WATERSPELL Book 1: The Warlock by Lightfoot Deborah J

Author:Lightfoot, Deborah J. [Lightfoot, Deborah J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Seven Rivers Publishing
Published: 2013-01-02T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 14

A Dragon

Gray dawn found Carin at work and the puzzle-book lying where she’d tossed it—with a contemptuous flick of her wrist—upon entering the warmly firelit library. The book awaited the sorcerer atop a stack of volumes on his desk. He could have it. Carin no longer wanted the volume. She didn’t care whether it had once been among “her” books on the shelves of the child’s misty bedroom.

The twilight through the library’s windows did not brighten appreciably as the morning wore on. Outside, storm clouds shrouded the sun. By midmorning, a hard rain pelted the windows. The tempest cast such a pall over her work that Carin needed not only the light from the fireplace, but also a half-dozen of Myra’s multitude that she brought down from her bedroom, their resettlement requiring three circuits of the stairs.

“Oh my, dearie!” the housekeeper exclaimed as she bustled in to call Carin to the midday meal. “We’ll need boats to get about in, if this keeps on. ’Tis more rain than we’ve seen in these parts in a year or more. Leave off with those musty old books now, child, and come to the table. There’s a plump hen in a fair broth of mushrooms and raisins, with fresh-baked bread. You needn’t go hungry today, dearie. You’ll not be wanting for a meal on the table while I’ve strength enough to drag these old bones from their bed of a morning.”

Carin followed the woman into the hallway, glad to put a hard morning’s work behind her. Some of Verek’s oversized books weighed as much as small casks of wine. To remove them from the highest shelves, Carin needed all the strength in her upper body to slide each volume onto her head as she propped unsteadily on a ladder. Then, lowering herself to the floor with one hand grasping the rungs, she had all she could do to keep each book precariously balanced. A long morning of such labor left her ready for easier pursuits.

Verek was in the kitchen when Carin reached it, already at the table, sipping a mug of hot cider.

His appearance was much improved over the disheveled, sunken-eyed creature who had confronted her yesterday. His hair was combed neatly back, his beard and mustache trimmed. He wore a clean white shirt under a vest that, except for its color, was the twin of the dark-blue garment he’d worn on the day of the delving. This one was a deep shade of plum. His eyes were clear, and they fixed on Carin dispassionately. He greeted her, his manner reserved but civil.

Carin fashioned, with difficulty, an attitude of detachment to match his as she took her place opposite him at the table.

“On such a wet and stormy day as this,” Verek commented, “I think of no better place to spend the morning than in my library. How goes your work there?”

“I’m making progress,” Carin replied in a clear voice that gave no hint of her chronic uneasiness around him. “Things are going faster than I expected, actually.

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