The Sorcerer's Bane Read Free Page A

are very quick!” said a small voice.
    “Nadja?” Gruum asked, knowing it was her. His eyes flickered about the room, but he could not see her. He tried to recall if he had locked the door or not. He could not be sure. Perhaps the princess was not bothered by mundane things such as locks.
    “Sweet Gruum,” the girl said.
    Gruum whirled, lifting his blade reflexively. She stood between him and his dancing fire. Silhouetted by the light, she appeared to be a mass of shadow. Only her hair gave her color, its naturally black sheen making her head appear to ripple with reflected firelight.
    “You’ve grown again,” Gruum said, half to himself.
    “Yes,” she said. “It’s about time you noticed. Are you going to cut me with that?”
    Gruum blinked and lowered his sword, setting it back upon the table. He noticed that blue-white shimmers chased one another up and down the blade, as if it were covered in a fine coating of oil. The sword did that when strange beings were nearby. This case was clearly no exception.
    “Sorry,” he said. “You startled me. You do know that a young girl should not come into a man’s room at night, don’t you?”
    “Why not?”
    “It’s improper and dangerous,” Gruum said. He wondered at the girl’s attitude. She seemed to be growing up very fast, and without discipline or guidance.
    Nadja laughed. The sound of her laughter was different tonight, he noted. It was not the tinkling sound of a child, but perhaps of a teen. Was she maturing already? For some reason, the mere thought of it sent a chill through him.
    “Dangerous?” asked Nadja, still laughing. “For whom?”
    Gruum stepped to one side and circled around the girl. He wanted to see her more clearly. She allowed the inspection and did not move, except for her eyes, which followed him closely. When the firelight fell directly upon her, he saw she wore a blue dress with black leggings and a shawl of dark red. It was the shape of her face and the shape of her body beneath the clothing that he noticed most distinctly. There could be no doubt of it: she was on the verge of becoming a woman. It was very startling, as he had known her less than a year in total. How had ten years passed upon her body in that short time?
    He noticed then, during his examination of her person, that she had something in her hand.
    “Is that a lock of hair?” he asked in a hushed voice.
    “Yes,” Nadja said, looking at the dark, glinting strands as if surprised to see what she carried.
    “It’s Ymma’s hair, isn’t it?”
    She did not answer immediately. She looked down. He could not read her expression. Was it sadness? Guilt? Or just bewilderment? He was not sure.
    “Why do you carry Ymma’s hair?” he asked her.
    “I miss her. I liked her.”
    “What has happened to Ymma?”
    Nadja rolled her lips, making her lower lip bulge slightly. “She…died.”
    “I see,” Gruum said. His voice became stern. “Look here, you must learn self-control, girl.”
    She looked up at him then, surprised. “Whatever for?”
    “So you don’t feel sad, or make others feel sad. Hasn’t anyone here at the palace taught you anything?”
    She shook her head. “Not really.”
    “How did you learn the things you do know, then?” he asked suddenly. The girl was a puzzle. He had avoided asking her or Therian any probing questions for a long time, but now he thought was a good time to learn the truth, unpleasant though it might be. He knew that the brandy in his blood and his brain had given him the strength to ask these questions. Now that he was asking, he somehow didn’t want to stop. “How did you learn to speak? How did you learn of the world?”
    “I dream about things. People teach me about the world when I dream.”
    “You learn about the world in the short time of sleep?”
    “Sleep might be brief for you, Gruum,” she said, her face flickering into a slight smile again. “But for me, every dream passes with the slowness of a week or a