A Play of Shadow Read Online Free PDF

Bannan?” Davi’s deep voice brought up his team’s heads, and Alyssa laughed as a ribbon pulled from her hand. He’d the reins of the other riding horses in one big hand. Marrowdell would be left with Wainn’s old pony and a pair of weanlings.
    Before the treaty calmed the border with Ansnor, the horses alone would have been a prize worth the risk of a sword. In Vorkoun, anyway. Perhaps Weken. Endshere and settlements farther north seemed oblivious to both the war and its end. Bannan supposed that was the way of the world.
    “Ready when you are. We should get moving,” he added without looking at Sennic.
    Davi chuckled. “Mother’s been saying that since breakfast.” He handed the reins to Jenn and Alyssa. “We’ll be off soon. C’mon, lads.” This with a cluck of his tongue as he guided the big draft horses with a hand on each massive neck. “Mother’s waiting.”
    Two pairs of ears flicked back, then the horses stepped promptly into their traces.
    The Emms appeared, with Hettie and Tadd, and the area under the apple trees quickly became a bustle of activity as bundles and gear were sorted out. Bannan lost Jenn for a moment, then spotted her in earnest discussion with her sister and Hettie. Lorra and Frann arrived, faces flushed with obvious pleasure. More and more inhabitants of Marrowdell joined the fray, voices rising with excitement. The leave-taking was an event, after all.
    A moth landed on his shoulder. Bannan squinted at it. “Are you coming?”
    It waved an absent feathery plume, preoccupied with writing on its tiny curl of parchment. The moths were record keepers. News bringers, at times. And every so often, astonishingly—Bannan looked up at the sweeping pale stone of the Bone Hills—the moths were part of the immense being who held Marrowdell and the Verge together. Or spoke with its voice. A meaningless distinction, according to the dragon, who discouraged questions about the sei.
    Or had no answers to give. Bannan grinned. “Keep track of things while I’m away,” he requested, quite sure the moth would do so anyway.
    To his surprise, it tucked away its parchment, moths having wee satchels for that purpose, and tiptoed along his shoulder to his neck. He held very still, despite the tickle, but couldn’t help but start when it scratched busily on his skin. Done, it fluttered away, and he could have sworn it laughed.
    “It wrote on you.” Wainn Uhthoff had a gift for being unnoticed until he chose to be. He peered with interest at the truthseer’s neck.
    “What?” Bannan lifted his chin to make that inspection easier.
    “I can’t read,” the youngest Uhthoff reminded him comfortably. “I remember the words.”
    Of all the books in Marrowdell, Bannan knew, even the ones Wainn’s uncle, Kydd, had shredded into a lining for his beehives years ago. Books of magic, from Rhoth and beyond. “I should have shown you
Talnern’s Last Quest
,” he said ruefully, “before the dragon got his claws on it.” His favorite novel had been thoroughly shredded as well; though returned, somehow neatly sewn back into the shape of a book, the words inside remained a scrambled mess.
    Admittedly an entertaining mess. Neither he nor Jenn could read more than a line aloud to one another before bursting into giggles.
    Wainn hadn’t moved. “These words belong to Marrowdell.” An uncharacteristic frown creased his forehead. “Wen said, if you leave, you won’t.”
    If there was anyone closer to the Verge and its wild magic than a turn-born, it was Wen Treff, who spoke to toads and heard the secrets within a heart. Bannan felt the weight of the sword again, but it wasn’t that. Marrowdell objected to his leaving. Or warned him against it.
    Why? A chill ran down his spine. To counter it, he clapped Wainn heartily on the shoulder. “Then I’d best come back, hadn’t I?”
    The younger man didn’t smile. “Yes.” He turned and left without another word.
    “What was that about?” Jenn asked,