The Wasteland Soldier, Book 3, Drums Of War (TWS) Read Online Free PDF Page A

Do it to stay out of trouble.”
    “I’m staying out of trouble. I’m busy working.”
    “You know what I mean.”
    “I’m not going.”
    “But what about the law?”
    “Servants are excused.”
    Jeremy fidgeted. Quinn could see the worry in his youthful face. He was growing up fast, too fast, standing there wearing his smartest woollen trousers and cleanest tunic, his hands scrubbed clean, his hair neatly combed. He was becoming a very handsome young man. He was already taller than her and his shoulders were broad. Clarissa would have loved him. She would have been his wife. She would have bore him beautiful children. Guilt gnawed at her. She should have been here. She should have been here for both of them. She should have been here for all of them.
    “You don’t need to worry about me,” she said. She folded her arms as more villagers went by, some openly glaring at her. “I pay my taxes. That’s all they want. You’ll learn, Jeremy, that only laws involving coin are ever enforced. No one cares if I’m inside or not. It doesn’t matter. You need to stop worrying. Get your mind on figuring out what you want to do with yourself when you finish school.”
    Jeremy leaned across the gate.
    “I already know what I want to do. I want to learn the way of the road. Working with you and Mr …”
    “No, no, no,” she said, shaking her head. “That life is not for you. You have brains. Use them.”
    He looked crushed.
    “The Archbishop is coming to Brix,” he said, suddenly. “Is he coming because of you?”
    “You know he usually travels this time of year,” she answered. “It’s the Summer Blessings. He’s not coming here because of me.” She nodded toward Jeremy’s father, Pretan. “He’s getting impatient. You should go. Everyone will be inside soon. He won’t want to be the last one.”
    Jeremy’s father was tall, narrow and white haired, shoulders hunched against the light rain, looking older than his forty odd years. His wife had died giving birth to the twins and the loss had aged him considerably, tempering all but the man’s anger. He was fiddling with his clothing, growing more frustrated, as the entire population of the village trotted along the dirt path toward the imposing stone building. But Jeremy wasn’t finished talking with Quinn. Damn his father. She was more important. He would take his time. In truth, he would take more than his time.
    “He can wait,” he said.
    He had turned twelve which meant Touron law recognised him as a man and he could leave school and was free to march into the world and his miserable father was unable to prevent him. He was sprouting into manhood and had towered upward to draw level with Pretan’s slate grey eyes. No more would he sob beneath his blankets. No more would he soil himself. He glared icily at the nightmare whose seed he had spawned from and all he saw was a pathetic and wrinkled husk.
    Jeremy flicked his eyes toward his twin sisters as they gossiped and kicked at the dirt, content with the delay.
    “Is it because of Daniel?” he asked, turning his attention back to Quinn.
    “You ask too many questions.” She smiled, wryly. “He takes a lot of looking after but it’s not just him.”
    “Then what is it? I’m getting worried they will take you away and punish you.”
    “I claim the status of Daniel’s servant.” She stared at the building. “If they ask that’s what I’ll tell them. Servants are excused from Reverence Morning. You should go, stop worrying about me.”
    “I’ll stop worrying.” Jeremy nodded. “I’ll try.”
    As he turned to leave, she called to him.
    “I’m going to find out.” She twirled the knife. “Trust me, Jeremy. We have to know what happened. I know it upsets you to talk about her but Clarissa was very special.”
    His stomach gurgled at the mention of his best friend’s name. She saw the distress in his eyes.
    “The sickness took her. That’s what happened.”
    “I know the sickness took