Silver May Tarnish by Andre Norton Read Free Book Online Page A

and unmarked. The nose was the opposite of an aristocratic dish and the color was a dusty clay with some black mottling. It was a gelding, that I approved. A gelding is not apt to cause trouble with mares or stallions and the color would be unobtrusive while I was scouting.
    â€œI’ll throw in gear if you buy, sir. Bridle, halter, saddle. He’s just been shod again.” The man was beginning to be hopeful of a sale.
    I continued to check. Then I looked up with an unenthusiastic glance. “A good enough animal, I suppose. I might offer a half-silver.”
    The dealer gaped at me. “Lad, lad. In an army camp any mount is worth gold. Good beasts are in short supply. True, he has no great looks, but he’s sound, not old, and he’s sensible. I couldn’t let this horse go for less than a silver and a half.” I beat him down copper by copper, but in the end I led my new horse away.
    I went at once to the next stall I had marked down. They had mail, mostly used, but it had all been well-repaired and I had already seen a hauberk which would fit me. At fifteen, I would still grow, but not so greatly the chain could not be added to and let out a while. I bargained so well a chain coif was thrown into the deal.

    Weaponed, chain-mail clad, and with my new mount I returned to my inn. I stabled the horse by Drustan, took food and ale to my room, secured the door, ate, then fell asleep almost at once. Those at the inn had seen me only briefly and by night. Before they saw me again I would look a little different. I took up the basins of hot and cold water they brought come morning, picked out rags I had purchased, and with them packets from my carrysack.
    Using one of my small daggers I trimmed my hair short. Then I rinsed it twice with water and the contents of one packet. My hair was a dark honey color, but as I gazed into the small steel mirror I saw I had done well. It had become a brownish shade, neither dark nor light but in-between and hard to describe. I washed in the hot water, rubbing onto my skin with another rag the contents of the second packet. Then I looked again into the mirror. I smiled slowly at my reflection.
    My skin appeared darker, more weathered. I looked older. More importantly, I looked not at all like Lorcan of Erondale. The dye would last months before it wore off slowly, by which time I should have tanned more heavily. If not, I could procure more dye. My hair’s shade would last through several washings and, again, I could purchase more of the tint. I was satisfied none were like to recognize me, save Faslane perhaps. I tinted my eyebrows carefully. My lashes would have to remain pale, but if anyone even noticed that they would probably assume it was some family trait.
    I ate heartily of the food which the servant brought and went out once I was done. None remarked me as I walked confidently about the crowded camp. At noon I ate at another inn, listening to soldiers gossip while lingering over my single jack of ale. I must find someone who would hire me as a blank-shield; I wanted a man who was well thought of by his men. I also thought of a story and a new name for
myself. I could hardly hide my appearance then give out my true name like a veritable farm-boy.
    â€œA game of dice, lad?”
    I laughed. “I have few coppers and—no offense-but my father taught me never to dice with those I do not know.” The man grinned back at me.
    â€œA wise father breeds a wise son.” He quoted. “How else am I to win your money then?” I liked what I saw. I’d lived among soldiers long enough to sum up this one. He’d lend a friend money as quickly as he’d expect them to lend it to him, did they have it to spare. He’d steal, lie, but not to a friend. And he’d know all the byways of any camp within hours of his arrival.
    â€œHow long have you been here?” I placed a copper on the table. He flicked it into his sleeve.
    â€œTen