Vergence Read Online Free

tethered above his body, Ebryn recognised the style of dress. The same as that worn by his previous tutors. Ebryn stared. Was this the stranger Ezo had said was here for him?
    After a few moments they seemed to notice him.
    Conant eased himself round in his chair so he could look at Ebryn without turning his neck. “Ah, come in Ebryn.”
    Ebryn stopped a few paces from the dais and executed a short formal bow. “Sir?”
    Lord Conant was extremely old. He might once have been tall, but his joints and bones had twisted so badly with the advancing years that he gave the impression of a man shrinking into himself.
    His back and shoulders were bent. To look Ebryn in the face he had to tilt his head back uncomfortably far on its thin neck. His skin, loose and covered in large brown age spots, had a bloodless papery appearance. Ebryn could well understand why Fidela said he'd spent most of his time in recent years in the town of Vepser for its hot springs, and bathing houses.
    Conant regarded Ebryn benignly through rheumy eyes. “Been out riding, I hear?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Excellent, excellent. What else would a healthy young man be doing on a fine day like this? I can tell you there was no stopping me when I was your age, there was no stopping me from anything,” he said, giving Ebryn a conspiratorial wink.
    Conant raised an arm with obvious effort and waved it vaguely in the direction of the second man, “This fellow tells me he's here from Vergence for you. Fancy that, Ebryn. Must be what comes of learning to read, eh?”
    Conant chortled as if enjoying a private joke. He glanced around at the walls of books with a faintly bemused expression. “Never learnt myself of course — too busy with my duties. Leave that kind of thing to those with nothing better to do.”
    Ebryn nodded politely but his eyes were on the other man.
    Conant gave his companion a puzzled look, “Don't recall sending for the fellow though. Mind you lad, when you get to my age you'll be lucky to remember your own name. What did you say you were called again?”
    The second man shifted in his seat. He looked bored, and one of his feet started to make rapid tapping motions on the floor. “Master Quentyn from Vergence.” His voice was reedy, and had an unpleasant petulant tone.
    “Master, eh? So you’ll be wanting to take the boy with you then?”
    Quentyn looked directly at Ebryn for the first time. “If he passes the test.”
    Ebryn felt like something inside his stomach had flipped over. He looked from Conant to Master Quentyn, feeling oddly light-headed, as if he had suddenly stepped into a dream where he watched himself.
    Despite Conant's protestations, nothing about the old man's demeanour suggested the idea of Ebryn going to Vergence was a great surprise. Rather he seemed excessively pleased at the prospect. Perhaps master Yale had planned this with Conant before he left, and neither had thought to tell him.
    After a few moments he realised they were both watching him, expecting some kind of response.
    “What kind of test?” he asked.
    “Ah … it wouldn’t be a test if I told you beforehand, hmm?”
    “Secrets, eh,” Conant said, winking at Ebryn again. “Good, good. Now that’s all sorted, I have to return to Vepser. I’m sure you’ll do magnificently young Ebryn — a credit to us all.”
    “I’ll do my best,” Ebryn said.
    As a foundling, or worse, he knew he had no claim on Conant, and had already benefited from the old man's excessive generosity — raised with privileges fit for the son of a minor lord. All the same Ebryn felt oddly uncomfortable that Conant should take such a huge change to his life so lightly, without either warning or consulting him.
    “That’s the spirit isn’t it, eh, Quentyn?” Conant said, leaning forward in his seat. “Give me a hand up then, lad. We can have something to eat and I’ll leave you two to get on with it.”

    After a quick meal of flat-bread, cheese, hard-boiled eggs and fruit