The Tales of the Wanderer Volume One: A Book of Underrealm (The Underrealm Volumes 4) Garrett Robinson (poetry books to read TXT) 📖

a moment, Maia was unsure how to answer. Of course we had not mentioned that her name was Kaita, and Maia knew it. But the look in his lord’s eyes told him he would be most unwise to mention it.

“That must have escaped my notice,” he said at last.

“See that it escapes any mention as well,” said Ditra. “Tell no one what you are doing. And if you discover anything about the weremage or her whereabouts, you are to bring it to me immediately. Do you understand?”

“Of course, Rangatira.” Maia gave a low bow. “If I may ask, does this have anything to do with—”

“You may not.” Ditra turned from him to look out the window again. “We are done.”

Maia bowed once more, though she did not see it, and then he left.

“I have a question,” said Sun.

Albern smiled. “I enjoy your questions immensely.”

“You hardly ever answer them,” said Sun with a frown.

“Sometimes that is what makes them enjoyable.”

Sun rolled her eyes and drank more of her beer. They had both finished their meals long ago. “You said you were going to tell me another story about Mag. But this story seems to be about you.”

He seemed to consider that for a long moment, pursing his lips and nodding. “Yes. Yes, I suppose it is. This part of the tale took place in my homeland. A great deal more happened to me—at least in my own mind—than happened to Mag. Are you not enjoying the tale?”

So disarming was his smile that Sun felt he would truly not be offended, no matter her answer. But the truth was that she was quite enjoying it. And yet hearing of the manner of his return, the way he had been marched into his own home like a prisoner, had caused her own chest to grow tight, her breath catching in her throat.

“The thought of returning as you did terrifies me,” she said. “I almost felt ill when you described it.”

He nodded. “It may be the freshness of the parting that makes you feel so. You may feel differently in twenty years. In fact, I hope you do. Because whatever else may be said about my return to Calentin, it was good for me, in the end.”

Just as Sun was about to ask him what he meant, a voice spoke nearby. “Are you boring some poor girl to death with tales, young man?”

Sun gave a start and looked up. Standing just beside the table, so close it seemed impossible Sun could not have heard her approach, was a woman. She looked to be somewhat younger than Albern. Her dark skin and long locks of hair spoke of Feldemarian descent, but she wore robes of gold, trimmed with white. Her face was round and soft, and she filled out her robes nicely, her form falling to the floor in wide curves like the bouncing of a child’s ball.

“Dawan.” Albern stood at once and embraced her, and she patted his back gently. He slid around to another chair on the far side of the table, offering his own to her. “My heart sings to see you again.”

“It should not be doing that,” said Dawan, her brows rising. “I shall have to take a look at it.”

Albern chuckled, and Sun did the same, once she realized it was a joke. She had not stopped studying Dawan’s face. “Albern told me you were older than he is,” she said. “I can hardly believe it.”

Dawan laughed, a deep, rich sound that made Sun feel comforted and warm. “I have lived a life of great comfort and safety, even when travel has taken me away from the Seat. Meanwhile, this fool keeps throwing himself into one dark pit after another. Always climbs back out, however, which is good, especially if he is now picking up traveling companions as young as you are.”

“As kind as always,” said Albern, giving her a smile. Dawan returned it. Then she clasped her hands before her.

“I have much to do here and elsewhere, and less time to do it in. May we retire to my room?”

“Of course,” said Albern.

He drained the last of his mug, and Sun hurried to do the same. They rose and followed Dawan out of the common room into a hallway. She stopped at the second door on the left and opened it. As Albern and Sun filed in, Dawan remained by the door. When they were inside, she paused and looked to Albern.

“Would you prefer for us to be alone?”

“That is up to Sun,” said Albern. “I do not mind either way.”

“I would like to stay, if that is all right,” said Sun. The truth was that she was not even sure what she was staying for, but curiosity had a hold on her now.

“It is,” said Dawan. She closed the door and locked it. “You will have to go if I ask you to, however.”

“I will,” said Sun.

Dawan motioned her to a chair on the other side of the room, and Sun sat. Albern rested on the edge of the bed. Dawan went to him and took his face in her hands, tilting it back and forth and looking at him from all angles.

“Your eyes are still sharp, I see.”

“They are, thank the sky,” said Albern.

Dawan nodded. Then she placed her hands on either side of Albern’s throat. From behind her, Sun saw the soft glow of magelight from the woman’s eyes. She gave a little gasp before she could stifle it—as a child of nobility, she had often seen wizards performing magic, but it still sent a thrill through her every time.

From what Sun knew of spellcasting, she thought that Dawan was using her alchemy—transmutation, wizards called it—to look into Albern’s body, inspecting for any signs of injury or illness. They both remained completely still for a moment, Albern’s eyes closed as he let Dawan inspect him. After a short while, the glow in Dawan’s eyes faded, and