Read Online The Black Robe (The Sword and the Spell) by Clare Smith - Free Book Online Page A

briefly to the men who had stood by him.
    “Thank you, brothers, for your support; I will guard the prisoner now.”
    The eldest of the four, a man with silver streaks in his dark hair, stepped forward and spoke in a low voice that Jonderill could barely hear. “Tozaman, what do you think you are doing? Tallison will have your skin flayed from your back for this.”
    Tozaman shook his head. “I don’t know, Oraman, I had a sudden thought, an idea but it’s gone now.” He looked at Jonderill and frowned. “But what I said to the magician is true, it’s not his time to die yet. Tallison has commanded that the magician should not be killed by the mob this day and I have just carried out his wishes so he will not harm me. Now go, please, it is best that we are not seen working together or he will become suspicious.”
    Oraman nodded in agreement and led his brothers away, leaving Jonderill and Tozaman studying each other. Tozaman was the first to turn away, a frown on his face as if he wanted to ask a question but couldn’t think what the question was. Jonderill watched him move out of sight, trying to ignore the black buzzers which crawled across his sweating, bloody face as he thought about what had just happened. It was difficult to think straight but he was certain that things were not as simple as they seemed. Why had this warrior saved him? The reason he had given to his comrade was a good one, but he was sure there was something else, there had to be or why had the man supported him the last time he had fallen.
    “Magician.”
    Jonderill opened his eyes and blinked to focus on the man in front of him. He was slightly older than he was, perhaps by three or four summers with hard eyes which had seen too much. Any thoughts he might have had that the man had saved him out of compassion disappeared like mist on a summer’s day.
    “Magician. If I touch your robe will it burn me?”
    How was he to know? The man had touched it before and it hadn’t burnt him but that didn’t mean that it wouldn’t react again; the robe had a magic all of its own which was beyond his understanding. He shook his head anyway. Tozaman stepped forward and pulled back the neck of the robe slightly so he could reach the collar releasing and resetting one buckle and then the other so Jonderill could breathe freely.
    He tried to thank the man but the best he could manage was a croak. Tozaman turned away and then stepped back again holding up a water skin and making Jonderill stagger slightly with his overwhelming need to drink. He supported Jonderill by the arm whilst he swallowed down three gulps of water and then poured some over the end of his burnoose and wiped the blood and sweat from Jonderill’s face. Finally he pulled the hood of the robe over Jonderill’s head protecting him from the burning sun.
    Jonderill sighed with relief. He would have liked to ask the man for some more water but wasn’t certain what his reaction would be. As if he had read his thoughts the man held up the water skin allowing him to take another three precious gulps of warm, gritty water. Now his throat wasn’t so parched he could thank the man, but froze when the warrior pulled a long knife from its sheath at his side.
    “Magician. If I free your arms will you swear not to use your magic against me?
    Jonderill gave a low bitter laugh. “There’s no chance of that. Don’t you know that a magician with no hands has no magic?”
    Tozaman looked at him intently. Of course he knew that, his father had told him the same and Tallison had boasted that he had taken the magician’s power when he took his hands. Then why didn’t he believe them? He shook his head. “No, I don’t think that is so. If it was you would not have survived this long.” He took his knife and sliced through the leather strips which bound Jonderill’s arms. “I think there is magic within you still waiting to be released, magician.”
    Jonderill shook his head and gritted his teeth