Dark Ages Clan Novel Ravnos: Book 6 of the Dark Ages Clan Novel Saga by Sarah Roark

Author:Sarah Roark [Roark, Sarah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: vampire: the masquerade
Publisher: Crossroad Press
Published: 2019-07-09T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

The Bière Forest

The First Monday of May, 1212

She wondered if the moon was full. It probably was the first night of the full moon. She hadn’t looked the night before, so she wasn’t completely sure, but it probably was.

“Here’s another piece,” said Isabel, handing her a long strip of red samite. Zoë took it with smiling thanks, looked it over, then examined her creation for a good deal longer. Finally she made the strip fast to one end of the twig-hoop and wove it through the star-shaped portion of the pattern in a tight spiral.

Isabel looked over her shoulder, admiring it. “What is it supposed to be?”

“I don’t know yet.” Was the moon full or not? No, it didn’t matter. “I’m only playing with techniques. I began with no idea what I was doing at all.”

“I see. Then this isn’t something your mother taught you?”

Zoë turned to her in surprise. “No. No, my mother never had a chance to teach me anything. She died when I was very young.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. So did mine. It was just that it’s so pretty. I can hardly believe someone didn’t teach you.”

“That’s good of you to say.”

“Well, it is.”

“My sire taught me how to make many things,” Zoë answered. “If we had brass or silver or gold that I could work…”

“If we had brass or silver or gold to spare for you to make pretties with, many things would be different,” the young vampire interrupted, and squatted down on her haunches to watch in earnest.

“If you could have met my sire, you wouldn’t worry whether it was to spare or not. You’d give it to him regardless.”

“Oh no I wouldn’t,” said Isabel flatly.

“Oh yes you would.” Zoë meant that to come out more playfully than it did. She glared up at the sky again for a moment, hoping to catch a space between clouds as it flew overhead.

Isabel studied her curiously.

“Why?” she asked at last.

“Gold or silver in coins isn’t half so valuable as what he’d do with it. He would make a fish, detail it down to the last scale and set in little cabochons for the eyes, and then he would put it in the stream and cause it to swim so that with every flash of moonlight it would look like a zigzag of lighting in the water.”

“Why, what’s the good of that?”

“You’d know when you saw it.” Zoë tied off the strip, increasingly annoyed at what, to her, were patently ridiculous questions. “The others would watch it wiggling and cavorting and at first they’d only stare. Then, after a little while, maybe it would leap up shining and flick its tail and splash someone, and he’d laugh.”

“I suppose…”

“And it would be the first laugh he’d had in years. Then the others would begin to laugh and smile too, and talk excitedly about how it was done. And they’d argue about it as well. But they wouldn’t hurt each other the way they usually do when they argue, because

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