Return to Caer Lon (11 page)

He probably was more exhausted than he thought, that was all. He needed some rest, and this whole ‘lesson’ thing was a very bad idea.

A childish chuckle erupted in the air, just before fish-shaped water splashed him in the face.
Beginner
's
luck
.
Elwyn
wiped his face with his sleeve and frowned, letting his annoyance show for the first time.

“Try not to damp
en
my bed, at least.”

Fillin
laughed and clapped.
Elwyn
’s frustration evaporated. Her smile was contagious; it was next to impossible to stay annoyed with her when she looked so pleased.

“Teach me another one!”

Elwyn
sighed.

“You know, there is not much you can do with only a bowl of water…”

The pretty blond sulked then plunged her incredible bronze stare into his.

“Please
Elwyn
…”

His mind started to gallop, racing to find something that could amuse her. Her hand slightly caressing the blankets between them was distracting. He gulped. What spell did he know that required only a bowl of water?
Fillin
really had fascinating eyes
, that golden
gleam
…
Ah yes!
Elwyn
smiled broadly.

“Well, there is the mirror’s spell. It is advanced magic so…”

“Let’s do it!”

He sighed again and began to teach her the ancient words to create an image of other people in the water.
Sacha
called it the ‘spy’ spell because it allowed a magician to see other people’s actions, without them knowing. He preferred to refer to it as a ‘mirror’.

While
Fillin
repeated the formula by herself to master it without tumbling on the complicated syllables,
Elwyn
closed his eyes briefly, falling back into his pillow as tiredness finally got to him.

If only his powers had not been exhausted, he would have been able to see his sister, and make sure she was alright; maybe he would have witnessed a silent argument between her and whoever contradicted her today, their father or
Derek
... It had to be something, to enjoy the tempest without being caught in the middle…

“Are you tired?”

Fillin
’s question brought him back to reality,
Sacha
’s image lingering in the back of his mind.

“Just a little.”

He nearly expected her to withdraw and suggest they tried it some other time.
Fillin
flicked her hair, playing with the long blond strands
expectantly
. She
eye
d
the bowl, eager to test her new knowledge.
Elwyn
forced himself up again and grinned.

“Al
l
right. Concentrate on what you want to see. Form a picture in your mind. Then imagine you see it in the water.”

“Uri deite arostand hudar skivat.”

The magical words blew on the water.
Elwyn
’s eyes widened when he recognized the figures forming in the bowl.

Chapter 11

To
Sacha
’s
credit
,
her usually so expressive mouth stayed mute
,
though
her full lips part
ed
slightly
either in surprise or guilt.
Derek
silently appreciated her reaction, or rather the lack of it
while he
dragged more than escorted her out.

The young woman freed her arm as soon as they reached the now empty square in front of the church
. T
he doors of the monastery
banged
close
d
behind them. Even then, it took her a full second to find her speech.

“How did you
…-
”

The prince shut her up instantly.

“Mind if we discuss our businesses elsewhere
?
”

From
the shadow that covered
her delicate features, he could tell the exact moment in which her temper chased away amazement.
Derek
ignored her glare, and started walking back toward the inn without waiting. Surely she could see the danger of talking about their findings in the middle of the street. He was not going to lose time to reformulate just to sooth
e
her offended feathers.

Surprisingly, the proud lady held her tongue again and followed him quietly.
Derek
nearly shook his head in bewilderment. Women
, particularly this one,
were a mystery to him.

The sun had just set and the buzzing activity of the market was long gone. The shops were closed, save for a shoemaker who was clearing his stale and farther, a potter lean
ing
against the doorframe of his shop. The man yawned with boredom, probably waiting for his last batch to harden. The few people still remaining outside were already hurrying either to church for mass,
or
to the peace of their home
s
.

As they progressed up the street,
Derek
noticed the quietness growing as the darkness slowly invaded the space between the tall buildings. He regretted
that
his jacket did not conceal his movements as a cloak would have. Walking with his hand on the hilt of his sword was ridiculous or very likely to bring up suspicion in the peaceful neighborhood. But
his hand
kept coming back to his belt, over and over
a
gain. He w
ished he could
associate the feeling
of
prickling
on
his neck with the tiny scroll he had removed from the library, now safely hid
den
in his pocket.

A door squealed nearby
. Derek
automatically reached for his weapon again
, his pulse racing.
The impression of being watched grew, disturbingly acute.
Derek
knew if he turned, he would face only shadows and mist. Yet he could not shake the feeling.

Sacha
tugged at his sleeve, “Can we walk faster?” She paused, visibly looking for an excuse to disguise her own discomfort “I’m cold.”

