Word & Void 2 - A Knight of the Word by Brooks Terry

Author:Brooks, Terry [Brooks, Terry]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
ISBN: 9780345424648
Publisher: Del Rey
Published: 2010-01-22T05:07:42+00:00

CHAPTER 14

John Ross had told Nest he had already been warned of the consequences of his refusal to continue as a Knight of the Word. What he hadn’t told her was that the warning had been delivered by O’olish Amaneh.

As he rode the trolley back up to Pioneer Square and the offices of Fresh Start, thinking through everything Nest had said, he recalled anew the circumstances of that visit.

It was not long after he met Stef and before they started living together. He was still residing in Boston and auditing classes at the college. It was just after Christmas, sometime in early January, and a heavy snow had left evening blanketed in white. The sky was thickly clouded, and a rise in the temperature following a deep cold spell had created a heavy mist that clung to the landscape like cotton to Velcro and slowed traffic to a crawl. It was the perfect day to stay indoors, and that was what he was doing. He was in his apartment, finished with his classes, working his way through a book on behavioural science, when the door (which he was certain he had locked) opened and there stood the Indian.

Ross remembered his panic. If he had been able to do so, he would have bolted instantly, run for his life, consequences and appearances be damned. But he was settled back in his easy chair, encumbered by his book and various notepads’ so there was no possibility of leaping up to escape. His Staff lay on the floor beside him, but he didn’t bother to reach for it. He knew, without having ever been given any real proof of it, that trying to use the staff’s magic against O’olish Amaneh, even in self-defence, would be a big mistake.

“What do you want?” he asked instead, fighting to keep his voice steady.

O’olish Amaneh stepped inside and closed the door softly behind him. He was wearing a heavy winter parka, which he unzipped and removed. Underneath, he wore fatigue pants and combat boots, a checked flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and a fisherman’s vest with mesh pockets. A wide leather belt with a silver buckle bound his waist, metal bracelets encircled his wrists, and a beaded cord held back his long, black hair. His blunt features were wind-burnt and raw with the cold, and his dark eyes were flat and empty as they fixed on Ross.

He crossed his arms over his massive chest with the parka folded between them, but made no move to come closer. “You are making a mistake.” he rumbled.

Ross put aside the book and notepads and straightened slightly. “Did the Lady send you?”

“What did I tell you, John Ross, about trying to cast off the staff?”

“You told me not to. Ever.”

“Did you not believe me?”

“I believed you.”

“Did you fail to realize that when I told you not to cast off the staff, I meant spiritually as well as physically?”

Ross’s mouth and throat went dry. This was the Lady’s response to his attempt to return the staff at the Fairy Glen.

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