Melforger (The Melforger Chronicles) by David Lundgren Read Free Book Online Page A

back!”
    “As Foreman of Eirdale, I’ll gladly look into the matter further but it will take some time.” He looked up at the branches above them, his fingers moving as he counted under his breath. “My estimate, bearing in mind that the Festival is just around the corner, is that it will probably take a month or so to come to a satisfactory conclusion.“
    “A month?” chirped the young boy from the wagon top. “Mr. Wesp, can we stay?”
    “Shut up!” Wesp leaned up and smacked the boy’s dangling foot hard so that it crashed into the wagon rail. The boy scrambled backwards, cowering against the back railing rubbing his bruised leg. Wesp growled and turned back to the Foreman. “You’re nothing but thieves, forester. The first thing I’m going to do when I get back to Miern is report this!”
    “I understand your frustration, trader, but my decision is made.”
    “How dare you!” sneered Wesp, drawing himself up. “I am Wesp Tunrhak, personal friend to the Gerent!”
    Tarvil smiled faintly and then, cupping his chin with his thumb and forefinger, said, “Yes, quite so.” He turned to the young boy. “Perhaps we should hear what this young lad has to say about it? I imagine he would have been there when you first obtained the instrument. Were you, boy?”
    Wesp lunged to the wagon, pointing a finger at the boy. “Do you remember what I said about that hole?” The boy’s face went white and he shrunk against the wagon side. “If you say another word…”
    The Foreman frowned and said, “That really is enough now, trader. Go easy on the kid, will you? You may stay overnight, but I think it would be best if you left at first light.”
    He gave the young boy in the wagon an uneasy glance and then walked away, gesturing to the other villagers to follow suit.

 
 
 
7 . THIEF
     
     
     
    T he village was painted with the muted half-light of evening as the lanterns’ orange glow filled the commons. The stream of birdsong that accompanied daylight had diminished now to be replaced by the soft calls of nightingales and larks, and behind it all, the incessant vibrating rasp of cicadas.
    Raf waited by the trunk of the sequoia Ancient that served as the Council chambers as his parents and the Foreman followed the other Council members inside, and then he tried to surreptitiously nip around the corner.
    “I don’t think so, young Gency. We have one or two things to clear up first,” said the Foreman wryly, indicating for Raf to enter.
    “Yes, sir,” said Raf.
    The Foreman pulled the oaken door closed behind him and then strode to the back of the room where he sat down, arms crossed, and swung his boots up to rest on the table top.
    “So, what did you think of that trader then, Raf?”
    “I… I’m not sure, sir,” muttered Raf, feeling a flush rise again on his face under the stare of the Council. “But it is my pipe sir, I promise!”
    “And how is it that you’ve hidden this ability to craft what is an incredibly intricate instrument? And with no training?” asked Madame Ottery. “I know you haven’t been trained because I am the only person within miles who knows anything about the craft and even I couldn’t make a perfect flarehorn like that.”  She stared at him.
    “I don’t know,” said Raf shrugging. “I honestly don’t know how I did it, exactly. But I did.”
    “Let’s leave that for now,” said the Foreman. “What game were you two playing there, Tarvil?”
    “Well,” said Tarvil, “Raf overheard the trader speaking about wanting vinehoney. He brought the information to me and -”
    “- and you didn’t think to share it with us?” said Leiana.
    “- and , bearing in mind our current financial difficulties, it seemed wise to maximize the situation. It’s unfortunate that he found us out, though.”
    The Foreman grunted. “A fine line to tread, Tarvil. As much as we need the money to fund the Festival, we also need to build ties with Miern. I’m sure he was mostly