Read Online The Windrose Chronicles 2 - The Silicon Mage by Barbara Hambly - Free Book Online
Authors: Barbara Hambly
Ads: Link
that she, too, might be imprisoned by the wizards hadn't even occurred to her. With it came the sinking realization that, while she had given plausible reasons for her disappearance in her own world which would prevent people from looking for her, in this world, legally, she did not exist at all. If she vanished, no one would know, except Magister Magus, who would undoubtedly be too terrified to inquire.
Her first impulse was to plead. But something in Caris' inhuman blankness sparked anger in her instead, and she set her feet and twisted her arm defiantly against the steel grip. “Look, would you pretend you have a will of your own for about five minutes?”
She saw the flare of his nostrils with his responding anger; but, as is the Way of the Sasenna, he mastered it and only said levelly, “Having a will of my own kept me from killing Antryg Windrose the moment I caught him. Had I been obedient to the dictates of the council, my grandfather would be alive today.”
Joanna used a phrase she'd picked up from the stagecoach drivers on the way to Angelshand and added, “You were obedient to the dictates of the Council when you let your grandfather go to meet him alone, both times, first at the Silent Tower, then at Gary's. Even if he wasn't duping you, do you think your unthinking obedience helped him any?”
The breath steamed from his lips—one, two breaths. His grip didn't change. “When I took my vows as sasennan, I turned my will over to the Council of Wizards,” he said. “Whether your arguments are right or wrong doesn't concern me.”
“Does it concern you that even having Antryg under lock and key, sealed in the Silent Tower under the Sigil of Darkness and driven out of his mind by what they've done to him, the fading of magic, the draining of life, is still going on? If the abominations were Antryg's doing, why are they still appearing?”
“Because he still lives.”
He thrust her toward the mouth of the alley; Joanna pulled vainly against that frightening strength. Terrified at the thought of facing the Council, she forced her mind to focus, not on her fear, but on her rage.
“Dammit, would you act like a man instead of a goddam computer!”
That offended him out of his stony calm. “It is a man who is loyal...”
She finally succeeded in wrenching her arm free of his grip and stood, angrily rubbing it through her cloak. “I've talked to a lot of computers in my time and, believe me, I've gotten more discrimination and judgment out of a six-K ops program than I'm getting out of you!”
They stood close together in the murky shades of the alley, like a fairhaired brother and sister at the tail end of a shouting match. Caris was breathing hard now with fury, his hand half drawn back, as if he would strike her. If he does, she thought, too angry now to let herself fear, so help me I'll rip his ears off.
But slowly, the iron expression on Caris' face faded. Fleetingly, it looked young and troubled—she remembered he was only nineteen—as it had before his grandfather's murder had hardened his soul into the perfection of his vows. Quietly, he said, “It isn't up to me to discriminate or to judge—or even to listen. I know you to be an enemy of the will of the Council. You're here to rescue Antryg, aren't you?”
“You flatter him,” Joanna said slowly. “And you insult me, by the way. I'm here because I know, and you know, that Antryg's old master Suraklin didn't die twenty-five years ago when he was supposed to have been killed. Only two people knew that—Antryg and Suraklin himself. Caris, for the last four years Suraklin was occupying the brain and body of your grandfather Salteris.”
“No.” The flat harshness returned to his voice, the rage to his eyes.
“He told you that, didn't he? To save his own skin. Had I known he had calumnated Salteris so, I would have...”
“Slit his wrists back at the Tower when he begged you to?” That threw him off balance. She
Her first impulse was to plead. But something in Caris' inhuman blankness sparked anger in her instead, and she set her feet and twisted her arm defiantly against the steel grip. “Look, would you pretend you have a will of your own for about five minutes?”
She saw the flare of his nostrils with his responding anger; but, as is the Way of the Sasenna, he mastered it and only said levelly, “Having a will of my own kept me from killing Antryg Windrose the moment I caught him. Had I been obedient to the dictates of the council, my grandfather would be alive today.”
Joanna used a phrase she'd picked up from the stagecoach drivers on the way to Angelshand and added, “You were obedient to the dictates of the Council when you let your grandfather go to meet him alone, both times, first at the Silent Tower, then at Gary's. Even if he wasn't duping you, do you think your unthinking obedience helped him any?”
The breath steamed from his lips—one, two breaths. His grip didn't change. “When I took my vows as sasennan, I turned my will over to the Council of Wizards,” he said. “Whether your arguments are right or wrong doesn't concern me.”
“Does it concern you that even having Antryg under lock and key, sealed in the Silent Tower under the Sigil of Darkness and driven out of his mind by what they've done to him, the fading of magic, the draining of life, is still going on? If the abominations were Antryg's doing, why are they still appearing?”
“Because he still lives.”
He thrust her toward the mouth of the alley; Joanna pulled vainly against that frightening strength. Terrified at the thought of facing the Council, she forced her mind to focus, not on her fear, but on her rage.
“Dammit, would you act like a man instead of a goddam computer!”
That offended him out of his stony calm. “It is a man who is loyal...”
She finally succeeded in wrenching her arm free of his grip and stood, angrily rubbing it through her cloak. “I've talked to a lot of computers in my time and, believe me, I've gotten more discrimination and judgment out of a six-K ops program than I'm getting out of you!”
They stood close together in the murky shades of the alley, like a fairhaired brother and sister at the tail end of a shouting match. Caris was breathing hard now with fury, his hand half drawn back, as if he would strike her. If he does, she thought, too angry now to let herself fear, so help me I'll rip his ears off.
But slowly, the iron expression on Caris' face faded. Fleetingly, it looked young and troubled—she remembered he was only nineteen—as it had before his grandfather's murder had hardened his soul into the perfection of his vows. Quietly, he said, “It isn't up to me to discriminate or to judge—or even to listen. I know you to be an enemy of the will of the Council. You're here to rescue Antryg, aren't you?”
“You flatter him,” Joanna said slowly. “And you insult me, by the way. I'm here because I know, and you know, that Antryg's old master Suraklin didn't die twenty-five years ago when he was supposed to have been killed. Only two people knew that—Antryg and Suraklin himself. Caris, for the last four years Suraklin was occupying the brain and body of your grandfather Salteris.”
“No.” The flat harshness returned to his voice, the rage to his eyes.
“He told you that, didn't he? To save his own skin. Had I known he had calumnated Salteris so, I would have...”
“Slit his wrists back at the Tower when he begged you to?” That threw him off balance. She
Similar Books
