Sorcerer's Son Read Free Page A

interlacing tendrils, the stems weaving in and out of the wooden support? Those roses are mine because of the way they grow. I could make them climb to my topmost tower in a few moments, or I could make them reach out to you, envelop you in their thorns, scratch your life away. Birds are mine, too, if they weave their nests, and snakes because they twine like living threads, and spiders that make webs—you’ll find them in every room of Castle Spinweb.”
    “And cloth?” asked Gildrum.
    “Cloth of course,” and she nodded toward him, causing his silken robe to tighten in a brief embrace.
    He laughed. “Do your guests ever worry that the blankets on their beds might turn against them?”
    “If my guests meant me harm, they would do well to worry so. But I rarely have guests. You are the first
    in a long time.”
    Softly, he said, “Is that your choice, my lady?”
    “I have no need of human companionship. I have my plants, my pets.” She gazed about her garden, stretched to pluck a rose from the trellis; carefully, she stripped the thorns from its stem and then presented it to Gildrum. “Perhaps you would be surprised at how all this fills my life.”
    He accepted the rose and twined its stem with that of the yellow bloom he had plucked himself. “I wonder that you shun human society. Ordinary mortals, yes, I can comprehend how they might bore you, but there are other sorcerers—I know of several, at least by reputation, and once I even saw one from afar, casting a spell for the lord I served at the time.”
    “We know each other, we sorcerers, but we do not keep company. It is better so. Such powers would make for wild arguments, would they not, for even friends argue sometimes, and surely married couples do so. An argument over the seasoning of the soup might light the sky for miles, uproot trees, flood the land, destroy all that both of them held dear. Of what use would such a match be?”
    “If that is your view of marriage, kind Delivev, then I, who have never married, cannot disagree.”
    “Between sorcerers, yes. The sorcerous breed have quick tempers, Mellor. They are happier solitary.”
    “You speak as if from experience. Forgive me if I pry, my lady, but
    did you ever marry?”
    She shook her head. “My mother married, to her sorrow. I saw, for a few years when I was very young, what life could be like for a sorcerous couple. We were better off, she and I, after my father died.”
    “And your mother? What happened to her?”
    “She died, too. She was very old when I was born, though of course you could not tell from looking at her.” She looked into Gildrum’s eyes. “I am old, too, Mellor. Much older than you imagine. We sorcerers are a long-lived stock.”
    He held the flowers out to her on his open palm. “You are younger than these blossoms in my sight And far more beautiful.”
    She took the blooms from his hand, her fingers resting warm against his flesh for a moment “Is a flattering tongue part of your knight’s weaponry, Mellor?”
    “One learns soft words when the object is worthy of them, my lady.”
    “You should be a troubadour, then, instead of a knight, and spread soft words about the world instead of blood.”
    “What do you know of troubadours, my lady who rarely shelters a guest in her home? Are troubadours the lone exception to your aversion to humanity? If so, I might consider the change.”
    “I need not let the world into my castle; I can see it well enough if I wish, and hear it, too. Shall I show you a marvel?”
    “Yes. I haven’t seen many true marvels in my travels.”
    She rose. “Can you walk now?”
    “I think so.” He stood shakily.
    “Lean upon my shoulder.”
    “With pleasure.” He let his weight fall lightly upon her, just enough to let her feel that she was helping him. They moved slowly through the nearest doorway, down a corridor, and into a large room. Light spilling through a high window revealed the walls of the room to be festooned with spiderwebs. Gildrum hesitated at the threshold. “How long