Hand and Talon (World of Kyrni Book 1) Read online

  Krea threw her arms up and made to launch into the air, the alley a blur that now seemed like a bad dream. A tiny voice of her old self struggled to stop the madness. She shrieked and the voice fell silent. Then her whole world fell silent.

  Around her, the soldiers and gathering merchants still stared up in horror. They yelled and pointed, but the only sound she heard was the hum of a melody so faint it could have been a trick of the wind.

  Krea tried to back away, but the melody streamed into her mind and left her paralyzed as it floated around her, dancing, breathing with a life all its own. Through the blur, the crowd parted. Words formed in her mind, but they were not hers. She didn’t know them.

  A man stepped through the opening in the crowd, unafraid, his eyes a sea of serenity. As he drew closer, Krea realized that the words now washing through her were his. He grew taller as he approached, until at last he stood right in front of her, gazing down with eyes the color of birch.

  Still chanting, he reached for her face. Krea told her body to move, to run, to block his touch, but she stood rooted in place by the milky song. The man touched his gloved fingers to her forehead and finally fell silent. As the strange melody floated away, Krea stared in shock at the man before her. He wore the clothing of a noble, but had the presence of a soldier. His dark brown hair was cut and combed like a man of means, but his skin was tanned from days spent in the sun. She had no idea what he was.

  “What has this girl been charged with that would warrant such treatment, Captain?” he asked without turning around, his voice barely above a whisper.

  Krea searched the crowd for the captain and finally spotted him by the far wall, still clutching the tattered end of the spelled rope. He brushed away some of the dust that caked his fine clothing and glared back at the man. “She is a thief.”

  The man turned to face him. “And what has she stolen? Her clothing, perhaps? It doesn’t appear to be worth stealing, but I see nothing else of value on her.”

  Krea glanced down at her tattered shirt, so shredded that it barely covered her. Her breeches looked almost as bad. When she reached up to pull what was left of her sleeve back onto her shoulder, Krea realized for the first time that she was trembling.

  “She stole a money purse, Tal Sorin.”

  “Do you have the evidence, or is it now the custom of the guard to make accusations merely to justify their lusts?”

  The captain’s face flushed red with rage. “I want nothing to do with a mongrel bitch like…like that thing. She isn’t even human. I simply want justice. She has taken a moneybag and broken a spelled rope, and my trusted liege man there will die from the snakebite he took because of her. When he does, she will be charged with his murder.”

  As one, the crowd turned to the man curled up on the ground. Convulsions wracked his body. Sweat and vomit turned the dirt to mud that clung to his skin in dark splotches. The crowd slowly backed away, as if the dying man's symptoms might be contagious.

  “You say he was bitten?” asked the noble, finally taking his hand off Krea’s forehead. “By what? A chey?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” said the captain.

  “A chey that this girl sent to kill him? She commands the chey?”

  The unfortunate guard convulsed, the action slapping his face against the putrid ground, and then fell into the stillness of death. The crowd’s collective intake of breath marked the man’s passing.

  “Where exactly did he get bit?” asked the noble, turning back to the captain.

  “He was bit looking for the purse this maggot stole,” said the captain, jutting his head toward the small crevice in the wall.

  “Sent there by you?”

  The captain only stared. He was caught and he knew it.

  “Captain, your prisoner has no valuables, stolen or otherwise, and this guard’s death is on you, not her. As to your rope, if a girl can break it, the problem is yours. You have no grounds to hold her, unless you would like to seek rodulin with the Lady.”

  The captain glared from the man to Krea, but remained silent.

  “Good. I am sure the Lady has better things to do than mediate such trivial matters on as fine a night as this will be. I will take the child with me and see to it that she doesn’t provoke a chey into biting any more of your men.”

  When the captain still only stared in shock, Sorin gave him a nod and turned to Krea. “Come,” he instructed, grabbing her elbow.

