Read Online The Tiger's Eye (Book 1) by Robert P. Hansen - Free Book Online
Authors: Robert P. Hansen
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only lasted long enough for him to crawl
beneath the coverlet. The orb was warm, which surprised him, even though it
shouldn’t have been surprising at all: flame magic always generated heat, even
with the simple Lamplight spell. But he had never noticed it before because he
was always too focused on reading Voltari’s books or scrolls to pay attention
to the little globe of energy floating over his left shoulder, and he had
always kept the light diffuse. But this time, he needed it to be as bright as
the sun on a clear day, and that meant concentrating the power into a smaller
orb—and more heat in a smaller space.
He used his hand to nudge the Lamplight into a more
comfortable position and rested.
Still the body.
Still the mind.
Still the body.
Still the mind.
His muscles relaxed and his mind became acutely focused.
Still the body.
His senses screamed at him, detecting every minor
disturbance within range.
Still the mind.
His awareness narrowed, cordoning off the faint music,
laughter, and merriment rising up from the common room and sending it away.
Still the body.
His breathing subsided to soft, slow, long draughts, and his
heartbeat fluttered softly in his chest.
Still the mind.
He sent them out of his awareness, flinging the little
scraping sounds of the rodent scurrying in the wall with it.
Still the body.
He tasted the faint, pungency sneaking out through a crack
in the chamber pot lid and rid himself of it.
Still the mind.
The coverlet was rough, its tiny, hair-like fuzz crawling
along the bare skin of his wrist, his hand, his neck. He shifted his position
slightly and sent it away.
Still the body.
He catalogued and dismissed all of the normal sounds and
smells, and focused his attention on what remained.
Silence.
Emptiness.
He had no idea how long he waited in the trancelike state
before he heard it, the nearly silent scrape of a blade lifting the window
shutter’s latch. It was a daring maneuver; Angus’s room was on the second
floor, and there weren’t any ledges beneath the window; there was only the thin
indentation left behind when the mortar between the stone blocks had shrunk as
it dried. He half-smiled—and quickly dismissed the intrusion.
Still the mind.
Prepare the body.
The shutter slid softly outward and settled quietly against
the outer wall. A blade slid under the window, pried it from the sill….
Prepare the mind.
A muffled thud as a soft-soled boot lightly touched the
floor.
Prepare the body.
A near-silent footfall.
Patience….
Another.
Now!
Angus closed his eyes and threw the coverlet off him.
A gasp, but no scream.
Discipline! Angus felt for the heat of the orb and
lifted it from the mattress, guiding it toward the muffled noises as the thief
hastily backtracked. He squinted, tried to ignore the glare, and rolled off the
mattress into a crouch. The orb followed his hand as if the two had been glued
together.
The thief had his left arm over his eyes and thrust a knife
out with his right hand, slashing back and forth in wide defensive arcs as he
quickly backed up.
Angus slid to his right, watching the rhythmic slashing of
the knife. He waited until it was the furthest away from him, and then leapt
toward the thief, rising sharply as his momentum propelled him forward. As he
passed the thief, he attached the Lamplight to the thief’s left temple, just
above the eyes.
The thief turned toward him, the knife jabbing out—
Angus dropped to the floor and rolled beneath the wild
flailing.
The thief backed into the wall, grabbing at his eyes and
waving his knife.
“I suggest,” Angus said from where he squatted near a
corner, “you drop that knife. Unless you want the blindness to become
permanent?”
When he heard Angus’s voice, the thief turned and the wild
slashes melted into half-offensive, probing ones. He remained that way for
several seconds before finally dropping the knife.
“Stand with your legs and arms spread wide against the
wall,”
beneath the coverlet. The orb was warm, which surprised him, even though it
shouldn’t have been surprising at all: flame magic always generated heat, even
with the simple Lamplight spell. But he had never noticed it before because he
was always too focused on reading Voltari’s books or scrolls to pay attention
to the little globe of energy floating over his left shoulder, and he had
always kept the light diffuse. But this time, he needed it to be as bright as
the sun on a clear day, and that meant concentrating the power into a smaller
orb—and more heat in a smaller space.
He used his hand to nudge the Lamplight into a more
comfortable position and rested.
Still the body.
Still the mind.
Still the body.
Still the mind.
His muscles relaxed and his mind became acutely focused.
Still the body.
His senses screamed at him, detecting every minor
disturbance within range.
Still the mind.
His awareness narrowed, cordoning off the faint music,
laughter, and merriment rising up from the common room and sending it away.
Still the body.
His breathing subsided to soft, slow, long draughts, and his
heartbeat fluttered softly in his chest.
Still the mind.
He sent them out of his awareness, flinging the little
scraping sounds of the rodent scurrying in the wall with it.
Still the body.
He tasted the faint, pungency sneaking out through a crack
in the chamber pot lid and rid himself of it.
Still the mind.
The coverlet was rough, its tiny, hair-like fuzz crawling
along the bare skin of his wrist, his hand, his neck. He shifted his position
slightly and sent it away.
Still the body.
He catalogued and dismissed all of the normal sounds and
smells, and focused his attention on what remained.
Silence.
Emptiness.
He had no idea how long he waited in the trancelike state
before he heard it, the nearly silent scrape of a blade lifting the window
shutter’s latch. It was a daring maneuver; Angus’s room was on the second
floor, and there weren’t any ledges beneath the window; there was only the thin
indentation left behind when the mortar between the stone blocks had shrunk as
it dried. He half-smiled—and quickly dismissed the intrusion.
Still the mind.
Prepare the body.
The shutter slid softly outward and settled quietly against
the outer wall. A blade slid under the window, pried it from the sill….
Prepare the mind.
A muffled thud as a soft-soled boot lightly touched the
floor.
Prepare the body.
A near-silent footfall.
Patience….
Another.
Now!
Angus closed his eyes and threw the coverlet off him.
A gasp, but no scream.
Discipline! Angus felt for the heat of the orb and
lifted it from the mattress, guiding it toward the muffled noises as the thief
hastily backtracked. He squinted, tried to ignore the glare, and rolled off the
mattress into a crouch. The orb followed his hand as if the two had been glued
together.
The thief had his left arm over his eyes and thrust a knife
out with his right hand, slashing back and forth in wide defensive arcs as he
quickly backed up.
Angus slid to his right, watching the rhythmic slashing of
the knife. He waited until it was the furthest away from him, and then leapt
toward the thief, rising sharply as his momentum propelled him forward. As he
passed the thief, he attached the Lamplight to the thief’s left temple, just
above the eyes.
The thief turned toward him, the knife jabbing out—
Angus dropped to the floor and rolled beneath the wild
flailing.
The thief backed into the wall, grabbing at his eyes and
waving his knife.
“I suggest,” Angus said from where he squatted near a
corner, “you drop that knife. Unless you want the blindness to become
permanent?”
When he heard Angus’s voice, the thief turned and the wild
slashes melted into half-offensive, probing ones. He remained that way for
several seconds before finally dropping the knife.
“Stand with your legs and arms spread wide against the
wall,”
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