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Souleaters you are all so afraid of. You just haven't figured it out yet. "The men are waiting
for us." She nodded toward the camp without meeting Gwynofar's eyes.
Why did the woman's praise make her feel so damned guilty?
By the time they got back to the camp the horses were saddled and ready. Kamala gave the
shirt back to the soldier whose pack she had borrowed it from, who looked at it suspiciously
and then stuffed it in one of his bags. None of them really trusted her. During their last night
in the castle she'd used sorcery to listen in on several heated arguments over why she was
being allowed to come along at all. "Do you know who she really is?" Ullar had demanded.
"Or where she's really from? For all we know she could be Anukyat's own agent, sent here to
spy upon us. That would certainly explain how she appeared at just the right moment to
rescue Rhys when only Anukyat knew where he was."
But Rhys trusted her, and Gwynofar trusted Rhys ... and so the others were eventually
overruled. A lyr thing, apparently. In matters such as these, the instincts of their ancient
bloodline were considered sacrosanct.
What was it like to be raised your whole life to serve a cause like that? To be expected to put
aside your entire life to chase after legends? The depth of their faith was something Kamala
could not comprehend; her world was a much simpler place.
'The camp was silent when they returned to it, all eyes fixed upon a point in space where the
air had just begun to ripple ominously. Kamala heard steel being drawn as both soldiers and
Guardians braced themselves to meet... what? If a Magister came through that portal, were
they going to confront him with simple steel? That battle would not last very long.
And then the spell was completed and a sorcerer stepped through. When she saw his face,
Kamala's heart almost stopped beating.
Colivar.
His dark eyes glittered with cold amusement as he saw how his arrival had disconcerted the
company. His black shirt and doublet were of a simple black --morati black but everyone
present seemed to know what
he was. A few of the men sheathed their weapons as they recognized him, but a few did not.
Clearly those men were willing to go down fighting a sorcerer if that was what their duty
required.
Fine olive skin. Long black hair, sweeping down to his shoulders. Jet black eyes above finely
chiseled features. The hint of a cold, condescending smirk, as if the entire world existed for
his amusement. Kamala remembered him well. She also remembered his last words to her
when they had arrived outside Danton's palace, hinting that he knew her darkest secret: not
only what she truly was, but what she had done.
Test me if you like, she thought defiantly. Bracing herself to channel the fire in her soul. I am
ready for you.
But Colivar's eyes passed over her with maddening disinterest and fixed upon Gwynofar
instead. "I bring you news from the eastern front, Majesty. Your son has mobilized his armies
and is moving them toward the Skandir border. It would appear that he has his own ideas
about who the real enemy is."
The color bled from Gywnofar's face, but her expression did not falter. "You are sure of this?"
"I am. And Ramirus has confirmed it."
"Then why did he not come here himself to tell us that? Or send Lazaroth?"
He chuckled coldly. "Hard as it may be to accept that Ramirus and I are allied in this matter, I
assure you that is the case. As for Lazaroth, he was concerned that you might be too close to
the Wrath by now for sorcerous transportation to be safe. So I volunteered." A faint, sardonic
smile curled his lips. "Perhaps I am less afraid of'the curse of the gods' than most of my kind."
"The line between courage and recklessness is sometimes thin," Kamala murmured.
"Indeed."The black eyes fixed on her. For one brief moment he allowed her to see the power
that was behind them, and to catch the echoes of all dark and terrible things that lurked in
their depths. "You are the one they call Kamala, yes? I would not wish to mistake you for
someone else."
"It is my name," she said, refusing to be baited.
"I thought you would have taken on wings by now. Wasn't that the plan?" I 1c shook bis head.
"Perhaps you are afraid of using your power this
close to the Wrath? Concerned that as a witch you are not up to the challenge?" Shadows of
mockery hung about the term, along with an unvoiced subtext: we both know that is not what
you are. "If so, I would be glad to assist you. I assure you my sorcery is ... trustworthy."
"Thank you," she said sweetly, "but I thought I would wait until we got closer to our target.
You might not want to be casting spells there yourself. I hear it's quite dangerous."
There was no telling what his response might have been had not Gwyn-ofar stepped between
them at that moment. "Thank you for the report, Magister Colivar. I am so sorry we cannot
offer you better hospitality right now, but as you can see, we are getting ready to ride out."
She held out her hand to him, smiling with the kind of polished radiance that noblewomen
spent years working to perfect. "Please do give Magisters Ramirus and Lazaroth my best, and
assure them we will return to them soon."
For a moment Colivar s expression was unreadable. Then, with a courtly nod he accepted her
hand, raising it to his lips to kiss it gently. "Of course, Your Majesty. And I am sure they will
be grateful for the reassurance."
The air behind him began to ripple once more as he released her hand; his eyes met Kamala's
for a moment—she nodded graciously, trying to make her own smile suitably enigmatic—and
then a step backward brought him within range of the portal spell. Swiftly he vanished from
their sight. A moment later the breezes settled back into their normal pattern and there was no
sign of his ever having been present save for a few horses that nickered uneasily, clearly less
than happy about people that appeared and disappeared in front of them.
Kamala didn't realize how fast her heart had been beating until he was gone. Shutting her
eyes, she tried to quiet her spirit once more.
"You are either very brave or very foolish," Gwynofar told her, once the others had turned
back to their business.
Both, Kamala thought.
But Colivar had been right. The time for riding on horseback along with the rest of this
company had passed. Last night she had felt the first stirring of fear in her brain, presaging the
nightmares to come. Soon, now, her sorcery would become unstable. Soon any attempt to
shapechange might well backfire on her and cause her irreparable damage. The time for delay
had ended.
Clasping Rhys' hand for a moment (and how much communion was in that touch, without the
need for words to be spoken!) she stepped away from the others, into an open space, and
summoned the power to her. Bidding it envelop her body, uncreate her human flesh, and craft
something else in its place. Her new feathered wings were broad and soft; they would be
silent in approaching the Citadel. Her new eyes were sharp and focused. Her talons were long
and sharp, powerful enough to tear flesh to pieces, sensitive enough to carry an egg without
breaking it. It was not her usual choice of bird form but it was the one best suited to the final
phase of this journey, and that was what mattered most. And if her skin was tougher than the [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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