The Warrior's Bond (Einarinn 4) Read Online Free PDF

and that weighed heavy in the scales against Planir’s deviousness and Casuel’s mean spirit.
    “I’d better see how Urlan is.” Casuel was looking abstracted. “Then I’d better review my notes, to get questions for D’Alsennin clear in my mind.” And to remind himself of those few fragments of possible knowledge he’d pieced together from scraps of unheeded parchment and books faded with age. He’d want something of his own to mention casually to Planir, to counter anything Livak might find in the Forest or the Mountains. She’d certainly crow loud and long over him if she returned successful, so I could hardly blame Casuel for that. I stifled my recurrent longing for her exuberant company by reminding myself I’d agreed to her trip, so I should hardly be complaining about her absence. And her quest was only one half of the two-handed plan we hoped would secure us a future together, and Casuel wouldn’t be the only one feeling the lash of her tongue if Livak returned to find I’d failed to play my part. Smiling at that thought, I recovered my damp cloak from its hook. “I’ll go and see how they are getting on at the dock.”
    Casuel was already deep in his books; so much for his concern for his fellow mage. I left him to it and went back down the hill to the harbour. Seeing Glannar’s men at their ease in front of the barred warehouse door, I looked for Temar. He was standing amid burly dockers, counting out coin into the gang-leader’s calloused palm.
    “A fair rate for the day,” I observed, calculating the Tormalin Crowns bright in the man’s filthy hand. The docker grunted noncommittally.
    “But with the weather hardly fair, I think something over for the cold and the wet.” Temar dropped a couple of silver Marks on to the gold and a grudging smile lifted the docker’s lip to reveal stained brown teeth.
    “Pleasure to do business with you, Esquire,” he nodded before stowing the coin securely in a money belt and whistling up his crew with a gesture towards a nearby tavern.
    “You don’t want to get a reputation as an easy touch,” I warned Temar.
    He shrugged, unconcerned. “If the ships of Kel Ar’Ayen are known to pay well, we will never lack for labour to get them unloaded.” He nodded towards the ship that had brought Velindre. “So who is this wizard that I owe my life? How does she arrive in so timely a fashion?”
    “Her name’s Velindre, but that’s all I know of her,” I admitted reluctantly. “She says she’s interested in the winds and currents of Kellarin’s coast, but Planir thinks she may have ambitions to make a name for herself in Hadrumal.”
    “If she hopes for a salvage due, she had best get in line behind those others looking to make a claim on the colony,” said Temar lightly.
    I looked at him, assessing the hint of seriousness in his words. With an easy assumption of D’Olbriot authority over Kellarin running through the idle gossip of sworn and chosen over the last season, I’d been the only one suggesting the game might play out differently.
    “Temar!” A thin woman came striding over the cobbles towards us, hood falling back from brown hair liberally streaked with grey and concern deepening the lines of age in her face. Though the rain had all but ceased, she was wiping her face in unthinking, repetitive gestures, speaking rapidly to Temar. Her speech was too thick with the intonation of Old Toremal for me, but I recognised her as the Demoiselle Tor Arrial, one of Kellarin’s few other surviving nobility. Temar nodded and looked at me. “Avila wishes to know where we are to lodge. Most of the crew and other passengers are claiming rooms in these inns.”
    “We have everything you need made ready at the Shrine of Ostrin.” I spoke slowly in my most formal accent. Avila Tor Arrial looked at me sharply, one chapped hand clutching a cloak pin set with rubies and pale rose diamonds at her throat. After a pause she nodded and her gesture needed no