Hunter: Adalta Vol II: A Romantic Fantasy Adventure Series by Sherrill Nilson

Author:Sherrill Nilson [Nilson, Sherrill]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Green Canoe, LLC
Published: 2018-08-07T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

Tessa staggered as the rope she was holding jerked, and the dining tent came down, billowing into an untidy pile of canvas. She joined the guards and planters and began folding the pile into an orderly bundle. Moving camp was a tremendous undertaking. With so many killed and wounded, and so many on guard duty, even the Mi’hiru and Karda who were not on patrol were helping.

Tessa needed to be flying patrols, but the healer insisted Kishar take one more day of recovery from his wound. Kishar agreed, and she wouldn’t leave him. So she was helping take down the tents and packing the wagons. Half a tenday and they’d be at the new campsite. Another few days and they’d know if Galen could figure out a way to cut the Lines of Devastation snaking their way out of the circle.

Then the two of them would fly to Restal Prime, to the keep, to report to Daryl and the master planter and arrange for more supplies, seeds, and saplings. It had been a long, long growing season. They needed more guards and planters. She shook away the sadness that thought stirred.

She badly wanted a bath in a real tub and someone to do her laundry. Much as she relished the freedom she had out here, clean laundry was showing up increasingly often in her thoughts. With even the barest hint of Water and Air talent, she could swish her clothes around in a tub, and they would be clean. Instead, she had to scrub and scrub and do it when no one was watching. After dark.

Maybe she should admit her lack of talent. It was that lack that made her the Austringer, so why keep it secret? It was her father’s ambition that made it imperative that no one suspect. Just the thought of bringing it out into the open, as a sacrifice, as something to be proud of, as what made her the Austringer, peeled years of weight off her shoulders. Then years of shame piled it back on. Her face flamed—the thought of being the focus of look-down-the-nose or well-meaning pity from others piled on even more weight. Her shoulders sagged.

She packed her belongings in the wagon space she was assigned and made sure her second quiver of arrows with their new points of urbat armor scales could be reached in a hurry. Galen reached around her to stow his packs, and she took a deep breath. He levered his bundles into the small space that was left and walked away, not looking at her.

Over his shoulder, he said, “Tessa, come with me to the edge of the circle. I want to know if you can see what I see. Though I’m not sure see is the right word for it. The patrols haven’t spotted anything, so it should be safe. I’ve saddled a horse for you, and there’s an hour or so before the cooks have dinner. Most of the packing is done, so I think they can spare us.

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