The Tracker by Reece Jordan

Author:Reece, Jordan [Reece, Jordan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2014-11-25T18:30:00+00:00

The farmer had nothing between his lips or in his mouth, but he chewed thoughtfully. “Precious few come through here. A thief, you say? We haven’t had any thieving around here, just the Tradams’ horse, but that was two winters ago.” He eyed Dieter’s horse. “Looked a little like yours.”

“She’s a jewel thief, she is,” Dieter said.

“She’s young,” Keth said. “We can’t give you a physical description since she is a master of disguise, but she’s a young woman.”

Jaw working, the farmer said, “The only ones passing through here in the last few days was a couple. The man’s horse had thrown a shoe. Didn’t want to wait for the farrier to come, did they? No, they wouldn’t wait even a day. They paid me twice what my good gray Standard was worth, left the man’s horse here for me to have, and rode away after a nice meal. In a hurry, yes, but those weren’t jewel thieves. My wife had an emerald ring before they came and she still has it now. Pleasant folk, if rushed. Polite and educated. I came off fine in that deal, didn’t I? Nothing wrong with his horse besides the missing shoe.”

“Did they happen to say where they were going?” Keth asked.

“Can’t see how it matters. They were quality people, just a young man and woman going on about their business and none of it funny.”

Opening his leather pouch, Master Maraudi offered several gold coins. “It could be that we are wrong, but we must be thorough. Tell us everything you remember about them.”

The farmer’s eyes widened and he pocketed the coins. “Just another lucky day for me, isn’t that so? But you’ve wasted your money.”

“Who was the man?” Keth asked.

“What was his name? Adan, I think it was. Tall, dark hair, callused hands from riding but a soft, society look to him. He had no airs, though. Asked me about how the season was going, hoping it was better than that year with the drought he remembered from seasons back. Beautiful hilt on his sword, carved with tiny flying dragons and they had jewels for eyes. Not stolen,” the farmer added firmly. “They were fastened in there tight. And she was Ducilla, pale as a dewdrop and honey hair in a braid thick as my fist. She helped my wife dish out the food as Adan and I discussed the purchase of my Standard, and I can’t see a jewel thief offering to do that. She said that they were tutors going from the college in Lighmoon to the one in Grable, and they were behind a day in their travels.”

“Tutors with enough money to pay you double the worth of a horse?” Master Maraudi said. “Tutors with a sword like that?”

“An heirloom kept close even as the family fortune bled away,” the farmer retorted. “That’s what he said, and there was nothing suspicious about that. I’d get a pretty piece of coin for my wife’s emerald, but that’s been passed down in my family for five generations.

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