Journey Of Thieves (Book 5) Read Online Free Page B

liked to think that I, and not the Praetor, owned the greater part of Terrac’s loyalty, but the truth was that I had never really pressed him to choose between us.
    Myria’s thoughts followed a different direction than mine. “So you travel where your priest friend does. You did not come to Swiftsfell on your own account?”
    “Why should I do that?”
    She lifted a silver eyebrow. “When I realized whose kin you were, I thought you might have visited in search of your past. Looking for your mother’s people, perhaps.”
    At last we were heading in the right direction. I said, “I do not remember my mother ever speaking of friends or family from her past. I had no cause to suppose any existed, let alone that they should be found in Swiftsfell. I’m sorry to say she did not mention you.”
    “I understand.” Refilling my drink, she changed the subject. “And how did you lose your magical abilities?”
    I started, nearly sloshing my hot beverage onto my hand. “How did you—”
    But then I realized I shouldn’t be surprised. Just as I used to feel the presence or absence of magic in others, so must other magickers sense it in me. To this woman, the power that had recently abandoned me was probably as evident as smoke curling from a newly snuffed candle.
    “My magic was burned out.”
    It sounded abrupt, but I found myself unexpectedly sensitive on the subject. Her question felt awkwardly personal. If I were missing an arm, would she be tactless enough ask how I had lost that?
    If she noticed my reaction, her expression was unapologetic. “Many a young, untrained magicker has overextended herself and destroyed her skill beyond hope of healing.”
    “I was not untrained. Hadrian has mentored me these past three years. I was simply in a position where I had to make a choice. Push my magic past safe limits or allow a friend to die. I took the risk, and I don’t regret it.”
    It was true. If I hadn’t sacrificed my magic to defend Terrac against a Skeltai shaman, he would be dead now. His life was worth the cost.
    “I am glad you were loyal to your friend,” said Myria. “But a lifetime separated from your natural gift is a high price to pay.”
    I feigned a casualness I did not feel. “What’s done is done. I would rather not dwell on it.”
    “It may be that you are right.” Myria tilted her silver head to one side and tapped a slender finger against her chin thoughtfully. “But sometimes what we think is done is not really over at all.”
    She hesitated, then appeared to come to a sudden decision. “Come with me, young Ilan. There’s something I’d like to show you. It’s a test, of sorts.”
    I was baffled. “What kind of a test?”
    Instead of answering, she vacated her seat by the fire and gestured me to follow as she crossed the room to draw back a thin curtain. The chamber beyond was scarcely worthy of the name. It was more of an alcove, with just space enough for a clothes chest and a hammock slung along the wall.
    She beckoned me to a shelf that held an assortment of mismatched odds and ends. Broken shells, bits of jewelry, framed miniatures, and a carved wooden box of the kind often used to hold small mementoes.
    She lifted the memento box down from the shelf. It was small, not much bigger than the hand that held it, but she handled it carefully as though its contents were great.
    Her eyes met mine over the box. “What I am about to show you must be our secret. For although no one in Swiftsfell would steal it from me, there are others outside the village who would give much to possess what I hold.”
    “Others?” My mind went to the general sense of wariness that seemed to hang over Swiftsfell and its inhabitants.
    She followed my thoughts. “We are not easy with our Drejian neighbors in the near mountains. They have no liking for us, and neither does the dragon, Micanthria, whom they harbor.”
    She shrugged slender shoulders. “But it is no matter, for I trust you to keep my