The Windrose Chronicles 1 - The Silent Tower Read Online Free

twisted her head on her bent spine to look up at Salteris and Lady Rosamund, who had also come to her side. “There is evil abroad,” she piped. “Evil from other worlds than this. Only a curtain of gauze separates us from them. The Dark Mage knew . . .”
    Salteris held up his hand quickly against that name, his silky white brows plunging together. Caris glanced quickly from him to Aunt Min, who had returned to fussing with the trailing strands of her knitting, and then back. “Other worlds?” he asked worriedly. His eyes went unwillingly to the dark maw of the alley, an uneven agglomerate of dim stone angles, with the gutter picking up the quicksilver light of the sky like a broken sword blade. “But-but this is the world. There is no other. The Sun and Moon go around us . . .”
    Salteris shook his head. “No, my son,” he said. “They've known for years now that it is we who go around the Sun, and not the Sun around us, though the Church hasn't admitted it yet. But that is not what Aunt Min means.” He frowned unseeing for a moment into the distance. “Yes, the Dark Mage knew.” His voice sank to a whisper. “As do L” He put his arm around the old lady's stooped shoulders. “Come. Before all else, we must get him inside.”
    They sent one of the night-watch sasenna-the only two sasenna to be dressed-for a physician. Rather to Caris' surprise, it was less than a half-hour before he arrived. In the low-roofed closeness of the Archmage's narrow study, Caris was telling Salteris, Lady Rosamund, and old Aunt Min of what he had seen-the pistol-shots, the chase, the terrible Gate of Darkness-when he heard the swift tap-tap of hooves in the Yard and the brisk rattle of what sounded like a gig. He was surprised that any citizen of Angelshand would come to the Mages' Yard during the dark hours, and even more so when the man entered the study. He had expected Salteris to send for a healer of the Old Believers, whose archaic faith was still more than a little mixed with wizardry. But the man who entered wore the dapper blue knee breeches and full-skirted coat of a professional of the city.
    “Dr. Narwahl Skipfrag.” Salteris rose from the carved ebony chair in which he had been sitting, extending a strong, slender hand. The physician took it and inclined his head, his bright blue eyes taking in every detail of that small room, with its dark ranks of books, its embryos bottled in honey or brandy, and its geometric models and crystal prisms.
    “I came as quickly as I could.”
    “There was no need for haste.” Salteris gestured him to the chair that Caris brought silently up. “The man was killed almost at once.”
    One of Skipfrag's sparse, sandy eyebrows tilted sharply up. He was a tall man, stoutish and snuff-colored, with his hair tied back in an oldfashioned queue. In spite of the fact that he must have been wakened by Salteris' messenger, his broad linen cravat was neatly tied and his shirtruflies unrumpled.
    “Dr. Narwahl Skipfrag,” Salteris introduced. “Lady Minhyrdin, Lady Rosamund-my grandson Caris, sasennan of the Council, who witnessed the shooting. Dr. Narwahl Skipfrag, Royal Physician to the Emperor and my good friend.”
    As a sasennan should, Caris concealed his surprise. Few professionals believed in the power of wizards anymore, and certainly no one associated with the Court would admit to the belief these days, much less to friendship with the Archmage. But Dr. Skipfrag smiled, and nodded to Lady Rosamund. “We have met, I think, in another life.”
    As if against her will a slight answering smile warmed her ladyship's mouth.
    Slumped in her chair, without raising her eyes from her knitting, Aunt Min inquired, “And how does his Majesty?”
    Skipfrag's face clouded a little. “His health is good.” He spoke as one who remarks the salvage of an heirloom gravy boat from the wreck of a house.
    Lady Rosamund's full mouth tightened. “A pity, in a way.” Salteris gave her a questioning