many
questions will beguile your thoughts. As events unfold those
questions will be answered.”
“Is it Sir Giles who has some particular
reason for coming to Wroxley?” For a little while, intrigued by the
tale Hugh was recounting, Mirielle had been able to push Giles to
the back of her mind. Now the image of the tall, bearded man with
the seductive voice returned to disturb her.
“My friend’s intent is the restoration of the
proper balance,” Hugh said. “From what I know of you I cannot think
you will have any objection to that goal.”
Mirielle looked down at her empty cup, trying
to formulate a response that would not implicate Brice in
wrongdoing. She wanted to explain to Hua Te that, while she did not
fear for her personal safety, if Brice were turned out of Wroxley,
or if he were imprisoned or worse, then she would have no place to
go save to a convent, a prospect she dreaded. Nor did Mirielle want
to see Brice harmed, not when he had been so consistently good to
her.
When she finally looked up, Hugh had
disappeared. His cup still sat on the table, she had not heard him
move from the bench, the door to the workroom was closed, but he
was gone.
“Truly, he is a great mage,” she said to
Minn. “And though he tried to reassure me, I am more afraid than
ever.”
In the guest room Giles was feeding the
brazier with charcoal. Two maidservants had brought the brazier and
the fuel for it, along with the mattress and quilts that Mirielle
had promised, a pitcher of water, a basin for washing, and a small
oil lamp, which did no more to chase away the dark than the brazier
did to send the damp cold of the stone-walled room into retreat.
Giles glanced up as Hugh entered, but he did not speak until Hugh
had closed the door.
“Were you able to learn anything useful?”
Giles asked.
“I spoke with Lady Mirielle.”
“Did you?” Giles found his friend’s look a
bit too sharp. To avoid Hugh’s eyes, he turned back to the brazier.
“I had forgotten how uncomfortable an English castle can be. I have
grown soft in foreign lands.”
“We need not shiver. I think it is too late
for anyone to disturb us. All but the sentries seem to be
abed.”
“Including Sir Brice and Lady Alda.” Giles’s
voice was bitter.
“You knew the stories before we came here,”
Hugh said. “I thought you had made your peace with them—and made
your decision.”
“It is quite another matter to have the
evidence before my eyes,” Giles said.`
“Would warmth improve your mood?” Hugh
stretched out his arms, holding his long staff as always in his
left hand. A slight breeze swirled about the room, stirring the
sleeves and the hem of Hugh’s dark robe. The air in the room turned
noticeably warmer. Hugh tilted the staff in the direction of the
brazier and flames leapt upward from the charcoal, providing a
smokeless torch to light the tiny chamber. Another motion of Hugh’s
wrist banished the smell of mildew in favor of the tang of
fresh-cut cedarwood.
“Thank you.” Giles sat down on the bench.
Hugh joined him, still holding his staff.
“Mirielle knows we are not mere pilgrims as
we claim,” Hugh said. “More than that, the girl is a healer with a
talent for my own art, and she is far better trained than she
realizes.”
“Then she may prove to be a hindrance to us,”
Giles said. “Her loyalty to Sir Brice is obvious. She will protect
him if she can.”
“Were we to remain at Wroxley for a few
days,” Hugh spoke slowly, considering all possibilities, “I might
bring her to a point at which I could confide our true purpose to
her. She possesses a strong conscience. She will see the justice in
what we do.”
“We dare not forget that Mirielle lives every
day in Alda’s company,” Giles said. “Do not imagine that Alda has
no influence on her—or her cousin, Brice. Whether she has a
conscience or no, we cannot rely on her, Hugh. Be careful what you
teach her.”
“I am always careful.”
“I
questions will beguile your thoughts. As events unfold those
questions will be answered.”
“Is it Sir Giles who has some particular
reason for coming to Wroxley?” For a little while, intrigued by the
tale Hugh was recounting, Mirielle had been able to push Giles to
the back of her mind. Now the image of the tall, bearded man with
the seductive voice returned to disturb her.
“My friend’s intent is the restoration of the
proper balance,” Hugh said. “From what I know of you I cannot think
you will have any objection to that goal.”
Mirielle looked down at her empty cup, trying
to formulate a response that would not implicate Brice in
wrongdoing. She wanted to explain to Hua Te that, while she did not
fear for her personal safety, if Brice were turned out of Wroxley,
or if he were imprisoned or worse, then she would have no place to
go save to a convent, a prospect she dreaded. Nor did Mirielle want
to see Brice harmed, not when he had been so consistently good to
her.
When she finally looked up, Hugh had
disappeared. His cup still sat on the table, she had not heard him
move from the bench, the door to the workroom was closed, but he
was gone.
“Truly, he is a great mage,” she said to
Minn. “And though he tried to reassure me, I am more afraid than
ever.”
In the guest room Giles was feeding the
brazier with charcoal. Two maidservants had brought the brazier and
the fuel for it, along with the mattress and quilts that Mirielle
had promised, a pitcher of water, a basin for washing, and a small
oil lamp, which did no more to chase away the dark than the brazier
did to send the damp cold of the stone-walled room into retreat.
Giles glanced up as Hugh entered, but he did not speak until Hugh
had closed the door.
“Were you able to learn anything useful?”
Giles asked.
“I spoke with Lady Mirielle.”
“Did you?” Giles found his friend’s look a
bit too sharp. To avoid Hugh’s eyes, he turned back to the brazier.
“I had forgotten how uncomfortable an English castle can be. I have
grown soft in foreign lands.”
“We need not shiver. I think it is too late
for anyone to disturb us. All but the sentries seem to be
abed.”
“Including Sir Brice and Lady Alda.” Giles’s
voice was bitter.
“You knew the stories before we came here,”
Hugh said. “I thought you had made your peace with them—and made
your decision.”
“It is quite another matter to have the
evidence before my eyes,” Giles said.`
“Would warmth improve your mood?” Hugh
stretched out his arms, holding his long staff as always in his
left hand. A slight breeze swirled about the room, stirring the
sleeves and the hem of Hugh’s dark robe. The air in the room turned
noticeably warmer. Hugh tilted the staff in the direction of the
brazier and flames leapt upward from the charcoal, providing a
smokeless torch to light the tiny chamber. Another motion of Hugh’s
wrist banished the smell of mildew in favor of the tang of
fresh-cut cedarwood.
“Thank you.” Giles sat down on the bench.
Hugh joined him, still holding his staff.
“Mirielle knows we are not mere pilgrims as
we claim,” Hugh said. “More than that, the girl is a healer with a
talent for my own art, and she is far better trained than she
realizes.”
“Then she may prove to be a hindrance to us,”
Giles said. “Her loyalty to Sir Brice is obvious. She will protect
him if she can.”
“Were we to remain at Wroxley for a few
days,” Hugh spoke slowly, considering all possibilities, “I might
bring her to a point at which I could confide our true purpose to
her. She possesses a strong conscience. She will see the justice in
what we do.”
“We dare not forget that Mirielle lives every
day in Alda’s company,” Giles said. “Do not imagine that Alda has
no influence on her—or her cousin, Brice. Whether she has a
conscience or no, we cannot rely on her, Hugh. Be careful what you
teach her.”
“I am always careful.”
“I
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