Reawakening Read Online Free Page A

lost Drake clan next, are you?”
    “I am descended from nobody,” the dragon said, honestly enough.
    “Nor I,” she said. “Mutt of all colors, me. My mam was a temple sword dancer before she got me off some wandering merc. Lucky I got her skill with a blade, because all he left me were his looks, and they weren’t worth much.”
    The dragon shrugged. “Strength in your sword arm. What more matters?”
    “Not a ladies’ man, are you, Tarn?”
    “No,” he said, making himself embrace the name again. It felt strange to hear it on the open air, with none of the soft affection with which Killan had spoken it. He caught her amused glance and, remembering how fragile human egos could be, added, “I respect the mothers of men and the battlemaids. I have no taste for women’s beauty, now.” Because she was still smirking maliciously, he tried to amend that. “Women’s beauty, I do not dislike. I am not—”
    “Not what?” she inquired, widening her eyes in mock curiosity.
    “Women…,” he started and faltered, “they are not—I do not—” How much had the world changed? He had always encouraged his hoard to love as they wished, but he had heard that the lords of men were crueler to those who did not follow their small and petty laws.
    She patted his arm. “Spit it out, man. Unless you’re one of the ones who swallows, that is. You appreciate my sword arm, and I’ll enjoy the beautiful women for you. Now, since we’ve covered the more important things, you can call me Ia.”
    “Ia,” he repeated, tasting the name.
    “Ianthe Battlewitch, of the Tassaki sept. Only fools and employers use all that, though.”
    “I am neither,” Tarn agreed. “Battlewitch means spellsword, aye?”
    “If you’re a cheap bard, maybe. Spellsword!” She snorted and spat a little. “At least you know your history, Spellsword Tarn of Amel. You’ll claim next that pretty bit of steel on your shoulder is dragon forged.”
    It was, but Tarn wasn’t going to tell her that. Instead he said, “The hiring fair is…?”
    “Not far from our delivery. Help with the unloading, and I’ll see you there.” Her gaze went shrewd. “What are you looking for?”
    “To take the road to Alagard,” he said, thinking wistfully of the warm sand and the deep, cheerful sense of joy that sang through the desert. “I can swing my sword, and fire answers my call.”
    “You guild certified?”
    He blinked at her. “I know not what you mean.”
    “If not, it means you don’t get paid guild rates, and bonded caravans will hire your sword but not your sorcery.” She sucked through her teeth. “Mind you, if I’m hiring, you’re on the contract for your sword, but if trouble comes at us, call a flame and we’ll just mark it down as a bonus for going beyond the call of duty.”
    “Are you hiring?”
    “Not until I see you swing that thing, strongman. Brute strength doesn’t win you much with me. Can you take orders?”
    “I can give them,” Tarn said, narrowing his eyes. He wasn’t going to shout his identity to the skies, not when the whole conversation was so bewildering, but he had his pride.
    “I give the orders,” Ia said flatly.
    He scowled. “A good soldier honors his commander. A good commander knows her soldiers’ strengths.”
    “Quoting the Book of the Dragon at me now, eh?” She grinned. “Might be nice to have someone who knows a bit of history along. I miss intelligent conversation when I’m out of the cloister house.”
    “A scholar?” Tarn said, surprised.
    She rolled her eyes at him. “ Shai-dhakni , I told you.”
    “I do not know the word,” Tarn told her.
    “What, you don’t have the Daughters of Myrtilis up in the mountains?”
    “Myrtilis,” he repeated, remembering. He had known a Myrtilis once, a queen of battlemaids, a bright wand in battle.
    “Aye, you would know that name.” The cynicism fell from her face suddenly. “I wish I could have seen her once, the mother of our Order. We are