Derek
instantly accelerated his pace
, yet i
nstead of taking the lead again,
he
fell into steps with her. When his hand
touched
the cold metal of his sword again, it rested there.

Minutes later, the door of the ‘Wild Boar’ inn opened to offer them shelter against the blackness.
Sacha
almost welcomed the appreciative stares that followed her graceful walk, as she crossed the main room toward the stairs,
Derek
on her heels.

Candles had been lit in their room. The soft glow and the balmy air comforted her immediately.
Sacha
took off her cloak and used the extra
time to compose herself, before she turned to face
Derek
, one eyebrow up in a mute question.

He grinned and that
complicit
smile achieved to settle her nerves.
Derek
plunged one hand inside his jacket and extracted the tiny scroll from it, before he discarded the garment.

The young woman lifted their prize carefully in her hands.

“I never saw you steal it.”

Derek
corrected her instinctively, looking at her kneeling on the floor in front of her bed, using the flat surface to unroll the precious document.

“I just borrowed it; just as you borrowed my mother’s potions. What does it say?”

The old parchment was covered with a very small writing.
Sacha
frowned in concentration, narrowing her eyes to decipher it.

“This word is ‘
prayers
’ I think. And this one is ‘
guide
’. It is written in a very old form of the language.”

“Fascinating. But can you read it?”

She neglected to answer his sarcasm, giving all her attention to the illegible words. The handwriting was incredibly twisted and she had trouble making out the letters, especially since she did not understand the meaning of the words they formed. The first line seemed to be half finished, a title maybe. After a while, she announced: “I think this means ‘
prayers from the truthful hearts
.
’
”

The wood comb holding her hair felt heavy on her neck and she took it off, letting her long curls fall in her back.
Derek
pushed away and unsheathed his sword, swirling it in the air in front of him.

“Do you think you can unravel it fully?”

Sacha
sat on her cot and pushed some rebel strands of hair off her shoulder. The abandoned scroll rolled up with a soft noise.

“I suppose. But it is going to take time.”

The young man shrugged and finally put his sword away with a sigh. Silence fell between them once again
.
Sacha
fiddled with her skirt. Her desire to talk with
Derek
unsettled her. Usually, she welcomed silence more than pointless chatter. She shook her head. Why did she feel so uncomfortable near
Derek
these days? They had grown up together; surely she should be able to remain serene around him, or if she
desired
to chat, to think of something else than their current quest to start a conversation. She did not feel that agitated with
Elwyn
or
Sebastian
or the rest of their friends. Of course,
Elwyn
was h
er
twin and
Sebastian
her cousin, and neither treated her as carelessly as
Derek
did, but…

Sacha
looked up to find him examining their bags and asked
,
“Is anything missing?”

He finished his task and stood up before he answered
,
“No; I don’t think so. I am going down. I will have something
brought
up for you, unless you feel like coming
?
”

Sacha
failed to assess if his sentence held an invitation, or a warning to stay put. She chose the lat
ter
and glanced back at the mysterious parchment.
Derek
took the hint, and walked out of the room without another word.

He chose the same table near the wall, which allowed him to scan the entire room at once, without having to guard his back. The waitress that had welcomed them in the morning hurried to serve him.
Derek
returned her smile absently.

“May I help you with anything else, Sire?”

Her slippery tone came with a peep toward the bar
. T
heir hostess was watching her clients, her brows frowning from time to time, when men became too familiar with the servants.
Derek
returned his attention to the smiling woman in front of him.

“What is your name?”

“Gisela, Sire.”

Her smile grew and she bent down a little, offering an impeccable view into her bosom.
Sacha
would bristle like an angry cat at the display. The prince went on without acknowledging
her bow
.

“Gisela, you have to be careful about the
services
you offer. You have a good job here; make sure to keep it.”

Surprised, she blinked and straightened up.
Derek
pressed one coin in her hand.

“I have letters to write. Bring me some paper, quills and ink.”

Gratitude
painted on the maid’s face before she bowed deeply again, and went on to carry his orders. He pushed back against the wall, and took a mouthful of mead, looking at the eclectic crowd above his cup.

His nervousness had faded as soon as the door had closed behind them, but the feeling was still there, lurking in the back of his mind.
Derek
wished he knew where the impression came from,
and then
dismissed the thought. He was better off enjoying the calm while it lasted.
Sacha
attracted trouble like a magnet. With her around, he would have his share soon enough.

The waitress came back with the writing material he had requested. She nodded at him graciously and asked if he needed a meal to be taken up for his lady. She insisted on the last two words.
Derek
agreed and ordered his own diner, repressing a smile. The named lady was probably going to flog the poor girl if she dared
to
address her that way.

He pulled the paper toward him and started writing. His smile stayed in place. For once, he would not be the one to be dashed.