Dragon Rose(37)

“I trust you will.” It seemed as if he paused, staring down at me. Once again I felt that urge to reach out to him, to lay my hand on his arm and move closer, but something seemed to prevent me. And then the moment was gone. He turned away, saying, “It grows late. No doubt you wish to retire for the evening.”

My mouth opened to make some protest, but I quickly shut it. Anything I might have said would have sounded unutterably foolish. I could stay and watch while you work…I could curl up on that divan before the fire…I could stay here through the long, dark night.

There seemed little for me to do but nod, and clutch the book more tightly to myself.

“And can you find your way down to your rooms, or would you like me to show you the path?”

Perhaps if I asked him to guide me, I could spend a little more time in his company…but for what? So I could face another awkward farewell before the doors to my own suite?

“Thank you, Theran, but I marked the path as you brought me here, and I think I know the way. Thank you for dinner, and for the book.”

“You are most welcome,” he replied, although something in his tone sounded almost doubtful, as if he were now wishing he had not given me the option to decline his company.

Since I had well and truly put my foot in it, as Sar might say, I could only nod and force myself to move toward the door, to open it and walk slowly out into the corridor. Even as I did so I halfway hoped he would ignore what I had said and follow after me.

Of course he did not.





Although it was, as Theran had said, quite late, I found myself restless when I returned to my rooms, not ready to retire meekly to my bed. The fire looked as if it had been stirred up recently; no doubt Sar had sent Melynne to check on things before she went to bed. Even though I was the lady of the castle, I did not receive nearly as much fussing-over as I had heard was the custom for high-ranking women. I was expected to undress myself and braid my hair for the night, and return my clothing to the wardrobe.

I did all these things, and washed my face and scrubbed my teeth as well, but instead of climbing into bed, I gathered up my warm woolen dressing gown and returned to the sitting area with the book Theran had given me. The firelight was just bright enough to read by, and sitting close also helped to keep me warm.

The book felt heavy and unfamiliar in my lap. Yes, I could read, but I had never done so for mere pleasure, as a way to pass the time. Well, I had plenty of time to pass now.

Crisp paper crackled under my fingertips as I flipped past the first few leaves, which were blank. Then there was some sort of page acknowledging the printer—in Lystare, as I had suspected—and an illustration I suspected had originally been a woodcut, with its thick emphatic black lines. It depicted a high tower with lightning bolts shooting from the top, no doubt the artist’s idea of what a mage’s fortress must have looked like. Facing the illustration was a title page, which read, “Tales of the Age of Magic. Being a True Account of the Birth of Magic, and of the Manner in Which Mages Came to Power. With Knowledge Never Before Set Down by Men.”

I almost laughed then. Nothing like a brazen declaration of one’s merits to get things started. I supposed the author or authors had to do something to make their book stand out from the rest and convince a browser in a bookshop to part with his hard-earned coin. No mention from whence this information had come, or whether its verity could be established. Best to approach its contents as mere tales for amusement, and not an actual history.

The first section or story was titled “The Coming of the Althuri.” Who or what the Althuri were, I had no idea. Certainly I had never heard of them, although I would be the first to admit I was no scholar. No time for that in a place like Lirinsholme, where commerce was the order of the day. Not that I’d ever heard of a woman being a scholar, although I knew some women were admitted to the Order of the Golden Palm, where they were trained to be doctors. But even a doctor had a practical purpose, whereas a scholar seemed to have little.

Frowning somewhat, I forced myself to focus on the page before me. “For generations the origin of magic has been the subject of debate. Whence came this scourge that laid men low? Was it an ill humor that arose from the ground and infected the minds of those susceptible, so they gained unholy powers? Was it an affliction with them from birth? No, none of these things, but instead a taint passed on by the Althuri, a race of great power who came to this world to spread their evil seed, to give us the means by which we might destroy one another…”

I yawned then, and blinked my watering eyes. If the entire tome was to be this tedious, I thought it would take me a very long while to get through it. Oh, I knew the mage wars had been terrible, cataclysmic events that almost destroyed the world…but that was so very long ago. No need to tell me how evil magic was; I’d heard such things since I was in the cradle. And if I needed any additional proof, then Theran Blackmoor’s pitiable condition was more than enough.

A thought struck me, and I flipped past the foreword, looking to see if my husband’s strange curse was mentioned in the book. It did not appear to be, but I did see a chapter titled “The Tale of Alende the Cursed and the Fair Allaire.”

That sounded a bit more to my liking. After all, Theran was most definitely cursed, and he thought me fair. Perhaps I could glean some bits of wisdom from the old tale. I settled the book more comfortably in my lap and began to read.