Free Barrenlands (The Changespell Saga) by Doranna Durgin Page A

had suggested stirring up the dying dinner fire, but other cookfires still blazed away; dots of light traced the slightly curving line of the caravan behind Laine's wagon, and someone near the middle played a cheerful air on a stringed instrument, occasionally accompanied by a chorus of variably pitched but enthusiastic voices.
    Laine had recently taken his blankets and said his good nights. Shette seemed apologetic about it, when in fact Ehren was wishing he could do the same without slighting the girl. But Shette was wound up and talking on.
    "He hasn't been sleeping well," she told Ehren. "All the magic we've been running into has been hard on him, I think. He dreams..." she trailed off, creating a sudden silence that even the faraway singing didn't puncture. One of the tiny scrub owls finally filled her silence with its call.
    But she'd given Ehren something to think about. "He has some sort of Sight."
    "He's the reason Ansgare can run this caravan," Shette said, with a touch of pride Ehren doubted she would show in front of her brother. "He's always been able to see things. But he doesn't have a drop of wizard potential in him— at least, that's what the old village witchy said when he was my age."
    Ehren shifted on his borrowed blankets. Touchy moment here, when asking more could clam her up, just on general principles. Not everyone who was brushed by magic wanted to talk about it. Off to the side, both his horses heard some sinister noise and snorted suspiciously. "All right, boys," he murmured to them, and then asked of Shette, "It took that long to get him to a wizard?"
    Shette's mouth opened, but closed again, and she looked away. Sudden discretion, then. "We only go into the village once a month or so," she said finally, her voice low. "We live in the foothills of these mountains, over by the Therand border. There aren't a lot of people there, and the village isn't close."
    To some extent, this confession explained Shette's unworldly ways. Not many folk chose to live in the hard border mountains when lusher Therand land was so close— only those of scrappily independent bent who were not inclined to pay the clan tithes, nor want the clan protections.
    She dared to glance his way again, and seemed reassured by the bland interest on his face. "It didn't come out strong in him till then," she added, though it sounded lame to his ears. It must have to hers, too, for she suddenly stood, and said, "Ansgare's going to get us up early, I bet. Best go to sleep. I'm going to."
    She left Ehren to his aching wrist and thumping head, and the quiet conclusion that Laine, at least, had a story to tell.
    ~~~~~
     
    It was Shette's curse to be a light sleeper, and to be lying out under the stars with her brother. When her eyes flew open, she knew she'd heard something; it was only when Laine grunted that she realized what it had been.
    Dreams again.
    With a sigh, Shette sat up, letting her blanket fall to her waist. In this dead calm night, there was no breeze against her face to stir the warm humidity, nothing to cover Laine's noise.
    Dreams were what she called them to annoy him, to be little-sister smart. They both knew that whatever he saw in the night, it was more than simple wanderings of his mind— no matter what that old village witchy had said. Their parents had realized it early on, when Laine casually referred to things in their own past that he'd had no way of knowing. And since they'd seemed upset, Laine had become careful not to let that dream knowledge slip any more. But they all knew it was there— just as Shette knew, without being told, that those moments from the past were not for the ears of others. Not even handsome, self-assured, startlingly competent others so unexpectedly joining the caravan.
    Laine had quieted. Good. It was a shame they'd started to come back, these visions of his. As he'd grown, they more or less faded, but starting with the previous spring, two years after he'd left home to guide the