Embers at Galdrilene (40 page)

Kellinar eyed the storm, the air alive with visible air currents and moisture that went beyond the cold rain pelting him in the face. “I’m trying, but it fights me.”

Dhovara chuckled. “Of course it fights you. You try to force the air currents to do your bidding and they don’t like that. Pull your magic back a bit, take a deep breath, and relax.”

He did as she said and pulled it back. He let the storm have its way for a minute as he took deep breaths, forcing his tense muscles to relax. Dhovara nodded, approval in her eyes. “Are you ready?”

Kellinar nodded, shifting his weight to maintain his balance as the ship plunged down the far side of a wave. After spending all day on the ship for the past two weeks, his body was used to such adjustments.

“This time, when you feed your magic into the air, allow the currents to become curious about you. Then, ask them if you can move them. They will be more likely to do as you wish if you ask.”

Kellinar took another deep breath and allowed the magic to flow through him into the storm. He didn’t do anything with it, just let it hang there. After a few moments, the currents moved toward him. Kellinar felt them all around. Different than the push and pull of the wind, the currents moved over his wet skin with a feather light touch.

How he and the currents understood each other, he couldn’t have explained if he tried. Kellinar fed his request to them along the threads of magic. Yes, they would do as he asked. Why didn’t he ask sooner?

He smiled at the wonder of it and begged their forgiveness. Dhovara clasped him on the shoulder. “Well done. You have a way with the currents. Now, reel back the power of the storm just enough to ease the boats passage back to port.”

Kellinar nodded and wove the currents and water droplets together in a net around the storm to contain some of its power, while Dhovara fed her power into the waves to calm them.

The wind and rain died back and the sea smoothed. A good breeze still kept the sails filled and the rain still fell, but the savage bite of the storm was held in check. It didn’t take long to make it back to the docks. The ship he and Dhovara rode on was the last to be snugged up to its moorings.

As Kellinar stepped onto the dock, he released the weave holding back the storm. The wind instantly whipped a drenching downpour into his face. Lightning arched overhead followed by a sharp crack of thunder. Kellinar smiled at the fury of the storm and followed Dhovara and the rest of the crew into the shelter built into the side of the slope leading down to the bay.

Inside, a young Fire mage set a fire in a large hearth on the back wall and several servants served cups of hot coffee and tea. Another offered warm rolls stuffed with goat meat, cabbage, onions, cheese and spices.

The Fire mage smiled at Kellinar’s questioning look. “Your dragon informed Marda a few hours ago that you would come back wet and cold. As you well know, cold, hungry people don’t set well with Marda. She rousted me out of my studies to accompany the servants so she could be sure a proper fire was set.”

Kellinar picked up a roll. Much like the pitas the women made for the morning meal in the Mallay, these rolls were made for mid-day meals. The familiar smell brought a strange sense of peace and comfort. “Where did Marda learn to make these?”

The woman in charge of the servants smiled at him. “Di’shan Serena suggested them. She said you would like them.”

Dhovara bit into one and chewed slowly. “These are delicious,” she said after swallowing. Kellinar took a bite. The flavor filled his mouth. Though life could be meager and hard in the Mallay, it was what he grew up with. The food, considered simple and not consumed by the people in the more prestigious districts, was one of the few things he missed.

He looked over at Dhovara. “Why did you tell me to ask the currents and how it is they understand me?”

She took another bite and moved to sit on one of the benches in front of the fire. He sat next to her and savored the warmth that spread across his skin. She swallowed and looked at him. “You are a butterfly.”

He raised an eyebrow. “A butterfly?”

She nodded. “Think of a butterfly. You don’t normally notice them much unless they land on you. Then you become curious and give it a closer inspection. You take in its color, wing shape and pattern.” She paused and took a drink of her coffee. “Now imagine if this butterfly tried to force you to put it on a flower. You would naturally resist. No one likes to be forced. But if the butterfly asked you to please put it on a certain flower, you would likely set it gently on the indicated spot.”

Kellinar snorted. “If a butterfly suddenly started talking to me, I think I would take myself to Maleena and have my head examined.”

Dhovara chuckled. “You know what I mean. You, Kellinar, are the butterfly. The air currents are sentient. They are neither good, nor evil, merely indifferent. They belong to the sky and heavens and rarely take notice of earthbound things, whether human or rock.”

She took another drink and sighed, closing her eyes. “The heat of the coffee going down sure feels good.” She opened her eyes and turned her attention back on him. “When you feed your magic into the air, you are the butterfly landing. You draw attention to yourself. When you ask the air currents to allow themselves to be wove, you are the butterfly asking to be set on the flower. Just as you would always remember the butterfly so the currents will remember you. When next you land on the currents, they will feel a kinship with you.”

Kellinar nodded and lapsed into silence, his mind turning over what Dhovara said. He ate slowly, enjoying the familiar food. Warmth and the soft mummers of conversation filled the shelter while the storm raged outside. In his mind he felt Shryden. The blue slept in his lair, content to let the storm pass without his acknowledgement.

Kellinar walked through the massive arch and into the hold. He stifled a yawn as one hand worked the small of his back. The ache in his muscles didn’t suppress the satisfaction he felt. He’d learned much from Dhovara that day. She’d told him to come again the next morning only this time to the Tower of Wind and Water. Her turn on the boats was over.

