Free Star of the Morning by Lynn Kurland Page B

intact as they were going to be for the moment, then he jumped up on top of the wall.
    â€œMiach!”
    Cathar’s voice almost startled him badly enough to make him fall off. He glared over his shoulder at his brother standing below him.
    â€œWhat?”
    Cathar held out Miach’s cloak. “I thought you might get cold.”
    Miach rolled his eyes, but he reached down to take the cloak just the same. He swung it around his shoulders, then looked at his brother. “Satisfied?”
    â€œOnly marginally.”
    Miach snorted out a small laugh, then turned and dove off the wall.
    â€œI hate it when you do this!” Cathar bellowed after him.
    Miach had used the shapechanging spell so often that he hardly had to do more than think about becoming a hawk before the change was wrought in him. He continued his downward swoop, then pulled up before he hit the ground. He beat his wings hard against the air and rose up through the dawn. He saw Cathar standing against the wall, shaking his fist and cursing him. Miach cried out in a hawk’s voice, then continued his upward climb. He had no idea where to start, so he flew east. He hoped he would find his quarry quickly.
    He needed the wielder of the Sword of Angesand.
    He suspected that the safety of the realm might depend upon it.

Four

    Morgan kicked aside the rotting leaves to make certain she’d left nothing behind in the roots of the tree. She stretched, ignoring her muscles that protested the motion. It had been a most uncomfortable night’s sleep, one of many recently, and she blamed Nicholas for it. If she hadn’t passed an entire se’nnight at Lismòr, she wouldn’t have been so soft. As it was, she would probably spend the rest of her life regretting those days of perilous comfort.
    She shouldered her pack, trying not to think about the blade lounging in the bottom of it, no doubt waiting for a most inopportune moment to make its presence known. She’d already decided that the best thing to do would be to pretend it just wasn’t there. Of course, that might not be as easy as it sounded, considering it was the reason for her journey.
    She took a deep, calming breath, put her troubling thoughts behind her, and set out on her day’s walk.
    She walked for several hours, paused briefly for a hasty meal made from things Nicholas’s cook had packed, then continued on her way. She was only a pair of days out of Bere and that spoke well of the quickness of her pace. Unfortunately, it meant that she would be getting on a ship that much sooner, but that was something she didn’t dare dwell on—
    She stopped suddenly, her ear catching something amiss. A single step sounded behind her, then there was silence. Morgan didn’t have to hear more. She cursed herself for thinking so deeply that she hadn’t been paying heed to her surroundings. She started forward again, keeping to the near side of the road where the shadows of the trees gave some cover.
    Twice more she stopped and twice more the footsteps stopped a scant moment later. The third time, the maker of the sounds was not so careful and she heard them distinctly. That was enough for her. With skill born of years of practice under Weger’s less-than-gentle tutelage, she slipped off the road and doubled back until her pursuer was before her.
    The man in front of her carried a sword; she could see the point of his scabbard hanging down below his long, travel-stained cloak. No scholar, that one, nor a pampered lord. Then who was he? And why was he following her? Was he looking for a traveling companion, or did he have a more sinister motive?
    No matter. She had no desire for the former and no fear of the latter. She would merely keep him in her sights until an opportunity to choose a different path presented itself.
    The man hesitated at one point, likely realizing that his quarry was no longer in front of him. He hesitated, then eased into the shadows of