Free The Swans' War 1 - The One Kingdom by Sean Russell

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    "THE RIVERBOAT is A SIMPLE CRAFT," BAORE EXPLAINED, "FLAT bottomed and without bent frames. If you'll both lend a hand we'll be afloat again in less than a fortnight. You'll see.""Afloat and carrying a perfect fool down the river," Fynnol said, then raised a finger.” But a fool with silver, thankfully.""He didn't seem terribly foolish to me," Tarn said.
    "Well, what else would you call a man who sits and listens for the stories of a place to come to him? I had a great-aunt who heard voices, and we didn't glorify her with the term 'story finder.' She was mad, and no one was confused about it."Fynnol had been as good as his word, taking Baore aside that morning and convincing him that Cynddl's offer was too good to be passed up. Tarn was always amazed at Fynnol's powers of persuasion. His cousin would have his adventure and his gray mare. There would be no denying him.
    They came to the Stone Gate—a natural wall through which a tunnel had been carved, closed at either end with iron-clad gates of heavy oak. To one side, a stone bluff rose, too steep to climb; to the other a cliff dropped away to the racing water below.
    Despite the intimidating entrance to the Vale, the gates were closed only at night. They were tended by the Dilts family, who had long held this post; and though many thought they were less than diligent, in these comparatively peaceful times no harm had come of it.
    They woke old Dilts, who was asleep beneath a tree, and told him their strange tale of brigands and murder, which did not seem to create the expected effect. It was soon clear he didn't believe a word of what was said.” I thought you'd lose your boat in the first gorge," he said, and went back to his dreaming. The three carried on, shaking their heads and hoping they could convince some other who held sway over Dilts, for there were men outside the Vale who viewed murder differently than the people who lived this side of the Stone Gate, that was certain.” 'A man too wise to heed warnings will die a fool,' " Fynnol said.” And a lesson that will be. We should go down to the nook at Dingle Shale. We're sure to catch a boat going north from there." "You two go down if you like," Tam said, "but I want to go by Delgert Gallon's and pay a visit." Fynnol lifted an eyebrow at this.” You think he knows more about our traveler?" "Perhaps. His was the only name Alaan mentioned." "I mark it as odd that he would know only an old busybody like Gallon," Fynnol said.” But then, who, other than ourselves, is worth talking to in the Vale?" Tam shrugged. He caught a ride on a passing wagon, and sat in back with a gaggle of giggling children, leaving Fynnol and Baore to look for a boat at Dingle Shale. Tam watched them disappear down the old road—two cousins, small and great, dark and fair. The wagon came at last to the road to Delgert Gallon's, and Tam took his leave, the children waving good-bye and breaking into song as the wagon lumbered on. Gallon was a tanner who had been driven from his trade by age and an increasingly foul temper. Tam had met him but once, years ago, but the Vale was not so large that people concerned themselves much with formal introductions. Old Gallon was asleep in a chair in his garden—a common practice this afternoon, it seemed—but one of his daughters shook him gently until his eyes opened.
    Despite the careful treatment, he woke in bad humor and glared at Tarn.” And what is it you want?" he said sourly. He was a wiry old man, all bone, with muscles like taut cords tying his frame together. His cheekbones were so prominent and his eyes so deep sunk that he had