As he passed through the Great Hall, he noted the six niches in the walls. Three along each side, they held dragon sculptures. One of each color, each as big as he and made from the same stones represented in the pendant he wore. He spotted the stone that represented the blue dragons. Artfully made and incredibly detailed, it was made from a single stone of the purest sapphire he’d ever seen. Where had they found a gem large enough to make a statue that size? His mind automatically tried to estimate the coin value of the dragon. It would be worth an entire city, maybe more.

He walked out of the other side of the Great Hall and looked across the plateau, still wet from the now spent storm. At the far end of the caldera, Shryden and the other draclets devoured their evening meal–a combination of deer and cow. The hunters would likely be very relieved once the draclets could hunt for themselves. Shryden’s pleasure both in the meal and in what he’d learned that day, threaded through Kellinar’s mind.

Beyond the plateau and the land below, the sun sank into the waters of the bay, casting rich pink and gold over the tattered remains of the clouds. Mernoth stood where the water from the lake left its little stream and poured over the edge of the caldera floor. His deep golden scales reflected the glory of the sunset.

A woman topped the edge of the small rise where the thin layer of dirt and grass gave way to the terrace of rock that butted up against the back of the hold. Her long hair fell in ebony ringlets to her waist. Her skin was the color of creamed coffee.

She stopped as recognition flickered across her face. “You are Kellinar, right?”

He stared for a long moment unable to say anything, entranced by the sparkle in her rich brown eyes. He must look like a fool standing there staring at her. His mind scrambled to remember what she said and form a proper answer.

Shryden, amusement shadowing his thoughts, came to his aid.
“She asked if you are Kellinar. The proper response would be to acknowledge she is right. Of course you can continue to stand there and stare at her like a fire-struck fool if you wish; it is rather amusing to watch.”

“I wasn’t staring. I was thinking.”

“Umhm, yes, because her question is such a hard one that you must think for long moments before you can answer,”
the draclet said with laughter in his thoughts.

“You hush and go back to eating. And don’t forget to wash afterwards.”

Shryden broke contact and Kellinar turned his attention to the woman in front of him. Her dark eyes studied him with one slim eyebrow raised. He had now stood here in silence way too long.

He cleared his throat. “Yes, I’m Kellinar.”

Her other eyebrow joined the first in its lofty perch on her forehead. “Oh! So you do speak after all. I was beginning to wonder.”

Kellinar felt heat rise in his face. Why in blazes was he blushing? He never blushed. It wasn’t as if he’d never spoken with beautiful women. He’d bedded beautiful women. On the way to Galdrilene he’d traveled with beautiful women. What was it about this particular beauty that could make him blush of all things?

She smiled and it almost took Kellinar’s breath away. Beautiful before, now she was stunning and for the life of him, he didn’t know what to say. He desperately wanted to say something, anything that would engage her in conversation so she would stay there and talk with him. But nothing came to mind.

“I’m Anevay, a Keeper of the Book,” she said.

“The keeper of what book?”

She smiled again. “The Ka’ti. It means dragon sight. It holds all of the spells of the Guardians. The scroll Emallya brought back had one of the spells from the book on it. The one that made traveling through the Lake of Spirits possible. A spell copied from the book was typically burned as soon as it was used for its intended purpose if it was not immediately returned to Galdrilene. The scroll your friend’s family kept for so many years is truly a treasure.” Excitement lit up her eyes and flushed her creamed coffee cheeks.

Intrigued, Kellinar asked, “Can you read it?”

Anevay nodded.

“Do you use magic?” he asked, captivated by her smile.

“Yes, I’m training to be a Healing mage.”

“Are the scrolls and books kept in a mage tower?”

“No, the scrolls are kept in the hold. Although I’m a Keeper of the Book, there is no book. It was lost just before the end of the war.” She flashed him another smile. “Would you like to see the Chamber of Records?”

“I would love to,” he said, following her across the inner terrace.

She glanced out the corner of her eye at him. “It’s said that you were a thief before coming here. Is that true?”

Kellinar nodded and she continued, “Your young tag-along, Loki, says you were the best. You seem rather young to have gained such notoriety.”

He smiled. “I began to build a reputation when I was about Loki’s age.”

Her eyes widened slightly. “What did you do?”

A half smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as memories of that day surfaced in his mind. “I stole what I should not have been able to steal.”

“And what was that?”

He glanced at her. Would she understand why he did what he did on that day? Waves of comfort washed over him from Shryden.
“She will understand.”

“What makes you say that?”
Kellinar sent back.

He felt a slight hesitation in the draclet before the sending came through.
“She is…different. Special...in a way I do not understand.”

Kellinar turned that over in his mind. What did the draclet mean? He looked at the woman walking next to him, waiting for him to respond. He hoped the draclet was right. He wanted her to understand money hadn’t been the motivation behind taking the job.

He sighed. “Two of the High Houses were warring. The lord of the house that started the disagreement came to me with a job. He offered a handsome amount of money. I had already generated a name for myself as someone who could steal nearly anything I went after. Much like Loki was doing before this all happened.”

She looked him, her dark chocolate eyes curious. “What was the job?”

He took a deep breath. “He wanted the eleven year old daughter of his opponent kidnapped.” Anevay gasped, but Kellinar continued without pause. “Normally, a daughter or wife or even mother is taken and held for ransom. This weakens the House she is taken from and is double profit for the thief. He gets the money for the kidnapping and then ransoms her back to the House she is taken from.”