Dark Realm: Book 5 Circles of Light series

Dark Realm: Book 5 Circles of Light series Read Free Page A

Book: Dark Realm: Book 5 Circles of Light series Read Free
Author: E.M. Sinclair
Tags: adventure, Fantasy, Epic, Dragons, magical
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scrambled to his feet and
opened to an Imperium messenger who looked distinctly
uncomfortable.
    ‘I came to summon
Advisor Pule to attend the Imperatrix, but the herb woman says he
is unfit.’ The messenger was peering over Grent’s shoulder as he
spoke. Grent turned and saw Waxin Pule lying back in his chair,
eyes half closed and seeming near death.
    ‘Oh. Yes. Well, you can
see for yourself sir, my master is most unwell. I do not think I
could even manage to rouse him just now. The herb woman
administered strong medicines and she was firm about him resting at
least until she returns tomorrow.’ Grent turned back to the
messenger. ‘Please convey my master’s deepest apologies for not
attending the Imperatrix.’ He spread his hands
helplessly.
    The messenger nodded.
‘He looks bad indeed. I will tell the Lady myself.’ He moved away
from the door, his short cape flaring in a brief cloud of green,
then his boot heels tapped a retreat down the corridor.
    Grent shut the door,
slid a bolt across and went back to the fireside.
    ‘Well done lad.’
Waxin’s blue eyes twinkled despite his pallor. ‘You sounded
suitably concerned and even a little simple minded. I’ve told you
often enough that simple mindedness is a very useful attitude in a
great many situations.’
    ‘But why should she
choose to send for you right now? You attended her this
morning.’
    ‘We have long suspected
that someone within the Citadel, and in her service, can sense the
use of magic. When Nenat used the spell of concealment over our
conversation just now, that someone picked it up
immediately.’
    Waxin handed the tea
pot to Grent in the hope of another brew. When Grent brought the
fresh tea to his master he was worried.
    ‘Master, if Nenat’s
spell was marked so quickly, doesn’t that mean - ?’
    Waxin sipped his tea.
‘Just so lad. It means a very powerful mage has decided to throw in
his, or her, lot with our Veranta. And yet, over the past several
years since we first began to suspect this, none of us has
discovered the faintest hint as to his identity. Which is why I
thought of Gossamer Tewk.’
    It was Grent’s turn to
pale at that name. Waxin grinned wickedly.
    ‘Hmm, she rather
bothered you, didn’t she lad? But you see she’s dead. She won’t be
identifiable to our hidden mage, no body heat to track – so I think
we should suggest a little amusement for her.’
    ‘I haven’t seen her for
the last two years or so. Perhaps she’s – gone.’
    Waxin chuckled. ‘Sorry
lad, she is still here. I’ve asked a few people and old Molesiffer
Brak told me she gave him some very useful information only last
month. He made a tidy profit over that fish drying business. So off
you go, she has a house in the Artisan Quarter, it shouldn’t be too
hard to find her.’
    Grent looked deeply
unhappy. ‘And if I find her? Shall I bring her back with
me?’
    ‘Just tell her I need
an urgent word. She’ll come.’
    Grent made his way from
the tower down through the several floors of the Citadel, across
the busy courtyards to one of the outer gates. He stared down into
the City then to his right towards the harbour thronged with boats
of all sizes and types. He sighed and joined the jostling crowds
hurrying downhill. He sidestepped to avoid a baker’s laden cart and
cannoned into a slender woman. He began to apologise but then just
stopped and stared. The woman’s haughty frown changed to a look of
recognition.
    ‘Grunt?’ she asked.
‘You work for Master Pule don’t you? How nice to bump into you like
this.’
    ‘Grent,’ said Grent.
‘Not Grunt.’ He was remembering just why he’d found this woman so
irritating, apart from the fact that she was dead.
    ‘Oh silly me, Grent, of
course. Well, nice to see you, I must dash.’
    ‘No!’ Grent caught her
arm and repressed a shudder at the coolness of her skin. ‘My master
sent me. He wishes to see you as soon as possible.’
    Gossamer Tewk studied
the gangling young man: older

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