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"Yes."
"The spell animated the dead with a terrible purpose. What was that purpose,
Elaine?"
"It wanted Pegin dead."
"It?"
"The maker of the spell wanted him dead."
"Why?"
Her hand closed over the piece of bone. "The spell's creator didn't want Pegin
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to bring help. He, or she, fears Jonathan, fears the mage-finder."
"How do you know that?"
"The bone reeks of fear."
"Could that not be the fear of the hand from which the bone came?"
Elaine nodded. "It could be that, but the maker of the spell is afraid also."
"Is it only the mage-finder that the spell's caster fears?"
"No."
"What else?"
"Death, he fears death." She squeezed the shard of bone until the edges bit
into her skin. The bones in her hand trembled in sympathy with the thing she
held. The pain was sharp and final, the injury so great that the body deadened
the nerves. It was not her own pain she was remembering. The finger had been
severed while the woman still lived. There had been many spells, many bones,
much blood.
Fingers curled around her hand. "Let go, Elaine." Gersalius tried to open her
hand. "Let go."
"I cannot."
"Tereza help me."
Tereza did not ask questions. She just knelt, flinging her gloves to the snow,
helping to pry Elaine's fingers apart. One finger at a time, they opened her
hand.
Gersalius turned her hand palm down, spilling the bone to the snow. Blood
welled in a small cut where the bone had bitten into her skin.
Tears trailed down Elaine's face. She wasn't sure why she was crying. "What
happened?"
"Your magic feeds on light, heat. Other magic feeds on other things,"
Gersalius said.
"What other things?"
The wizard held her hand up to the dim starlight. He smeared his thumb through
the darkness on her palm. "Blood, Elaine. It feeds on blood."
« »
^
SEVEN
Jonathan sat at his desk, arms crossed over his chest. He could feel his face
set in a scowl, but didn't care. If anything was worth scowling about, it was
this.
Tereza stood against the far wall. Her arms were also crossed, tucked tight
against her stomach, angry.
Her long, dark hair gleamed like fur in the lamplight. The rich colors of her
clothing glowed with reflected radiance. The strong planes of her face were
set in high relief by the light and shadows. The sight of her made his body
ache, but what she asked was impossible.
"No, Tereza, I cannot condone it." His voice sounded firm and reasonable. He
was right, and she would
see that.
"You did not see Elaine in the shed tonight, Jonathan. Now that she knows she
is a mage, her magic is coming out stronger, faster. If Gersalius had not been
there, she might have been sucked to death's door again."
"From what you tell me, if the wizard had not urged it, she would not have
tried this . . . magic."
"No, but the next vision would have endangered her. At least now she knows how
to control the magic, a little." She pushed away from the wall and began to
pace the small room. Her energy seemed to fill the room, making it shrink and
pale compared to her. She was so very alive, all nerve endings and emotion,
all physical. Jonathan was aware that she balanced him, his careful
calculation to her impetu-ousness, his thinking to her heart, his age to her
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youth. Even as he argued, part of him wanted to say yes just because it was
her. But no, not this time. He would, by the gods, stand his ground.
"Before tonight, I would have agreed with you." She stopped in front of him,
hands on hips. "Gersalius must accompany us to Cortton."
He shook his head. "No." One simple word; why couldn't she understand it.
Tereza paced away from him, stalking the room as though it were a cage. "Then
Elaine must remain behind, with the wizard."
"No."
She whirled. "Why not?"
"I do not trust the wizard here at our home with us away. He could bewitch the
entire household, including Elaine, before we return."
"Do you really believe that?" She was standing in front of him again, dark
eyes gentle and searching. The anger was seeping out of her. Tereza could
never stay angry long, at least not at him. Frankly, this new reasonableness
was more dangerous. As long as she ranted and raved, he could simply fight.
But how to argue with reason?
He looked away from those searching eyes. It was a bad sign that he could not
meet her gaze. He was losing, and not sure why. "Surely you see that we cannot
take a wizard along on our work. I am the mage-finder. I cannot cart a mage
along to aid me."
"He won't be there to aid you, Jonathan. He will be there to see that Elaine
does not inadvertently kill herself."
"It can't be that serious. She has gone on all these years."
Tereza shook her head, dark hair sliding along her shoulders. "I told you what
happened tonight. She was like a stranger, Jonathan." Her face when she turned
to him showed something he had not expected . . . fear.
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