The Chains of Honor Prequels (The Swords and Salt Collection, Tales 1-3) by Lindsay Buroker

Author:Lindsay Buroker
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: magic, wizards, epic fantasy, high fantasy, swords and sorcery, ya fantasy, emperors edge
Publisher: Lindsay Buroker

Part 4

Yanko woke to someone shaking his foot.

“Wassit?” he muttered and lifted his head, almost conking it on the ceiling. He was on the topmost of three bunks with another three a few feet away against the opposite wall. Snores reverberated through the dark room, the same as they had when he’d gone to sleep, but the door stood open, the weak lamplight from the tunnel seeping inside. A figure waited at the base of Yanko’s bed.

He’d been dreaming of standing on a proud Nurian warship, loosing fireballs at a pirate ship with his mother and Arayevo at the helm. He shuddered, relieved to have been woken, though his eyes felt gritty and swollen. He couldn’t have slept more than two hours.

“I need you,” the figure said—a woman said. She sounded familiar, but Yanko couldn’t identify her.

“Women keep saying that and it never means what I hope it’ll mean,” he muttered.

It was her snort that brought the identification. Lakeo, the sculptor.

“I need you for the chapel,” she clarified.

“What time is it?”

“Somewhere between late and early. That going to be a problem?” Her tone suggested it had better not be. For a simple worker, she sure managed to sound like an overseer.

“Is that a woman in here?” the fellow on the top bunk on the other side of the room whispered.

“Better not be,” came a reply from below him. “I sleep naked.”

“Maybe that’s why she’s here. She was dreaming of your hairy nakedness and got excited.”

Lakeo growled with the menace of a wolf.

“Give me a minute to find my shoes,” Yanko said, fearing she’d start cracking their walnuts if he didn’t intervene. “I’ll meet you in the tunnel.”

“Fine, but don’t dawdle.”

She stalked out before a suitable response came to mind. Reluctantly, Yanko pushed the blankets aside. The mines were the same temperature day and night, not a particularly toasty one. He threw on a wool sweater in addition to his boots, then shambled into the tunnel and shut the door.

Lakeo wore the same sleeveless vest and armbands as she had the last time he’d seen her, and he guessed she hadn’t slept since then. Whining about his lot in life probably wouldn’t win sympathy.

“Another vine?” Yanko asked as she headed off down the tunnel.

“No.”

He walked after her and waited for her to explain what she needed. She did not.

A surprise. How fun.

She didn’t say a word on the lift, nor did she speak on the way to the chapel. When they reached the steps that descended into the large chamber, she stopped and pointed.

A woman knelt before the statue of the badger goddess with a blanket wrapped around her body, her chin drooped to her chest. Her shoulders quivered—she was either shivering or crying. With her back to them, Yanko couldn’t see her face, but he had a guess.

“I took a break to get some food,” Lakeo whispered, waving to the spread canvas and chisels, “and she was here when I got back.”

Judging by the hand propped on her hip and the frank stare she gave him, she expected him to do something about this problem.

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