destination in safety. It was none of his business. He instead walked over to the side of the ship and put himself at the head of the line to disembark, because he had things to be doing and no time to aid foolish boys who should have remained at home. He had the work of a simple soldier before him. No overwhelming quests, no dangerous forays into places better left unexplored, no marching off into the gloom to right wrongs that could be better righted by someone else.
And no rivers of magic and dreams running inside banks no mortal could see.
Nay, he would gain Weger’s mark over his brow, see what glory and riches it brought him, then live out his life in relative obscurityin some place where he wouldn’t have to think too often about what he had been.
It was much safer that way.
I t was almost dawn—after a night spent walking thanks to that irascible stallion of his who had given him a final view of his tail feathers as he’d flown off to do heaven only knew what—before he realized that he was being followed.
He cursed his stupidity. It wasn’t as if he wasn’t accustomed to looking over his shoulder to see what lurked in the shadows. When one lived in a university full of mages, one tended to want to know what was loitering out of sight. Why he hadn’t been just as aware in a forest of ancient trees, he couldn’t have said. Perhaps the lack of sleep on board Burke’s ship had been more detrimental to his wits than he’d suspected it would be.
He continued on for a bit until the opportunity to duck into the shadows appeared, then he slipped off the road to his left. He stood behind a sturdy tree and waited for his would-be companion to pass him.
He was somehow not terribly surprised to find it was the lad whose passage he’d paid for. Of course, the youth was again without either cloak or boots. He was limping along at a good pace, though, so perhaps he’d managed breakfast before he’d been robbed again. That haste didn’t seem to be keeping him warm, something Rùnach could understand. Even for spring, it was damned cold still.
He opened his mouth to call out, then shut it with a snap. To his surprise, not only had he been followed, but his follower was being followed. Rùnach reached out and yanked the lad directly in front of him off the road and into the shadows, then clamped a hand over his mouth before the boy could so much as squeak. He endured a feeble elbow in his gut, but then even his captive seemed to sense there was something amiss, for he went completely still.
And in that moment, Rùnach realized something very important.
The lad he was holding captive was not a lad.
He saved that as something to think about later and concentrated on the man sauntering down the road toward them. The man had neither sword nor bow, which made Rùnach very uneasy. He would be the first to admit that he was a very poor judge of who had magic and who didn’t, but the sight of a man walking through the woods without any sort of protection bespoke either bravado Rùnach wasn’t interested in challenging or magic he didn’t want to encounter.
He held his breath as the man in the road stopped, tilted his head to one side, and listened for things perhaps only he could hear. He frowned thoughtfully, then walked on.
The lad—or, rather, the lass—Rùnach was holding tried to pull away from him. He tightened his arm around her waist.
“Scream if you like,” he breathed, “and alert that man out there to our location. I guarantee he’ll have much more in mind than simply joining us for the breaking of our fast.”
She went still again. Rùnach stood with her in the dark, grateful for the shadows of the trees, and waited until he could see the man no longer.
He considered the possible identity of that traveler for a moment or two, then shook his head. There were many dark-haired men in the world, many who looked as if they had a hint of elven blood flowing through their veins, perhaps even a few
And no rivers of magic and dreams running inside banks no mortal could see.
Nay, he would gain Weger’s mark over his brow, see what glory and riches it brought him, then live out his life in relative obscurityin some place where he wouldn’t have to think too often about what he had been.
It was much safer that way.
I t was almost dawn—after a night spent walking thanks to that irascible stallion of his who had given him a final view of his tail feathers as he’d flown off to do heaven only knew what—before he realized that he was being followed.
He cursed his stupidity. It wasn’t as if he wasn’t accustomed to looking over his shoulder to see what lurked in the shadows. When one lived in a university full of mages, one tended to want to know what was loitering out of sight. Why he hadn’t been just as aware in a forest of ancient trees, he couldn’t have said. Perhaps the lack of sleep on board Burke’s ship had been more detrimental to his wits than he’d suspected it would be.
He continued on for a bit until the opportunity to duck into the shadows appeared, then he slipped off the road to his left. He stood behind a sturdy tree and waited for his would-be companion to pass him.
He was somehow not terribly surprised to find it was the lad whose passage he’d paid for. Of course, the youth was again without either cloak or boots. He was limping along at a good pace, though, so perhaps he’d managed breakfast before he’d been robbed again. That haste didn’t seem to be keeping him warm, something Rùnach could understand. Even for spring, it was damned cold still.
He opened his mouth to call out, then shut it with a snap. To his surprise, not only had he been followed, but his follower was being followed. Rùnach reached out and yanked the lad directly in front of him off the road and into the shadows, then clamped a hand over his mouth before the boy could so much as squeak. He endured a feeble elbow in his gut, but then even his captive seemed to sense there was something amiss, for he went completely still.
And in that moment, Rùnach realized something very important.
The lad he was holding captive was not a lad.
He saved that as something to think about later and concentrated on the man sauntering down the road toward them. The man had neither sword nor bow, which made Rùnach very uneasy. He would be the first to admit that he was a very poor judge of who had magic and who didn’t, but the sight of a man walking through the woods without any sort of protection bespoke either bravado Rùnach wasn’t interested in challenging or magic he didn’t want to encounter.
He held his breath as the man in the road stopped, tilted his head to one side, and listened for things perhaps only he could hear. He frowned thoughtfully, then walked on.
The lad—or, rather, the lass—Rùnach was holding tried to pull away from him. He tightened his arm around her waist.
“Scream if you like,” he breathed, “and alert that man out there to our location. I guarantee he’ll have much more in mind than simply joining us for the breaking of our fast.”
She went still again. Rùnach stood with her in the dark, grateful for the shadows of the trees, and waited until he could see the man no longer.
He considered the possible identity of that traveler for a moment or two, then shook his head. There were many dark-haired men in the world, many who looked as if they had a hint of elven blood flowing through their veins, perhaps even a few
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