The Magic of Highland Dragons Read Online Free Page B

the air, almost like the charge of static electricity. The next thing she noticed was that one whole wall was lined with shelves, and the shelves held what must have been hundreds of clay jars and small cloth bags, tied at the top with string. They all had labels, and when she took a step closer to look, she discovered they were all in a language she couldn’t read; letters interspersed with strange symbols. There were also several small tables, some of them stacked with wooden bowls and spoons, and other implements she couldn’t identify and had never even seen before. Another wall held a shelf with a neat row of books, all bound in glossy leather. There were two doors in the room, both closed, with a hearth in between. She assumed that at least one must open to a bedroom.
    She turned to Dirc, who stood silently watching her take everything in, his mouth cocked in a self-satisfied looking smile.
    “What is all of this? What do you use all these things for?” She gestured to the shelves.
    He looked at his store of jars and bags with more than a little pride. “Ah, I’m somewhat of a healer for my clan. And a bit of a spell-caster too. Such things… require many different elements.” He motioned to a chair before the fire. “Come, sit down, rest.”
    She took a step toward the chair he offered, and stopped abruptly, her eyes narrowing in uncertainty. Had there been a fire in the hearth a moment ago? She didn’t remember there being a fire… but maybe she had just been too busy looking at everything else. And she had been through rather a lot since yesterday, it was no wonder if she was a little out of it. She sat down, looking into the flames for a moment, trying again to gather her wildly fragmented thoughts and make sense of it all.
    “I have to go out for a short while, lass”, Dirc was saying. She turned her head to look at him, still feeling a bit dazed. “Will ye be alright alone here? I willna be but an hour.”
    Faith turned back to the fire. “I’ll be fine. I… I have a lot to think about.” Spell-caster, had he said? Would that be what they called a doctor in this time? Must be, though he had also called himself a healer...
    He walked over to the fire, and she noticed now a pot hanging to one side. He picked up a stick that was leaning against the hearth and stirred whatever was in there. “If ye could keep an eye on the porridge while it warms, we’ll have some dinner when I return.”
    Faith nodded mutely, and gave a weak smile.
    Dirc left the lass in the cottage and made quickly for the castle gates, confident she’d wait there for him. She looked far too tired and unsure of things to run at the moment. Poor dear, she must be nearly in shock from it all. But just to be sure, he’d warded the door and the windows. She wouldn’t be able to get away even if she were so inclined. He didn’t want to waste any more time. He had already been waiting far too long for this day to come. The role he had taken upon himself had been weighing on him for years; he would be glad enough to finally be done with it, and turn back to more mundane pursuits.
     
     
     
    ***
    Bren sank down into his chair and looked at the meal laid out before him. Roast venison. Again. He sighed, ending with a little growl. Was there nothing else to eat around here? He looked up as Dirc appeared and slid into the seat next to him.
    “Good evening my laird”, Dirc said. He had a mischievous glint in his eye this evening, Bren thought. More so even than usual.
    He shot him an accusing look. “What are ye up to now, old man?” The sorcerer was seldom idle, in thoughts or actions. And it had already been some time since his last debacle. He was due for another, soon.
    Dirc shrugged, the very picture of innocence. “I’m here tonight to fill my belly, nay more.”
    “It’s roast venison again”, Bren said with a frown. “For the fourth damn time this week.”
    Dirc gave him an admonishing look. “Ye’re the laird of this