Read Online Wren Journeymage by Sherwood Smith - Free Book Online

and hurt when she thought of Teressa. I just hope that Hawk doesn’t hurt her , she thought. “Second: I got boomed onto a ship by somebody who pointed out my stripey hair. Third: I don’t know where we’re going. Last: someone started listening in last time I scryed, which was why I cut it off.” There. That was a good, quick report, she thought as she dug deeper into her bag.
    Voices approaching! She groaned with impatience. If anyone else came below she’d lose another entire day unless she were fast, so she upended her bag, and stared at the pile of belongings glowing, then in shadow, then glowing again in the light of the swinging lantern. She already knew her money had been filched—she noticed it that first day.
    Far worse: her scry stone was gone.
    More sounds of laughter floated from the top hatch. She was very good at scrying—she didn’t have to use a stone. Water, glass, or even fire were almost as good, if she concentrated hard enough.
    She jumped up, leaving her belongings strewn under her hammock, and stood before the single lantern the captain permitted the crew, gazing into the flame . . . gazing . . . picturing in her mind Tyron’s face, the scry stone in Master Halfrid’s office—
    And got nothing but a black wall.
    She couldn’t scry.
    She’d been warded.
o0o
    Tyron leaned against his desk, staring at the neat stacks of papers as though he’d never seen any of them before.
    “Tyron?”
    He looked up. Orin stood in the doorway, the lamplight picking out highlights in her silver hair. But her face was in shadow.
    “Something wrong?” she asked.
    He raised his hands, about to rub them through his hair, thought of Wren’s laughing about that habit of his, and lowered them to the table. “Yes. No. I don’t know.” Up came the hands again and he scratched his scalp vigorously, not caring if it made his hair into a bird nest. It looked like a bird nest anyway, no matter what he did. Not that he cared. If scratching would just make his brain work better . . . “Wren scryed me a week ago. Said everything was fine, but something she started to say has bothered me since.”
    Orin opened her hand. “Yet you say she’s safe?”
    “That’s what she said. She added something about Falin, our mage in Hroth Falls, but she didn’t finish it.”
    Orin was always patient and careful and listened with all her attention. “What do you fear?” she asked.
    “I wish I knew! She seemed to be accusing me of making a remark about Falin’s looks—but even Falin used to joke about all the ink stains on her hands and on her cheeks and ears and even in her hair when she’d accidentally put her pens or brushes behind her ear. I thought of that when I did my weekly check with the mages a couple nights ago, and there was Falin, just like usual. Ink-stains and all. And she told me just what I expected to hear, that Wren had been there, feasted right royally, next morning set off on her way to the harbor, just as she was supposed to.”
    “So the problem isn’t there?”
    Tyron sighed. “I wish I knew. Maybe it’s just—” He scratched his head again, almost defiantly. “Maybe it’s just left over from other worries.”
    “Master Halfrid?”
    “No. Yes. I don’t know. I guess I’m not worried about Master Halfrid, though I admit I don’t like not hearing from him. But he can take care of himself far better than I can take care of myself. I guess I am worried about why he’s gone so long.”
    Tyron sighed, remembering Halfrid saying as he packed his books, One missing ally could be an accident , but two is suspicious , and three is a disaster . Tyron had asked, Why go ? Why can’t the Council send someone else ? And Master Halfrid replied, There is no one else , don’t you see ? We are spread far too thin , thanks to the troubles down in the south . These mages were our allies in the war , and we did promise return aid if they had problems . Their kings have called us , and I have to go .
    But