Legends of Dimmingwood 02:Betrayal of Thieves by C. Greenwood

remains out of the river in half an hour’s time, if it took him even that long to provoke her sufficiently, but it was worth it to have the chance to talk with Hadrian alone. We’d been here an hour and I had yet to broach either of the subjects on my mind.
    “Interesting fellow, your friend,” Hadrian said when they had gone. “He doesn’t have the way of the wood folk about him.” It still wasn’t quite a question.
    “He isn’t one of the band,” I admitted. “I met him only yesterday, when I did him a favor and he agreed to help me find you in return. He’s an underhanded sort and I wouldn’t turn my back on him, but I can’t help liking him.”
    “He’s a thief, of course.”
    “I can’t really say,” I returned guardedly.
    “You don’t have to. He pocketed the spoon from his drink.”
    “I’ll get it back,” I promised, my face warming.
    “Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing valuable. I suppose habit took him.”
    I said curtly, “It doesn’t matter whether it’s of value or not. I’m the one who brought him here and I’m responsible for what he does in your house. I’ll wring his neck when he returns.”
    “You’re growing fairly heated over such a small issue,” Hadrian said, regarding me curiously over the rim of his empty cup. “What’s really troubling you? Something must be awfully important to have dragged you away from the shadow of your beloved forest. It’s the magic, isn’t it? It calls to you, the same way it drew me as a youngster. I couldn’t rest until I had mastered it and discovered its secrets. From our first meeting I’ve sensed that same hunger in you.”
    I stirred uneasily. I had always considered my magic a thing to be used for my own purposes, and I didn’t like his talking like it was a living entity compelling me to act. As if I had no choice or say in where it might lead me. I pushed the unpleasant thought aside, telling myself there would be time to examine it later. Right now, this conversation was awakening another, larger concern that had been looming in my mind lately. And for once, it wasn’t about Terrac.
    “It isn’t my magic that’s the problem,” I told Hadrian, dropping my eyes to the bow, as though it could do my explaining for me. I had removed it and my coat on arrival, and the weapon now stood propped against my knee. It was quiet for the moment, but it wasn’t the natural stillness of an inanimate object lacking life of its own. No, there was a spark there. I could sense it as vividly as I had the first time I held the bow in my hands. I felt it was listening to us now. Waiting for something.
    Hadrian’s gaze followed mine to the bow. “Interesting weapon you’ve got there,” he said. “And those are unusual runes. Mind if I take a closer look?”
    At my agreeing, he reached for the bow, saying, “I haven’t seen carvings like this since—”
    He broke off midsentence as his hands met the pale lightwood. His eyes widened and I couldn’t help feeling the shock rolling off him in waves. He was too distracted to hold the feelings in.
    Yanking his fingers back as if stung, he said, “Why didn’t you warn me this—this thing is alive? And how is that even possible?”
    “You tell me,” I returned a touch smugly. The priest was a difficult man to shake and ordinarily I would have enjoyed his amazement. That was, if my own mystification hadn’t been as great as his.
    He observed, “This bow has awareness. It has intentions and emotions, the same as any breathing being.”
    “Not quiet,” I corrected. “Its chief feeling seems to be a lust for violence. I don’t think I’ve ever sensed anything peaceful from it. Mostly, it just hates and longs to drown that hate in blood.”
    “You knew? You’ve felt this life essence before?”
    I shrugged. “The bow and I have had a little time to become acquainted. It’s mine, after all. At least, I used to think it belonged to me. Lately, I’ve begun to feel it goes both