A Skillful Warrior (SoulNecklace Stories Book 2) Read Online Free Page B

around.’
    Quickly, Will turned his back, stared out across the heath. N’tombe rustled behind him. What was she doing? From the sounds it seemed she was removing her garments. He swallowed, watched the grey sky intently. He didn’t want to peek at a partially-clad Enchantress; she might turn him into a frog if he showed signs of disrespect. Stop! She can read thoughts, remember?
    Desperately, Will considered the climate. It is raining again. Not the cold of winter, but still ’tis cold for this time of year. On days like this, a body wants hot food. What did they have in those saddlebags? Dried peas. Beans. Barley. Suitable for a rabbit stew, provided Dana and Jed could find some. Most coneys would be hiding down in their holes in weather like this. He was getting plaguey sick of rabbit, anyway.
    They had flour, wrapped carefully in brown paper bags. He could make camp bread! Would be a treat for Dana when she returned from her hunting. Will smiled, imagining her pleasure.
    ‘You can look now,’ said N’tombe.
    Will blinked. She was wearing the hat. Such a hat! Knitted in thick wool, its creator had decorated it with tassels and added ear flaps that could be tied under the chin. Will coughed.
    ‘What?’ asked N’tombe.
    ‘Um. Your hat.’
    ‘It is very warm. Look. It is lined with wool.’ She pulled another from the pack. ‘Here. Try it.’
    ‘No thanks.’
    ‘It will keep your head warm.’
    ‘My head is fine, thank you.’ It would take a fair amount of cold weather to get him to wear a hat like that. Although it appeared better on the Enchantress than it would on him; something about her black skin and smooth cheeks. She could make even a stupid hat look exotic.
    She smiled at him approvingly.
    Oh damn, he thought.
    ‘You remember the warrior?’ she asked, as if to take his thoughts from his embarrassment. ‘The one you fought?’
    Will pulled the saddlebag with the provisions over. The flour should be in here somewhere. ‘Warrior? You mean the Noyan?’
    ‘A Noyan is someone important?’
    Will set the bag down. ‘Aye. Very important. A general, a leader.’ He remembered the dark-eyed warrior. He had met TeSin at the Crossing, before embarking on his journey. Strange that he’d encountered the same man on his return. Strange, and unlucky for TeSin.
    Will didn’t like thinking about the folk he’d killed; made him feel somewhat guilty even though it was never his choice to do the killing. Carefully, he poured two handfuls of fine white flour into the smoke-rimmed cooking pot before tucking the remainder into a saddlebag. Might be enough for another batch, if he were careful. It was good to think only of cooking; better by far than remembering killing and death.
    Will poured water into the flour.
    N’tombe watched his preparations with interest. ‘What are you doing?’
    ‘Making camp bread.’
    She smiled. ‘I used to bake bread on the fire, also. Once upon a time, that is.’ She sighed. ‘The Kingdom is so strange. And I am far from home. Tell me, Will, what do you think of the Kingdom? You and I are both strangers there.’
    Will considered her question carefully. What did he think of the Kingdom? Such a complex question – how could he even begin to respond? ‘Sometimes,’ he hesitated, ‘it doesn’t feel quite real.’
    ‘I know what you mean. It is peaceful, prosperous, all the things my own country lacks. Yet somehow it felt curiously remote; as if I saw it in a dream.’ She smiled, then patted her head. ‘Now, see this hat?’
    Will looked at the tassels, looked away before his thoughts betrayed him. He concentrated instead on pouring water from the bladder into the mound of flour. If I had some yeast, he thought carefully, so thoughts of hats and turkey-cocks did not intrude, I could make proper bread. But I am on a moorland, far from habitation. I’ll have to make do.
    ‘This hat now,’ N’tombe repeated, ‘is warm and well made. Attractive. Like many things from in