Shadow of a Dark Queen Read Online Free PDF Page B

far better-looking clothing beneath, and Erik saw in his hand a long-necked green glass bottle. Clearly etched into the neck of the bottle was a baronial crest.
    Erik rolled his eyes heavenward. “Anxious to lose a hand, Roo?” he said quietly in an exasperated tone.
    â€œI helped Father unload his wagon last night.”
    â€œWhat is it?”
    â€œHand-selected berry wine,” he said.
    Erik grimaced. With Darkmoor being the center of the wine trade in the Kingdom of the Isles, the primary industry of Ravensburg was wine, as it was with most of the towns and villages in the barony. To the north, oak cutters and barrel makers labored toproduce the fermenting vats and aging barrels for the wine, as well as corks, while to the south, glassmakers produced bottles, but the central area of the barony was dedicated to growing grapes.
    While fine wines were produced in the Free Cities of Natal and Yabon province to the west, none matched the complexity, character, and age-worthiness of those produced in the Barony of Darkmoor. Even the difficult-to-grow Pinot Noir grape, originally imported from Bas-Tyra, flourished in Darkmoor as it did in no other place in the Kingdom. Lush reds and crisp whites, sparkling wines for celebration—Darkmoor’s finest product brought the highest prices from the northern borders south into the heart of the Empire of Great Kesh. And few wines were as highly prized as the intensely sweet dessert wine called berry wine.
    Made from grapes shriveled by a mysterious sweet rot that occasionally afflicted the grapes, it was rare and costly; the bottle Roo held under his cloak was equal in worth to a farmer’s income for a half year. And from the crest on the bottle, Erik knew it was from the Baron’s private stock, shipped from the baronial capital city of Darkmoor to the Ravensburg guild-hall for the Baron’s visit. While thieves no longer had their hands cut off, being discovered with the bottle could put Roo on the King’s labor gang for five years.
    Trumpets sounded again and the first of the Baron’s guards rode into view, their banners snapping in the afternoon breeze, their horses’ iron shoes striking sparks on the stones of the square. Reflexively, Erik looked at their legs, for signs of lameness, and saw none; whatever else could be saidof the Baron’s management of his estates, his cavalry always attended to their mounts.
    The riders moved into the square and turned out from the small fountain that sat at its center, formed two lines, and slowly backed the commoners away. After a few minutes, the entire area before the Growers’ and Vintners’ Hall had been cleared for the coach that followed.
    More soldiers rode past, each wearing the grey tabard bearing the crest of Darkmoor: a red heater shield upon which stood a black raven clutching a holly branch in its beak. This group of soldiers also wore a golden circlet sewn above the crest, indicating they were the Baron’s personal guards.
    At last the coach rolled into view, and Erik suddenly realized he was holding his breath. Refusing to let his mother’s obsession control even the air in his lungs, he quietly let out a long breath and willed himself to relax.
    He heard others in the crowd commenting. Rumors regarding the Baron’s failing vitality had circulated in the barony for more than a year now, and his sitting beside his wife in the coach, rather than astride his horse at the head of his guards, signaled that he must be ill in truth.
    Erik’s attention was drawn to two boys, riding matching chestnut horses, followed by a pair of soldiers carrying the baronial ensign of Darkmoor. The cadency mark on the left banner heralded Manfred von Darkmoor, second son to the Baron. The mark on the right-hand banner proclaimed Stefan von Darkmoor, elder son of the Baron. Alike enough to appear twins, despite a year’s age difference, the boys rode with an expert ease that Erik