Dreamspinner Read Online Free Page A

opinions. He looked at present as if he were fully prepared to brawl a bit more with the other member of their group present, a tall, thin man named Euan.
    “You’re a fool,” Quinn snapped. “How many ways must I say this before you understand what must be done?”
    “We’ve been over this dozens of times, and you’re still daft,” Euan said calmly. “This is Bruadair, remember? No one gets in or out.”
    Aisling knew that very well. In fact, not only did no one leave Bruadair, no one left the Guild. She had recently been granted theprivilege of an afternoon a week to leave the grounds, but that was only because she had proven herself to be so relentlessly trustworthy.
    Until an hour ago, of course, when she’d seen her doom standing there, dressed in clothing so fine she could safely say the fabric had not been woven on any loom she had ever touched.
    She saw a cup of ale suddenly on the table in front of her. She looked at Euan quickly, had a wink as her reward, then wondered how she might manage to imbibe any of that unexpected gift with any success. She reached for it, but her hands were simply not equal to the task of holding it.
    “Aisling, what ails you?” Euan asked, rescuing her cup before she dropped it in her lap.
    “Who gives a damn what ails her,” Quinn growled. “Aren’t you
listening
to me? We have to do this thing
now
, before ’tis too late.”
    Aisling couldn’t have agreed more. She tucked her hands under her arms to hide their trembling, then shook her head at Euan’s questioning look. What was there to say?
I am considering running away from the Guild, the penalty for which is death
. That was the fate of weavers who fled, when they were found. It was also the fate of those who dared cross Bruadair’s borders, though it was rumored there was no finding necessary there. Death followed them as if it were one of Murcach of Dalbyford’s finest hounds, relentless and without mercy. If she didn’t return to the Guild or, worse still, tried to escape Bruadair altogether, then she would—
    She pushed aside that thought and wished she had a warmer cloak. Not even the fire could mitigate the chill that ran through her, though she supposed that was perhaps more from the cold hand of terror gripping the back of her neck than it was the draftiness of the pub.
    The hard truth was, she had to make a choice between two things that were equally terrible. She could return to the Guild and submit to her parents’ borrowing against another seven years of her labor mere months before she would come of age and could no longer be forced into submission. They had done it twice before, so it wasn’t unthinkable. Or she could flee and most likely findherself submitting to death from any number of other more unpleasant means.
    She put her hand over her eyes and forced herself to breathe normally. She couldn’t sit at that bloody loom for another minute, much less another seven years. But the consequences of running away were so terribly dire.
    And not just for her.
    The Guildmistress had told her very plainly, on that first day when she’d been granted a bit of freedom, that if she didn’t return, not only would they hunt her down and force her to pay the ultimate price, they would slay the Mistress of Weaving as well. Muinear, the woman who had taken her on that first horrible, endless day, fed her, soothed her, then put her to bed and told her a heroic tale of daring battles and romance. The old woman who had, in all the years since, taken an especial interest in her, loaning her an endless number of books, telling her an endless number of obscure tales from less obscure kingdoms, finding an ironclad excuse for an extra hour or two each fortnight for Aisling to come and read to her once her eyes had begun to fail her. It was not exaggerating to say that the weaving mistress had saved her life.
    And to repay her with harm…
    Aisling leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes. What she wouldn’t