Children of Enchantment Read Online Free Page A

eastern coast would be fools to try to cross the Pulatchians
     in the middle of a Muten revolt. We have time. But not much.”
    “Not much of what?” The door from the outer room slammed open and shut, and Reginald, another of Roderic’s half-brothers,
     stood shaking the water off his cloak. He threw back his head and ran his fingers through his long, lank strands of sandy
     hair. His watery blue eyes were the only feature which reminded Roderic that Reginald was Abelard’s son. “Not much chance
     of finding a woman to come out in this weather. Hell of a way to keep New Year’s.” He scratched his armpit and yawned. His
     clothes reeked of old sweat and damp wool.
    Reginald had commanded the garrison in Atland for years, charged with keeping the peace between the Pulatchian Highlanders,
     the lowland farmers, and the Mutens who lived in the inaccessible mountain hollows of the Pulatchian Mountains. Roderic knew
     his father had never questioned Reginald’s abilities as the commander of the largest garrison in southeast Meriga. But in
     the last months, Roderic had begun to regard Reginald’s slovenly habits and sloppy person with disgust, and he was beginning
     to think that perhaps Abelard had never really known what sort of man Reginald was.
    Now Reginald reached across Brand for the flagon of wine leftover from the noon meal. “There anything left in here? Not much.
     Let’s send for more.”
    “Sit down.” Brand’s voice brooked no disobedience.
    “As you say, Captain,” Reginald replied sarcastically. “Why the long faces? What in the name of the One’s wrong with you two?”
    Before either Roderic or Brand could reply, there was a loud shriek and the muffled sounds of a scuffle from the outer room.
     Brand rose with a curse and was across the room in a few long strides. He flung open the door. “What’s going on out here,
     Sergeant?”
    “What’s wrong now?” Roderic hastened to his brother’s side and looked over Brand’s shoulder. Six or seven men-at-arms, brandishing
     weapons, all hovered around the farthest corner of the room. Warily, he slipped past Brand. “What is it?”
    The duty officer pulled himself straighter and saluted. “Caught one of them, Lord Roderic.”
    Roderic tried to get a better look at the intruder, but in the shadowy corner all he could see was what looked like a pile
     of old clothes. “Stand aside.”
    “Careful, Lord Roderic! These things are dangerous,” the sergeant warned, but he motioned to the men to step away. The soldiers
     obeyed, but they did not lower their swords.
    Roderic peered through the tangle of legs and weapons and realized that the intruder was in fact no larger than a child. “Come
     here.”
    The bundle of rags shook itself like a puppy, and a clay-colored face emerged.
    “It’s one of them, all right,” muttered the sergeant as the other men made noises of disgust.
    “Shall I kill it, Lord Roderic?” One of the men-at-arms raised his sword.
    “Hold!” Roderic stooped, gazing at the little face peering back at his from the shadows. One dark eye, above and centered
     between the other two, stared back unblinkingly, and he shuddered with revulsion. But the rest of the face was thin, too thin,
     the reddish skin stretched tight across the delicate bones, and Roderic realized that this was, indeed, a child. A Muten child.
    He motioned the soldiers back. “Where did you say you found him?”
    “Kitchens, Lord Roderic,” was the reply. “Trying to steal food, filthy thing. We nearly cornered it there, but it was too
     fast. Led us all the way through the garrison, it did.”
    “Do you understand me?” Roderic spoke slowly to the child, who had not taken its eyes off Roderic’s face.
    The Muten gobbled a response and nodded.
    “Why were you in our kitchens?”
    The child made another series of noises and held out a thick crust of bread and rubbed its stomach with the other hand. Beneath
     the ragged clothes, its two secondary