The Winterstone Plague (The Carrion Cycle) Read Online Free PDF

please fetch the bread? It has been baking in the oven long enough.”
    “Of course,” Tomas said, disappearing through the door leading into the kitchen.
    Valthian waited for his mother and father to sit, and then took his own seat. It was difficult to resist taking up his spoon and plunging it into the thick brown stew. Its pleasing aroma practically begged him to eat, but first the blessing had to be given.
    Tomas quickly returned carrying a large plate with a loaf of fresh, soft bread resting upon it. He placed it at the center of the table and sat in his own chair.
    “Will you be the one to say a blessing this evening?” Merriam asked.
    Philip shook his head. “I have heard enough of gods for one day. If prayers are to be said, Valthian can handle the duties.”
    “Philip! Is it not a bad idea to commit blasphemy at the dinner table? It is our duty as the ruling house to pray once to each of the gods worshipped in Solstice.”
    “Since when have you cared about that?” Philip asked.
    Merriam shrugged. “I have felt strange these last few days; that is all. It is difficult to describe, but I have taken to prayer. It puts me at ease.”
    “There is nothing wrong with that, I suppose. Valthian, would you be kind and do your mother the honor of a blessing?”
    “Always,” Valthian said. “Shall we bow our heads?”
    “If it pleases the gods, I suppose.”
    Valthian shot his father a glance and waited for all eyes to close before starting the prayer.
    * * *
    A heavy snow had just begun to fall, forcing Alain Lespane to shield his face with an old scarf he kept rolled up in the inside pocket of this thick woolen overcoat. The temperature had fallen dramatically in the last several hours, and the rain that almost everyone was expecting to come had become fat, white and frozen. He tried not to shiver as he made his way down the twisted path to the manor house that was his destination. He bore news that simply could not wait until morning to impart upon Philip De’Fathi; it was the only reason he dared make the two-mile journey in such extreme conditions. He caught himself half hoping that there would be a warm fire waiting when he arrived, but Alain knew that there wouldn’t be time to partake in such pleasures. Elyna was home alone, and he was not about to leave his only daughter to fend for herself while he warmed his weary, cold bones. The rumors being passed around the village were alarming enough that he almost refused to leave the house altogether; what if what was being said about dead men proved to be true and Elyna was harmed because there was no one there to protect her?
    “Stop scaring yourself, old man.”
    He wasn’t accustomed to talking to himself, but at least it helped. Alain did his best to force the dark thoughts from his mind for the time being. Stopping in front of the wrought iron gates of De’Fathi Manor, he took a deep breath and mouthed a silent blessing. With any luck, Philip would lend him a horse to help him make the trip back home. Being a blacksmith, Alain only owned a pair of pack mules, both of which were far to old to support the weight of a man. These days, business was limited to a few swords and shields when a village watchman was careless and required a replacement. Sometimes, on a good day, he would receive a commission for spurs or wagon parts.
    Alain threw open the gate and made his way up the steps leading to the house, walking slowly to avoid slipping on the ice that was already covering the ground in thin, clear sheets. He took a deep breath and approached the door, praying that the man of the house was home.
    * * *
    “F ather,” Valthian said after swallowing a heaping spoonful of stew. “What of the supposed priest? Did you see what I meant when I said he wasn’t trustworthy? There is something about him that chills me to the bone.”
    “I would agree that he is quite different from the kind of folks in which we are accustomed,” Philip replied. “But he has