A Tapestry of Spells Read Free Page B

to.
    Curious.
    The barkeep himself arrived with another pint of ale. Urchaid casually gestured with his pointer finger toward the man sitting at the table next to his. The barkeep set down the second glass in front of the witchwoman’s brother.
    “With his compliments,” the barkeep said, nodding in Urchaid’s direction.
    “Thank you,” the man said, reaching for the glass and downing the contents in one long, ungainly pull. He belched loudly and dragged his sleeve across his mouth.
    Urchaid lifted an eyebrow, then nodded to the barkeep again.
    It took half an hour before the man had surrendered his name, which Urchaid already knew, and his business, which was apparently large, important pieces of magic that were bound to garner the notice of equally important people. Urchaid leaned one elbow on the table and his chin on his fist as he listened in fascination to the spewings of an utter neophyte. He could bring to mind without effort a dozen mages who would have had his naive companion for breakfast accompanied by a fine, dry sherry.
    “I didn’t succeed the first time,” Daniel said, his eyes full of terrible things he likely wished he hadn’t seen, “but I will this time.”
    Urchaid smiled pleasantly. “Of course you will, my lad.”
    Daniel looked about himself blearily, as if he couldn’t quite remember how he’d gotten to be where he was, then he turned back to Urchaid. A shuttered look came over his face, something profoundly unpleasant and cruel. That was, Urchaid suspected, a fair sight closer to who he truly was than was the persona of a happy drunk. Daniel looked down his nose coldly.
    “I thank you for the ale. I’ll remember it and show you mercy when the time comes.”
    Urchaid sat back, thoroughly enjoying the display he was witnessing. “Off to do foul deeds, are you?”
    Daniel leaned close and looked at him with dark, fathomless eyes. “I am. And I believe, friend, that you would be wise to be very far away when they’re wrought.”
    Urchaid suppressed the urge to laugh out loud. What a ridiculous boy, to be so completely unaware of whom he was dealing with. He managed a solemn nod, then watched Daniel stride off toward the doorway with the sudden soberness of a man truly off to do something truly vile. Urchaid finished his drink in a leisurely fashion and considered what he’d heard. It was tempting to dismiss the lad’s ramblings as those of one who’d had too much hard ale to accompany his eggs, but there had been something in the lad’s eye.
    Something as intriguing as that faint hint of magic clinging to him.
    He pushed his cup away and decided it would be rather interesting to follow Daniel of Doìre for a bit, just to see where he led. With any luck at all, the direction would be out of Shettlestoune. He looked around the pub again, shaking his head. To be trapped in such a place without any hope of escape. Very unpleasant. Even the barkeep looked miserable. The alemaster looked less miserable than calculating, standing there suddenly as he was with his arms folded over his chest and an unwelcoming look on his face.
    Urchaid supposed that was his cue to exit stage left before he drew more attention to himself than he cared to have. He rose, nodded to the alemaster and barkeep both, then left the pub without haste. He stopped in the shadows of the building and looked up into the bright morning sky. The world trembled, as if it held its breath for a mighty change. There were things afoot in Neroche, of course, but this ... this was different. More wrenching. More dangerous.
    Quite a bit more interesting.
    He looked to his right, saw the path in the distance that led through yet more profoundly unattractive clutches of scrub oak, then sighed. He could hear the faint sound of Daniel’s cursing from that path. Perhaps the lad had decided that a quick visit home would be useful before he trotted off to see to his villainous business.
    Urchaid began to whistle softly as he walked