Her Knight's Quest: A Warriors of the Mist Novel Read Online Free PDF Page A

thanksgiving. As she spoke the familiar words, the grace of the gods soothed her spirit and comforted her heart.
    When the first course had come and gone, she finally brought up the question. “Musar, I recognize most of the men that you have riding guard on your caravan, but that man sitting with Rubar is new to me. He doesn’t seem like your typical guard.”
    Although she’d addressed her comment to the trader, it was his wife who answered. “You speak of the one who claims to be a scribe in need of work.”
    Musar frowned. “This Duncan fellow is a puzzle to me. I’ve met a few scribes in my time. Most are skinny and sit hunched over from too many hours of plying their trade. They have calluses on their fingers, and their skin is permanently stained with ink.”
    He jerked his head in Duncan’s direction. “I spoke to that one at length this afternoon when he helped to unharness our draft horses. He speaks like an educated man, which lends credence to his claim of being a scribe. True, his hands are callused, but from holding a weapon, not a pen. Rubar reported that Duncan carries a warrior’s shield, and his sword would cost a year’s profits. A good year’s profits at that.”
    Then he shuddered. “And then he has such strange eyes.”
    Musar dropped his hand down to his side and made one of the common signs to ward off evil. “They are the color of death.”
    Lavinia felt that was going too far, but then the trader clans were superstitious. She kept her reaction carefully hidden, not wanting to offend her friend. Especially when she needed more answers because Musar’s doubts about Duncan echoed her own.
    “If you had doubts about his story, why did you have Rubar introduce him to the abbey?”
    Ava, who was seated on the far side of her husband, leaned forward to look at Lavinia. “The gods spoke to me about him.”
    Lavinia knew better than to question Ava’s visions. The woman was famous among the trading clans for her ability to foresee the future. Many had benefited from her predictions of foul weather and which goods would sell well in a given year.
    “What did the gods say about him?”
    Ava and Musar looked at each other, communicating without words in the way couples who counted their time together in decades often did. Finally, Musar nodded.
    “Here is what they told me.” Ava paused briefly as if preparing herself. When she spoke again, her voice sounded different—deeper, solemn, and with a heavy touch of power. “The scholar comes to seek the truth. Deny him and the price will be paid in blood and the honor of the clan will be destroyed.”
    The last few words hung in the air, as Ava’s shoulders sagged, the effort to speak for the gods clearly having cost her. Lavinia fought to remain calm, but Ava’s pronouncement had left her badly shaken.
    What did all of that mean? What truth did Duncan seek? Or whose truth? She appreciated that the gods were sometimes willing to intervene in the lives of their people, but she wished they would speak more clearly.
    “Did he say why he came here to the abbey?”
    “Nothing other than he was seeking employment.”
    That made some sense, although it didn’t tell her much. Normally if a manuscript needed to be copied, one of the sisters would take on that task. However, it wasn’t unheard of for the abbey to decide to take on extra help if the workload exceeded the ability of the sisters to keep up.
    She had much to think on. For now, she let her guests turn their attention to Sister Margaret’s excellent cooking.
    *  *  *
    Duncan bowed his head briefly but finally gave in to the need to study the woman standing at the head table with Musar and his wife. It was definitely her image that had been reflected on the moon two nights ago. From her position at the head table, he had to guess she was the abbess herself. He murmured the closing of the prayer along with everyone else. The trappings of religion were one of the few things that remained