge of magic was poorer than her mother’s, but even she could see this was the work of some spirit. “What are you? What do you want?”
    Invisible hands grabbed hers, pulling her in the direction of the battlefield.
    â€œShow yourself,” she demanded, sitting down on the cold ground and ignoring the crows. “I’ll not stir from this place.”
    A shape leaped down from the branches above her. It had the head of a raven, but its body had the thin limbs of a boy, dusted here and there with feathers. She had never seen a manes up so close. It must belong to Lord Julian. Only a nobleman could afford the conjuring that trapped an ancestor into the shifting flesh of a spirit. Manes drank blood from their charges, she knew that much. She had heard that great ladies would sit at tournaments with their manes suckling voluptuously at their wrists.
    â€œHedge-witch,” it said, coming closer on all fours and regarding her with unblinking eyes.
    â€œHedge-witch no more,” Ada said. Without her heart, she couldn’t cast even the simplest of spells. There were other, darker enchantments that
required
a bespelled heart, but she didn’t know any of those.
    The manes pointed to the bone around her neck. “I know what that is. You should hide it. One snap and your life is undone.”
    Ada touched the string reflexively. “I don’t want to lose it,” she said.
    It turned its head quizzically and regarded her with black eyes. “Help my master and I will tell you a place you can hide it where it will be safe always.”
    When dealing with spirits, her mother had told her, it was usually easier to acquiesce. Ada picked up the spurs and began to tie them up in the remains of her dress. She made a mental list of what she would need for Julian: a blanket, some water, bindings for his legs, honey to slather over his wounds. Those things were easy to come by, especially with so many men dead.
    When Ada returned to the battlefield laden with supplies, she found a crone hunched over Lord Julian, stripping off his gauntlets with knobbed fingers.
    The woman looked up and Ada recognized her from the camp—Clarisse. People said she’d once been very beautiful. Despite the fact that she was bent with age, she still tied filthy ribbons in her hair and tinted her cheeks with the juice of berries, or sometimes with blood.
    â€œWhat is this here? A lovely turquoise ring.”
    Ada narrowed her eyes. “That’s a
signet.
If anyone sees