Read The Seedbearing Prince: Part I for Free Online

dismay, now filthy with dirt.
    “No balance! They’ll come for miles to see!
Why bother with the journey to Montollos? Dayn Ro'Halan, the
great―peace, what is that smell?”
    “It's the same as―hey, wait. Where are you
going?” Dayn asked in alarm. Joam strode purposefully to the north,
further into Grahm’s fields. Laman had become fast friends with his
offworlder neighbor over the past two seasons. Grahm and Dayn often
learned the land side by side from his father, and Dayn knew
Grahm’s fields just as well as Laman’s. Joam was walking straight
toward Grahm's well.
    Joam called back over his shoulder. “We've
got to find out what that is. It smells like...rot. Elder Buril
said that’s what a gravespinner cave smells like.” Mischievous as
Joam could be, he still took his farm work as seriously as any good
Shardian. “Grahm can barely tell one end of a spade from the other.
Peace, the spinners could spread to your land, too!”
    “Grahm's learned a lot! Leave off him.
Besides...I know it's not gravespinners.” Dayn’s stomach churned.
As much as he did not want Joam ridiculing him, he could not take a
step further.
    “Then what, Dayn? Are you telling me—”
    “Not gravespinners,” called a gruff voice.
The two jumped as Grahm descended from a bound to land right beside
them. “Wreathweaver. You boys lost?”
    Grahm was the first offworlder anyone knew of
to settle in the Mistlands and take a Shardian wife. Rumor said he
had stepped off a transport in Misthaven with nothing but a few
possessions from his native world of Cutremur, and asked to be
pointed to Wia Wells. He wore plain brown field linens and kept his
black hair cut oddly short. It steeped at his temples although he
was quite young. Freckles touched his fair skin as though the sun
played tag with his face, instead of merely shining upon it.
    “Wreathweavers!” Joam blurted. “This far from
the Dreadfall, are you sure?”
    “Yes, lad, I can tell what one looks like,”
Grahm said wryly.
    Dayn’s relief over avoiding the well proved
to be short-lived. Tension shone on Grahm’s face, his green eyes
were bloodshot and held none of their usual warmth. Dayn's heart
jumped as he examined the offworlder further. “Why are you all
wet?” he asked.
    Grahm glanced at him sharply. “I didn't
stumble on the snake itself, peace be praised. But from the size of
the clutch, I would say it was twelve hands long, at least. Pretty
young.” Joam gawked and Dayn felt his own jaw drop, too. “I managed
to burn out all the eggs. The smell was so bad, I took a dunk in
the well to get it off.” Grahm offered a dry laugh. It did not
reach his eyes, which never left Dayn the whole time he spoke. “Not
sure it worked all that great, though.”
    “That’s something. The same as at
Southforte.” Joam rubbed his chin thoughtfully, but with the threat
gone he was already looking back to the road.
    “It’s not like a wreathweaver to leave its
nest,” Dayn said. “What do you think scared it away?”
    “No worry to me, so long as it’s gone.” Grahm
frowned openly at him now.
    “Us, either,” Joam interjected with a warning
look for Dayn. “We should get going. Happy Evensong, Grahm. Are you
headed to the village soon?”
    “After I finish up. My wife already left with
your mother. Is this festival really as important as they say? I
missed it last year.”
    “Well, more if you aren't married,” Dayn
said.
    “Ah, one of those,” Grahm said, noting Joam's
eager grin. “A day for hunters. Happy Evensong, boys.” Grahm
clapped Dayn on the shoulder. The smell emanating from his clothes
made Dayn want to retch. “I better go clean up. Can you tell
Kajalynn that I'll be there soon?”
    “We will,” Joam said, practically dragging
Dayn away. Once they were out of earshot, he gave Dayn a sideways
look. “What was that all about? There’s no deadwisps hiding in his
well. He would have said so.”
    “He’s hiding something,” Dayn said. “Did