Wintertide by Linnea Sinclair Read Free Book Online Page A

had been.
    She glanced at her husband as he rummaged in his pockets for his tobacco pouch. The Tinker was older than Tavis, though not by much. Perhaps five or six years. And his general appearance was similar to the men of her village and other Cove towns. But Tavis’ hair was dark brown. The Tinker’s hair and mustache were black, glossy black, like the color of a moonless night.
    Tavis offered the Tinker a pipe but he declined, and pulled a thin cigar from an inside pocket of his suede vest. This he held out to the smith. Tavis accepted it, sniffing the mahogany-colored tobacco appreciatively.
    “Don’t find this quality often around here. You’ve been to the City, then?”
    The Tinker nodded as he lit his own cigar.
    “You have a name? You know me as Tavis.”
    The Tinker took a few short puffs, releasing a billowing cloud of pungent blue smoke from his mouth. He leaned back in his chair. “I have more names than I care to remember. And most of them can’t be repeated in polite company.” A wry smile accompanied his words.
    Tavis chuckled. “Well?”
    “Rylan. The name’s Rylan. Rylan the Tinker. It’s as good as any, for now.”
    Khamsin picked up the empty pitcher and stood, expecting her husband to bring the meal and the visit to a close. It was late. She hadn’t seen him in three days and they had parted with harsh words between them. Even so, she assumed he would be as anxious to hear about her findings as she was about the telling of them. Therefore she was caught off-guard when her husband seemed reluctant to let their guest depart.
    “Then tell me, Rylan. Do you play cards?”
    She shot a confused glance in Tavis’ direction. But he avoided her eyes, instead reaching for the dog-eared deck of playing cards on the small table behind him.
    “Of course I play,” she heard the Tinker reply. “For what is life, but a game?”
    Suddenly, she felt alone and discarded. She cleared the dishes from the table and fed the scraps to Nixa while the men played cards. The fire in the kitchen hearth softened to an orange glow, but still the men played on. Their laughter and gruff voices followed her as she walked down the short hallway at the back of the house. And went to bed that night, alone.
     
    *
     
    The morning after the Tinker’s visit, Khamsin sat Tavis down in the main room and made him listen to what she’d learned in her two days at the cave, knowing by the reaction on his wide face that he didn’t like what he heard.
    “This is not for the likes of a Healer.” He didn’t look at her but ruffled the dog-eared deck of cards through his fingers. He hadn’t even looked at her over their tea that morning. Khamsin sighed.
    “I can’t be sure of that.”
    “Because you say these signs aren’t clear. As if something’s disturbing them. Something powerful.”
    “Yes, but…”
    “It’s too dangerous.” He slanted a glance at her then looked away. “You don’t know what may come of this. Best to stop asking these questions. Best to do nothing at all.”
    She folded her hands tightly in her lap as if doing so could contain her growing anger. “And then what, Tavis? More raids? More plagues? Are you asking me just to ignore everything I’ve been taught and let that happen?”
    “Yes! That’s exactly what I’m asking.”
    “But if I could prevent it, if I could give warning…”
    “We’ve not asked for your help, have we?” He tossed the cards into a basket under the window with a quick thrust, then pushed himself to his feet and glared down at her. “You’re not to go back there, Khamsin, do you hear me? You’re not to go back to the cave.”
    But that’s my home , she almost said and was startled by her own thought. Bronya’s cave was not her home anymore. This house, Tavis’s house, was her home.
    “Promise me you won’t go back! And promise me you won’t be using that book of yours anymore, except for aches and pains and healin’ stuff.”
    She unclenched her fists and