The Splintered Eye (The War of Memory Cycle) Read Online Free PDF Page A

register that this meant Arik was leading, and he scowled and grabbed the skinchanger’s arm.  Arik paused; Cob could almost sense his ears perk.
    “ We talked about this,” Cob said softly.  “I’m the leader, so I lead.”  He moved to slip by.
    Arik squished him against the tunnel wall with hulking, muscular ease.  Cob was tall but in human form Arik was taller, and broader, and heavier—a full adult, though bony, whereas Cob’s seventeen years had not yet filled him out.  “Too dangerous,” Arik growled, his breath stinking of marrow.
    Cob grimaced and pushed at Arik’s face with one hand.  “We agreed,” he said through his teeth.  “I’m the Guardian.  If I say I go first—“
    “ Yes, you are alpha.  But you are deer,” said the skinchanger, adjusting to keep Cob from wiggling past.  “I must put myself between delicious deer and other predators.  You must lead from behind.”  Then he licked Cob across the eyebrow and stepped down.
    Cob scowled and wiped his forehead vigorously.  He hated when Arik did that in man-form.  It was much easier to deal with him as a wolf.
    Pushing the annoyance from his mind, he squinted ahead.  The stairs ended not far below, becoming a corridor etched with channels to divert meltwater.  At the end stood an archway that gave a glimpse of a pillared chamber, bright with the flicker of firelight.  Arik’s silhouette stood out against the light, prowling and wary, and to spite him, Cob called out, “Hoi!” and saw him wince.
    A moment passed, then figures moved to block the light.  “Who goes there?” came a flat female voice.
    “A friend of Jasper’s,” Cob said.
    More silhouetted figures moved in, and Cob caught the faint buzz of conversation.  At the base of the steps, Arik stood still as a hare beneath a hawk’s eye.
    Finally the first woman said, “Come on then, don’t lurk.”
    Cob stepped down, feeling smug, but as he came level with Arik, he saw the Trifolders and stopped short.
    First in line was the one who must have answered his call: a lean older woman, her iron-grey hair pulled back tight, her polished armor reflecting the glow of the braziers inset in the chamber walls beyond.  She held a heavy crossbow pointed at Cob, and the haft of a two-handed maul stuck up over her plated shoulder.  To either side of her were women in red-painted chainmail, younger but no less severe, with crossbows of their own.  Beyond them, a small crowd had withdrawn toward the opposite end of the room, consisting mostly of women in brown dresses, girls and a few boys in pants and white tunics, and grim-looking old folk.
    Cob had known Ammala Cray the farm-woman, Jasper the tinker, and Jasper’s Bahlaeran Trifolder constituents.  This was not what he had expected, and suddenly he was all too aware of how disreputable he must look.  Twelve days’ worth of grime and stubble did not make for a good first impression.
    “And where is Jasper these days?” the stern woman prompted.
    “ Midland Illane, last I saw him,” Cob said cautiously.  “Near Bahlaer.”
    “ Far away.  Who are you, then?”
    “ Cob.  This’s Arik.  We’re lookin’ for help.”
    “ And how did you find us?”
    “ Uh…  I had a vision.”
    The woman’s left eyebrow cocked, and she lowered the crossbow slightly.  “A vision.”
    “Yeah.  I’m shelterin’ a spirit.  It shows me stuff sometimes.”
    Whispers rippled through the crowd at the word ‘spirit’, and the stern woman tilted her head, then lowered the crossbow.  The others followed her lead.  “Well, you haven’t tripped the wards,” she said.  “Do you seek guidance or aid?”
    “Both?”
    “ Come along, then.  We’ll talk to the Mother Matriarch.”
    With that, the woman turned and strode toward the corridor that led from the room.  Cob blinked after her, surprised by the brusque reception, and as the younger guards retook their posts to either side of the arch, he traded a glance with