Binding Spell (Tales of the Latter Kingdoms) by Pope Christine

Author:Pope, Christine [Pope, Christine]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dark Valentine Press
Published: 2013-03-25T23:00:00+00:00

* * *

Despite the lateness of his arrival the night before, Kadar was gone when I awoke the next morning. Again that sensation of disappointment swept over me, although I tried to tell myself it was foolish to pin my hopes on so elusive a target as the Mark of Eredor. As for my confessions to Beranne of the previous evening, those truths seemed far less steady in the light of day. It would not do to admit what — if anything — my spurious husband had come to mean to me. It seemed quite obvious I did not mean as much to him as I thought I did.

My bad humor clung to me as Beranne came to prepare me for my day and onward as the morning hours increased, with no sign of Kadar. I tried to tell myself that I was only on edge because of my need to speak to the mage Ulias, and because I had no means of doing so. But somehow I knew that constraint had very little to do with the discontent which clung to me as surely as the mist persisted in sticking to the keep’s many-paned windows.

As I could think of nothing else to do, I sought refuge in my tower room, even though I could see very little through the swirling fog. Sounds were muffled and distant, as if they somehow came to me from very far away, rather than only yards beneath my feet. I did not even bother with the dulcimer, but lingered in my chair by the window, staring at nothing as the wisps of mist dragged their ghostly tendrils past the mullioned glass.

And it was there that Kadar found me, although he did not come alone. A wriggling ball of greyish fur detached itself from his arms and scampered across the floor toward me, only to lay its head on my knee and let out a little whine.

“I thought you could use the company,” he told me.

At once I knelt to stroke the little dog’s head. Black eyes circled in kohl to rival a Keshiaari princess stared up at me. “She’s beautiful,” I breathed, and then glanced up at my husband. “That is, if she’s a she.”

“She is,” he said. “Grishonds, we call them. Don’t let the small size fool you. They are fierce hunters, and protectors.”

Truly, the dog, although not much higher than my knee, did resemble nothing more than a miniature wolf. She stared up at me, mouth parted in what could only be called a smile — although it did reveal a set of quite fierce-looking teeth. “Does she have a name?”

“That is for you to decide.”

Tasked with such an important decision, I stared down at the dog for a long moment. How could Kadar have known? When I was younger I had wished for a dog, but their fur quite made my mother sneeze. I’d tried to content myself with the trio of cats who hung about the house, although, truth be told, they were far more interested in chasing mice and rats than making friends with me.

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