Modesitt, L.E. - Spellsong Cycle 04 - The Shadow Sorceress by Modesitt L.E

Author:Modesitt, L.E.
Language: eng
Format: epub

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nose wrinkled.

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“Thank you, Achar,” Secca said, then turned, “and you, innkeeper.”

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“Thank you,” echoed Richina.

The innkeeper bowed, then backed away with a second bow.

The room was not even so large as Secca’s bath chamber at Loiseau, and had but two narrow beds, little more than padded cots, and a single window. Although both the inner and outer shutters were closed, the inner shutters vibrated with the gusts of wind buffeting the inn. Secca reflected that the cots probably couldn’t harbor too many vermin, and when she felt better, perhaps she could manage a spell to kill them.

Once she had stepped inside the room with Richina, she waited for Easlon to set her gear on the floor. Then she closed the battered door and pulled off the damp and still-frozen oiled leather riding jacket and hung it on one of the two wall pegs. There was no wardrobe or chest in the room, and not even a row of pegs for clothing. The sorceress shivered, looking at the saddlebags before deciding that nothing in them would warm her.

Slowly, she eased herself down onto the edge of the narrow bed. Sitting there, Secca cradled her splitting head in her hands.

In time, she lifted her eyes.

Richina sat on the other cotlike bed.

“Does your head ache?’ Secca asked.

“Not so much now. It ached terribly for a time while we were riding in the snow. I couldn’t see at times.”

Socca closed her eyes, just trying to ignore the rattle of the shutters in the wind and the coldness that seeped from them across the bed to chill her neck and back. She thought about lying down, but was too tired to move and afraid that lying on the bed would be even colder than sitting.

“Lady?" At Richina’s gentle words, Secca jerked herself out of the half stupor, half-dozing state.

Richina stood before her with a large brown mug filled with a steaming liquid.

“Overcaptain Alcaren brought this. He said you should drink it He said it’s a brew that the Matriarch uses after sorcery.”

Secca sniffed the substance, catching a bitter odor, then closed her eyes and tried to identify the scent. At the sound of fingers on a lutar, she looked up to see Richina standing there

“If this be poison or unfit for her to sup

let it turn to dust within its cup.”

Secca gaped, then opened her mouth to protest By then, the younger sorceress had finished the short verse with a smile—a smile that vanished as she paled, then staggered, barely catching herself on the back of the spindly chair. The lutar thumped the rear leg. Tears poured from the sandy-haired young woman’s eyes, and her face was drawn tightly with pain.

Secca looked at the cup, which remained unchanged, then took a sip, then a swallow, before

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handing it to Richina. “You need this more than I do.”

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In turn, Richina took a swallow, then a second, before handing the large mug back to Secca.

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