hoisted both across my back, and headed down the hall to the common room. It was empty, and a flicker of annoyance rolled through me.
Aine knew how dangerous it was to be out alone, and yet she had taken off nonetheless. Around the inn, I felt the sleep-dampened thoughts of the occupants as they began to rouse for the day.
She was not out back, where only a trough of water and some bundles of hay marked the stable area. Nor was she in the storage shed or in the main room. I was beginning to worry. Thinning my shields, I felt for her presence along the net of power that glistened in the early light. When I felt nothing, a tight knot grew inside me. If something were wrong, I would sense it, I told myself. If she were near, I would sense her. So why then did absence of both fill me with such unease? I lingered in the shadow of the innâs drooping roof. This was not the time for her to go haring off. We needed to probe the dream and find out what more we could.
Time seemed to drag as I waited and my worry for Bertrand grew. It was hard to believe that Aine would leave me without a word, but where was she? My breath floated cold on the air before me and I shivered.
Her childish game was frustrating. She was angry with me and went off somewhere to brood, severing our link to each other, so that I could not probe her through the power.
I made one last round of the inn, ending back in the room. âFine. Have it yer way,â I mumbled. âI didnât ask ye to come along in the first place.â I couldnât leave a note â she could not read â so sheâd just have to make what she would of it and wait. I thumped her bag on the pallet.
It was only after I had walked for over a candle mark that I remembered the Templarâs command that I stay and wait for his arrival. Aine would be there, I told myself. He would find her, and I would be back with Bertrand before anything went amiss.
The stone wall of the preceptory was strong and fortified by a great many turrets spaced regularly by the walkways between. There was only one enormous wooden gate, and two knights stood guard on the parapet above it. From my vantage at the edge of the forest, I watched the latest rotation of the change in guard. The knights arriving were no less alert or fearsome than the ones they replaced, and I felt my resolve waver.
It was one thing to enter a preceptory under the protection of the Templar Alexander and entirely another to go in alone. I had no idea whether I would be welcomed or imprisoned and yet, for Bertrand I knew I must make the attempt.
Several carts came and went as I stood sentinel, thinking. I could not enter as myself and alert the ones who sought me. I could not just walk up to the gates and request a room.
A small weaverâs cart approached from a distance, rolling along the rutted road. I watched it with half a mind. Its wheels were thin and spindly, lacking the iron rims of the heavier wagons. I doubted they would last long jouncing over the uneven terrain. I needed a way in. One that would take me past the eyes of the watchers.
The wheels were made of wood. Live trees. The Templar had taught me to look for life that remained within objects that had once been part of the weave of power. Although this wood had died and hardened long ago, if I could find just a memory of the life that had once resided there, I could work with it. I had once frayed rope in this way.
But I had to go carefully. To use power this close to the preceptory would be dangerous. The cart was nearing. If I was going to try, it would have to be now.
Quickly, I reached for the droplets of energy that hung softly on the edges of the trees. My heart sped, and a breeze riffled the tiny hairs up and down my arms. In my mind I pictured the front wheel of the cart, not as a solid thing, but the way it once was â a living, growing, bending stalk. Inside was the information of its past, the way it had been long ago, before
Aine knew how dangerous it was to be out alone, and yet she had taken off nonetheless. Around the inn, I felt the sleep-dampened thoughts of the occupants as they began to rouse for the day.
She was not out back, where only a trough of water and some bundles of hay marked the stable area. Nor was she in the storage shed or in the main room. I was beginning to worry. Thinning my shields, I felt for her presence along the net of power that glistened in the early light. When I felt nothing, a tight knot grew inside me. If something were wrong, I would sense it, I told myself. If she were near, I would sense her. So why then did absence of both fill me with such unease? I lingered in the shadow of the innâs drooping roof. This was not the time for her to go haring off. We needed to probe the dream and find out what more we could.
Time seemed to drag as I waited and my worry for Bertrand grew. It was hard to believe that Aine would leave me without a word, but where was she? My breath floated cold on the air before me and I shivered.
Her childish game was frustrating. She was angry with me and went off somewhere to brood, severing our link to each other, so that I could not probe her through the power.
I made one last round of the inn, ending back in the room. âFine. Have it yer way,â I mumbled. âI didnât ask ye to come along in the first place.â I couldnât leave a note â she could not read â so sheâd just have to make what she would of it and wait. I thumped her bag on the pallet.
It was only after I had walked for over a candle mark that I remembered the Templarâs command that I stay and wait for his arrival. Aine would be there, I told myself. He would find her, and I would be back with Bertrand before anything went amiss.
The stone wall of the preceptory was strong and fortified by a great many turrets spaced regularly by the walkways between. There was only one enormous wooden gate, and two knights stood guard on the parapet above it. From my vantage at the edge of the forest, I watched the latest rotation of the change in guard. The knights arriving were no less alert or fearsome than the ones they replaced, and I felt my resolve waver.
It was one thing to enter a preceptory under the protection of the Templar Alexander and entirely another to go in alone. I had no idea whether I would be welcomed or imprisoned and yet, for Bertrand I knew I must make the attempt.
Several carts came and went as I stood sentinel, thinking. I could not enter as myself and alert the ones who sought me. I could not just walk up to the gates and request a room.
A small weaverâs cart approached from a distance, rolling along the rutted road. I watched it with half a mind. Its wheels were thin and spindly, lacking the iron rims of the heavier wagons. I doubted they would last long jouncing over the uneven terrain. I needed a way in. One that would take me past the eyes of the watchers.
The wheels were made of wood. Live trees. The Templar had taught me to look for life that remained within objects that had once been part of the weave of power. Although this wood had died and hardened long ago, if I could find just a memory of the life that had once resided there, I could work with it. I had once frayed rope in this way.
But I had to go carefully. To use power this close to the preceptory would be dangerous. The cart was nearing. If I was going to try, it would have to be now.
Quickly, I reached for the droplets of energy that hung softly on the edges of the trees. My heart sped, and a breeze riffled the tiny hairs up and down my arms. In my mind I pictured the front wheel of the cart, not as a solid thing, but the way it once was â a living, growing, bending stalk. Inside was the information of its past, the way it had been long ago, before
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