Free Fireblood (Whispers from Mirrowen) by Jeff Wheeler Page B

We will be safe here.”
    Paedrin was skeptical, but he did not let it show. He crouched down by the budding flames and waved his hand over the flicking tongues. “I know we go to Havenrook, but I know very little else. Can you tell me more about our journey?”
    “There is no reason not to tell you. My sister is Romani and desires to buy her freedom. When she turns eighteen, she will be sold again. We seek a man named Erasmus in Havenrook who knows where a treasure is hidden. We must persuade him to help us find it.”
    Paedrin rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “This man—Erasmus—knows of a treasure. If he knows of it, why has he not claimed it for himself?”
    Annon stared down at the fire and then up at Paedrin. “Only a Paracelsus can open the door to where the treasure is hidden. My uncle has given me knowledge that will open it. I expect Erasmus will desire a portion of the treasure as his reward for leading us to it. My aim is to negotiate the terms in our favor.”
    “Ah,” Paedrin said. “You are skilled at negotiations then.”
    Annon shook his head. “I know very little about that craft. But the Druidecht are known for being the peacemakers within the kingdoms. I will merely help Hettie be sure the arrangement is fair.”
    Paedrin opened his food sack and rummaged through it for something to eat. “You have not been to Havenrook then either?”
    Annon shook his head. “No. I was raised in the woods surrounding Wayland. What do you know about it?”
    “I am surprised that your uncle is sending you to negotiate. Havenrook is the home of the Preachán. They are the shrewdest dealers throughout all the kingdoms. Remember the sort that tried to wheedle my staff from me when we were leaving? They wanted the charm around your neck. They always look for a gain with little effort. Personally, I despise them. They are dishonestand cruel. I am not certain they serve some use in this world other than generating copious amount of excrement. They are cunning and ruthless, which again surprises me why your uncle is sending us all into their trading city. I have heard there are no laws in that city. None at all.”
    Annon rubbed his mouth. “I did not know that.”
    Paedrin shrugged and tossed a decayed leaf into the hungry flames. “Your uncle did.”
    Hettie emerged from the woods, holding a dead rabbit by the ears. He flinched inside, seeing the dead thing gripped in her hand. It was a big one.
    “Do you want to help me skin it, Paedrin?” she asked in a mocking tone.
    “I do not eat meat,” he said, his stomach churning with disgust.
    “Feeling squeamish?” she asked, dangling the rabbit over him.
    He could almost feel its fur against his cheek and resisted the urge to swat it away. Though he was a bit unnerved by the dead thing hovering near his face, he would never admit it. “No, I am merely annoyed by your smell. I had hoped that you would bathe before returning. Mint leaves help remove the stink, you know.”
    Her eyes narrowed slowly, but she did not stop her attack. “Isn’t there some sort of prayer you Vaettir say over dead things?”
    “I would be happy to teach you our prayers. Some piety would benefit you.”
    Paedrin saw Annon stifling a chuckle. Wisely, he kept poking the fire with a stick.
    “I did make sure it was dead before I brought it,” she said, lifting the rabbit slightly. “I wrung its neck, of course. I did not want you to have to see that.”
    “It does not shock me at all that you would do that with those hands.”
    She turned toward the fire, but the pelt brushed against his cheek. Again, he nearly jumped away and swatted it, but he knew she was looking for that reaction. He kept himself perfectly still. And he watched, moment to moment, as she gutted the beast, impaled it on a spit, and then cooked it over the fire. She glanced at him several times, looking for a reaction. He smiled at her and ate some day-old rice with his fingers.
    Later that night, as Annon and Hettie