Wren (The Romany Epistles) Read Online Free Page B

my stallion, tossed his head in protest.
    “I assume these are yours. I noted only three stalls
prepared in the stable.”
    “Yes, they are the runaways.” I answered while Dardon
sputtered.
    Kat jabbed him in the ribs.
    Wren observed us as though oblivious to the sensation she
created. However, when she met my eyes, a hint of amusement glimmered in her
gold gaze. “I spotted some wandering sheep on my return with these two. Would
you like me to herd them back?”
    I nodded. “Dardon will help you. I should bring Kat back to
tend to Arthus or she will have my hide.” I crossed to claim Trader’s leads.
    “But who will watch the sheep while they gather the others?”
Kat asked.
    “We will drive them back to the fold. They are so rattled
that I doubt they will do much feeding the rest of the day.”
    Dardon approached and claimed his horse from Wren. As I
mounted and Wren headed off to gather the sheep and herd them down the
mountain, I couldn’t help calling back to Dardon, “Be nice, Dardon. She is a
lady.”
     
     
Wren
    Tourth’s comment to Dardon didn’t make much sense, but I
didn’t dwell on it. Conversations regarding my perceived gender occurred often
enough. Dardon sent a dark glare over his shoulder at Tourth's retreating back
before stalking off to look for wandering sheep.
    We located the strays with ease because many of them bleated
for help. Silently, we freed three from thickets and one from a crag. A few
huddled under a tree, and one managed to get itself stuck in a thorn bush.
Between watching for signs of more lygras and trapped sheep, I studied my
companion.
    Dark as his name suggested, Dardon’s olive skin-tone
appeared only partially due to hours in the sun. His face bore more scars than
most seasoned warriors. He stood a good half a foot taller than me. He carried
himself with a large measure of confidence. Venturing a guess, I placed him as
a veteran of the civil war only a handful of years in the past. Despite the
crusty exterior, I suspected he and Tourth shared similar ages, mid to late
thirties. After the civil war, the defeated men sought any opportunity to earn
a living. To him serving a titleless noble in a derelict fortress probably
meant a chance at survival. In fact, the recent civil war explained most of the
men’s presence.
    Svhen with his fair complexion, white-blond hair, and
accented speech harkened from a land beyond my wanderings. I wagered he was one
of the fair-skinned warriors from further west who sometimes hired on as
mercenaries in other wars. Arthus still remained a stranger, but I suspected he
also claimed a military background. It would explain their relationship with
Tourth. Swordmates tended to be close even after other loyalties faded. The
young woman and how she ended up with this group of men, however, still
remained a mystery.
    “Where do you harken from?”
    I glanced up to find Dardon watching me warily. “I was born
in the east.”
    “What brought you here?”
    Ah, so this was going to be one of those conversations. I leaned back in my saddle and frowned. “I needed a roof and a fire for the
winter. Tourth agreed to let me stay in exchange for my help with the hunting.”
    Dardon grunted and then fell silent. Time would prove my
value to him. What I needed to find out was which bothered him more: the fact I
was a stranger or my gender-defying behavior. Then I would know how to go about
winning his trust. For now I would assume both and work from there.
     
    ~~~~~
     
 

Chapter III
     
Wren
    The sun lingered low in the west by the time we finally
herded the last of the sheep into the rickety pen to join the others. The
penned sheep greeted them with a chorus of bleats like victorious heroes.
    “So, who is going back to skin those lygras?” I asked as
Dardon secured the gate. I leaned over Brone’s shoulder with the sun to my
back. His hand paused for a second before he turned to squint up at me.
    “I am not sure we will want to eat it. Have you