Exile's Return Read Online Free PDF Page B

expression, brow knit and eyes narrow, her jaw clenched. She said something in the same language used by the nomads and it was obviously a warning.
    Kaspar spoke Quegan, hoping she might recognize a few words, or at least infer from his tone his intent. “I will not harm you,” he said slowly as he sheathed his sword. “But I have to see what you have to eat.” He pantomimed eating and then indicated the house.
    She barked a reply and motioned with the crossbow for him to be off. Kaspar was enough of a hunter to know that a female protecting her young was worthy of the greatest caution.
    He slowly approached and again spoke slowly. “I mean you no harm. I just need to eat.” He held his hands palms outward.
    Then the aroma hit him. Something was cooking inside and it almost made Kaspar ache to smell it; hot bread! And a stew or soup!
    Calmly he said, “If I don’t eat soon, I’m as good as dead, woman. So if you mean to kill me, do it now and be done with it!”
    His reflexes saved him, for she hesitated an instant before tightening her fingers on the release of the crossbow. Kaspar threw himself to the left and the bolt split the air where he had stood a moment earlier. Kaspar rolled, came to his feet and charged.
    As soon as the woman saw that her bolt had missed, she raised her crossbow to use it as a club. She brought it crashing down on Kaspar’s shoulder as he forced his way through the doorway. “Damn!” he shouted as he wrapped his arms around her waist, bearing her to the floor.
    The boy shouted angrily and started striking Kaspar. He was small but strong and Kaspar could feel the blows. He lay on top of the struggling woman and held tightly to the hand that still held the crossbow. He squeezed until she cried out and released it, then stood up just in time to avoid being brained by the metal skillet the boy swung at his head.
    He grabbed the boy’s wrist and twisted, causing the youngster to shout as he let go of the skillet. “Now stop it!” Kaspar yelled.
    He drew his sword and pointed it at the woman. The boy froze, his face a mask of terror.
    “All right, then,” he said, still speaking Quegan. “One more time: I am not going to hurt you.” He then made a show of putting away his sword. He moved past the woman and picked up the crossbow. He handed it to the boy. “Here, lad, go find the bolt outside and see if you can manage to crank it up. If you must kill me, feel free to try again.”
    He pulled the woman to her feet and studied her. She was rawboned, but he could see she had been pretty once, before a hard life had aged her. He couldn’t tell if she was thirty or forty years of age, her face being burned to brown leather by the sun. But her eyes were vivid blue and she held her fear in check. Softly he said, “Fetch me food, woman.” Then he let her go.
    The boy stood motionless, holding the crossbow as Kaspar looked around. There was only one room in this hovel, but a curtain had been hung so the woman had a bit of privacy when she slept. Her sleeping pallet and a small chest could be glimpsed from where he sat. Another pallet was rolled up under a single table. There were two stools. A makeshift cupboard sat next to an open hearth upon which there sat a kettle of simmering stew. An oven below it had just produced bread, and Kaspar reached down and grabbed one of the still-warm loaves. He tore off some of the bread and stuffed it into his mouth. Then he sat down on one of the stools. He looked at his unwilling hostess and said, “Sorry to be such a boor, but I prefer ill manners to starvation.”
    As the flavor of the bread registered, he smiled. “This is very good.” He motioned to the stew pot and said, “I’ll have some of that.”
    The woman hesitated, then moved to the hearth. She ladled some of the stew into a bowl and placed it before Kaspar, then handed him a wooden spoon. He nodded and said, “Thank you.”
    She stepped away, gathering the boy to her side. Kaspar ate