Master of Whitestorm by Janny Wurts Read Free Book Online Page A

traveled with them, and their farmsteads did not prosper.
    Torresdyr’s young king issued a proclamation challenging any man of courage to regain the wardstone, great wealth to be awarded the one who succeeded. Seventy-four tried only to fail. Anthei delighted in returning their corpses. Hopelessness and poverty overran the court of Torresdyr and adventurers ceased to appear at the royal gates. The king grew old. Ruined by apathy and misfortune, he offered his crown for recovery of the wardstone, but no man came forward to risk his life for the rule of a desolate land.
    “You’re the first to answer that challenge in many a weary year,” the gatekeeper finished. He spat in the dust. “But don’t you know? You ride for a hopeless cause. The king bartered his crown to the traders for cloth. Men say Anthei’s tower holds treasure, but wizard’s gold carries a bane. Only a fool would chance death for such stakes.”
    “I’m going anyway.” Calm to the point of obsession, Korendir asked questions until the gatekeeper tired of giving answers. Words had no power to unravel Anthei’s sorceries; the old man gave vent to annoyance. He turned his back and set his hands to the winches. Chain clanked. The gates which guarded the royal palace began ponderously to close. Yet before the rusted portals completed their groaning descent, Korendir passed through and turned his gelding’s wheezing nose northwest. He would persist on his fool’s errand to pursue Torresdyr’s lost wardstone and no man’s argument would deter him.
    * * *
    Anthei’s tower rose above the flats on the Jardine Sea. There shone the only sunlight in Torresdyr since the wardstone spared her grounds alone from the Blight. Although blue sky showed intermittently over the surrounding acres, Korendir covered the final league upon roads overgrown with brown bracken; the farmsteads on either side stood abandoned. The gatekeeper claimed children had died of poisoning after tasting the fruit which ripened on the trees near Anthei’s walls. Other folk whispered in dread of the guardians that protected her gates.
    Korendir rounded the final bend in the hills near sunset. Ahead he saw a great stone keep silhouetted against the gray breakers of the shoreline. Walled round with the famed white agate of Torresdyr, Anthei’s gardens were a marvel in the midst of a wasteland. With cold eyes, Korendir studied the beauty of rare blossoms and exotic trees. The wind filled his nostrils with the perfume of flowering vines and the sour smell of salt off the sea; a third scent intermingled with these, a sharp tang of woodsmoke which did not fit.
    Korendir drew rein. As his gelding halted, he noticed one other in Torresdyr who had disregarded rumor’s warning; a white-haired man crouched over a fire toasting barley cakes almost within the shadow of Anthei’s walls. Korendir’s frown lifted. He set his heels to the gelding’s sides and called out in a rare display of pleasure.
    “Haldeth!”
    The man by the fire glanced up and shaded seamed features with one hand. Then he stood and grinned until the gelding’s walk brought its rider within earshot. “I guessed you’d be along. Hadn’t we promised to see this through together?”
    Korendir dismounted. He closed the remaining distance with impatience, but when he reached Haldeth’s side, his face showed nothing of his earlier welcome. “What changed your mind?”
    Caught in that critical gaze, Haldeth felt suddenly exposed. “I hope you like barley cakes,” he said evasively. He took the gelding’s hackamore and motioned toward the camp. “Eat. I’ll tend your animal.”
    “He’s called Snail.” Even more spare with words than usual, Korendir sat on a log by the fire. “Let him go. He never strays.”
    Haldeth slipped the hackamore over the gelding’s ears and watched it snuffle the grass and begin to graze. Presently he chose a seat beside his friend. Yet after the surprise of reunion, awkwardness settled