Winterbirth Read Online Free PDF

the room. A huge table, made in one of Anduran's finest woodshops fifty years ago by order of his great-uncle Gahan, ran most of its length. The walls bore three broad tapestries. Time and sunlight had faded them somewhat, but they still showed the delicacy of touch that marked them as the work of Kolkyre craftsmen. They had been commissioned by Sirian the Great himself, the first Lannis Thane, and showed scenes from the battle that forged the Blood. Croesan regarded the images for a little while.
    They were, perhaps, not inappropriate as a backdrop for the conversation he was about to have.
    Hard upon the heels of the servant trying to announce his arrival, the Steward swept in: Behomun Tole dar Haig, emissary of the Thane of Thanes within Croesan's lands. He gave a casual bow and Croesan gestured him towards a chair, simultaneously dismissing the servant with a curt nod. Behomun's sharp, clever features and ill-concealed arrogance never failed to aggravate Croesan. The man had the satisfied air of one who knew things others did not. A sneer lived surreptitiously at the corner of his mouth, eagerly awaiting any opportunity to creep out of hiding and cavort upon his lips. He was, however, the eyes and ears of Gryvan oc Haig, the High Thane, to whom Croesan had pledged allegiance, and as such he had to be treated with a degree of care. He was like an itch Croesan could reach but was not permitted to scratch.
    'I gather young Orisian has left,' said Behomun, his tone solicitous. 'It was remiss of me ... I meant to enquire after his father's health. Have you heard how your brother fares?'
    'I had word from the south yesterday,' Croesan said levelly. 'I am told the battles have not gone well for Igryn; that the Dargannan Blood will soon be subdued.'
    'I have had the same word,' agreed Behomun, unperturbed by Croesan's disregard for his question. 'It seems the rebels will be brought to heel before winter is far advanced, and the Haig Bloods will be united once more.'
    'I am also told,' continued Croesan, 'that the men of Lannis have acquitted themselves with honour in those battles. So much honour, I believe, that barely a handful will return to their homes.'
    'Your Blood has always produced warriors of the greatest courage, sire.'
    Croesan arched an eyebrow and stared at Gryvan oc Haig's envoy. 'Honour and courage will not feed the orphans of Anduran or Glasbridge through the coming winter. They will not guard my lands from the woodwights or from the Gyre Bloods. I have near one in six of all my people dead from the Heart Fever just five years ago, and the best quarter of the fighting strength I had left taken south, on the High Thane's command, to die so bravely.
    'The last time we sent so many men south we had the armies of Horin-Gyre marching on our frontier within weeks. We won then. Who is to say what will happen if the Black Road comes across the Vale of Stones again? You know as well as I, Behomun, that there has been more skirmishing in the Vale these last few weeks than for many a year. And my own son killed a boar with a woodwight arrow in it not a day's ride from this castle. When have the White Owls strayed so far into my lands before?'
    'The woodwights can hardly threaten a Blood as versed in the arts of war as yours. Kyrinin bows and spears are no match for the swords of Lannis-Haig. And as for the Bloods of the Black Road , I am certain that if they were to come against you, your strength would turn them back as it has always done, Thane.'
    'Oh, spare me your flattery, Steward,' said Croesan in exasperation. 'This is not Vaymouth. You can save your velvet tongue for Gryvan's court. I'd hate for you to wear it out for my benefit.'
    Behomun's manner changed. That sneer was close, testing its leash. 'As you wish. Perhaps a different response will find more favour: that your troubles are not to be laid at the door of Gryvan oc Haig. The White Owl Kyrinin hunt your woodcutters and herders because you set your people to