Free Sword's Call by C. A. Szarek Page B

Though it was always for sustenance, he couldn’t bear it. He always bought meat from the nearby village market.
    “This is delicious.” Jorrin spooned the biggest mouthful he could manage.
    The thick venison stew reminded him of home, and his mother’s cooking. If he closed his eyes, there was no doubt he would relive a memory of his mother in the kitchen of his childhood home, stirring a large kettle as it simmered over the fire of the largest hearth. His heart gave a painful twinge.
    He missed his mother.
    “It is. Hadrian, thank you. Avery, you really do need to eat. You rode hard from Tarvis, and the dried meat I had wasn’t enough,” Cera said over her own bowl.
    “I’m busy.” He still pored over the old book. Avery didn’t even spare her a glance. “I have to find it. I have to find the right one.”
    “Geesh, no wonder you’re so skinny,” Hadrian exclaimed, shaking his head. “Don’t be foolish, lad.”
    Cera’s cousin still did not look up from the book.
    “The dedication is appreciated, but you need to eat, or you won’t be able to do a damn thing with whatever you see in there,” Jorrin said.
    “Come on, cousin,” Cera encouraged. “It’s getting cold.”
    Avery looked up and relented when he saw the inviting bowl of food. “All right, but I’m going to make it quick. I may be getting somewhere. Maybe.”
    “Oh yeah?” Jorrin asked.
    Nodding between mouthfuls, Avery shoveled food into his mouth.
    Jorrin quirked a half-smile.
    Was he even pausing to chew?
    The younger man would choke at his current pace.
    “Slow down and taste your food,” Cera admonished. Had she read his mind? “You’re going to choke to death, then where will we be?” She quirked an auburn eyebrow.
    Jorrin looked from one to the other, waiting for Cera to smile.
    She’s serious.
    Avery made a face at her, but his next spoonful wasn’t at the same top speed.
    “You said you almost have it?” Jorrin prodded.
    The younger man turned the page in the dusty tome and pointed. He did not, however, put down his bowl or stop eating.
    Jorrin was glad the stew had most of Avery’s attention. He didn’t want the redhead to forego his own needs.
    His father would arrive in good time; he had confidence in Avery and Hadrian. Exactly what role he’d play at this point, Jorrin hadn’t a clue, but he’d assist in any way he could.
    He just wished he could assure Cera everything would be all right, and they’d make it to Tarvis in time.
    They’d stop Varthan, especially with his father’s help.
    “There are a few possibilities here, and one here.” Avery pointed to both pages of the open book.
    Jorrin sighed. He couldn’t see the spells from his seat, and Avery’s gestures were slight, as if he was standing over his shoulder.
    “There’s nothing much to see, anyway, at this point.”
    Jorrin’s expression must have betrayed his thought. He grimaced. “Sorry.”
    “I need to find the right combination, and that’s the problem. The options are not so bad, individually, but I can’t seem to find one that has all I need the spell to be able to do,” Cera’s cousin continued, as if he’d not spoken.
    “Combining spells can be done. We just have to get the tempo right,” Hadrian said, snapping his fingers and waving his wand. His empty bowl promptly disappeared, as did his fork.
    Cera paused her meal, pretty gray eyes wide.
    The old wizard shrugged. “What? It’s the easiest way to do the dishes.”
    Jorrin laughed.
    Avery didn’t even look up. The spell book had sucked him back in again.
    Had he even seen Hadrian’s cleaning?
    “But where does it go?” Cera leaned forward in her chair.
    “In the cupboard, of course, where dishes belong.” The elf inclined his head, blue eyes twinkling.
    Brow knitted, she cocked her head to one side. “But . . . is it . . . clean?”
    Jorrin chuckled again, and she glanced at him absently. He didn’t need his empathic magic to feel her disbelief and wonder. Her