Read Online The Mage's Daughter by Lynn Kurland - Free Book Online

her.
    â€œYou found your new blade.”
    â€œI did, my lord,” she said with a nod. “It was very generous and I thank you for it.”
    He nodded toward the stairs. “Come with me. You’ll train someone today.”
    â€œA novice?” she asked, following him with as much spring in her step as she could muster—which wasn’t much. She was better than she had been, though. Perhaps lying abed had been more useful than she’d thought.
    â€œNay, he’s not a novice,” Weger said. “He’s passed the first four levels, and quickly too. In fact, only one other soul has ever progressed at such a pace.”
    Morgan watched her feet so she wouldn’t trip and land upon her lovely sword. “Who was that?”
    â€œYou, of course,” Weger said. “You don’t think I’d completely insult you, do you?”
    â€œYou’d be justified in it.”
    â€œNay, gel, you can still best half the lads in the keep even now. But try not to indulge in any womanly swooning whilst you’re about this labor. It wouldn’t be good for morale.”
    She nodded and followed him to the next courtyard down. It was, as it happened, the one with the most sunshine. It was also the most protected, sheltered as it was from the sea air by the upper levels of the castle. She was unwholesomely grateful for the warmth—she who in another life had preferred the cold, cruel wind that drove all but the most hardy indoors. But now she was not herself and the wind threatened to steal not only her breath but her strength as well. A bit of light exercise in the sunshine was welcome indeed.
    â€œAs I said before, this lad has some skill, but nothing to match yours,” Weger said. “Even in your weak condition, you should be able to keep the upper hand easily.”
    Morgan nodded, let him take her cloak and scabbard, then took her sword in her hand and moved out from behind him to face her student.
    It was Miach.
    â€œBegin,” Weger commanded.
    Morgan raised her sword only because Weger had trained her too well to obey without question. “We’ll s-start with ri…right-handed sweeps,” she said automatically, stammering in spite of herself.
    But she swung amiss on the first attempt. Miach’s reflexes were, fortunately for him, far quicker than hers. He caught her blade with his and stopped it from slicing across his face. She was so startled by that, she almost dropped her sword.
    Weger made a sound of disgust.
    Morgan took a better grip on her sword, then began again. Miach did nothing more than follow her movements faithfully, as if he truly sought to learn something new. She remembered suddenly a conversation she’d overheard in a tavern near Tor Neroche. The men behind her had been discussing the archmage of Neroche.
    He can outride the king, outfight Cathar the Fierce, weave melodies in the wind that would shame Nemed the Fair, and do all these other things that normal men couldn’t do even if they had magic — and the archmage can do all these things in spite of his magic .
    She realized that though she had fought alongside Miach in a skirmish or two, she had never fought against him. It was obvious by the way he was engaging her that he was far beyond needing to learn what she was supposed to be teaching him.
    Why was he in Gobhann?
    â€œCome on, woman,” Weger said impatiently, “pour some energy into seeing to this whelp.”
    Morgan had to rest for a moment. “I’m trying.”
    â€œTry harder,” Weger growled. “Dredge up your irritation for something. Perhaps pampered lads who’ve never done a decent day’s work in their lives. Nay, here’s something else: mages. Think on how much you loathe them, those prissy, finger-waggling meddlers who tamper with lives and kingdoms and scores of other things they shouldn’t.”
    Prissy? Morgan looked at Miach and was forced to admit