In Camelot’s Shadow: Book One of The Paths to Camelot Series (Prologue Fantasy) by Sarah Zettel Page B
Authors: Sarah Zettel
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himself on the prow of a boat laden with treasure, standing beside the Saxon leaders. The ship’s oars were out, and the barbarians rowed across the ocean, ready to gather more of their fellows, and he was ready with magic and sword to reclaim Constantinople, to set his man upon the throne and himself to the true rule. He saw fresh fires, but these rose from the Hippodrome and the great cathedral.
Last he saw a pair of black, black eyes staring at him, woman’s eyes, witch’s eyes, seeking the past as he sought the future, and for a moment Euberacon’s nerve quailed. He felt the power within that gaze. This, surely, was the fabled Theodora, looking hard for him.
She would not find him, not until it was too late.
The final vision faded, leaving only the reflection of his face. To his displeasure, Euberacon saw the sheen of sweat on his brow. He wiped it away. He should be well beyond such displays of emotion. What had he to fear from woman’s eyes? He had seen the future, and it was his.
Euberacon’s lips twitched as a quiet admonition passed through his mind. Those who scried the future did well if they understood that what they saw was only one of many possibilities, and that nothing came to pass without effort and vigilance. But the possibility of his triumph was there, and it was stronger and more clear than it had been when last he sought the vision out. Euberacon’s mouth bent into a smile of satisfaction as he once again covered his mirror and set it back in its place.
Now, to speak with Kerra.
Kerra watched from her solarium as Euberacon crossed the tiled court, the sleeves of his black robe flapping behind him in a poor but vigorous imitation of wings.
Kerra had always seen him more as a crow than as a raven. He did not hunt. He let others fight the battle while he watched. He sought no allegiance from those who were not strictly of his kind. Instead, he held his peace until all others believed the best was finished with, and then he stole what he wanted. He was cunning, yes, but not so wise as he fancied himself.
As soon as they returned from their night’s watch, her companions had told her all that had occurred. Euberacon must be fuming that he had lost his little prize to Gawain. She wondered if he would even think to mention it, or what lie he would tell to cover it.
What was not in question was that he would come to see her when he was done with whatever working he had in hand. She wanted him disposed to talk, so Kerra readied her chamber for his comfort. She had already dismissed her companions. Euberacon found them distasteful. He preferred his slaves either human or incorporeal. She had closed and locked her four carved chests so he might think she kept something of worth there and waste his time ferreting out what it was. She checked the long-necked jar to make sure there was wine in it, but did not pour any out so it did not appear that she had thought too far ahead. Lastly, she made sure of her dress and appearance, repinning her hair beneath its veil and resettling the bronze circlet engraved with the likenesses of ravens with garnet eyes. She smoothed and straightened her skirts and sleeves. Her dress was russet cloth trimmed with silver, very fine, but not the best. When she ruled in Camelot, it would be scarlet and her crown would be gold.
She picked up her hand loom, set to work on the meaningless weaving, and waited for Euberacon. Sometimes she grew sick of all the time she wasted waiting for the eastern sorcerer. Unfortunately, neither she nor her true mistress were yet strong enough to topple Camelot without great risk, nor could they safely bring Merlin to heel. So they must wait and bide their time and use this foreigner to do as much of their work as he could. Eventually, her mistress would send her messengers across the sea to find this Theodora and offer him up.
A single knock sounded on the door.
“Enter,” said Kerra. Once the door had opened wide enough to reveal
Last he saw a pair of black, black eyes staring at him, woman’s eyes, witch’s eyes, seeking the past as he sought the future, and for a moment Euberacon’s nerve quailed. He felt the power within that gaze. This, surely, was the fabled Theodora, looking hard for him.
She would not find him, not until it was too late.
The final vision faded, leaving only the reflection of his face. To his displeasure, Euberacon saw the sheen of sweat on his brow. He wiped it away. He should be well beyond such displays of emotion. What had he to fear from woman’s eyes? He had seen the future, and it was his.
Euberacon’s lips twitched as a quiet admonition passed through his mind. Those who scried the future did well if they understood that what they saw was only one of many possibilities, and that nothing came to pass without effort and vigilance. But the possibility of his triumph was there, and it was stronger and more clear than it had been when last he sought the vision out. Euberacon’s mouth bent into a smile of satisfaction as he once again covered his mirror and set it back in its place.
Now, to speak with Kerra.
Kerra watched from her solarium as Euberacon crossed the tiled court, the sleeves of his black robe flapping behind him in a poor but vigorous imitation of wings.
Kerra had always seen him more as a crow than as a raven. He did not hunt. He let others fight the battle while he watched. He sought no allegiance from those who were not strictly of his kind. Instead, he held his peace until all others believed the best was finished with, and then he stole what he wanted. He was cunning, yes, but not so wise as he fancied himself.
As soon as they returned from their night’s watch, her companions had told her all that had occurred. Euberacon must be fuming that he had lost his little prize to Gawain. She wondered if he would even think to mention it, or what lie he would tell to cover it.
What was not in question was that he would come to see her when he was done with whatever working he had in hand. She wanted him disposed to talk, so Kerra readied her chamber for his comfort. She had already dismissed her companions. Euberacon found them distasteful. He preferred his slaves either human or incorporeal. She had closed and locked her four carved chests so he might think she kept something of worth there and waste his time ferreting out what it was. She checked the long-necked jar to make sure there was wine in it, but did not pour any out so it did not appear that she had thought too far ahead. Lastly, she made sure of her dress and appearance, repinning her hair beneath its veil and resettling the bronze circlet engraved with the likenesses of ravens with garnet eyes. She smoothed and straightened her skirts and sleeves. Her dress was russet cloth trimmed with silver, very fine, but not the best. When she ruled in Camelot, it would be scarlet and her crown would be gold.
She picked up her hand loom, set to work on the meaningless weaving, and waited for Euberacon. Sometimes she grew sick of all the time she wasted waiting for the eastern sorcerer. Unfortunately, neither she nor her true mistress were yet strong enough to topple Camelot without great risk, nor could they safely bring Merlin to heel. So they must wait and bide their time and use this foreigner to do as much of their work as he could. Eventually, her mistress would send her messengers across the sea to find this Theodora and offer him up.
A single knock sounded on the door.
“Enter,” said Kerra. Once the door had opened wide enough to reveal
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