Ward Against Darkness (Chronicles of a Reluctant Necromancer) by Melanie Card Page B

myths are exaggerated. Lyla assures me they’re not, I’m just not old enough yet.”
    “Do you believe her?”
    “I don’t know. I’m only marginally stronger and faster than I used to be.”
    “Same here.” Thank goodness she didn’t have to pretend she possessed that.
    Brina giggled, the bright sound carrying through the open patio doors. The older woman joined her, sounding more like a youth than an elder.
    “And seeing magical essence isn’t worth being blinded in the full sunlight.”
    So that explained why they hadn’t left the house. Worst-case scenario, Macerio’s monsters wouldn’t be able to chase Ward and her if they fled during daylight.
    The older woman said something and the brunette in the maid’s dress responded with a wide gesture to the gardens beyond.
    A shadow stepped onto the patio. No, not a shadow, Rodas, swathed in a voluminous black robe. The women went quiet, and Val tensed. Ridiculous as the apprentice-hopeful looked in his robe and powdered wig, Celia couldn’t deny he was dangerous. Not like Val or Macerio, but Rodas was a Macerio in the making.
    “You.” Rodas pointed at the brunette. “Come here.”
    She scurried to his side. The older woman opened her mouth, but Brina grabbed her arm, silencing her protest. Fear radiated from the women. Even if they couldn’t remember Rodas, their instincts still worked and warned them he was dangerous.
    “And here we go again,” Val growled.
    “What does he do?”
    “Whatever he wants. Almost every day,” Val said,
    A cold rage ignited within Celia. The fear radiating from the woman indicated whatever Rodas did, it wasn’t pleasant. Goddess, they lived this day over and over again. They probably didn’t even know why they feared him, they just did. Did they ever change what they did? Did they ever fight back?
    Someone needed to teach Rodas a lesson. Killing him would be a service to everyone. She jerked to her feet.
    Val grabbed her hand. “Don’t.”
    “Someone needs to do something.” A knife lay on the sideboard between the cured ham and the loaf of rye bread. That would do the trick.
    “You’ll only make it worse.” His fingers dug into hers. “I’ve tried before. Pets don’t question masters, and Rodas is a master-in-training. That’s close enough in Macerio’s eyes.”
    “But everyday?” One quick slice across that fatty throat. That’s all she wanted.
    “Your master may have shown up with proof of his abilities, but Macerio won’t let an attack on a hopeful by a vesperitti go unpunished. Hopefuls can do anything, at least until Macerio gets bored with them. Pets can’t.”
    “You have to take her and leave.”
    He barked a bitter laugh. “If only.”
    Macerio had been able to magically freeze the bounty hunters; what could he do with Val? Myth said vesperitti were connected to the Innecroestri that made them, but she had no idea what kind of connection that meant.
    Rodas shoved the brunette toward a path into the garden, and Brina and the older woman sagged onto a bench. The woman dabbed at her eyes with the long tear-dropped sleeve of her gown—a cut that had gone out of style forty years ago.
    Celia eased back into her chair. “There has to be something you can do.”
    “You really haven’t been a pet for long, have you?”
    Brina stared into the parlor, tilted her head to one side, then jumped to her feet and rushed in. “Celia Carlyle! I didn’t know you knew Lord de Cortia.”
    “Ah, yes.”
    “My brother talks about you all the time. We met last year at the prince’s masquerade.”
    That masquerade had been three years ago, but Celia only nodded. There was no recognition in Brina’s eyes. She didn’t even remember having the conversation that morning.
    “Excuse me, I’ve been rude.” Brina turned to Val. “I’m Brina Rous.”
    “Val.”
    “That’s my brother’s name.”
    Celia wanted to scream. It burned to know he relived this moment again and again.
    “Isn’t that funny.” Val