CS Friedman [Magister 02] Wings of Wrath

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later on to strike out in that direction."
"I thought... I thought you said you had to go south."
"So I did—while your jailer was listening. Did you not notice that he had stopped struggling,
when I spoke of our plans? He didn't want me to realize he had regained consciousness.
Tomorrow morning, or whenever he is discovered, he will have valuable information to barter
with to save him from his masters wrath. So then the guards will know where to look
for us. Good news all around, don't you think?" The emerald eyes glittered. "That is, assuming
we don't spend the whole night here discussing it."
She smiled, then turned her attention back to the east and started riding. After a moment he
touched his heels to his horse's flanks and started after her.
Courage and luck.
You risked your life to free me.
The words were strange, uncomfortable things. Kamala did not know how to absorb them.
Had she really done that for him? Risked that same eternal life that she had once bartered her
soul to possess, that might now be cut short by a single sword stroke in a place where the best
sorcery was befouled, and could even turn against its maker?
She had not even thought of her actions in those terms before. Had not analyzed her own
motives, or the risk involved. All she had known was a flood tide of fury that the Guardian
she had intended to use for her own purposes had been stolen away from her. Guilt, perhaps,
that her own failure had allowed his capture. Frustration, that she had found a means to gather
priceless knowledge, only to have it snatched from her grasp. Arrogance, that she refused to
acknowledge there was any man she could not outthink, or—failing that—seduce.
She had been foolish. She had taken chances. The risk had been high.
Ah, but the prize is surely worth it, she told herself. Knowledge that even the Magisters do not
have. Knowledge that can be bartered for greater things.
Far to the north, the Wrath was waiting.
Chapter 13
MIDNIGHT. Siderea Aminestas awakened suddenly from a sound sleep. Her heart was
pounding as if something had frightened her awake, but the shadowy bedchamber was
peaceful and silent and the only other presence she could sense was that of her maid,
encamped beyond the threshold of the room.
So what was the cause? She focused her attention inward, trying to catch some hint or
memory of what had disturbed her, but all she could remember were bits and pieces of
dreaming, none of them helpful.
Rising from bed, she wrapped a robe of fine gold silk around her, more out of habit than of
need; the night was pleasantly warm with a balmy breeze blowing in from over the port, rich
with the smells of summer. But she felt a need to wrap something around herself. To give her
hands something to do while she tried to calm herself.
But her heart would not stop pounding. Did her body know something that her intellect did
not? Was there enough innate witchery left in her soul that it had sensed something amiss,
something that should make her afraid—or perhaps excited—that her mortal senses could not
detect?
In another day, another lifetime, she would have called for guards to attend her. But that did
not suit her current circumstances. She'd twice
played host to a visitor who liked to circumvent normal protocol, and in case this had
something to do with him, she wanted as few witnesses around as possible.
Almost a month now. She went to bed each night wondering when he would come back to
her. If he would come. If she would still be alive when he came....
Quietly she walked out into the corridor. A servant stirred sleepily, ready to serve her. "Shh,"
she whispered, "there is no need." The girl sighed and returned to whatever dream she'd been
enjoying; judging from the smile on her face it was a pleasant one. At the entrance to the royal
wing a pair of guards waited; they snapped to attention as they heard Siderea's soft footfalls
coming their way. "All is well," she told them. They would not worry about her safety unless
she gave some sign that they had to. Royal tradition might demand a retinue of guards to
protect her, but who really expected a witch of her obvious power to be in danger in her own
demesne? The one time she had been threatened, years ago, she had dispatched the
troublemaker before her guards could take their first step. Word of that had spread quickly.
No one had threatened her since.
Of course, no one knew that the power that had once protected her was now gone.
She would not give them cause to suspect it.
Down the hall she walked, softly, the ends of her silk gown fluttering behind her like wings.
She did not think about where she was headed, but simply walked; her feet seemed to know
where they should go. At last she came to the place where a marble archway offered passage
to a balcony overlooking the harbor. Of course. It was where Amalik had met with her the
first time, when he had given her a ring and a promise. Now she understood.
Her heart still pounding, she took a moment to compose herself before stepping out onto the
balcony.
He was there. Dressed in a tunic of midnight blue, with high leather boots of the same color.
The color made his coarse skin look pale as moonlight.
"It is time," he said.
She didn't realize she had been holding her breath until she suddenly exhaled it. "Then ..,
what? What is needed?"
"Tomorrow you will come with me into the mountains." He gestured toward the northwest,
where the steep flanks of the Sentinel Mountains crowded Sankara against the sea. "Alone."
"Alone?"
He bowed. "The secret is for your eyes alone, my Queen."
"We go by witchery, I assume?"
"Not for this matter, I am afraid. You will understand why when we arrive...."
"So we ride? Like ordinary mortals? Is that your intent?"
He nodded.
She looked out toward the mountains. They rose abruptly from the fertile plain, with no gentle
foothills as a prelude. They were steep, too steep for farming, and without a clear pass for
miles; the tallest peaks had snow upon them even at the height of summer.
One could become lost in such a range, and no one would ever know it.
One could hide secrets there, and no one would ever see them.
"I cannot ride there alone," she said.
His eyes narrowed; there was a flicker of anger in their depths. "Are you setting conditions
now?"
"I am telling you the simple truth. If you do not think that my guards will follow me when I
leave here, and watch over me secretly if I try to order them back—or that my people will not
take note of me riding alone through the city without servants in attendance—then you do not
understand the ways of royalty. We are never alone."
"I can shield you from their eyes so that none will see you. Until we reach the mountains."
'And will I be coming back here, after this ... revelation?"
"If you choose to."
"Then I cannot simply disappear. It would raise too many questions." She silenced his protest
with a wave of her hand. "You say you wished your business kept secret. Well, if so, that is
not the way to manage it. Remember, all it takes is one Magister to catch the scent of mystery,
and all your secrets will be revealed." The word Magister curdled on her tongue as she spoke
it. "Unless you and your allies are proof against sorcery, it is best not to draw their interest in
the first place."
He scowled. "So what do you suggest?" [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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