The Staff and the Blade: Irin Chronicles Book Four Read Online Free Page B

move up slightly.  
    He looked up when Einar made a huffing sound. “Problem?”
    Einar glowered, but his volcanic mood had been tempered by the gust of cold and the new company. “The earth singer says we’re to order more grain. We won’t have a full harvest this year, even with her here.”
    Damien grunted. “I could have told you that if you’d asked. On her own, she’ll need two or three seasons at least.”
    Sari felt vindicated, but she didn’t say anything. She might have been bold, but she’d also listened to enough of Greta’s lectures to know when to keep quiet in front of her elders. These three scribes had been on the island far longer than she had. Sari had no desire to look foolish by talking too much.
    Sari spoke to Damien for the first time since the wagon ride into town. “Which grain does best?” She’d seen him plowing the fields south of town with some of the other men yesterday.
    “Barley,” he said. “There’s a variety that’s adapted well to the islands. The growing season is short, but it’s a rougher taste than wheat.”
    “If we’re looking for sustenance, we don’t worry about taste,” Sari said. “We’ll focus on planting the barley and working to strengthen the soil in those acres.”
    Henry perked up. “And if we have excess barley, we might have enough for brewing.”
    Damien smiled at his friend but said nothing.
    Sari said, “Your winters are milder here, I think.”
    Damien nodded.
    Sari turned to Einar. “Then I’ll be able to work with the soil through the winter. By next spring, you’ll have a better season. And a better season after that.”
    Einar sniffed. “If that’s the best you can do…”
    She reined in her temper and was surprised to hear Damien speak.
    “Sari is an earth singer of Adna’s House,” he said. “The island is fortunate to have her.”
    It was the first time he’d spoken her name since their meeting, and Sari found the impact of his low voice wrapping around it more potent than she would have liked. She lowered her shields and listened. In the confusing murmur of soul voices in the room, his rang clear.
    “Ya safeerta—”
    Sari raised her shields before she trespassed on any more of his thoughts. It wasn’t her place to eavesdrop on Damien’s soul, and if he knew she’d been listening in, she suspected he’d be offended. It was very bad manners.
    “But if you want her to have some help,” Damien continued, looking down at his porridge and stirring it without eating, “then you can let her borrow Mirren and her daughter.”
    “The healer?” Sari asked.
    Damien nodded and finally took a bite of his porridge.
    “Oh!” Henry said. “Why didn’t we think of that? Mirren is a very talented herb singer of Rafael’s line, but her gardens bloom all winter. Of course she has some of Ariel’s blood. Good thinking, Damien.”
    Einar grunted. “Healing gets precedence.”
    “Of course,” Henry said, “but she’s not needed that often, Einar. She could easily help Sari with the songs for the fields. We should at least ask her. And as her daughter is already apprenticing with her, their magic must be similar.”
    Damien said, “It is.”
    “Well then,” Henry said. “This has been a most illuminating breakfast. Sari”—he stood and offered his arm—“I’d be happy to take you to Mirren’s cottage and introduce you. You might not have met her yet. She’s been helping a human village with an outbreak of fever the past week, but I’m sure I saw her back yesterday.
    “Of course. Thank you, Henry.” Sari stood, only to see Damien’s shoulders straighten as she did. He didn’t stand with her, but it was as if his body came to attention when she rose.
    A warrior, she thought again. He is a warrior.
    A man of his bearing could only be a warrior, and his manners told Sari he was old. What was he doing in the middle of the North Sea? And why did his ferocious gaze settle on her like a brand? She felt Damien’s eyes