A Play of Shadow Read Online Free PDF Page A

many containing secrets the current prince would not want revealed. Over the years, Old Jupp had compiled the juiciest in memoirs he gleefully planned to have published after his death.
    Jenn hoped Riss would delay that publication until the prince joined her uncle as one of the Blessed. Marrowdell might be several days’ travel from Avyo; it wasn’t beyond reach.
    “My pleasure,” Bannan assured Riss. He tucked the portfolio deep inside a saddlebag, securing it before he came around to face Uncle Horst.
    Who held out the second package. A slender one.
    Something unhappy slid behind Bannan’s eyes and he gave a sharp shake of his head.
    “Heart’s Blood! Don’t argue.” Leaning on his crutch, Uncle Horst used his free hand to strip the cloth wrap from what was, Jenn saw, his short straight sword. The one that had hung in its scabbard above the fireplace, by the bear claws, as long as she could remember.
    The one for use on other men.
    The gelding, Perrkin, lifted his graying muzzle and snorted with interest, being a soldier’s horse and aware.
    “I’m not arguing,” Bannan said quietly. “I’m not taking it.”
    “Where’s your warhorse? Without him, I don’t see you have a weapon.”
    Scourge wasn’t going? Jenn nodded to herself. She shouldn’t be surprised. Beyond Marrowdell, outside the edge, the old kruar was voiceless and forgotten. He’d suffered that life till finding his way home. Why would he seek it again?
    For love of this man, that was why, though the great creature would hotly deny any such attachment. Which meant . . . “You didn’t tell him, did you?” she said.
    Bannan half shrugged. “Even had I’d wished to, he and your dragon are off gallivanting.” His way of saying they’d crossed into the Verge, which dragon and kruar could do at whim.
    Well, that was inconvenient. Or convenient, Jenn thought with a little frown, unsure how she felt about the timing.
    Uncle Horst had no such doubt. “Ancestors Unwary and Undone,” he said roughly, thrusting the sword hilt-first at the younger man. “Every bandit worth the name knows Marrowdell travels to the fair, with goods worth stealing either way. The only reason they’ve never attacked is because they know me as well.”
    It wasn’t a boast. Radd Nalynn, who well knew the measure of his friend, would make jokes about the wisdom of bandits, and the Lady Mahavar had relied on Uncle Horst to see her safely to and fro, until Tir Half-face and his axes took her service and his place.
    Bannan—he’d been a soldier, too, a border guard and captain of others, including Tir. A life he’d left behind; skills he likely couldn’t. Why shouldn’t he arm himself? Wouldn’t he be safer?
    The truthseer’s eyes found hers, as if she’d spoken aloud. “Swords end arguments,” he said quietly. “I’ve never found them to win one.”
    Uncle Horst lowered the blade. “Trust me, Bannan Larmensu. The rabble who hunt the road will steer wide and clear if they see this. Or leave it here,” he went on blandly. “If it turns out you were wrong, I’ll see how it fits between your ribs.”

    The truth, if ever Bannan had seen it in a face. Silently, he held out his hand for the sword, belting the thing to hang at his hip. A soldier’s weapon, as if there was doubt, free of gilt or tassel. The weight of it, the potential, changed his stance and darkened his mood. “I’ll not draw it,” he said, wondering who he promised.
    “Ancestors Witness, now you look the part, truthseer, I doubt there’ll be need. I’d not cross you.” Spoken lightly, but there was something in the old soldier’s eyes when Bannan met them that said otherwise.
    This wasn’t the leave-taking he’d planned, if he’d planned anything beyond being grateful if Jenn Nalynn didn’t object to his leaving in the first place. He glanced her way. She’d lost her smile, but managed a resolute nod. “We’ll be fine,” she said, to his unasked question.
    “Ready,