Rift in the Deep by Janelle Garrett

Author:Janelle Garrett
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Janelle Garrett
Published: 2018-06-11T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Four

Brate Hightower

The Lord’s estate sprawled across a beautiful stretch of land, bordered by a forest expanding up the side of a small mountain. Brate paused on the road. His vantage point allowed him to see the valley and observe the mansion that looked miniscule from far away. The beauty of the estates never ceased to amaze him. Usually the Lord sent collectors to take the tax from his landworkers, but on some occasions, Brate brought the tax himself.

On the road behind him, a carriage rumbled. Stepping aside, he watched as it swept down the road. It was nondescript, painted with black pitch, dark curtains covering the windows. He had seen such a carriage once before, pulled by black horses much like the ones bearing toward him.

Covenwitches. Why had the Lord invited some to his daughter’s celebration?

The carriage swept past, leaving a swirl of dust in its wake. Brate covered his mouth with his sleeve until the dirt settled once more and then followed the grooves left by years of traveling wheels. He adjusted the strap of his case which carried his instrument. The bungle wasn’t heavy, but traveling for several miles with it slung on his back made it heavier with every mile that passed.

Sweat trickled down his brow, and Brate lifted a hand to wipe it away. It seemed this summer was especially hot, and he had heard Ma Gorgetrek saying it had been the hottest in fifty years. That seemed a bit extreme to him. Nonetheless, he would trade one of his good sheep for a tall glass of water and a cool breeze.

As he approached Lord Conway’s mansion, his feet grew heavy and nausea rolled in his stomach. He didn’t belong here. It was a tickling in the back of his mind, and the closer he approached, the stronger it became. He stopped dead in his tracks on the front yard, gazing up at the towering house before him, heart hammering in his chest. He couldn’t put one foot in front of the other. In his mind he pictured the six frills, but still he was transfixed. As if on cue, the white door opened wide and Lord Conway stepped through. When he saw Brate, his eyes narrowed and he gestured for Brate to come closer.

Too late to turn around now.

He picked up his pace and climbed the stairs leading to the front door.

“There you are!” Lord Conway said, grabbing Brate’s arm and pulling him in. “Don’t bother with the servant’s entrance...” he muttered something indistinct and continued dragging Brate through the entryway, down a long and bright corridor, and finally into a large dance hall. Brate had no time to protest before he was hit with the scent of roasting pig. His mouth instantly watered.

Before him, the room stretched on, filled with people feasting. The tables were arranged around a large dais prepared for the entertainers. Even now a joker did tricks, delighting a table of young women seated the closest to him, who giggled behind their fans.

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