Glimpses by Lynn Flewelling Read Free Book Online Page B

grey. And even as he read death in
those eyes, he decided that she was the most beautiful woman he’d
ever seen.
    Her bow arm was as steady as she held her
stance. “Leave this place. Not your place, tear man!”
    Tear man? What was that supposed to mean. He
wasn’t crying, and wasn’t about to.
    “Who are you?” he asked, still holding his
hands out. She hadn’t shot him yet, and her arm must be getting
tired.
    She shouted something else at him, but he
didn’t understand a word of it, except that she seemed angry, and
perhaps a little frightened for all her bravado. Only then did it
occur to him that maybe the stories of the Elder Folk were more
than pipe talk. But they were supposed to have magic. This woman
hadn’t worked any on him yet.
    Slowly, he knelt in the snow and reached
inside his thick coat for a bag of rabbit jerky. He took out a
piece and ate it, then tossed the bag to her. She regarded it
suspiciously for a moment, then kicked it back in his direction.
“Leave, tear man! My fay tast.”
     

     
    “I don’t know what you’re saying, except for
the leave part,” he told her. “What’s your name?”
    Her bow was beginning to shake a little. She
released the string slowly, but kept the arrow ready on the string.
“Nham?”
    He touched his chest. “Amasa.” Then he
pointed to her. “You?”
    She regarded him a moment longer.
“Ireya.”
    It sounded like a name. “Ireya, I mean you no
harm.” He picked up the jerky bag, took another piece, and tossed
it back to her, smiling. “Eat. It’s good.” Sharing food was a sign
of goodwill where he came from. He hoped it meant the same to
her.
    Still clearly suspicious, she nonetheless set
the bow aside and drew her knife. Squatting down, she fished out a
piece of jerky and nibbled at it, then popped the whole piece in
her mouth. “Tank you.”
    “So you know a little of my language. That’s
good.” He pointed at the quickly setting sun. “Night’s coming. I
think we’re stuck with each other ‘til morning.”
    She glanced at the sun, then cocked her head,
as if trying to puzzle out his meaning.
    “Fire?” He rubbed his hands together and held
them out as if over a campfire.
    She hesitated again, then motioned him
closer, though she kept out of arm’s reach. He could see beyond the
boulder now; a single line of snowshoe prints disappeared into the
nearby forest. She motioned with her knife for him to go that way
and to take the lead. The skin between his shoulder blades prickled
as he heard her fall in behind him.
    The footprints led to a camp just inside the
line of trees. There was a bedroll of furs and blankets spread on
packed snow beside a fire pit and a pile of scavenged firewood.
Clearly she’d planned to stay the night.
    She skirted the fire pit and regarded him
sharply. At closer range he saw that silver earrings shaped like
crescent moons hung from her earlobes. What was a rich woman doing
out here by herself?
    She made no objection when he dropped his
pack near hers and untied his bedroll. She built a fire and
produced a loaf of bread and some dried fish from a leather bag.
Tearing off pieces, she offered them to him.
    The bread was a little stale, but made with
honey and fine flour. The fish was rubbed with some sort of herb
and salt.
    “Good!” he said, chewing. “Thank you, Ireya.”
She’d accepted his hospitable gestures, and now offered her
own.
    She pushed the long tails of her head cloth
back over her shoulder and gave him the hint of a smile. By the
Maker, but she was beautiful!
    “Are you Elder Folk?” he asked, holding his
hands out to the fire.
    She seemed to consider the question, but did
not answer. Given that she knew only a few words of his language
and he knew none of hers, conversation was beyond reach for
now.
    The sun went down behind the peaks and the
stars came out, sparkling sharply through the trees. It was going
to be a cold night.
    Ireya sat across the fire from him, feeding
the small blaze from