Read Online The Wild Road by Jennifer Roberson - Free Book Online Page A

bindings had failed. Her children had seen it before; it meant nothing to them. But Audrun was embarrassed to think of the primaries seeing milk stains. Heat rose in her face. She had defied them in soiled clothing and tangled hair. That, she could do again. But that the obvious signs of lactation were perhaps amusing to the primaries irritated her.
    Then again, it reinforced her demand that they find the child. It was difficult to put a missing baby out of one’s mind when so obvious a reminder was before them.
    â€œNew bindings,” Audrun muttered. Tighter bindings. For comfort if nothing else.
    Movement caught her eye. Gillan, perched on the table-like formation of stone directly across the path, tugged his homespun trouser leg back down to his ankle, hiding the the ruin of his leg, the area in the flesh of his calf that resembled an imperfectly stitched patchwork of bruising that was, in fact, scales.
    Scales . Human flesh made into—what?
    Audrun recoiled from that picture in her mind. Instead she answered Torvic. “No, we will not stay right here. We are to be given accomodations.” She rose, pulling Megritte up into her arms. The girl was heavy, but at that moment Audrun did not care. “Let us go find whomever is responsible for giving us these accommodations.”
    Torvic asked, “Are we ever going home?”
    She did not know if he meant the cabin where he had been born, burned by Hecari, or the wagon that had become their home on the way to Atalanda. And she dared not ask him. There was no purpose in frightening a boy.
    â€œNot yet.” Audrun retained a casual tone as she hitched Megritte into a better position on one hip. “But we will. I promise it. The Mother of Moons will see us home.”
    And Gillan, shocking her with the raw anger in his tone, said, “This is Alisanos. How do we know the Mother is even here? How do we know any moon is here? Mam— this is Alisanos. ”
    Audrun held Megritte more firmly even as she met her oldest son’s blue eyes, his bitter and wet blue eyes. Because of those tears, she modified her own tone from the snap of authority and impatience to a gentler assurance. “We are to have a road, Gillan. Safe passage. When it is built, when enough of it is built, we will walk out of here to your father.” She nodded firmly, settling the topic. “Now, everyone up. Ellica, come along. Without the sapling, please.”
    Ellica, still seated, glanced up, startled. Pale hair was a rats’ nest, with snarled braids and loosened locks in tangled communion. “But—my tree. I can’t leave it. It’s too young.”
    â€œSweet Mother . . . it’s a tree , Ellica, not a child!”
    Tears filled Ellica’s eyes. “I have to tend it.”
    Audrun gritted her teeth. Now she had two children in tears—and the two eldest at that, who should offer strength of will, not doubts, for the sakes of the youngest. It was up to her, then, how everyone fared. “Then bring the tree with you. We’ll plant it wherever the primaries see fit to house us.”
    AS HE PASSED by the battered old grove on his left, Brodhi sensed a presence behind him and stopped short. Bethid nearly ran into him as he swung around. “What now?” he asked and felt a brief spark of surprise that he was actually annoyed. Annoyed.
    She re-established balance by taking a step backward. Her delicate features, so incongruous in view of her wiry strength and physically demanding employment, were sharp beneath tanned skin. In her eyes he saw an expression that surprised him: contempt. Anger, he had seen in her; frustration more often, when he behaved in ways she felt were rude. But contempt? Never.
    Contempt . . . from a human. For him .
    The realization delayed his answer until he could summon a tone of nonchalance. “I repeat: What now?”
    â€œThat farmsteader has lost everything,” Bethid answered