(Shadowmarch #1) Shadowmarch Read Online Free PDF Page A

Father, was hunting them all.
    She shook her head to throw off the swift chill of fear. Silly thoughts, Briony. Evil thoughts. It must have been Barrick’s sorrowing talk of their own imprisoned father that had done it. Surely there was no harm in a day like this, late in Dekamene, the tenth month, but lit by such a bold sun it still seemed high summer—how could the gods object? The whole hunt was riding in Kendrick’s wake now, the horses thundering down the hill after the hounds, the beaters and servants bounding along behind, shouting excitedly, and she suddenly wanted to be out in front with Kendrick and the other nobles, running ahead of all shadows and worries.
    I won’t hang back like a girl this time, she thought. Like a proper lady. I want to see a wyvern.
    And what if I’m the one who kills it? Well, why not?
    In any case, her brothers both needed looking after. “Come on, Barrick,” she called. “No time to mope. If we don’t go now, we’ll miss it all.”

    “The girl, the princess—her name’s Briony, isn’t it?” Opal asked after they had been hiking again for a good part of an hour.
    Chert hid a smile. “Are we talking about the big folk? I thought we weren’t supposed to meddle with that sort.”
    “Don’t mock. I don’t like it here. Even though the sun’s overhead, it seems dark. And the grass is so wet! It makes me feel all fluttery.”
    “Sorry, my dear. I don’t like it much here either, but along the edge is where the interesting things are. Almost every time it draws back a little there’s something new. Do you remember that Edri’s Egg crystal, the one big as a fist? I found it just sitting in the grass, like something washed up on a beach.”
    “This whole place—it’s not natural.”
    “Of course it’s not natural. Nothing about the Shadowline is natural. That’s why the Qar left it behind when they retreated from the big folk armies, not just as a boundary between their lands and ours, but as a . . . a warning, I suppose you’d call it. Keep out. But you said you wanted to come today, and here you are.” He looked up to the line of mist running along the grassy hills, denser in the hollows, but still thick as eiderdown along the hilltops. “We’ve almost reached it.”
    “So you say,” she grunted wearily.
    Chert felt a pang of shame at how he teased her, his good old wife. She could be tart, but so could an apple, and none the less wholesome for it. “Yes, by the way, since you asked. The girl’s name’s Briony.”
    “And that other one, dressed in black. That’s the other brother?”
    “I think so, but I’ve never seem him so close. They’re not much for public show, that family. The old king, Ustin—those children’s grandfather—he was a great one for festivals and parades, do you remember? Scarcely a holy day went by . . .”
    Opal did not seem interested in historical reminiscence. “He seemed sad, that boy.”
    “Well, his father’s being held for a ransom the kingdom can’t afford and the boy’s got himself a gammy arm. Reasons enough, perhaps.”
    “What happened to him?”
    Chert waved his hand as though he were not the type to pass along idle gossip, but it was only for show, of course. “I’ve heard it said a horse fell on him. But Old Pyrite claims that his father threw him down the stairs.”
    “King Olin? He would never do such a thing!”
    Chert almost smiled again at her indignant tone: for one who claimed not to care about the doings of big folk, his wife had some definite opinions about them. “It seems far-fetched,” he admitted. “And the gods know that Old Pyrite will say almost anything when he’s had enough mossbrew . . .” He stopped, frowning. It was always hard to tell, here along the edge where distances were tricky at the best of times, but there was definitely something wrong.
    “What is it?”
    “It’s . . . it’s moved.” They were only a few dozen paces away from the boundary now—quite as close as