Weight of Stone: Book Two of the Vineart War by Laura Anne Gilman

Author:Laura Anne Gilman [Gilman, Laura Anne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Magic, Fantasy Fiction, Contemporary, General, Fantasy, Vineyards, Fiction
ISBN: 1439101450
Google: wvOakhu2GbQC
Amazon: B005DI9AAU
Publisher: Gallery
Published: 2010-10-19T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

You should not.

“Hush,” Jerzy said, shooting an annoyed look over his shoulder at the stone dragon.

The first day or so after Malech’s revelation, Jerzy had been uneasy around the Guardian, watching it as though it might suddenly do something, or say something, or—in truth, he didn’t know what he thought, or expected. Then one day passed, and another, and Jerzy found himself reaching up to touch the Guardian’s tail as he passed through a doorway where the dragon was perched, just as he always had before, and nothing had really changed.

The Guardian was special magic. Important. Jerzy had always known that, even if he didn’t know why, or how unique it was. There were more important things to take precedence in his thoughts right now. Malech’s words to him lingered in his every action, kept him company when he slept, and ate at his brain until he thought he might go mad.

“I prefer, generally, to let events come as they will, to face them when they arrive, and not worry overmuch over the inevitability of hard times, or rejoice too early for good times. What will, will.”

His master considered the vineyard, the House, and the villages surrounding, and only then the rest of the Vin Lands. But Jerzy knew people there. Vineart Giordan had not been a name, but a person. Ao and Mahault, Kaïnam …

What will, will. The cycle moved forward, one season following the next. But like the wind carrying a storm, like fire unchecked, a bad season could cause the next to fail as well. People starved, if crops failed. People died, if winters were too harsh, or the rainy season too wet. The Guardian warned of chaos, and Master Malech feared the destruction of the world as they knew it …

If things were to get worse, what was his master waiting for? Jerzy felt the tension grow in him until he could no longer contain it, not without bursting.

You should not, the dragon repeated, not moving from the wall niche where it had settled. Its sightless stone eyes stared down at Jerzy, gray and unblinking, and at the assortment of flasks and vials spread out on the table in front of him.

“I have to.”

Jerzy had woken that morning to the sound of a soft rain on the roof of his bedchamber. Not more hail, just a normal, refreshing rain. There was no need for him to go outside today. No need to throw himself over a horse’s back or into a jolting wagon, no need to get wet and muddy … and nothing for his body to do, no exhaustion to keep the worry at bay.

Master Malech had already been in his study when Jerzy came down to receive his orders for the day, a smear of ink on his angular face and a crease between his brow that meant, Jerzy knew, that Detta had finally cornered him with the House accounts. The day-to-day running of the House was her domain, but the Vineart still

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