JV Jones SOS Omnibus by J.V. Jones & J. V. Jones

Author:J.V. Jones & J. V. Jones
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Little, Brown Book Group
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

THIRTY-SEVEN

Chief-in-Exile

Bram sometimes thought he was going mad. He had been bought and sold to Castlemilk, but was now heading west to Gnash—at the head of his own company, no less. It was all Robbie’s idea, of course. Who better to send a message to Skinner Dhoone than the Thorn King’s own flesh and blood?

The company was a small one, and Bram didn’t fool himself that he was anything but its token leader. Guy Morloch and Diddie Daw and two other swift horsemen rode with him, and Bram seriously doubted that they’d listen to him if he shouted “Bluddsmen on the road!”—let alone issued an order.

Guy Morloch rode at the fore, his Dhoone-blue cloak spreading wide in the rising wind. They had been on the road for over two days and had just crossed bounds into the Gnashhold. A well-traveled road ran between Castlemilk and Gnash, and once the Milk was forded they’d made good time. The land here was lightly forested with old hardwoods—a good hunting ground for deer and boar—and every so often they caught glimpses of the River Gloze as it ran east to join the Flow. The storm that had shaken the clanholds ten days back had left everything green and moist. New grasses had sprung up overnight and bluebells were in flower around the feet of ancient oaks.

Even the sun was attempting to shine, though truly it was bitterly cold. Bram’s cheeks were hot from riding at gallop into the wind. He was glad of the cold and the haste, glad of the long days in the saddle and the dry, six-hour camps, glad because it left him too exhausted to think.

Here. Bram. Take this. I had Old Mother weave it for you.

No. He wouldn’t think of Robbie. Yet even as he tried to push the thought of his brother from him, he could still see Robbie’s hands on the cloak. Dhoone-blue it was, just like Guy Morloch’s, only a little bit shorter and shabbier. No fisher fur, or thistle clasps. Bram had held it to his face and smelled it; it smelled of Old Mother’s sweat and Robbie’s guilt.

What was the point of giving a Dhoone cloak to someone who had been sold to another clan? Don’t worry, Robbie had said to him that night after the negotiation with Wrayan Castlemilk had been completed. I told her she can’t have you till Dhoone is won, and who knows what may happen between now and then? Robbie had cuffed him then, grinned one of his charming grins, and walked away. Two days later there came the cloak.

Bram frowned, trying hard not to give in to weariness. He knew Guy Morloch and the others had not expected him to keep up with them, and had been surprised by his skill in the saddle. Part of Bram had discovered he liked surprising people, and he was determined he wouldn’t fall back.

Ahead, Guy raised his arm, signaling a slowdown and a slight change in direction. The Gnashhouse lay half

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