Wandering Lark Read Free

with this gag in place, Etienne thought, but she raised her hands and held them out. Turlough crossed the room and took the bracelets, one in each hand, and traced a circle on each with his thumbs. He whispered, “Fuasgaill,” and the bracelets fell away in his hands. Etienne took but a moment to rub her own wrist then reached behind her head to release the gag.
    “Here, allow me,” Turlough said with such gentleness that she paused. With a sigh, she nodded, and felt his fingers fiddle with the buckle. The gag slid free, and Etienne licked her dry lips.
    Turlough crossed the room with the gag in hand. He laid it aside and fetched water from a pitcher sitting on a small table there. This, he brought back and handed to her, and she whispered “Thank you,” before taking a drink. The water was cool and sweet, and it readily assuaged her thirst.
    “You’re welcome,” he said, then fetched a chair and placed it so he could face her. She rubbed her wrist a little more as a distraction, uncertain as to what else to do at the moment.
    “You look tired,” he said matter-of-factly.
    Etienne looked into his eyes. “Shona... How is she?” she asked.
    “The healers have her,” he said. “They were able, with my assistance, to avert the death bolt’s progress before it could reach vital organs, but she has not regained consciousness. There was blood magic involved, and demon essence...”
    Etienne tried not to let her concern show.
    “What exactly happened to her?” he asked.
    Etienne shrugged. “We’re unclear on that,” she said, “But as I understand it, she took a death bolt that Tane intended for Alaric.”
    At the mentioning of the young mageborn, she saw Turlough stiffen.
    “I see,” he said, losing a bit of his sympathetic demeanor. “Where did you send him?”
    Etienne tightened her mouth and shook her head. She had not sent Alaric anywhere, but was not about to let Turlough know that. She only hoped Alaric had the sense to move on before the deception was discovered.
    “Etienne, this silence will not go well for you,” he said.
    “I would assume you already know where I sent him by now,” she said. “Or can it be that your assistants lack the skill to unbraid my magic.”
    Turlough frowned. “My assistants have yet to return,” he said. “Which means they are likely on his trail at this moment.”
    Or learning to swim, she thought. The lake where she had directed her gate spell was a large one.
    “Why are you being so stubborn?” Turlough asked. “I have always had the greatest respect and admiration for you. You have skills beyond most mageborn, and your steady head has often made me consider escalating your position here. You know you would make the perfect successor to my post as High Mage of Dun Gealach.”
    “You flatter me,” she said.
    Turlough sighed. “Why would you throw all that you are away for the sake of that...demon lover?”
    “Who? Fenelon? I hardly think of him as a lover of demons.”
    “I am talking about Braidwine!” Turlough snapped, and his calm went quickly astray. “Please do not mock me as my errant nephew does!”
    Etienne sighed. “Alaric is innocent of all charges that you would bring against him,” she said. “He had no choice but to bond with the demon. Elsewise, he would have died.”
    “He should have died!” Turlough said, rising from his chair and pacing across the room.
    “Why?”
    “There is no room in this world for his kind,” Turlough said. “Mageborn who consort with demons are as much of an abomination as bloodmages, and they cannot be allowed to live and corrupt the rest of our kind with their thinking...”
    Etienne looked hard at him. “Turlough, I do not understand why you will not listen. Alaric had no choice. Tane left him to die. The demon offered a way to live. And if you got to know Vagner as we have over the last few days, I think you would change your mind about demons overall. I mean, they can’t all be bad...”
    Turlough