Debt of Bones Read Free

you. The war burns hot; please keep your petition brief.” She gazed down the line of people. “It is out of a sincere obligation to those we serve that the wizards see supplicants, but please try to understand that individual desires are often detrimental to the greater good. By pausing to help one, then many are denied help. Thus, denial of a request is not a denial of your need, but acceptance of greater need. In times of peace it is rare for wizards to grant the narrow wants of supplicants. At a time like this, a time of a great war, it is almost unheard of. Please understand that it has not to do with what we would wish, but is a matter of necessity.”
    She watched the line of supplicants, but saw none willing to abandon their purpose. Abby certainly would not.
    “Very well then. We have two wizards able to take supplicants at this time. We will bring you each to one of them.”
    The sorceress turned to leave. Abby rose to her feet.
    “Please, mistress, a word if I may?”
    The sorceress settled an unsettling gaze on Abby. “Speak.”
    Abby stepped forward. “I must see the First Wizard himself. Wizard Zorander.”
    One eyebrow arched. “The First Wizard is a very busy man.”
    Abby reached into her sack and pulled out the neck band from her mother’s robes. She stepped into the center of the Grace and kissed the red and yellow beads on the neck band.
    “I am Abigail, born of Helsa. On the Grace and my mother’s soul, I must see Wizard Zorander. Please. It is no trivial journey I have made. Lives are at stake.”
    The sorceress watched the beaded band being returned to the sack. “Abigail, born of Helsa.” Her gaze rose to meet Abby’s. “I will take your words to the First Wizard.”
    “Mistress.” Abby turned to see the old woman on her feet. “I would be well pleased to see the First Wizard, too.”
    The three men rose up. The oldest, the one apparently in charge of the three, gave the sorceress a look so barren of timidity that it bordered on contempt. His long gray hair fell forward over his velvet robes as he glanced down the line of seated people, seeming to dare them to stand. When none did, he returned his attention to the sorceress.
    “I will see Wizard Zorander.”
    The sorceress appraised those on their feet and then looked down the line of supplicants on the bench. “The First Wizard has earned a name: the wind of death. He is feared no less by many of us than by our enemies. Anyone else who would bait fate?”
    None of those on the bench had the courage to gaze into her fierce stare. To the last they all silently shook their heads. “Please wait,” she said to those seated. “Someone will shortly be out to take you to a wizard.” She looked once more to the five people standing. “Are you all very, very sure of this?”
    Abby nodded. The old woman nodded. The noble glared.
    “Very well then. Come with me.”
    The noble and his two men stepped in front of Abby. The old woman seemed content to take a station at the end of the line. They were led deeper into the Keep, through narrow halls and wide corridors, some dark and austere and some of astounding grandeur. Everywhere there were soldiers of the Home Guard, their breastplates or chain mail covered with red tunics banded around their edges in black. All were heavily armed with swords or battle-axes, all had knives, and many additionally carried pikes tipped with winged and barbed steel.
    At the top of a broad white marble stairway the stone railings spiraled at the ends to open wide onto a room of warm oak paneling. Several of the raised panels held lamps with polished silver reflectors. Atop a three-legged table sat a double-bowl cut-glass lamp with twin chimneys, their flames adding to the mellow light from the reflector lamps. A thick carpet of ornate blue patterns covered nearly the entire wood floor.
    To each side of a double door stood one of the meticulously dressed Home Guard. Both men were equally huge. They looked to be