The Dragon Circle by Irene Radford Read Free Book Online Page A

She obeyed him, resting the paddle across the boat sides. Her back slumped and her head felt a little too heavy. She should not be this tired. She worked hard every day on the family farm when she was not tracking. She could match muscle and stamina with any warrior.
    Why?
    Yaakke let the boat drift back toward the landing area, using his paddle to steer them closer and closer to the bank.
    At last the boat grounded. Yaakke jumped out, calf-deep in the water. He grabbed the bow of the craft and waited.
    â€œAre you getting out or not?” he asked testily.
    â€œOh,” she replied dumbly. Heavily, she dragged herself out of the bottom of the little boat and into the water. The current tugged at her. She grabbed the boat for balance.
    â€œPush,” Yaakke ordered.
    She did so. He hauled. Together they brought the craft up onto the bank. A crowd of people gathered above them, watching. When Yaakke had tied his craft to one of the stakes protruding out of the mud, a young woman jumped down and grabbed him in an embrace. She had the same set to her eyes as both Yaakke and his father, but a more delicate nose structure. Her thick brown hair cascaded down her back, covering most of her body. At first Dalleena thought she and the other women adhered to the old custom of not covering their breasts until a man had claimed them. Slave women were never allowed to cover themselves except out of doors in deep winter. A shift in Hestiia’s posture, a ripple in her hair, revealed a halter woven of red cow wool above her leather sarong. All the women seemed to wear the same clothing with little variation.
    Dalleena suddenly felt too tall, too awkward and out of place.
    â€œMy sister, Hestiia,” Yaakke introduced them.
    Dalleena gave her own name and talent, nodding her head.
    â€œWelcome, Tracker.” Hestiia marched over and stuck out her right hand to her.
    Dalleena stared at the hand wondering if she was supposed to touch it.
    Hestiia took the decision away from her, grabbing her by the elbow and shaking her arm. Dalleena returned the gesture as well as the woman’s smile.
    â€œCome, the hospitality of this village is open to you. We have hot food ready. My husband and his brothers should return any time now.” The little woman led them up the bank and toward the cluster of cabins as if she held the honored place of headman.
    Dalleena followed, curious about a village that allowed a woman to speak for them. At the top of the track, an ancient woman of impressive girth and swarthy coloring waited. She stood with hands on hips, legs spread sturdily, and a fierce scowl upon her face.
    A Rover. What was she doing here? Rovers never settled in a village. Villagers never allowed them to linger near. Suspicion and distrust kept them always apart.
    â€œI be Pryth,” the Rover woman announced. “You be Tracker. Why do you feel needed here?”
    â€œI do not know, only that something, someone needs tracking.” Her senses awoke under the intense gaze of the old woman. Her hand burned and itched as it never had before. She raised her right arm and supported it with her left. Palm out she turned in a slow, methodical circle, pausing at every quarter of a quarter turn. Her head spun with the need to find the nameless thing before it destroyed itself. Or destroyed them.
    But she could not find a direction to look.

CHAPTER 6
    K ONNER STARED into the campfire. Villagers bustled around him. Women carried trenchers piled with roasted venison, chunks of wild yampion, a sweet tuber served raw or roasted or mashed with fresh milk, and globs of boiled greens dressed in fat and fruit vinegar.
    The Tracker sat among the men across the fire from Konner. She did not participate in any of the usual female pursuits. Her eyes wandered restlessly around the village, across the sky, and toward the deep shadows beyond the fire.
    Konner did not have the thoughts to spare this night to wonder why. All he could think