and frowned. “At least not in a way that makes sense and doesn’t scare me.”
He sipped slowly, then shrugged.
“I see two possibilities. Either she thinks our confrontation justifies extraordinary risks—which isn’t like her, when she can’t yet know exactly what I’m up to—or else she’s found a way to augment her power. To be honest, I like that answer less than the first. Increasing her power would certainly lessen her risk, and I’m afraid I can think of at least one way she might have done it, but I hope to all the gods I’m wrong!” He frowned again. “But unless I can learn more, I can’t be sure what she’s done. Still, I’d have taken an oath that she didn’t have the nerve for that , either.…”
“Well, something must’ve happened,” Kenhodan said carefully as the wizard’s voice trailed away in thought.
“Obviously.” Wencit shook himself. “Well, of the two, I have to vote for the second possibility, much as I’d prefer not to. Wizards don’t change their styles easily, but they can gain power in a number of ways—not all of them pleasant.”
“Aye, I’m thinking I’ve heard that tale before.”
Bahzell’s voice startled them, and Kenhodan blushed slightly as the hradani eyed the glass in his fist with a twinkle. He and Leeana had entered the taproom silently, a nightgowned Gwynna riding sleepily on her father’s hip. The immense direcat padded in behind them and sat gracefully, then convulsed in a violent sneeze.
“You heard?” Wencit sounded unsurprised.
“Aye. It’s sharp ears hradani have—and noses, come to that.” He sniffed loudly at the rum and chuckled. “Best be pouring out two more glasses, Wencit, seeing as you’ve made so free with my stock.”
“Of course,” Wencit said courteously. He filled a fresh pair of glasses and handed them to his host and hostess.
“So your friend Wulfra’s not performing as expected?” Bahzell rumbled. “And you’re not liking the smell of things overmuch, I take it?”
“No.” Wencit shook his head, then grinned. “On the other hand, wizards seldom perform as expected. Or so I hear.”
“ I’ve not known one as did, any road,” Bahzell agreed pleasantly.
“I thank you.” Wencit bowed to him, then turned to Leeana. “I see you suffered no mischief, Leeana.”
“Only three of them got as far as the bedroom, and they could only come at me one at a time,” she said simply.
“And young Gwynna?”
“Slept through the whole affair,” Bahzell chuckled.
“Did not!” the girl protested sleepily.
“Did so,” Leeana corrected, touching her nose gently.
“Well…maybe,” Gwynna admitted with a grin.
“As well for the shadows, I’m thinking.”
Her father smiled, easing her onto the bar, and reclaimed his knife. He wiped it before clicking it back into its sheath.
“At least wizards’re after having honest blood, though I’m thinking it’s the only honest thing as most of them do have. No need to be wiping shadow blood from a blade.”
“Yes, they were very considerate,” Kenhodan agreed guilelessly.
Bahzell eyed him suspiciously, and then chuckled and clouted his left shoulder so hard he staggered. He opened his mouth, but the direcat went into a fresh sneezing fit before he could shoot back a smart remark.
“What’s his problem?” he asked instead, nodding at the cat while his right hand checked his shoulder for broken bones.
“He says shadows taste funny,” Gwynna said sleepily. “We bit six of them, and he’s been sneezing ever since.”
Kenhodan glanced up, ready to smile, but the look on Bahzell’s face stopped him. He swallowed his humor as he realized Bahzell actually believed his daughter could talk to the cat! The hradani’s expression mingled acceptance and pride with an edge of concern, and Kenhodan reminded himself—again—that he was in no position to say what this peculiar family could do.
“Don’t worry, young Gwynna,” Wencit reassured her. “The
He sipped slowly, then shrugged.
“I see two possibilities. Either she thinks our confrontation justifies extraordinary risks—which isn’t like her, when she can’t yet know exactly what I’m up to—or else she’s found a way to augment her power. To be honest, I like that answer less than the first. Increasing her power would certainly lessen her risk, and I’m afraid I can think of at least one way she might have done it, but I hope to all the gods I’m wrong!” He frowned again. “But unless I can learn more, I can’t be sure what she’s done. Still, I’d have taken an oath that she didn’t have the nerve for that , either.…”
“Well, something must’ve happened,” Kenhodan said carefully as the wizard’s voice trailed away in thought.
“Obviously.” Wencit shook himself. “Well, of the two, I have to vote for the second possibility, much as I’d prefer not to. Wizards don’t change their styles easily, but they can gain power in a number of ways—not all of them pleasant.”
“Aye, I’m thinking I’ve heard that tale before.”
Bahzell’s voice startled them, and Kenhodan blushed slightly as the hradani eyed the glass in his fist with a twinkle. He and Leeana had entered the taproom silently, a nightgowned Gwynna riding sleepily on her father’s hip. The immense direcat padded in behind them and sat gracefully, then convulsed in a violent sneeze.
“You heard?” Wencit sounded unsurprised.
“Aye. It’s sharp ears hradani have—and noses, come to that.” He sniffed loudly at the rum and chuckled. “Best be pouring out two more glasses, Wencit, seeing as you’ve made so free with my stock.”
“Of course,” Wencit said courteously. He filled a fresh pair of glasses and handed them to his host and hostess.
“So your friend Wulfra’s not performing as expected?” Bahzell rumbled. “And you’re not liking the smell of things overmuch, I take it?”
“No.” Wencit shook his head, then grinned. “On the other hand, wizards seldom perform as expected. Or so I hear.”
“ I’ve not known one as did, any road,” Bahzell agreed pleasantly.
“I thank you.” Wencit bowed to him, then turned to Leeana. “I see you suffered no mischief, Leeana.”
“Only three of them got as far as the bedroom, and they could only come at me one at a time,” she said simply.
“And young Gwynna?”
“Slept through the whole affair,” Bahzell chuckled.
“Did not!” the girl protested sleepily.
“Did so,” Leeana corrected, touching her nose gently.
“Well…maybe,” Gwynna admitted with a grin.
“As well for the shadows, I’m thinking.”
Her father smiled, easing her onto the bar, and reclaimed his knife. He wiped it before clicking it back into its sheath.
“At least wizards’re after having honest blood, though I’m thinking it’s the only honest thing as most of them do have. No need to be wiping shadow blood from a blade.”
“Yes, they were very considerate,” Kenhodan agreed guilelessly.
Bahzell eyed him suspiciously, and then chuckled and clouted his left shoulder so hard he staggered. He opened his mouth, but the direcat went into a fresh sneezing fit before he could shoot back a smart remark.
“What’s his problem?” he asked instead, nodding at the cat while his right hand checked his shoulder for broken bones.
“He says shadows taste funny,” Gwynna said sleepily. “We bit six of them, and he’s been sneezing ever since.”
Kenhodan glanced up, ready to smile, but the look on Bahzell’s face stopped him. He swallowed his humor as he realized Bahzell actually believed his daughter could talk to the cat! The hradani’s expression mingled acceptance and pride with an edge of concern, and Kenhodan reminded himself—again—that he was in no position to say what this peculiar family could do.
“Don’t worry, young Gwynna,” Wencit reassured her. “The
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