The Season of the Plough by Luke R J Maynard

Author:Luke R J Maynard [Maynard, Luke R J]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781989542019
Publisher: Cynehelm Press
Published: 2019-07-11T22:00:00+00:00

Dawn, when it came, was hardly noticed. The roosters in a few farmyards crowed up the sun, for they’d had nothing to drink and seemed none the worse for the night of revels. But the sleep of the villagers was long and dreamless, and when they woke under a high sun the events of the previous night seemed as if they had faded into a distant past. Most assumed it had been the grandest festival the town had seen, and prepared to meet the afternoon with groggy optimism, hoping for more of the same.

Word had got round, at least, that Marin had gone missing for a time, and that he had fallen violently ill, but few of the details lingered. He awoke on the long table at Alec Mercy’s house in time to empty his stomach onto the floor, and then laid there in a swoon, too weak to walk, though the stranger who cared for him promised he would find his legs again in a day or two. He ordered the stranger away, though, as soon as he had the strength to shake his fist: he swore by all the gods, and by his beard aside, that he would never again take liquor from a stranger, for he recalled a few glasses of the visitor’s brew, and a fitful night of unspeakable nightmares had been his reward for it. Orin, who had drunk away the sorrow of his lost son, awoke with no memory of the past day, or of tending the Reeve, though his aid had been invaluable.

To Aewyn and Poe, who had shared only a small cup between them, events were clearer. Aewyn recalled the presence of Celithrand, though little of what he said, and made her intent to seek him out. She roused Poe from a fitful slumber, and gently lifted his great head off of her, and he snorted as he came to.

“Never have I slept in a house on a bed,” he said at first—and then, “I have done a terrible thing.”

Aewyn sat up and eyed him quizzically. “It’s a bed. Just a bed. It’s not going to kill you.”

“I have told you many woman-stories of my tribe,” he said. “Those stories are sacred, not to be told…I have pack-bound you to a tribe that does not exist.”

“I don’t understand,” said Aewyn, but Poe was loath to discuss the secrets of his stories further.

“Neither do I,” said Poe. “My head is full of fog. I think some sorcery has been worked on us, and I would have words with the sorcerer.”

“We’ll find him together,” said Aewyn. “There are too many questions without answers.”

They rose and made their way to the village green, where the banners and pavilions of the Fair were still assembled, awaiting a second day of less festivity and more commerce. A few grown men and women dozed lazily in the grass. By the spice wagon, Robyn was half-awake, still in her muddy green dress, in quiet conversation with a hooded figure that could only have been Celithrand.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.