Dreamspinner Read Online Free PDF Page B

she were floating. She stopped and looked at the peddler, who was watching the border closely. He turned his head to look at her, then reached down and picked up a pack. He took her clothes from her, then pushed the pack into her arms. It was so heavy, she almost dropped it.
    “What’s this?” she managed.
    “Your new life,” he said, taking her by the arm and pulling her along with him. “There’s a carriage half a mile down the road, waiting.”
    She looked at him in surprise. “Why?”
    “Because I paid them to,” he said impatiently.
    “A carriage—”
    “Get in it and don’t get out until it stops.”
    She blinked. “But—”
    “There’s gold in that pack. Find an assassin. Save Bruadair.”
    She shook her head, but that didn’t clear away the persistent sensation she had of having wandered into a terrible dream. Less thanan hour ago—perhaps it was longer, she honestly couldn’t tell—she had been looking in the window of a shop and admiring a cloak that whilst grey had at least been cut handsomely. Now she stood outside the border of her country, dressed as a lad, knowing that her flight had meant death for the one person in the world she cared about—and knowing that continuing her flight would spell her own end.
    “Save Bruadair?” she repeated, finding herself completely unable to understand how she was to go from merely wanting to save herself to needing to save her country.
    He swore at her. “You’re dead right now, don’t you know? You crossed the border.”
    She knew it, of course, but she hadn’t wanted to face it. “I didn’t have any choice—”
    “Of course you did,” he said briskly. “You could have chosen to crawl back to that miserable guild and spend the rest of your days trapped in a life of endless drudgery. But you chose freedom.”
    She looked at the ground, because it was safer that way. “What does that matter if I’ve sentenced myself to death?”
    He put his hand under her chin, lifted her face up, and looked at her with absolutely no expression on his face. “You haven’t. There is a way to save yourself.”
    She pulled away from his hand, sure she’d heard him awrong. “How?”
    “It won’t be easy, or pleasant,” he warned. “The usurper who currently sits the throne must be overthrown before he destroys every last bit of—well, his plans aren’t important. What
is
important is that the rightful king takes his place. This is not a task for an army, for Sglaimir will see them and slay them before they can touch him. A mage will not manage it either, for his magic will be sensed before he reaches the palace walls—”
    “Mages?” she interrupted, trying to laugh. She thought it had sounded more like a gasp of terror than anything else, but she wasn’t perhaps the best one to judge. “I don’t believe in mages.”
    He blew out his breath in frustration. “Seek out an assassin, then, one who will dethrone the king for the glory of it—or as much gold as we’ve been able to muster.” He looked at her seriously.“You have three se’nnights. The bargain must be struck before midnight of the last day or your life will be the forfeit.”
    She couldn’t keep from blinking. “How do you know—”
    “Because I know,” he said curtly. “Bloody hell, wench, have you no idea—nay, of course you don’t.” He shook his head sharply. “The details aren’t important. You have been granted the gift of a fortnight and a half. Complete your quest and your life will then be yours.”
    “But quests should be left to Heroes.” She might have been a common weaver, but she was very well read in subjects ranging from the movements of stars to the movements of men. It took a certain set of skills to embark on any sort of serious heroic business.
    “You were all that was available at the time. And you know where to go.”
    She felt her mouth go dry. “Do I?”
    “Did I sell you that book for naught?”
    “Which book?”
    “The only book you