  No, Krea screamed in her mind, but no words came out of her mouth. As if driven by a will of their own, Krea’s legs obediently fell into step beside the nobleman. Like a flock of birds, the crowd parted before them in a flurry of muttered curses and protective signs. The man took no notice as he steered Krea out of the maze of alleyways back into the main square and finally to a powerful bay horse so dark he was almost black. The horse snorted at their approach and eyed Krea the way all horses did, but at the man’s soft words, the animal quieted.

  When the man moved to hoist Krea up behind the bay’s saddle, she finally found her voice. “Horses don’t like me,” she stammered, pushing away from his guiding arm.

  “Horses don’t understand you. Drindoc will allow you to ride. Get on. My estate is too far away to reach by sunset if we walk, and you must get out of the village now,” he said.

  Krea knew she should protest further, but the noble was right. She had to leave, and she had to leave now. And a ride out of the town proper didn’t mean she was staying with the man. So she started plotting her escape as she allowed him to lift her onto the horse before climbing into the saddle in front of her.

  She had never ridden a horse before. The bay’s powerful muscles rippled as he spun around at the nobleman’s command, and without the saddle as a barrier, Krea could feel every movement the horse made. She tried to sit back so she wouldn’t have to touch the man in front of her, but when the horse dropped his haunches to launch into a gallop, she nearly slid off his rear. Only the man’s quick reflexes saved her.

  “You will have to hold on. This saddle isn’t meant for two people.”

  Reluctantly, Krea grabbed the man’s shirt on either side, but as soon as the horse took off again, she reached around his waist and locked her hands together. Soft linen from his chemise brushed against her face, smelling of cedar and soap. And money. This noble sure didn’t miss any meals. Out of habit, she fingered his moneybag, but a sharp slap on her hand ended that. The intricately-carved hilt of his sword bounced against her arm as Drindoc ran, but she didn’t dare even touch it. Not for lack of wanting to, though.

  As the village faded into the distance, Krea finally fell into the horse’s gait. She wasn’t confident enough to let go of the nobleman completely, but she released her death grip and sat back enough to glance around. The fields glowed in the burnt orange sunset. In the morning, flowers would dot the plains in an array of violet, red, yellow, and blue. Summer was her favorite time of the year. It was the one season where shelter wasn’t a problem, finding clothing was manageable, and the merchant trade made funds easy to come by. Of course, today hadn’t exactly fallen into the easy category, but then she hadn’t been going after a farmer’s purse, either.

  What exactly had happened anyway? It had been an easy lift. Lord Fatbottom was so busy boasting about his upcoming trip to the capital that he wouldn’t have noticed her had she been sprouting fangs and dripping venom. She was sure she had managed a clean lift when Captain Spitty started pounding after her. Sure. Stealing from the Regent’s brother may not have been one of her smartest choices, but how could she have walked away from that? It was too easy. Maybe that was the problem. It was too easy.

  At least the strange noble’s spell was wearing off enough that she could think for herself. He was taking her to his manor and judging from his fine clothing, it would likely be a lavish estate. The question was what did he want? A better question was how long would it take to get away from him? He was an older man, so she guessed he would have a wife and children of his own, possibl
y grown children, but that didn’t stop a person from exploiting free labor when he saw it.

  Of one thing she was certain: Whatever this man was, magic lurked in his presence, and magic was something she wanted no part of.

  “You needn’t take me all the way to your manor,” Krea said, her voice lurching with the horse’s stride. “I have nothing to give you in token for your help, so I can only hope not to bother you further by getting off here.” She started to push away so she could jump, but the horse never slowed.

  The man reached back and held her in place. “No, child. You need to come with me. I mean you no harm, but we need to talk.”

  “About what? The guard accused me falsely. I have no money purse, as you can see.” Krea tried to pull her sleeve back up and nearly lost her balance in the process. To save herself, she grabbed the first thing her hand hit, which happened to be the hilt of the man’s sword. Jumping from the horse was one thing; falling off was something else altogether.

