Read Lodestone Book One: The Sea of Storms for Free Online Page B

lie still, a
light appeared at the corner of her vision. An oil lamp was casting
a gentle radiance. She looked up and saw a freckled round face
bending over the crate. The face was smiling disarmingly, and even
more bizarrely, was topped off by a jauntily placed cap.
    The lips on the face moved. “Good
evening!”
    I must have
fallen asleep or passed out , Shann
concluded. But her ankle still hurt, so that didn’t seem
right.
    All of a sudden, the nose on the
face sniffed and its expression screwed up. “Pooooohhhh, what have
you gotten yourself into?”
    A hand reached down and Shann
grasped it without thinking, allowing it to pull her up. The hand
and the face belonged to a short man, not much taller than she. He
had wavy brown hair, and what seemed like a permanently amused
expression. He appeared neat and well dressed, which made Shann
wonder if he were a clothier.
    The man spoke to her as if he
were speaking to a lifelong friend, rather than to a stranger whom
he had only just dragged out of a smelly crate. “I have a question
to ask you, and I must apologise if it seems strange. Has anyone
given you anything tonight?”
    Shann had no idea what this odd
little man was talking about, but then she suddenly remembered the
disc she had been given. She reached into her pocket and grasped
it. It pulled slightly against her in that odd fashion she had
noticed before. She opened her hand and held it out in her upturned
palm.
    The man smiled again. “Do you
mind if I borrow this? I promise to return it.”
    Without waiting for a reply, he
grasped the disc and secreted it about his person. His gaze turned
back to her and became one of concern. “You look exhausted. Come,
there is a meal and a bed awaiting you.”
    He started off down the street
but she merely stood stupefied, watching the capped figure. He
stopped, turned to her, and extended a beckoning hand in her
direction. “Don’t worry. You are among friends now!”
    ~
    Shann was seated on a stool in
the kitchen. The generously proportioned range was giving off a
glowing heat which threatened to lull her to sleep. The man with
the cap called out. “Hedda?”
    Moments later, a middle aged
woman entered, clad in brown work robes and white apron. Her
freckled olive face was as round as the man’s, but unlike him, she
seemed to bear a permanent frown. She looked at the man, then at
Shann, then back at the man again.
    “Is this her?” she
enquired.
    By way of reply, the man reached
into his pocket and held the disc out for the older woman to see.
She nodded once and turned her attention to the girl.
    “Right then, I’m sure you are
hungry. I’ll get you a bowl.” She went to the range and began to
bustle with pots.
    The man stood nearby, watching
them both. Despite the fact that they were inside and in a warm
kitchen, he still wore that absurd cap perched precariously on his
head. Shann wondered idly if he wore it to bed. Her body seemed to
be reviving slowly. Her throat was dry, but she found her voice and
rasped, “I’m sorry, who are you?”
    It was the older woman who
answered. “By the grace of the Three, boy, did you not even tell
this poor girl who you were before dragging her in here? I’m sorry,
child; this is my unworthy son, Alondo. Alas, I have made my hairs
grey trying to instil a measure of civil behaviour in him, but he
remains as stubbornly boorish as ever.”
    Alondo made a deeply wounded
expression, and then smiled sheepishly. “Yes mama.” Shann quickly
realised that this was a regular banter between two people who used
deprecation as a way of expressing their love for one another. She
could feel herself starting to relax a little.
    Hedda placed a steaming bowl in
front of Shann, and then turned to Alondo. “What are you doing
standing there idle? Go make up a bed for our guest.”
    Alondo gave a mockingly
exaggerated bow and left through the door. Shann lifted the bowl to
her lips. The stew tasted wonderful and began to warm her