The King's Ranger: The King's Ranger Book 1 by AC Cobble

Author:AC Cobble [Cobble, AC]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Cobble Publishing LLC
Published: 2020-08-31T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

In the corner of the room, Alsayer hunched next to Cinda, scratching on a piece of scrap paper the miners had given him. From what Rew had overheard, the spellcaster was teaching Cinda the theory behind the sonic lash spell he’d used against the narjags. A practical bit of magic, Rew supposed, though he thought it ridiculous to attempt to teach a girl with her skill an attack. She would be better served with something she could easily practice or a defensive measure.

Rew grunted and looked away. There was no sense inserting himself between the noblewoman and the spellcaster. Alsayer would teach what he wanted. Cinda would listen if she was interested, and Rew would avoid getting involved.

A miner, a brooding, silent type that Rew could appreciate, raised a bushy eyebrow and gestured to Rew’s empty ale mug. The ranger nodded, and the miner picked up the tankard and went to dunk it into the open beer barrel. Foul stuff, but it was the only drink being served.

Beside him, Raif frowned at his own tankard, still half full.

“Not much of a drinker?” Rew asked the boy.

Grimacing, Raif whispered back, “Not of this.”

Rew winked and nodded his thanks as the miner returned with a full mug. The man stood there a moment, hesitating, then walked off to a far corner of the room. The miners, dark with dirt and dust from beneath the earth, acted like they were walking on burning coals around the party. They weren’t used to nobles in their midst, and a spellcaster was even worse. They’d been generous, though, and Rew hoped that when they left, Raif and Cinda would give the men proper thanks. He sipped the warm beer and wondered if he needed to tell the younglings that. Surely, they’d have been taught etiquette? They hadn’t been taught about the Investiture and other life and death matters, but their tutors must have taught them something.

Rew sighed and leaned back, cradling the mug on his lap. Around them, orange light danced across the pale stone walls of the tower. Half a dozen miners were playing some game that involved dozens of chips of stone and a lot of bellows and curses followed by embarrassed looks at the women in the party. Another of the miners, evidently trying to impress Anne, played a merry little tune on a battered fiddle. He wasn’t doing such a bad job, for a man with fingers used to crushing and hauling rock every day.

Jon was sitting near the fire, attempting to teach Zaine how to mend a torn pair of trousers, but it was evident the thief was paying him no mind. Instead, she was listening to the fiddle player, tapping her foot to the man’s simple jig. She had been partaking freely of the open ale barrel.

Rew studied her glassy eyes and broad grin, wondering if he should stop her from drinking so much, but she was a woman near grown, and it wasn’t like there was much trouble she could find herself in stuck in a mining encampment on the outskirts of the kingdom.

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