Tempest Read Online Free Page B

of the drivers and the rest of the company. Soon after, Fergus was back, hoisting himself onto his wagon with much grunting and evident effort. A few minutes later, he prodded his camels into motion. The wagon creaked forward, and the procession headed out of Isealea, and Colm stepped beyond the boundaries of his experience with no little trepidation.
    Breakfast was a cup of cold, congealed porridge that had clearly been made the night before, the pot passed along from hand to hand until it came back to Fergus, who shoved it at Colm.
    â€œAll right, Weathercliff, time to start paying for your place in my company. Go and wash this out.”
    â€œWash it where?”
    â€œThe river, of course! The Wending Slew, the river that makes all these pitiful little towns possible. The river where you’ll be catching our dinner tonight.” Fergus made a show of rubbing his belly. “I favor rock trout, but fortunately for you, I’ll make do with sand sliders or grass eels if that’s all you can find.” He waved a fat hand imperiously. “Go on, then. Clean it and catch up.”
    Colm had it on good authority—it came from Desandre, it had to be good—that cold, muddy river water couldn’t compare to hot water and ash, but he wasn’t going to start complaining his first day out. He took the pot, heavy even though it was empty now, and walked as fast as his long legs could manage off the road, through the tall grass beneath the scattered pine trees and to the river.
    Colm crouched at the water’s edge and scooped gravel into the basin, then scrubbed at it with his hand. Sticky bits of porridge slowly sloughed away, and he repeated the process twice more, until he could rub his fingers across the inside of the pot without them catching anywhere. He rinsed, then rinsed again, keeping the water as steady and untroubled as he could before he hurried back to the road. The caravan was barely visible in the distance, and Colm practically had to run to catch up. Those camels didn’t look fast, but their long legs kept a steady pace that ate up the distance.
    â€œAh, here’s the uplander!” one of the other young men called out as Colm passed the wagon at the back. “Done with our dishes yet, miss?” Colm ignored him and kept walking. “You forgot to clean my cup, lass! But I’ll let it go this time.” His friends laughed with him, and Colm blushed and walked faster.
    â€œHere,” Colm said breathlessly when he’d caught up to the front of the caravan again. He thrust the pot at Fergus, who took it easily and set it behind his seat.
    â€œNicely done,” Fergus complimented him, catching Colm off guard. “But it won’t do for you to run from those lads, Weathercliff. You’ll have to snap back or be eaten by the little bastards.”
    â€œI’ll manage them,” Colm said. Somehow.
    â€œCourse you will,” Fergus said affably. “Do you know how to drive a camel, Weathercliff?”
    Colm didn’t even know how to ride a mule. “No.”
    â€œGet up here, then, it’s high time you learned.” Fergus scooted over and made room, and once Colm joined him he handed over the leads. Colm spent the rest of the day learning how to coax a camel into doing his bidding—coax them, because, like horses and mules, they could be ornery, and they held a grudge far longer.
    â€œAh, these camels are my true family,” Fergus said expansively as he chewed on a strip of beef. “I’ve had them since I returned from the Fasach, the desert lands. Wonderful creatures. Feed them and water them, and they’ll take you anywhere. They can handle the icy winds of the mountains just as well as the cloying heat of the swamps, and none but the greatest or most foolhardy of predators will approach them. I lost one to a manticore a few years back, but she’s been the only casualty so far.”
    â€œWhere did you