Lightnings Daughter by Mary Herbert (read me a book txt) 📕

packhorse's lead rope. "Thank you, rider. Please take our greetings to Lord Caurus."

The man nodded civil y and left the way he had come.

Gabria, Piers, and Sayyed unpacked the horse, and after hobbling him with the rest of the string, examined what Lord Caurus had sent.

"For a man who claimed to have had a bad year, he certainly was generous,” Gabria said, holding up a nutcake.

Sayyed looked over the parcels and bundles. "He sent everything Lord Athlone asked for."

"And then some," Piers remarked. "Oh, look at this." He held up a careful y wrapped cask of Reidhar's famous honey wine. "I could almost forgive him his rudeness."

"Do you suppose the man is feeling a little guilty?" the Turic asked in heavy sarcasm.

"Guilty as a horse thief,” Gabria replied with satisfaction.

She and Piers repacked the extra gear while Sayyed fed the horses. Next they laid out the delicacies and set about preparing the evening meal. Shortly before sunset, the two warriors returned with several rabbits and a small deer. The plain, meager meal Gabria had expected was transformed into a feast.

The smell of roasting meat awakened Bregan and Athlone and lured both warriors to the fire. The chieftain sat down and leaned back against a fallen tree trunk while Gabria poured a cup of wine for him.

"You're a sight,” she said, studying his battered face. She wanted to say more, to tel him how relieved she was that he was alive, but the words stuck in her throat. She had made her vow to avoid further difficulties with Athlone and Sayyed until later, and she was going to stick by her decision. She handed him the wine cup and watched as he drained it, then she filled it again.

Athlone tried to grin, but the pain of his swollen face made him wince. He said nothing, for talking stil bothered his throat, and watched Gabria return to the fire. The wine warmed his stomach, and the evening breeze was pleasant on his face. An unexpected contentment stole over him. For the first time in many days, he did not worry or grow angry or morose. He was too happy to be alive and in the company of these companions. Even Sayyed.

The young Turk was sitting nearby, keeping an eye on the roasting meat and repairing some tears in the sleeve of one of his robes. Athlone noticed that even though Sayyed poured his attention on Gabria, she was keeping her distance from both of them. She had hardly spoken to either man in two days.

Perhaps there was some hope, Athlone thought to himself, that Gabria's relationship with Sayyed was not what he imagined. Perhaps he had jumped to conclusions too soon. Already he regretted his precipitous ending of their betrothal the night before last. He had not planned that, and he had not given Gabria a chance to talk. Now she might never tel him how she felt out of injured pride and hurt.

Athlone sighed. He had made a serious mistake by getting so angry; he had set their relationship back almost to the beginning. If he ever wanted to let her go, now was the time to do so. However, Athlone knew he could not give her up so easily. Even if she loved the Turk, the chieftain wanted to try to win her back. He slowly drank his wine and watched Gabria as she helped prepare the meal.

When the food was cooked, the travelers gathered around the fire to enjoy a hot meal and the gifts sent by Lord Caurus. They ate so much stewed rabbit, roast venison, cheese, fresh bread, winter squash, and nutcakes that no one bothered to move after the meal was over. Everyone lounged by the fire, redolent with food and wine. Athlone was stil weak from loss of blood, but the bone-deep exhaustion was gone, and he propped himself by the tree trunk and relaxed in the tranquil evening.

Keth brought out a wood whistle he had made and piped tunes to the rhythm of the dancing flames. Sayyed uncovered his gaming stones to take his chances with Bregan. Gabria stayed by Piers, watching and listening to the men around her.

Sayyed, sitting across the fire from Gabria, played the stones and smiled at her with barely concealed hope and yearning. He was not the least upset by her sudden withdrawal from their increasing intimacy. She had not shut him out completely, and the caring that still lurked in her smile and her eyes fed his hope. He would simply bide his time.

A pale moon hung over the camp, and the night was cool with a mild breeze. An owl hooted nearby. Athlone was about to return to his blankets when all at once, Gabria sprang to her feet.

"Athlone, someone is near the camp!"

The chief sat up, and the men jumped to their feet, their hands reaching for their weapons. Beyond the firelight, Nara neighed in the darkness. Her call sounded to Gabria more like a greeting than a warning.

They peered into the darkness around them, until Bregan pointed to an indistinct, pale form on the edge of a grove of trees near the camp.

"Come forward,” the old warrior shouted.

A cloaked figure shuffled hesitantly into the farthest reaches of the firelight.

"Are you the Khulinin party?" a muffled voice called.

Athlone struggled to his feet. "Who wants to know?" he answered.

"I am looking for the Corin girl. The one they call sorceress,” came the reply.

Before Athlone could stop her, Gabria stepped forward. "I am here." She sensed no danger from this person, but she was glad when the three Hunnuli appeared out of the night and gathered around her.

The shrouded figure gasped and stepped back at the sight of the huge, black horses.

"I am Gabria of Clan Corin," the sorceress said gently. "Don't be frightened. What is it you want?"

The stranger seemed to take courage from Gabria's calm voice and edged into the firelight. "I saw you at