Read Online The Windrose Chronicles 3 - Dog Wizard by Barbara Hambly - Free Book Online
Authors: Barbara Hambly
Ads: Link
the earlier spells.”
“What prompted them?” Antryg asked, propping his chin on his hand and regarding her with bright-eyed interest.
Her head lifted a little. “The knowledge that there were worlds, universes beyond the veil of what we know as the light and air of reality. The awareness, brought by your meddling in these matters, that there was knowledge out there waiting to be found.”
“I see.” Down at the far end of the table, Issay and Nandiharrow moved over to make space for Daurannon at Antryg's other side. The younger mage took the vacated chair, but his eyes, still sharp with wariness, never left Antryg's face. “I don't suppose it really matters where in the Citadel you made these experiments, given the number of energy lines which cross here; you could scarcely help shunting the power this way and that.”
“We worked mostly in the hall on the North Cloister,” provided Bentick. “I have the complete notes of those sessions.”
“Thank you. Just out of curiosity, at what point did some one of the Regent's men inquire about how you'd disposed of my mortal remains? Which,” he added earnestly, forestalling Daurannon's burst of speech, “is the only logical way you'd have of finding out that it wasn't the Regent's men who'd taken me out and buried me, as you'd probably thought.”
There was a momentary, stringent silence, broken by Aunt Min. “The turn of the granny-winter it was, when the groundhogs come out ... not that I've seen groundhog put his nose from his house any winter these thirty years.”
“In other words,” Antryg said, “around the first week of February. Was probing 'round the Void your idea, Daur?”
The Handsome One, who still appeared far from satisfied at the patness of Antryg's deduction, said coolly, “The matter was voted on in Council.”
“And if our goal was to seek you out for what you had done,” her ladyship added, “do you blame us?”
He widened his deranged eyes at her from behind the thick lenses of his spectacles. “Not nearly as much as you're blaming yourself, I daresay. I mean, it wasn't my doing that the abominations started appearing.”
“Nor was it ours!” snapped the Lady, rising from her chair.
“Well, only one of us was messing about with the Gates, and there was no percentage in it for me, you see.”
“Was there not?” Daurannon asked softly.
“The openings were done the same way last as first,” Bentick added irritably, “and there were no ill effects—none whatever. We scried very carefully along the energy lines to make sure of that. It's all here in my notes.” And he shoved the thick, leather-bound notebook he'd been cradling under one arm across the table with the air of a man refuting all possible contradiction. Of course, reflected Antryg, Bentick did everything, from lecturing on sublunary physics to tying his shoes, with the air of a man refuting all possible contradiction.
“So when were there ill effects?” Antryg inquired.
“Not for six, seven weeks.” Lady Rosamund took up the tale. “Then abominations were reported, foul things, evil, unknown creatures. They were seen in Kymil, in Angelshand, in the woods near the village of Wychstanes here ... and here. Monstrous things were seen in the mazes of the Vaults down below, strange mosses, vermin of other worlds. We began searching the Vaults, to see what might be the source of these evils.”
“And there was a Gate.” Phormion's huge eyes, rusty brown and, Antryg recalled, usually steady and calm for all their overwhelming intensity, shifted as she spoke; he had the impression she was fighting to keep herself from looking back over her shoulder for the memory of some terrible threat. “A Gate into darkness.”
Phormion continued in the deep, almost masculine voice that was so startling coming from the fine-boned oval of her face, “I cannot say exactly where, now. I was searching, like the others. There were things down there, invisible as well as
“What prompted them?” Antryg asked, propping his chin on his hand and regarding her with bright-eyed interest.
Her head lifted a little. “The knowledge that there were worlds, universes beyond the veil of what we know as the light and air of reality. The awareness, brought by your meddling in these matters, that there was knowledge out there waiting to be found.”
“I see.” Down at the far end of the table, Issay and Nandiharrow moved over to make space for Daurannon at Antryg's other side. The younger mage took the vacated chair, but his eyes, still sharp with wariness, never left Antryg's face. “I don't suppose it really matters where in the Citadel you made these experiments, given the number of energy lines which cross here; you could scarcely help shunting the power this way and that.”
“We worked mostly in the hall on the North Cloister,” provided Bentick. “I have the complete notes of those sessions.”
“Thank you. Just out of curiosity, at what point did some one of the Regent's men inquire about how you'd disposed of my mortal remains? Which,” he added earnestly, forestalling Daurannon's burst of speech, “is the only logical way you'd have of finding out that it wasn't the Regent's men who'd taken me out and buried me, as you'd probably thought.”
There was a momentary, stringent silence, broken by Aunt Min. “The turn of the granny-winter it was, when the groundhogs come out ... not that I've seen groundhog put his nose from his house any winter these thirty years.”
“In other words,” Antryg said, “around the first week of February. Was probing 'round the Void your idea, Daur?”
The Handsome One, who still appeared far from satisfied at the patness of Antryg's deduction, said coolly, “The matter was voted on in Council.”
“And if our goal was to seek you out for what you had done,” her ladyship added, “do you blame us?”
He widened his deranged eyes at her from behind the thick lenses of his spectacles. “Not nearly as much as you're blaming yourself, I daresay. I mean, it wasn't my doing that the abominations started appearing.”
“Nor was it ours!” snapped the Lady, rising from her chair.
“Well, only one of us was messing about with the Gates, and there was no percentage in it for me, you see.”
“Was there not?” Daurannon asked softly.
“The openings were done the same way last as first,” Bentick added irritably, “and there were no ill effects—none whatever. We scried very carefully along the energy lines to make sure of that. It's all here in my notes.” And he shoved the thick, leather-bound notebook he'd been cradling under one arm across the table with the air of a man refuting all possible contradiction. Of course, reflected Antryg, Bentick did everything, from lecturing on sublunary physics to tying his shoes, with the air of a man refuting all possible contradiction.
“So when were there ill effects?” Antryg inquired.
“Not for six, seven weeks.” Lady Rosamund took up the tale. “Then abominations were reported, foul things, evil, unknown creatures. They were seen in Kymil, in Angelshand, in the woods near the village of Wychstanes here ... and here. Monstrous things were seen in the mazes of the Vaults down below, strange mosses, vermin of other worlds. We began searching the Vaults, to see what might be the source of these evils.”
“And there was a Gate.” Phormion's huge eyes, rusty brown and, Antryg recalled, usually steady and calm for all their overwhelming intensity, shifted as she spoke; he had the impression she was fighting to keep herself from looking back over her shoulder for the memory of some terrible threat. “A Gate into darkness.”
Phormion continued in the deep, almost masculine voice that was so startling coming from the fine-boned oval of her face, “I cannot say exactly where, now. I was searching, like the others. There were things down there, invisible as well as
Similar Books
