Witches of Kregen by Alan Burt Akers Read Free Book Online

have had to learn about these marvelous birds that carry men through the sky. I have heard of this disease. It is called the Yellow Rot, or Strugmin’s Rot, from the veterinary who first diagnosed it.”
    “Can you cure it?”
    “I will try. My unguents are renowned throughout Vennar, and beyond, to Falinur and even to the Black Hills. I will do my best.” He glanced up quickly. “It will cost you—”
    I showed him a golden talen.
    He nodded, and took the coin.
    “That will do nicely, koter.”
    “The bird is called Salvation and is outside. How long—”
    He waved a hand. “Who can tell?”
    This was infuriating.
    The peaceful appearance and laziness of this town of Snarkter struck me. Here I was in the heartland of the enemies of my people. I had to get on to Inch in the Black Hills. Seg would raise regiments from the Lord Farris in Vondium; Kapt Erndor would bring regiments from Valka provided by Tom Tomor, Turko and Nath na Kochwold would build up the morale of the Ninth Army; all this was so. Yet the help that Inch might be able to provide could prove decisive. He might not be able to offer any help at all, for he fought Jhansi on this front and the damned Racters to his north. Up there they had a habit of changing the names of places and rivers to mark a special occasion. I wanted the names to reflect our success, not our defeat.
    So my hurry was of my own making. All the same, if poor old Salvation was going to take time to mend I’d have to try something else. There’d been two other saddle birds perching outside The Quork Nightly...
    My guess was they did not belong to Loban the Nose’s two henchmen. Rather, they’d be the mounts of two paktuns who were still, at this early hour, snoring away in one of Loban’s upstairs bedchambers.
    The patter of bare feet heralded the entrance of a short, plump woman wearing a dingy black dress. Her face, round and shining, with a snub nose; her brown hair once neatly caught up in a bun now straggling over her shoulders; her eyes, all told of tragedy.
    She was sobbing and crying, and trying to speak all at the same time. She staggered, and I put out a hand and caught her and so eased her to a chair.
    Urban the Unguents looked alarmed.
    “What is it, Kotera Minvila?”
    Through her caterwauling she got out: “My Maisie! Have you seen her? I’ve been everywhere, all over, no one’s seen her! My Maisie—”
    “She has not been here.” Urban glanced up at me. “A mere child, but pretty. She likes to help with the animals — but she has not come here today.”
    “Where is she? She was not in her bed when I called her — Maisie! Maisie!”
    “A little cordial, I think, Master Urban.”
    He reacted at once and went to a cabinet, returning with a glass containing colored liquid which Kotera Minvila spilled half over her dress, a third over her face, and managed to gulp down the remainder. She was in a distressing state over the disappearance of her daughter.
    In a low voice, bending close, Urban said: “I do not like the sound of this, Koter Kadar.” That was the name I’d given him. “There have been a number of disappearances of young girls just recently.”
    In a slow and heavy voice, I said: “They were all young, about two to four, say, pretty, and from families of the poorer—”
    “Yes. Mostly they are slaves, which isbad enough, Opaz knows. But three or four have been from the families of respectable citizens, like Kotera Minvila. Her husband was killed in the war.”
    Poor devil, no doubt he’d been swept up by Layco Jhansi’s Deldars, thrust into the ranks with a spear, and then sorcerously inflamed by Rovard the Murvish. He’d been just one in that army of crazies.
    I could feel the chill in me.
    There was no certainty about what had happened. Salvation could have had the Yellow Rot for no other reason beyond the normal.
    But I harbored the deepest conviction that no accident had caused me to choose a fluttrell that would delay me here.
    No,