Free The Prodigal Troll by Charles Coleman Finlay Page A

night," Xaragitte said softly. "No, the night before last. They blur so.... I felt it because my bond to her was severed."
    The wizard paused. "My regrets at her passing."
    "This is the babe's nursemaid," explained Yvon. His hands and feet felt numb, like he was outside in the snow. "She was bonded to Lady Gruethrist."
    Banya lifted his chin at the baby. "That'd be the heir?"
    "He was. Now he's not much more than any other poor orphaned boy. If he was a girl instead ..." Yvon reached for his missing braid. The enormity of the situation stunned him. The child's mother and father were dead, and Baron Culufre occupied both castle and valley. "Will Eleuate help us?"
    "With the lady of the valley dead, and her lord as well?" Banya asked, shaking his head. "No, Eleuate won't hold her daughter Portia to the betrothal. And her husband is the Baron's man now. I say that confidently, as one who served him as a knight once and knows his heart."
    Yvon made the warding sign, three fingers touching forehead, mouth, and heart. He hadn't done it in years. "Maybe we are cursed."
    "It's war," Banya said. "Hard things happen in war."
    Xaragitte kissed the baby's head, though he made a face and twisted his head away. "What path should we follow, wizard?"
    Banya glanced at Xaragitte, ducked into the small house, and returned with a small bag. He untied the drawstrings.
    Yvon said, "Don't-"
    "Please do," Xaragitte interrupted.
    Banya whispered into the open mouth of the bag, then shook it with his ear to the opening. The clicking sound made Yvon's skin crawl. Banya shook it again, and held the open mouth to Xaragitte. "Ask your question."
    She leaned forward and whispered something into the sack. Yvon strained to hear her but could only make out the sound of the baby's name. Something about Claye.
    Banya knelt, shaking the bag vigorously, then upending it and spilling the bones. Yvon stood back and stared. The divination sets he'd seen in the Imperial City were more elegant and complex. These were finger bones from a troll's hand, twice as large as a man's, with crude pictures scratched into their sides. Banya peered at them from different angles.
    "Mah!" shouted Claye.
    Banya frowned. "The voices of the spirits are in a tumult. It's hard for me to find guidance in their chatter. The war bone falls outside the circle when I expected it in the middle. The lesser journey bone obscures the greater journey, here at the top. Both are crossed by the unmarked bone." He poked at the mound of bones. "What did you ask them, ma'am?"
    She kissed the baby's head. "What path should we follow."
    "Whatever path you choose, it leads away from war and into darkness. This I see for all three of you, though you may not travel there together. Darkness can mean death, but it can also mean sleeping and waking, or change. Those who pass through darkness rather than into it emerge again into the light."
    Claye leaned in Xaragitte's arms, trying to grab the bones. "But which path, for his safety?" Xaragitte whispered.
    Banya shrugged. Then he pointed toward the mountain range across the river. "If you head into the mountains, you might find a place to hide. It's not good land, but you won't want for shelter-there are abandoned farms up there, left behind by our women when they fled the peasant rebellion."
    "Is it safe?" Xaragitte asked.
    "Are you safe now?" the wizard snapped back. "Does any creature with two legs or four roam safe upon the earth?"
    From down the valley echoed a faint sound, as of mammuts or horns. Claye twisted around in Xaragitte's arm to peer at the noise. "Mahmah," he said. "Mahmah!"
    "Will you take us across the river?" Yvon asked Banya. He couldn't think of any other choices.
    "Yes. Best do it now, before the daylight comes full. I like it better when I see the demons that I sing to."
    Yvon shuddered and touched his sword. There were three things he hated and feared. Mammuts were one and the river demons were another. "Can I lend a hand?"
    "Over