Read Online Mercedes Lackey - Anthology by Flights of Fantasy - Free Book Online

Listening
to the sniveling and the whimpering behind her, Adelia rolled her eyes. I
should never have made her from such a pathetic creature in the first place!
What was I thinking? A wren is the very essence of shyness. If I'd made her
from a nightingale, she'd still be shy, but at least she could sing.
                 Suddenly
she turned on her servant, glaring at the small, brown-haired girl in her plain
dress. Wren froze, her mouth agape, panting in unabashed terror.
                 "Return
to our room at the inn, Wren," Adelia commanded. "I shall come when
the sun is there," the sorceress indicated a spot just above the western
horizon. "Have a hot . . . have a warm bath prepared for me."
                 The
last time she'd ordered a "hot" bath, Adelia had raised a blister on
the foot she'd so incautiously plunged into the near boiling water.
                 Wren
gaped and panted.
                 "Do
you understand me?"
                 Wren
nodded.
                 "Then
go!" Adelia pointed in the direction of the inn.
                 The
little servant girl turned and bolted through the crush of people, trying to go
in a straight line and calling out in little shrill peeps when she couldn't.
                 Some
of the surrounding crowd cast a surreptitious glare in Adelia's direction, and
she couldn't blame them. There was every appearance of a girl broken by ill
treatment. But the truth was that Adelia never abused Wren; there would be no
point.
                 Existing
is punishment enough for that poor creature. With a tsk of disgust she
continued on her way alone. It might be best to simply unmake the girl.
                 Adelia
was not quite ready to take that step just yet. Though admittedly, after this
afternoon she was much closer to it than she had been.
                 Perhaps,
she mused, I would have better luck if I began with a bolder creature. Adelia
paced on. A stallion? The thought brought a smile to her
face as she walked along. Then, with a sigh, she dismissed the idea. A
stallion's size and aggression would be as difficult to manage in their own way
as poor little Wren's terror. Pity.
                 At
last her walking had taken her to the far end of the fair, where the animals
were kept. Here at the leading edge of the animal market were smaller, less
offensive creatures, and she passed by cages of dogs and ferrets and even
monkeys.
                 Adelia
paused to examine the capuchin monkey in its little velvet vest and fringed
cap, sitting on its master's shoulder. But something almost human in its hands
turned her away with a shudder.
                 That
won't do, she thought with a grimace. If I wanted something almost human, I
could pick up any urchin off the streets. And she moved on.
                 At
last the sorceress came to the sellers of birds, and her steps slowed. Her
experiment with Wren had been an almost total failure. The girl that had
resulted from her spells ate worms, feared everything and had to be constantly
coaxed down from the rafters. But some part of Adelia resisted giving up.
                 Here,
she knew in her heart, was the answer.
                 Birds. They pleased her so, their beauty, their grace, their
freedom.
                 She
longed to possess that freedom, or at least to take it; on the theory that if
you could take something from an entity, then in some measure what you had
taken became yours.
                 She
passed the song birds, lingered by the rare parrots. They were far more
intelligent than the finches, she could see, but none of these had the fire she
sought.
                 At
last she came upon the hunting birds; some in cages glaring boldly out between
the bars, some, hooded, sat upon their perches.
                 Yes!
Adelia thought