Shards of Time Read Free Page A

too.”
    Thero moved the buns out of reach without touching the plate. “Manners!”
    The wizard’s relationship with the boy was that of a teacher, mentor, and guardian since Mika had moved from his parents’ house to Thero’s tower rooms at the Orëska House. Despite being a rather strict disciplinarian, Thero clearly cared deeply for his apprentice, and Seregil continued to marvel at the transformation of the man—once rival, and now valued friend. The “cold fish” of old had matured into a reasonable human being, concerned with more than just his prowess with magic and thirst for knowledge.
    Mika did his best to look contrite. “May I have a bun, please, Lord Alec?”
    Alec grinned and nudged the plate back within reach. “Have as many as you like.”
    While the adults chatted about various social doings, Mika ate his fill of buns and bacon, managing to slip a few morsels to the pair of white Zengati hounds lurking under the table when he thought no one was looking. When the meal was over, Thero suggested the boy take the dogs into the garden.
    Seregil whistled Zir and Mârag out from under the table and found a well-gnawed wooden ball for Mika to throw for them. When he was gone, Seregil gave the wizard a questioning look.
    “You look uncommonly tired, Seregil,” Thero noted. “Don’t tell me your roistering life is starting to catch up with you?”
    “I didn’t sleep well.”
    “He had a nightmare,” Alec added, earning himself an annoyed look from Seregil.
    “I’m sorry to hear that,” said Thero. “You used to have them quite often, as I recall.”
    “Everyone has one now and then,” said Seregil, brushing it aside. “So, what brings you here?”
    Thero helped himself to more tea. “What’s your opinion on ghosts?”
    “I’m not fond of them.” Seregil took a sip of tea and glanced at Alec. There were only three things Seregil knew of that the younger man actually feared: losing Seregil, heights, and—since feeling their cold touch the day Alec had killed the dyrmagnos on a distant Plenimaran shore—ghosts. “Why do you ask?”
    The wizard smiled. “I was just wondering if you two would like to take a little journey with me. Word arrived that ghosts may have killed the governor of Kouros and his mistress last week.”
    “Kouros? Sacred Kouros?” Alec looked suddenly less concerned about ghosts.
    “The same. You’ve never been there, have you, Seregil?” asked Thero.
    “No, though I’ve always wanted to,” Seregil replied. “Nysander promised to take me when I was his apprentice, but things went wrong before we could.”
    Gold-rich Kouros, the historical and spiritual heart of the Three Lands, was home to the oldest oracular site in the Three Lands. It had come back into Skalan possession for the first time in decades at the end of the war. Klia and a large force had gone there the previous summer to sort out the populace. Plenimaran loyalists were driven out—though most had already fled before she arrived—and those left were required to swear fealty to Queen Elani and Skala.
    “Why do people think that ghosts might have killed them?” asked Alec.
    “Because several people claimed to have seen ghosts near the room where they died, for one thing. Apparently at leastone was seen by reliable witnesses: the shade of a very tall man.”
    “Assuming these ‘reliable witnesses’ are telling the truth.”
    “Yes,” the wizard replied, “but there had been other reports of mysterious deaths and disappearances recently, as well—mostly shepherds and travelers.”
    “Hmmm.” Seregil swirled the tea in his mug.
    Thero raised an eyebrow. “You really do seem to have already made up your mind.”
    “No, but I refuse to have it colored by secondhand tales. Otherwise we’ll be jumping at every shadow and calling it a spirit.”
    “And if I tell you that the room was locked and barred from the inside?”
    Seregil sniffed at that. “That’s hardly proof of supernatural