Read Online The Windrose Chronicles 3 - Dog Wizard by Barbara Hambly - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Barbara Hambly
Ads: Link
delicate teacup of soft-paste porcelain, pale green and decorated with roses and a rim of peeling gilt.
“That's extremely good of you. Is this from Voort of Kymil's workshop?” He was turning it over to look for the maker's mark on the bottom—with Aunt Min peering over his shoulder—when Lady Rosamund slapped the tabletop like a gunshot.
“Enough of this foolery!” The edge on her voice was sharp enough to have jointed a deer. Then, more quietly, she went on. “Seldes Katne brought Salteris' books and notes back from Angelshand with her. For two days she has been searching, and so far she's found nothing in them about the Void, or about what could be causing the Gates to be opening and closing this way; nothing about a Gate which moves. We have all been patrolling the Vaults but have found nothing which seems to point in any direction but that of chaos. Nothing we have found in the library speaks of the Void ... ”
“Well, not a great deal about the Void was ever written down.” Antryg shook an arm free of the shawl's folds to pour tea for himself and Aunt Min, then sat warming his crooked, swollen-knuckled fingers in the rising steam. “Salteris learned what he knew of it from a dog wizard named Wilbron, who operated out of Parchasten and made most of his money smuggling. Did you know that one can temporarily disarrange the internal energy-paths of precious stones to make them pull a magnet, so they'll act like bits of iron as well as looking like them under a spell of illusion? To the best of my knowledge whatever books Suraklin had on the subject—and he was the one who taught me—went up in that bonfire you all built when you razed his citadel in Kymil. Rather a pity.”
“Whatever knowledge was contained in the Dark Mage's books,” Lady Rosamund responded through gritted teeth, “was offset by the fact that the things he touched were frequently found to be contaminated by his influence and power.”
“Oh, I'm not blaming you,” Antryg hastened to assure her. “Certainly not you personally, since you were still sewing samplers in the schoolroom at the time. Still, it is a pity. At a guess—and it's only a guess, because a Gate which actually physically moves, as opposed to appearing and disappearing, is something I've never heard of before—at a guess, I'd say the Gate was moving along an energy-track. With four tracks crossing here under the Citadel, the Vaults are stitched with them. It would help if you could remember where you saw it, Phormion.”
The Starmistress shook her head. “I fled,” she said simply, though her voice shook a little, and the cool light glittered suddenly on the mist of sweat that marked her upper lip. “I think I must have lost consciousness at some point. I remember lying on the floor near the small downshaft on level five, near the Painted Halls, though I am sure that I descended past that level in my original search.” Her eyes avoided his again.
Bentick's dark eyes met Antryg's challengingly. “She was exhausted and ill for hours after that. This was the day before yesterday, and it was at this point that your name arose in the discussions.”
“In what context one can only guess,” Antryg murmured, rising and pulling his long, sloppy shawl more closely around his bare arms. “I suppose the first thing I need to do is to take a look at the Vaults myself.”
“No.” The Lady Rosamund made a sign; Antryg heard outside the chamber the faint creak of sword harness, the movement of sasenna closing ranks about the door. “Given the old legends of objects of power which were said to be hidden in the Vaults, the first thing you must do, Antryg Windrose, is to surrender your powers to the geas of the Council.”
Antryg's gray eyes widened with shock. He glanced toward Aunt Min, who appeared to have fallen asleep again, and then back to the slender, beautiful woman standing at the ancient Archmage's side. His voice was reasonable, if just slightly shaky.
“That's extremely good of you. Is this from Voort of Kymil's workshop?” He was turning it over to look for the maker's mark on the bottom—with Aunt Min peering over his shoulder—when Lady Rosamund slapped the tabletop like a gunshot.
“Enough of this foolery!” The edge on her voice was sharp enough to have jointed a deer. Then, more quietly, she went on. “Seldes Katne brought Salteris' books and notes back from Angelshand with her. For two days she has been searching, and so far she's found nothing in them about the Void, or about what could be causing the Gates to be opening and closing this way; nothing about a Gate which moves. We have all been patrolling the Vaults but have found nothing which seems to point in any direction but that of chaos. Nothing we have found in the library speaks of the Void ... ”
“Well, not a great deal about the Void was ever written down.” Antryg shook an arm free of the shawl's folds to pour tea for himself and Aunt Min, then sat warming his crooked, swollen-knuckled fingers in the rising steam. “Salteris learned what he knew of it from a dog wizard named Wilbron, who operated out of Parchasten and made most of his money smuggling. Did you know that one can temporarily disarrange the internal energy-paths of precious stones to make them pull a magnet, so they'll act like bits of iron as well as looking like them under a spell of illusion? To the best of my knowledge whatever books Suraklin had on the subject—and he was the one who taught me—went up in that bonfire you all built when you razed his citadel in Kymil. Rather a pity.”
“Whatever knowledge was contained in the Dark Mage's books,” Lady Rosamund responded through gritted teeth, “was offset by the fact that the things he touched were frequently found to be contaminated by his influence and power.”
“Oh, I'm not blaming you,” Antryg hastened to assure her. “Certainly not you personally, since you were still sewing samplers in the schoolroom at the time. Still, it is a pity. At a guess—and it's only a guess, because a Gate which actually physically moves, as opposed to appearing and disappearing, is something I've never heard of before—at a guess, I'd say the Gate was moving along an energy-track. With four tracks crossing here under the Citadel, the Vaults are stitched with them. It would help if you could remember where you saw it, Phormion.”
The Starmistress shook her head. “I fled,” she said simply, though her voice shook a little, and the cool light glittered suddenly on the mist of sweat that marked her upper lip. “I think I must have lost consciousness at some point. I remember lying on the floor near the small downshaft on level five, near the Painted Halls, though I am sure that I descended past that level in my original search.” Her eyes avoided his again.
Bentick's dark eyes met Antryg's challengingly. “She was exhausted and ill for hours after that. This was the day before yesterday, and it was at this point that your name arose in the discussions.”
“In what context one can only guess,” Antryg murmured, rising and pulling his long, sloppy shawl more closely around his bare arms. “I suppose the first thing I need to do is to take a look at the Vaults myself.”
“No.” The Lady Rosamund made a sign; Antryg heard outside the chamber the faint creak of sword harness, the movement of sasenna closing ranks about the door. “Given the old legends of objects of power which were said to be hidden in the Vaults, the first thing you must do, Antryg Windrose, is to surrender your powers to the geas of the Council.”
Antryg's gray eyes widened with shock. He glanced toward Aunt Min, who appeared to have fallen asleep again, and then back to the slender, beautiful woman standing at the ancient Archmage's side. His voice was reasonable, if just slightly shaky.
Similar Books