  Immediately, the man reached behind him to keep her from falling, and then yanked her hand off his sword. “Just sit still and hold on. We will discuss what happened when we get there. Right now, all you need to worry about is keeping still so you don’t lame my horse.“ As an afterthought, he added, “And keeping your hands away from my belongings. You understand me?”

  Krea didn’t answer, but she didn’t try to move away when he let go of her. Any sorcerer was bad, but an angry one was worse.

  “Almost there,” he said, finally slowing to a gentle trot after what felt like a day. Her legs burned from rubbing against the horse’s sweaty body, but she couldn’t imagine it was any better for the horse.

  The sun was already dropping over the horizon as they emerged from the tree-lined road into the open field in front of his manor. It wasn’t what she expected. It was nice. Nicer than anything she had ever been in, but not the monstrous mansion she had envisioned. A boy not much younger than Krea, dressed in short breeches and a woven green tunic, ran out of the stable to greet his master. He said nothing to Krea, but his confusion as he swept her shredded attire was more than evident.

  The man swung his leg over the horse’s neck and hopped down with practiced ease. Krea didn’t do as well. He reached up to help her off the bay, but she was determined to see herself down. Unfortunately, her legs didn’t share her vision. She would have fallen on her rear had the man not caught her.

  He made no comment. Instead, he handed the horse’s reins to the boy and gave the animal an affectionate pat. “He needs to be walked out, Troulas. And be sure to rub him down before you put him away tonight. He worked hard to get both of us here so quickly.”

  Troulas nodded and headed toward the stable with the sweat-lathered bay in tow. Krea watched the horse walk away. He was magnificent. His deep brown coat rippled in the last shreds of sunlight, and she was wondering why a horse like that would ever agree to let someone on his back, when a hand fell on her shoulder. She jumped.

  “Relax,” said the noble, a touch of irritation in his voice. “Come inside. You must be hungry, and you need to get out of those clothes before they fall apart completely. I’m surprised they survived the ride.”

  Krea stepped away and stared. She hadn’t really looked at him before now. He was older than she had originally thought. She guessed him to have over forty years, maybe fifty. His light brown eyes were almost too light. Although his well-muscled arms and chest peeked out from beneath his fine clothing, he did nothing to make himself appear larger or more formidable in the usual fashion of a nobleman. Where men of authority usually draped themselves in thick layers of adornment, a presence of power hung over this man like a cloak.

  Still, she didn’t follow. He stared beneath his thick, scrunched brows. “If I intended you harm, I would have done it already.”

  He had a point. Besides, how far would she get if she tried to run away right in front of him? He could probably cast a spell and cause the ground to open up and swallow her whole. No, she would have to bide her time and wait for just the right moment. At least this time when she followed him, it was of her own doing.

  The house was large, but simple in its furnishings. Before they had even crossed the first room, an old woman appeared from nowhere to take the man’s sword and dagger. He gave her his short coat as well, but kept his riding gloves on. The servant glanced over at Krea, then back to the master of the house, her question evident on her creased face.

  “Do you think you can find her something more fitting to wear, Mother?” the man asked with a smile.

  Krea snapped around in disbelief. The woman was obviously a house servant of no relation, yet the man had just offered her the highest title of respect. When Krea turned back to the woman, she was smiling as well. “I will see to it, tal. Will you take supper now?”

  The master glanced at Krea, then back to the woman. “I’m sure I can find enough to eat on my own. Don’t raise Kole.”

  “Too late,” said a weather-beaten man standing by the door. “Kole is raised. I thought you was overnighting in the village.”

  “There was a…an incident. I had to change my plans.”

  Kole peered at Krea with raised eyebrows. “Obviously.”

  “Mind yourself, Kole. The master has a guest,” chided the woman with a scowl.

  “Old woman, come now.” Kole's face cracked into a barely discernable smile. “He ain’t the crowned prince, and she ain’t exactly a lady.”

  “Kole!” snapped the woman in horror.

