The Silvered Read Online Free Page A

we’re safe.”
    “Pack Leader or not…” And honestly, it wasn’t like he could perform miracles. He was, when it came to it, flesh and blood, the same as everyone else. “…we’re only seventeen miles from the border. We should…”
    “We need to use this opportunity the Lord and Lady have granted us. We have never had so many members of the Pack in Bercarit.” Her mother’s tone declared this was the final word on the matter. “Unless you know something no one else does?” The words hung between them, taking up all the extra room in the carriage, then her mother wrapped her hand around Mirian’s wrist and added, tone now speculative, “You don’t, do you? Your marrying into the Pack would be preferable, but if your father and I were able to provide them with a good Soothsayer, I’m sure they’d be grateful. In fact, as there’s no telling what member of the Pack you’d attract, that might…”
    “I’m not a Soothsayer, Mother.” Her father, at least, looked relieved she didn’t face insanity. “And I’m not going to attract a member of the Pack.”
    “Not with that attitude, you’re not. I’m not sure about this hairstyle on you.” She poked a finger into the mass of tousled curls. “It looks disheveled.”
    “Isn’t it supposed to look disheveled?” Mirian sighed. Her mother’s maid had spent half an hour torturing her with a hot iron and pins, the chambermaid who usually assisted her having been declared too inexperienced for such an occasion.
    “
Artfully
disheveled,” her mother sighed. “You look as though you just climbed out of bed. With Lady Hagen setting the fashion for golden hair and your hair so entirely unremarkably brown, we’ll have to use what we have. All things considered, a little suggestiveness can’t hurt. Once you’re part of the Mage-pack, you can cut it all off, and I’m sure that will make you happy.” As the carriage came to a stop, she leaned in, a fingertip on Mirian’s right cheek, pulling her eye open wider. “Still gray. Paler if anything,” she sighed. “We’ll have to hold to the knowledge that your entrance tests were strong and I’ve made sure everyone knows that. Brush against them when you get the chance,” she added as the door opened. “The Pack is very tactile.”
    Even if Mirian had been able to respond, her protest would have been lost as her mother emerged from the carriage, one hand in her husband’s as he assisted her down the step and the other trailing shawl, and reticule, and attitude. As Mirian stepped out a moment later, she was surprised to see her father waiting, and put her hand on his with a smile.
    “Your mother has spotted one of her particular friends,” he said, with a nod toward the wide plaza outside the Opera House and familiar green feathers bobbing above a cluster of women.
    “Father, if I can’t attract…”
    “You can do anything you put your mind to, Miri, and my bank can very much use the Pack’s attention. Smile, be pleasant. You may not be this season’s fashion, but you’re a pretty girl; it’ll work out.” He tucked her hand in his elbow as the carriage pulled away, its place taken immediately by another. “So, why no first in Metals?” he asked as they started up the broad steps.
    “Pardon?”
    “Your mother said you had a first level in everything but Metals. Why no Metals?”
    “The Metals-master…” Had been scathing about her inability to stay with one craft and had refused to examine her. “…felt I wasn’t suited.”
    “Well, I’m sure he knows best.” He patted her hand then released her as her mother reclaimed him.
    “Stop dawdling, Kollin, I want to be seated before the Pack enters so we can see who’s attending.”
    Mirian dropped back behind her parents, smiled at a truncated greeting from a friend hurrying past, and paused between the wings of the huge glass-and-wrought-iron doors. The sky over the city was clear, but, as much as she hated to admit it, her mother