The Dragonskin Chronicles: Book Two, Skinchanger

Chapter 1 The Meeting

Sitting on a fallen chunk of an old wall facing the rough road leading west, Darah was lost in thought when she realized she was hearing someone singing. It was a man with a clear tenor voice, too far away still to make out the words. The voice was pleasant, perhaps a little rough around the edges, but nice enough. Slowly the clop-clop of hooves on the road became audible, giving an offbeat counterpoint to the song. The sun was still high in the sky behind a haze of cloud that persisted after the storm that had blown through the night before. Looking west, Darah could see some tree-covered hills with wisps of fog sliding over them like ghosts. Shivering, she stood up and stretched, trying to work out the tension and aches of traveling. Turning around, she looked at the two horses they had picked up in Willows; the gray nags were still grazing on the emerald green grass surrounding the City of Stones.

As the singing voice grew nearer, Darah's nerves grew worse. Taking several deep breaths, she squared her shoulders and schooled her face to betray nothing of her tension. She shoved her hands through her black hair, combing it with her fingers and beginning to plait it. Asher would be here soon, she must be strong and not afraid. After all, Martin trusted Asher with his life, and possibly hers.

Martin and Aurumai had noticed the voice by now, and ceased their quiet conversation. Standing up from the ground where they had been seated in one smooth movement, Martin then offered his hand to Aurumai and hauled her to her feet. The skinchanger shrugged her thin shoulders under her strange wolf skin cloak then shook her head slowly. Darah wondered what they had been talking about, but she knew that if she needed to know they would tell her. Eventually.

Darah turned her head, seeing how the road curved around a hill and wondering how long it would be before Asher appeared on the road. She was curious if it was Asher singing as well. A hardened man with a reputation as a cold killer when he had to be shouldn't sound so carefree, she thought. I wonder who he really is.

Martin walked over to the horses and rummaged in one of the saddlebags until he found his leather bottle, still half-full of the harsh throat burning spirits he had shared with Darah on the journey south. Hanging it from his belt by the loop of leather thong tied about its neck, he strode back to Darah's side, the liquid inside the bottle sloshing slightly as he walked. The woolen doublet he wore was stained with travel and sweat. Once it had been light gray, but now use had turned it dirty brown. His breeches were similarly stained and dirty, and Darah realized she didn't present a much cleaner picture. Her skirts were tattered at the hems, grass stained where she had fallen to her knees earlier in the courtyard, and she knew her hair was filthy. Brushing at the stains on her knees, her eyes were still down turned when suddenly the singing stopped and she heard the voice say, "As I live and breathe, if it isn't Martin! Where have you been keeping yourself all these years, old man?" Darah jerked her head up sharply and stared at the road.

Sliding off the brown horse's back, Asher stepped carefully around a leftover puddle on the road and reached out his hand toward Martin. The men clasped forearms in the traditional greeting of men who have decided they won't be enemies, then both laughed and hugged each other for a moment. With a final smack on the shoulder, they stepped back and each stared the other up and down. "You certainly look better than you did the last time I saw you, Asher. I see life is treating you well," Martin said, still smiling.

"Aye and you look almost exactly the same as the last time I saw you. Is that the same cloak?" Asher replied as he turned to unsaddle his horse.

"No, but it looks as though it could be, aye. So, you're an innkeeper these days. No more danger, no midnight rides, no sword and shield?"

"Ah, yes and no." Asher pulled back his cloak to show the hilt of the short sword he carried, an unadorned practical weapon. "I still keep my wits about me, old friend. I just run in different circles now. The buying and selling of secrets is by no means a safe business, but everyone knows I can protect myself if need be. The inn is just a cover, and helps keep me out of sight."