  Krea glanced over at the master and was shocked to see his smile. “Be nice,” he said. “She’s had a bad day.” His reproof was mild, but sufficient. The servant snorted, but made no further comment toward Krea as the old woman clicked her tongue and retreated through the double doors.

  “Don’t worry about supper, Kole. I’ll find something on my own,” said the master, turning back to Krea.

  “What?“ said Kole. “You think if you ain’t here, the rest of us don’t bother eating? Honestly, Sorin. I think you’re turning into a regent bred. If you can find your way to the breakfasting room without a escort, I’ll bring you some supper.”

  Krea waited for the master to cast a spell over the rude servant, turning him into a mute or something, but Sorin only laughed. “I think I can manage that, thank you,” he said, and then waved Krea through the double doors. A little disappointed, she followed.

  He led her through two more rooms and finally motioned toward a small round table pushed up against a wall dotted with small glass windows. A meadow cut by a small stream was barely visible in the fading light. It was already too dark to make out many of the details outside, but it would surely be a breathtaking view in the morning light.

  Still leery, Krea pulled out the chair closest to the door and sat with enough distance between herself and the table to be able to make a quick break, if needed. Just because he didn't change the rude servant into stone didn’t mean he couldn’t.

  The nobleman reappeared from around a corner, holding two goblets. He placed one on the table in front of her and took a long drink of the second one before setting it next to its mate.

  The flicker of the oil lamp cast eerie shadows across the man’s face and made his expression unreadable. She waited for him to speak, but he continued to study her in silence as he leaned against the wall. This game, at least, she knew. Like him, Krea held her tongue.

  Kole entered through a back door, carrying a tray loaded with food. “I see you already helped yourself to spirits,” he complained. “But looking at you, I got feelings you’ll be wanting more.” The servant placed two large bowls of hot soup on the table, along with a small bowl of fruit, a plate of bread, and cut cheese before turning to leave. “Don’t bother calling for me if you've need of something, because I’m away to bed. Just leave the dishes. Someone will see to them in the morning. I'm up early tomorrow, getting ready for the hands you hired out of the village. I think you should know about the serfs. They ain't happy about you bringing
in them outsiders. Also, the old woman put clothes for the girl in the room right of the stairs.”

  “I’m more than aware of the serfs’ concerns, Kole, but thank you for bringing it to my attention yet again.”

  “I don't know why you couldn't of got help without bringing in foreigners from Tisher. The Empire is seeing enough trouble from the north, and now they are invading from the south.“

  “No one is invading from the south, Kole. They are just men looking for work.”

  Kole grunted and dropped a spoon in front of Krea. “Them Tishers is a threat—to the serfs, that is. All our people got is the land they live on. If you don’t think them capable enough to bring in a harvest themselves, they worry that you will replace them. Then, they will have nothing. Besides, outsiders bring bad luck. And mark my words, they will come with a fair share of spies.”

  Sorin gave Kole his full attention. “Kole, I know about serfs. I’ve had serfs under my command a few times now in the long course of my life. The Tishers are not going to replace anyone, and they are not spies. I am looking forward to a long growing season, and the sooner we can get those crops up, the sooner we can replant. With a kiss from the goddess, we will get three good runs out of this season, maybe even four.”

  “May as well get used to them Tishers, since we’ll be living there soon enough with the way the torbadyn has took the Capital and all.” The servant handed his master a spoon, and with another grunt stomped out of the room. Sorin just shook his head and took the chair opposite Krea. She noticed that he didn't take off his gloves to eat. Fortunately, the rich smell of soup quickly stole her attention. Besides, who was she to comment on the manners of a nobleman?

  The soup was hot and delicious, brimming with chunks of what, she didn’t care. It must have been cooking for days. She hadn’t eaten since the morning, and that was just the bits of bread cake that the innkeeper didn’t deem fit to serve his guests. At first, she tried to eat slowly so as not to give away her desperate state, but within minutes she gave up the pretense and started wolfing down the meaty meal. After all, who was she pretending for? The nobleman? He ate quietly, his watchful gaze alert to her every move.