Rigante Series 01 - Sword in the Storm by David Gemmell Read Free Book Online Page B

looks.
    Within the hour, with all his ponies on the northern shore, Banouin walked with Calasain back to the jetty.
    There the two men sat, sipping tisane and watching the sunlight sparkle upon the water.
    'Trouble on the trip?' asked Calasain, pointing to the wound on Banouin's arm.
    'A little, but it lifted the monotony. What has been happening here these last eight months? Any raids?'
    The old man shrugged. 'There are always raids. The young need to test their skills. Only one man died, though. Made the mistake of tackling Ruathain. Not wise these days. Not wise any day, I guess. What are you carrying?'
    'Coloured cloth, pearls, bright beads, threads of silver and gold. The cloth will sell fast. It is invested with a new purple dye that does not run when wet. Plus a few spices and some ingots, iron, silver and two of gold for Riamfada. It should all trade well.'
    Calasain sighed, and a blush darkened his leathered features. 'I apologize for my son. Whatever he has taken I will find.'
    'I know. You are not responsible for him, Calasain. Some men just cannot resist stealing.'
    'It is a source of shame to me.' For several minutes they sat in companionable silence. Then Calasain spoke again. 'How are things in the south?'
    'There has been a sickness among the Norvii near the coast. Fever and discoloration of the skin. Swept through them like a grass fire. One in six died.'
    'We heard of that. Did you cross the water?'
    'Yes. All the way to my homeland.'
    'They are still fighting?'
    'Not at home. But their armies have moved west. They have conquered many of the adjoining lands.'
    'Why?' asked Calasain.
    'They are building an empire.'
    'For what purpose?'
    'To rule everyone, I suppose. To become rich on the labour of others. I do not know. I think, perhaps, they like war.'
    'A stupid people then,' observed Calasain.

    'Is Ruathain reunited with Meria?' asked Banouin, seeking to change the subject.
    'No. Nearly six years now. Yet he does not put her aside. Strange man. There is no good humour in him any more. He rarely smiles and never laughs. Men walk warily around him. He got into an argument with Nanncumal the smith, and punched him so hard that the smith's falling body broke a fence rail. What went wrong with his marriage? Why do you think they separated? Was she unfaithful to him?'
    Banouin shrugged. 'I don't know. Whatever the reason it is sad for them both. I like them. They are good people.'
    They are Rigante,' said Calasain, with a smile. 'We are all good people. Welcome home, Foreigner.'
    Four hours later, with the dying sun bathing the mountains in fire, Banouin crested the last rise and gazed down on the settlement of Three Streams. The heaviness lifted from his heart as he saw the scattered houses and farms, the bridges over the streams, the cattle and sheep feeding on the rich grass.
    And there, at the centre of the settlement the colossal oak known as Eldest Tree, its lower branches hung with lamps.
    Home, thought Banouin, savouring the word. I am home.
    Connavar liked to climb, and he sat now in the topmost branches of Eldest Tree, his mind wrestling with problems he could not, at fifteen, fully understand. He loved both Ruathain and his mother, and it hurt him that they should still be living apart. His mother had insulted the Big Man, unfairly accusing him. She knew she was wrong, but was too proud to apologize and humble herself. He knew that she knew, but would not make a single effort to bridge the gap. It seemed so foolish to the young man.
    Sometimes, in the night, he would hear Meria weeping softly, trying to muffle the sound in the thick, embroidered pillow on the bed Ruathain had crafted. It was a mystery to Connavar. All his life he had watched Meria being cool towards her husband, apparently uncaring. Now she grieved as if a child had died. Yet with all that grief she could not bring herself to take a deep breath and acknowledge she was wrong.
    And the Big Man had changed. He was surly now, and quick to