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and the future it hinted at.
He understood why Magiere had stayed in this place. It was her nature to hunt
the undead, wherever they were found. But why did she travel farther into this
land, lingering in a place where some things still might wait to find her...
to find him? As he watched Magiere and her companions enter the manor grounds,
he decided there were answers he must seek for himself.
His horse was gone, and he began the long walk back to where Chane had
pitched their tent the previous dusk. Welstiel was not surprised to find both
horses and his traveling companion waiting there for him. Chane sat on the
ground outside the tent, his expression guarded. He was feeding his rat a
handful of grain.
"I thought it best to get the horses out of sight, " he said, as if nothing
had happened.
Welstiel looked down at him. "Did you play the hero and destroy the monster
to save your lady fair?"
Chane's left eye twitched. "Yes. "
Welstiel decided not to press the issue of Chane's disobedience not yet.
Magiere was safe, and with the sorcerer gone, she would continue onward.
"Of course, you made certain Wynn did not see you?"
His companion hesitated. "I am no fool. "
Welstiel stepped toward the tent. "It is dangerous to be so close to Magiere.
The encounter has left them tired, particularly Leesil and the sage. I doubt
they will leave at first light, but they will depart tomorrow. If she
continues east, I need to know why. "
Chane frowned. "You don't know where she's going. "
"No... she should have turned north after leaving her village... or at least
out of this land. "
He offered this like a tidbit to a hungry dog, hoping to turn Chane's mind
back onto their goal without telling him too much.
"I saw her speak to a soldier from the manor, " Welstiel added. "Possibly the
captain of the guard there. Did you ever assist your father in an
interrogation?"
"Yes. "
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"On occasion, I helped mine, as well. "
"Of course you did, " Chane said bitterly. "One more thing we have in common.
"
Welstiel almost smiled.
Wynnhad been given a room in the manor with a large bed and a down comforter.
The rare privacy and the small luxuries of a window heavily draped against the
cold and a table on which to set her scribe's instruments should have been a
pleasure or at least a relief.
Beneath her short robe, breeches, and shirt, she wore a white cotton shift,
which she normally managed to keep tucked in. Since leaving Bela, she had not
abandoned her clothes to sleep in this loose cotton undergarment. Nights were
too cold, and she was far too modest in company. The freedom to do so now, for
this one night, should also have pleased her.
It did not.
She had written nothing in her journal concerning the undead sorcerer... or
more of Magiere's nature, as Domin Tilswith would expect. She did not even
warm up her crystal in the cold lamp on the bedside table. Instead, she closed
her door tightly and crawled under the comforter, looking about the room's
fixtures, so dim and normal in the low light of the single candle.
She had lied to Magiere, to Leesil, to the people here. She took credit for
something she had not done... to save Chane... to keep Magiere from knowing he
had followed them here.
There was a knock at the door, but Wynn did not wish to see anyone.
"It's me, " Magiere said from outside. "Can I come in?"
"Of course, " Wynn answered, but her voice was reluctant. She reached for the
cold lamp, lifted its glass, and rubbed the crystal without removing it. Its
light grew, brightening the room. As she replaced the glass, the door cracked
open and Magiere entered.
She looked uncomfortable, hair down but uncombed, and wore only her loose
white shirt and black breeches. A few cuts on her face were beginning to
swell.
"Do you have any of the healing salve with you?" she asked.
More guilt for Wynn. She should have at least tended her companions' wounds
before crawling into hiding.
"Yes, I'm sorry. I should have thought of that earlier. It's in the side of
my pack. "
Magiere shook her head. "Don't apologize. We're all tired. "
Wynn rummaged out the small tin of salve, as well as a hairbrush. Guilt
overwhelmed her discomfort at Magiere's presence.
"I can comb out your hair, if you like. It's full of burrs and twigs. "
It wasn't that Wynn distrusted Magiere. She trusted thewoman with her life,
but the other half theundead half which even Magiere did not truly know or
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understand, weighed upon Wynn's fears. For the first time, Wynn felt resentful
of her calling.
She loved the pursuit of "knowing. " Nothing made her happier than gathering
knowledge, but how could she document any of this as if it were some passing
scholarly interest? The dark and dead half of Magiere frightened her as much
as the pale woman's mysterious and bloody origin.
Magiere glanced at the brush, seemed about to refuse, and then sighed. "Yes,
thank you. "
Wynn poured water from a pitcher into a porcelain basin upon the table. There
was a hand towel folded beside it, and Wynn dabbed its corner in the water.
She settled on the bed's edge beside Magiere, forcing her hand not to waver as [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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