Brood of Bones by A.E. Marling

Author:A.E. Marling
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2011-09-28T05:00:00+00:00

“Enchantress Hiresha, I request your presence in my realm.” The Lord of the Feast leaned from his saddle toward my carriage window. “I must show you something.”

My heart began to race, and I banged my cane against the carriage roof to urge Deepmand to drive the horses to a gallop.

The Lord of the Feast said, “Can you outrun your fears?”

The thudding of my blood began to clear my mind, and I remembered that Feasters grew more dangerous if one fled from their magic. I glanced at the sunset, wanting to think that the Lord of the Feast could not cast both day and night, despite what rumor told. I wished to disbelieve it so much.

In trying to escape, I might die, yet by following the Lord of the Feast, I endangered many. I did not know which peril should be preferred, yet I had to choose.

“Spellsword Deepmand, slow the team to a walk.”

The fop’s horse lessened his pace as well, and the animal gazed in at me with a single black eye.

I straightened myself, pulling my arms from their harnesses. “I cannot follow you into your realm. My place is in Morimound.”

“It’s not far.” He nodded to the purpling sky. “Just ten minutes away.”

With deep breaths, I hoped to keep my heart rate below the point where my teeth throbbed from excessive blood pressure. Being under the stars beside the Lord of the Feast was the most frightening experience I could imagine, yet after his threats in the inn, I believed a refusal might endanger more than merely myself.

By agreeing, I reasoned, I might gain some concessions. “First, tell me why I should trust you.”

“I keep all my promises.” The corners of his eyes creased in amusement. “A man’s death threats are only as good as his word.”

“Then, will you swear to my safety in the night?”

“My children will not harm you, except with my leave.”

“That is no assurance at all!”

“I never give more.”

I wished for my magic. If I could enchant when awake then I could protect myself by Lightening him to the weight of cattail fluff and letting the wind carry him away.

“Spellsword,” the Lord of the Feast said, “I believe there is a perfectly dreadful fountain on your next left. Be a good heart and drive to it.”

Over the clop of hooves, I heard Maid Janny weeping and Deepmand trying to comfort her. The carriage stopped near the sound of water trickling. When my hand opened the carriage door, I noticed my fingers did not shake; I had settled into the serenity of knowing that my fate this night had been decided by a goddess before my life’s first breath.

In the fountain, water flowed between miniature ziggurats and down hundreds of tiny blocks representing Morimound homes. It really was dreadful. Strangler fig trees surrounded the fountain, their trunks a mesh of root branches as if normal trees had partially melted, oozing down and spilling over each other.

The Lord of the Feast took a long step down from his saddle, without using his hands.

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