Shadowstorm by Kemp Paul S Read Free Book Online Page B

in error.” “You were not.”
    Regg’s words did nothing to comfort him. “I miss my son, Regg”
    He had left Elden, only four winters old, with a nurse back in the family estate near Saerb. Abelar wanted nothing more in that moment than to frolic in the sun and play ores and knights with his boy.
    Regg nodded and gave Abelar a sympathetic pat. He looked away and said nothing.
    A call from behind turned them around. Three horsemen tore down the wagon path from the abbey. Rucksacks of gear swung crazily from their saddles. The horsemen waved a hand and shouted for Regg and Abelar to wait.
    “That is Beld,” Regg said, shielding his eyes. “With two others.”
    “It is.”
    Regg smiled. “We lost an Abbot but gained three blades. I will take that trade.”
    Abelar waved a welcome at Beld and his comrades. “The sun rises and sets,” he said, this time in a firm voice.
    ŚŠŚ <3r Ś&Ś
    Elyril and Mirabeta awaited Malkur Forrin in the tapestry bedecked meeting rooms within the overmistress’s tallhouse. Elyril had gone several hours without a snuff of minddust and the lack made her irritable.
    Bookshelves packed with scrolls and tomes lined two of the
    rooms walls. Elyril eyed them and imagined holding in her hands the book to be made whole. Its lack, too, made her irritable.
    Late morning sunlight carried through the large, leaded glass windows. Elyril sat in a soft armchair in a shadowed corner, out of the direct light. She leered at the shadows the sunlight cast on the wall and they leered back. She idly twisted the magical amethyst ring on her finger. She tried to remove the band but it stuck on her knuckle. She pulled harder and still it would not come off. She cursed it softly and the shadows laughed.
    The ceiling creaked as the servants went about their business on the second floor. The sound grated on Elyril, made her itch behind the eyes.
    “Aunt, I am eager to begin my preparations for the trip to Yhaunn. Perhaps I should retire to my suite and see to matters?”
    She started to stand, imagining the welcome sting of minddust in her nostrils, the mind-opening perspective, the calm …
    Mirabeta, who sat in a high-backed chair in the center of the chamber, did not look at her. “No. I want you here when Forrin arrives.”
    Elyril grimaced and gestured obscenely at her aunt’s back. She walked to Mirabeta’s side and drove her heel into her aunt’s shadow on the floor. The shadow’s wails delighted her but she kept the satisfaction from her face. The twisted faces that lived in the chamber’s table laughed for her.
    “I am your servant, Overmistress.”
    For now, whispered the faces.
    A rap on the chamber door announced Malkur Forrin’s arrival.
    “Enter,” Mirabeta called.
    Turest opened the door and Malkur Forrin strode past him. Forrin brought with him the smell of leather, oiled steel, and the road. A chain hauberk hung from his shoulders, a broadsword from his belt. An open-faced helm capped his head. He doffed the helm, showing his graying hair and scars, and bowed.
    “Overmistress. Lady Elyril. It is a pleasure to once more be in your company.”
    “That is all, Turest,” Mirabeta said, and the chamberlain closed the door behind Forrin.
    Forrin said, “My ladies, the payment we received was less than that to which we agreed. I have sent messengers to you and—*
    Mirabeta’s voice froze the room. “That is because the performance we received was less than that to which we agreed.”
    The mercenary’s eyes narrowed in a question. “In what regard, Overmistress?”
    Mirabeta’s voice remained calm. “The Hulorn lives, does he not?”
    Irritation creased Forrin’s tanned brow. “He does, but what of it?”
    “He is a man I asked you to kill,” Mirabeta said, her voice rising with each word. “He is a man who, having survived your attack, entered into an alliance with the Shadovar of Shade Enclave.”
    Malkur drew himself up, crossed his hands behind his back, and stuck out his