fell into the river the first time, thinking he could follow its course. He ended up wandering for such a long time, and the impression he got was that there were greater magics laid there than he or any mageborn could imagine.
Magics that if his memory served him, felt a lot like what he was experiencing now.
You took him to your homeland, didn’t you, Ronan.
Not good. Gareth hoped he could find the way there. Like as not, there was no way he could decipher this gate spell and follow them that way.
All right, then, he thought. I shall gate to the Great River in Feenagh, and from there, to the north east of Ross-Mhor.
And perhaps, with luck, from that border he could find one of the Stone Folk who still dwelled in or knew the Ranges and barter for passage to Garrowye.
SEVEN
The sight of Fenelon shackled to the wall like some torture victim sent a twinge of anger and concern through Etienne as she stepped into the tower room. She glared at Turlough.
“This is an outrage,” she said.
“But necessary,” Turlough said, staying outside the door. “I do not trust him.”
Etienne narrowed her eyes. As if you should be trusted?
Whether Turlough sensed her thought, she was unsure. But his expression soured. “He has not made it easy on himself,” he said. “He would do well to follow your example, which I am sure he will not. Go on. Speak to him. I will leave you two alone. There is no way either of you can escape.”
With that, Turlough stepped back from the door. It was closed, and Etienne felt the magical locks sealed. She turned towards Fenelon and paused.
He was no longer in the shackles. In fact, he was leaning casually against the wall, arms across his chest, wearing one of his infuriating smiles. She opened her mouth to ask how, but he put a finger to his lips to still her shock. She took a deep breath and quickly crossed the room and took his hands.
“How did you do that?” she whispered. “Turlough would have fits if he knew.”
“My father said it wasn’t possible,” Fenelon said softly and grinned. “So naturally, I had to prove him wrong.” He drew arms around her and put his lips to hers, and for moments, there was no reason to speak.
At length, though, he broke off the kiss and smiled at her as he pressed his forehead to her. Inside her head, she heard him ask, “How’s Shona?”
“They stopped the death bolt,” Etienne thought back. “But she has not regained consciousness.”
“So we have no idea what happened down there,” Fenelon said.
“Turlough said he was going to have you sundered and executed at dawn, and that your father had been sent to hunt Alaric and Vagner.”
“I know,” Fenelon said. “My father has already been here. Turlough is ransoming my life, which I don’t like.”
“Nor I,” she said. “I didn’t realize just how deep his hatred of demons was. Poor Alaric.”
“Hopefully, he didn’t hang around where I sent him,” Fenelon said. “I wish I could have sent him to my father.”
“But then, Turlough would have Alaric now.”
Fenelon smiled. “I doubt it. Father’s got a head on his shoulders, and he doesn’t believe the things Turlough does are right. I dare say, when he finds Alaric, he will do what he can to protect him.”
“So all we can do is wait,” she said. “You here in your shackles, and I in my quarters with Shona.”
He shrugged. “How about your other apprentices?”
“Turlough took them away to keep me from corrupting them.” She frowned.
“Not good,” Fenelon said. “I was hoping we could put them to work.”
“Doing what?”
“Errands, of course,” Fenelon said. “We need someone we can trust who can run errands.”
“For what purpose?”
“Because, I have no intention of staying cooped up in this tower any longer than I have to,” Fenelon said and smiled. “Which means I need someone to come in here and take my place.”
Eithne pulled back, fixing him with a startled look. “I’m
Magics that if his memory served him, felt a lot like what he was experiencing now.
You took him to your homeland, didn’t you, Ronan.
Not good. Gareth hoped he could find the way there. Like as not, there was no way he could decipher this gate spell and follow them that way.
All right, then, he thought. I shall gate to the Great River in Feenagh, and from there, to the north east of Ross-Mhor.
And perhaps, with luck, from that border he could find one of the Stone Folk who still dwelled in or knew the Ranges and barter for passage to Garrowye.
SEVEN
The sight of Fenelon shackled to the wall like some torture victim sent a twinge of anger and concern through Etienne as she stepped into the tower room. She glared at Turlough.
“This is an outrage,” she said.
“But necessary,” Turlough said, staying outside the door. “I do not trust him.”
Etienne narrowed her eyes. As if you should be trusted?
Whether Turlough sensed her thought, she was unsure. But his expression soured. “He has not made it easy on himself,” he said. “He would do well to follow your example, which I am sure he will not. Go on. Speak to him. I will leave you two alone. There is no way either of you can escape.”
With that, Turlough stepped back from the door. It was closed, and Etienne felt the magical locks sealed. She turned towards Fenelon and paused.
He was no longer in the shackles. In fact, he was leaning casually against the wall, arms across his chest, wearing one of his infuriating smiles. She opened her mouth to ask how, but he put a finger to his lips to still her shock. She took a deep breath and quickly crossed the room and took his hands.
“How did you do that?” she whispered. “Turlough would have fits if he knew.”
“My father said it wasn’t possible,” Fenelon said softly and grinned. “So naturally, I had to prove him wrong.” He drew arms around her and put his lips to hers, and for moments, there was no reason to speak.
At length, though, he broke off the kiss and smiled at her as he pressed his forehead to her. Inside her head, she heard him ask, “How’s Shona?”
“They stopped the death bolt,” Etienne thought back. “But she has not regained consciousness.”
“So we have no idea what happened down there,” Fenelon said.
“Turlough said he was going to have you sundered and executed at dawn, and that your father had been sent to hunt Alaric and Vagner.”
“I know,” Fenelon said. “My father has already been here. Turlough is ransoming my life, which I don’t like.”
“Nor I,” she said. “I didn’t realize just how deep his hatred of demons was. Poor Alaric.”
“Hopefully, he didn’t hang around where I sent him,” Fenelon said. “I wish I could have sent him to my father.”
“But then, Turlough would have Alaric now.”
Fenelon smiled. “I doubt it. Father’s got a head on his shoulders, and he doesn’t believe the things Turlough does are right. I dare say, when he finds Alaric, he will do what he can to protect him.”
“So all we can do is wait,” she said. “You here in your shackles, and I in my quarters with Shona.”
He shrugged. “How about your other apprentices?”
“Turlough took them away to keep me from corrupting them.” She frowned.
“Not good,” Fenelon said. “I was hoping we could put them to work.”
“Doing what?”
“Errands, of course,” Fenelon said. “We need someone we can trust who can run errands.”
“For what purpose?”
“Because, I have no intention of staying cooped up in this tower any longer than I have to,” Fenelon said and smiled. “Which means I need someone to come in here and take my place.”
Eithne pulled back, fixing him with a startled look. “I’m
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