Martin nodded, his eyes narrowed and evaluating as Asher turned from hobbling his horse and mule. Untying his cloak strings, Asher slipped it from his shoulders and wadded it up in a pile, tossing it carelessly on top of his supplies, which he had laid on the ground in a dry spot. His clothing was not as stained as Martin's, though worn and not perfect. Darah did notice that his sword belt was the best cared for thing he carried, and somehow she knew that even though his sword and dagger were very plain, they would be sharp enough to pierce boiled leather armor. Staring at Asher's face, she could see a hardness hidden by his apparent jocularity. He is one to watch, I think. He hides who he is well, but he can't hide from me.

Martin turned and reached out for her. Darah stepped close, and Martin put his hand on her shoulder and introduced her to Asher. "This is Darah, daughter of the Headminer Marcus of House Mortan. She has something I think you'll find very... interesting." Darah sketched a curtsy, feeling clumsy in her dirty clothes. Staring at the ground, her cheeks burned and she felt a prickling sensation behind her eyes. She could feel Asher's eyes on her, appraising everything that she was. Suddenly he grasped her chin, forcing her head up so he could look in her eyes, and she steeled herself for the derision she expected. She was surprised to find sympathy in his gaze, so startling she blinked hard. His hands smelled like leather, horses, and sweat.

"I was so grieved to hear of your loss, child. I know how hard it is to lose your family when you're young." Asher blinked, his blue eyes serious. Darah nodded, her voice lost until she cleared her throat. She had seen a sadness in him, alongside the anger and coldness she had seen at first. He is more complex than I thought, but at least he has some empathy. Maybe Martin was right.

"Thank you. It was so unexpected. I... still sometimes think I must be dreaming. But I know that I'm not. My whole life has changed in the past ten days. Martin thought you might be able to help protect me. Though I'm not sure that I need protecting anymore. I think the men who destroyed my life and took my family from me may need more protecting than I do now." Darah clenched her jaw and looked Asher in the eye. As their gaze held, Martin looked from one to the other, seeing the understanding pass between them that this was more than a business deal. Darah has grown so much in the last few days, he thought.

"Aye. I can see they may need protecting from you, girl. Is that what you want from me, help in your quest for vengeance? A place to hide? Help in finding the people who did this?" Asher rubbed his nose, the badly healed break an obvious bump as he wiped at an itchy spot.

"Whatever you can give will be rewarded, for I have something no other person has," Darah said, with a look on her face neither Asher nor Martin could read. Her blue eyes were as hard as sapphires, her jaw tight. Slowly her lips curved into a strange smile that never touched her eyes, and she spun about and strode over to her pack, which waited on the ground by the fallen wall.

"Oh, and what could you possibly have that I need?" Asher asked derisively. "Even if your father was Headminer, I have all the gold and jewels I could ever want." His eyes followed her as she stepped toward him, the sun choosing that moment to break through the clouds and bathe her in golden light. He stared at the bag she carried, much worn and lumpy, its rough weave and travel stains making it appear completely innocuous. Martin turned towards Darah then and placed his hand on her shoulder. Looking into her face, he could see the determination he had always known she would have just beneath the surface. Shaking his head slightly, he studied her visage.

Eyes flashing in the sun, Darah gazed at Martin. His jaw was hard, the stubble on his chin and cheeks making him look older than he truly was. His brown eyes were soft, but as he shook his head, she understood that now was not the time. Shouldering the bag, she turned again to Asher, tugging at the neckline of her dress where the strap of the bag rested. "I may not have anything that you need, but I do have something you want. You just don't know it yet. We will get there in a spell. Have you eaten today? Shall we make camp here, or head for Valansar?"

"I have eaten, yes, but I have been on that damnable horse for two days. I brought some supplies; I would suggest we find a place we can build a fire and camp for tonight. We can discuss our terms and then decide where we go on the morrow." Asher looked at Martin inquisitively and waited for a nod. Martin sighed and agreed, then spun his head around, listening intently. Looking up, he saw Aurumai up in the air high overhead, and heard her screech again.

"We should find some cover. This is a very open place, and I think it would be best if we do not have a fire.