Crucible by Mercedes Lackey Read Free Book Online Page A

with a new one. She hesitated for a moment before speaking.
    â€œIf you’re a bard, would you be willing to sing us a song or two, or tell us a story? We don’t get much entertainment here, unless a traveler’s heading to Karse.”
    The smile fled from Navin’s face, and he could feel the flush retreat as well. The lines around his face grew deeper, and his hand tightened around the mug.
    â€œI—I don’t perform any more.”
    Some of the patrons at nearby tables looked at him, creating a pocket of silence in the general buzz of the crowd. A couple looked at the server, a questioning look in their eyes, but she shook her head. Instead, she mumbled an apology and wandered off, leaving Navin with his ale. He stared at it for several breaths, no longer in the mood to drink. What once had smelled sweet and enticing was now sour and foul.
    After a while, he muttered a curse and stood, pushing his way to the door. Thanks to her question, the numbing effect on his emotions had been sheared away by the blade of bitter memory. He no longer had reason to be here.
    As he stepped through the door and down the single step to the street, he stumbled and had to take several quick steps to keep from falling on his face. He veered to the right, reaching a hand out to the wall to keep from falling over. Navin closed his eyes and took several deep breaths, waiting until he regained his sense of balance. Once he felt able to walk again, he wobbled down the street, only half-seeing his surroundings as he meandered through the town of Horn. The hour kept most people indoors, and those who were still outside gave him a wide berth. More than one gave him a pointed look of disgust.
    More than once he needed to stop and lean on a building or tree when the walking became too strenuous.At least the cold air bit through his clothes, helping to sober him up a bit. Over time the stops became shorter and less frequent, the world settling into the one he was both familiar with and tried to avoid.
    At one such stop, he looked up at the sign of the building he was leaning against. It showed a bard in full revelry, leaning back in a chair with a lute across his lap. His scarlet uniform was chipped and faded from the sun and weather and had been repainted more than once. The scrawled words underneath read
The Bard’s Cottage
.
    That image burned in his vision, and Navin wanted nothing more than to tear it down and set fire to it. His hands clenched into fists, and the muscles of his jaw tightened. Bending down, he scooped up a rock and hurled it at the sign. It struck the wood with a solid
thwack
, and another piece of paint chipped off. The sign swung back and forth on the post, the metal hooks squeaking as they moved.
    Navin picked up another rock and hurled it at the swaying portrait of what he used to be. He picked up a third and cocked his arm back to throw it when a thick hand closed around his wrist and tightened like a vise, forcing him to drop the stone.
    His attacker spun him around and pushed him up against the wall hard enough to make his head smack against the wood. The man seemed to be on patrol, wearing light, comfortable clothing, with a sword visible on his hip and a bow strung over his shoulder. He held his hand against Navin’s chest, pinning him in place.
    â€œHow about you stop damaging other people’s property? Maybe you should let me escort you out of town.”
    Navin swatted the hand away and lurched forward. The man turned his shoulders, moving out of Navin’s way as he stumbled into the street. Navin turned and walked backward so he could address his assaulter. He made sure his words dripped as much sarcasm as possible.
    â€œYour kindness is much appreciated, but I can find my own way.”
    He flashed a smile and made a motion to doff a hat that he wasn’t wearing. The patrolman sighed and shook his head before turning and walking back toward the center of town. Navin chuckled