Oath of the Brotherhood Read Free Page B

knowledge, the council might dethrone him.”
    No wonder his father was furious. Conor’s scholarly pursuits and lack of fighting skill drew far too much attention to a fosterage that should never have been arranged. Yet he still couldn’t fathom why Riordan would have gone to so much trouble for him.
    Labhrás stood. “I’ve given you enough to think about for one day. But first . . .” He dipped a hand into the neck of his tunic and drew out a pendant on a long silver chain, then draped it carefully over Conor’s head. “This has been with me for long enough. It’s yours now.”
    Conor lifted the heavy pendant in his palm, his blood whooshing too fast through his veins. It was a wheel charm, a ring of ivory with three carved spokes representing the tripartite nature of Comdiu, a clear symbol of the Balian faith.
    “Why are you giving this to me?”
    “It’s a relic of the Great Kingdom, one of the few remaining objects of power. Keep it close, and keep it hidden. It will help.”
    “Help what?”
    “No more questions. Some things are better left unspoken.” Labhrás placed a light hand atop Conor’s head and then left the room.
    Conor turned the charm over and studied the runes inscribed there, but his knowledge of Odlum was too rudimentary to be of any help in deciphering their meaning. He briefly considered stowing it in one of his trunks. But Labhrás did nothing idly. If he’d given Conor the charm, he’d thought he needed the protection. Conor dropped it beneath his tunic before he could examine too closely the dangers from which he was being protected.
    Dolan entered and shut the door firmly behind him. “Let’s see it then.”
    It took Conor several moments to work up the courage to draw out the charm again. “Lord Labhrás said it was an object of power.”
    Dolan peered at it, but he made no move to touch it. “Labhrás has worn it for years. I’ve always suspected Riordan meant it for you when the time was right.”
    “What do you know about all this?”
    “I’ve served Labhrás since we were both children,” Dolan said. “He’s told me what I need to know to keep you safe, nothing else.”
    “And this?” Conor held up the charm. “This really has . . . magic?”
    Dolan just smiled.
    Conor rubbed his eyes wearily. Too much had happened in the last day to process. His dishonor before the court, the story of the kingship, the druid’s presence . . . and now he wore an object, which by all accounts was imbued by some long-forgotten Balian magic. The beginnings of a headache pulsed in his temples.
    “I have to think,” he muttered, rising. “I’ll be back in time for supper.”
    Dolan’s brows knit together, but he didn’t try to dissuade him. Conor concealed the charm and headed straight out his door. Since he barely remembered the layout of the keep, he picked a route at random and began to walk.
    Iron-bound doors dotted the stone hallway, but Conor didn’t try any of the handles. When he reached an intersection, he turned left down another corridor, this one decorated with moth-eaten, smoke-stained tapestries. This was part of the structure guests would never see. He trailed his fingers alongthe rough-hewn stone as he walked. The torch beside him guttered in an unseen breeze, yet the interior hallway had no doors or windows. He stopped as a shard of memory surfaced. Perhaps his direction had not been random after all.
    Slowly, Conor pushed aside one of the tapestries to reveal a narrow wooden door. His hand trembled on the latch. Coward. He drew a long breath and pushed the door inward on well-oiled hinges. Hidden, perhaps, but not forgotten.
    Conor stepped into blackness, the tapestry swinging back to block the torchlight. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he could make out the dim shapes of a chair and some sort of cabinet. He stretched out his arms, and his fingers brushed stone on either side.
    How could he have known this was here, but not remember the room