The Warded Man by Peter V. Brett Read Free Book Online Page B

Animals run when they can, and fight when they must, and people are no different. But that spirit should only come out when needed.
    “But if it was you out there with the corelings,” he said, “or your mam, I swear I would fight like mad before I let them get near you. Do you understand the difference?”
    Arlen nodded. “I think so.”
    “Good man,” Jeph said, squeezing his shoulder.
    Arlen’s dreams that night were filled with images of hills that touched the sky, and ponds so big you could put a whole town on the surface. He saw yellow sand stretching as far as his eyes could see, and a walled fortress hidden in the trees.
    But he saw it all between a pair of legs that swayed lazily before his eyes. He looked up, and saw his own face turning purple in the noose.
    He woke with a start, his pallet damp with sweat. It was still dark, but there was a faint lightening on the horizon, where the indigo sky held a touch of red. He lit a candle stub and pulled on his overalls, stumbling out to the common room. He found a crust to chew on as he took out the egg basket and milk jugs, putting them by the door.
    “You’re up early,” said a voice behind him. He turned, startled, to find Norine staring at him. Marea was still on her pallet, though she tossed in her sleep.
    “The days don’t get any longer while you sleep,” Arlen said.
    Norine nodded. “So my husband used to say,” she agreed. “‘Baleses and Cutters can’t work by candlelight, like the Squares,’ he’d say.”
    “I have a lot to do,” Arlen said, peeking through the shutter to see how long he had before he could cross the wards. “The Jongleur is supposed to perform at high sun.”
    “Of course,” Norine agreed. “When I was your age, the Jongleur was the most important thing in the world to me, too. I’ll help you with your chores.”
    “You don’t have to do that,” Arlen said. “Da says you should rest.”
    Norine shook her head. “Rest just makes me think of things best left unthought,” she said. “If I’m to stay with you, I should earn my keep. After chopping wood in the Cluster, how hard could it be to slop pigs and plant corn?”
    Arlen shrugged, and handed her the egg basket.
    With Norine’s help, the chores went by fast. She was a quick learner, and no stranger to hard work and heavy lifting. By the time the smell of eggs and bacon wafted from the house, the animals were all fed, the eggs collected, and the cows milked.
    “Stop squirming on the bench,” Silvy told Arlen as they ate.
    “Young Arlen can’t wait to go see the Jongleur,” Norine advised.
    “Maybe tomorrow,” Jeph said, and Arlen’s face fell.
    “What!” Arlen cried. “But …”
    “No buts,” Jeph said. “A lot of work went undone yesterday, and I promised Selia I’d drop by the Cluster in the afternoon to help out.”
    Arlen pushed his plate away and stomped into his room.
    “Let the boy go,” Norine said when he was gone. “Marea and I will help out here.” Marea looked up at the sound of her name, but went back to playing with her food a moment later.
    “Arlen had a hard day, yesterday,” Silvy said. She bit her lip. “We all did. Let the Jongleur put a smile on his face. Surely there’s nothing that can’t wait.”
    Jeph nodded after a moment. “Arlen!” he called. When the boy showed his sullen face, he asked, “How much is old Hog charging to see the Jongleur?”
    “Nothing,” Arlen said quickly, not wanting to give his father reason to refuse. “On account of how I helped carry stuff from the Messenger’s cart.” It wasn’t exactly true, and there was a good chance Hog would be angry that he forgot to tell people, but maybe if he spread word on the walk over, he could bring enough people for his two credits at the store to get him in.
    “Old Hog always acts generous right after the Messenger comes,” Norine said.
    “Ought to, after how he’s been fleecing us all winter,” Silvy replied.
    “All right, Arlen, you