The Oremere Chronicles Omnibus: The Complete Series by Helen Scheuerer

Author:Helen Scheuerer [Scheuerer, Helen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Talem Press
Published: 2020-09-14T04:00:00+00:00

‘You should rest a day or two, Fi,’ Ethelda was saying.

Swinton sat up with a start. He’d dozed off.

‘No time,’ Fi said. ‘The princess is in danger as we speak.’

‘You’ll rip those stitches right open.’

‘Probably,’ Fi said, clapping Swinton on the shoulder.

Ethelda tutted and gave Swinton a once-over. ‘Well, you can’t go anywhere looking like that.’

‘Like what?’ Swinton said, glancing down at his still-damp, unkempt attire.

‘Like the traitor Commander of the King’s Army.’

Swinton frowned, ignoring the barb. ‘I can’t help what I look like.’

‘Fi, hand me those scissors, and that razor over there,’ Ethelda said, motioning vaguely to the corner of the room. ‘And you,’ she said to Swinton. ‘Sit.’

Judging by the look Fi shot him, Swinton was best to do as he’d been told.

Swinton sat like a statue as Ethelda hacked off his dark locks. The black, wavy strands fell about his shoulders and spilled onto the floor. Heat flushed his face, and he avoided eye contact with Fi. Instead, he concentrated on breathing steadily through his nose. As each lock floated to the ground, it was as though he was shedding his former self. From this moment on, he was no longer Commander Swinton of the King’s Army. He was Dimitri, disgraced son of Sir Caleb Swinton. Outlaw. Traitor to the crown. A blemish in Ellest’s long history of military leaders.

‘There,’ said Ethelda, efficiently brushing the loose hair from his shoulders.

Swinton reached up and rubbed his head, his hair now cut close to his skull, like Fi’s.

Fi was picking his nails. ‘You look younger,’ he said with a shrug.

‘Aye, and not like the young commander so many foolish women gossip about,’ added the healer, sweeping cut hair into the corner. ‘I trust you need horses?’

Swinton stood, running a hand over his head again. ‘No. We have mounts up at the stables.’

He waited for Fi to protest; a journey to the stables was an unnecessary risk. But his Battalonian friend said nothing.

‘Then you’ll need supplies?’

‘If you have anything to spare, we would be in your debt, madam,’ Swinton said, bowing his head.

‘Don’t believe in debts, Dimitri,’ Ethelda replied, striding into the other room. ‘I believe in giving,’ her voice called back to him. ‘It all comes full circle in the end.’

‘All the same,’ he said, when she reappeared with two small packs.

She smiled as she handed over the packs. ‘Not used to accepting help, are you?’

‘He’s new to it,’ Fi said with a grin.

Shouldering their packs, Swinton led Fi back through the apothecary, to the door.

When his hand grasped the handle, Ethelda’s voice sounded once more from behind them.

‘A mind whisperer, you said?’

Swinton turned to face her. ‘Sorry?’

‘The girl, the one from Angove. Did you say she was a mind whisperer?’

Beside him, Fi nodded. ‘Yes, a girl, no older than nineteen or so.’

‘They’re rare, even among the Ashai, you know.’

‘So we’ve gathered,’ Swinton said. ‘The king took great interest in her. Went to great lengths to get his hands on her.’

Ethelda was nodding. ‘I wonder …’ she muttered.

‘Wonder what, Theldie?’

She chewed her bottom lip, her brow knitted together in concentration.

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