War of Wizards Read Online Free Page A

table.
    Whelan shook his head. “I’m sorry. What was I saying? Oh, yes. About the enemy forces.”
    The sooner the king confronted his loss, the better, so Markal reached for the bundle to unwrap it. Whelan drew in his breath and reached for his wrist, but Markal pulled loose. “No, Whelan. It is time.”
    The king nodded and leaned back in his chair. He put a hand to his stubbled chin and looked on as Markal unwound the thing. It had very little weight for its size. Soon, it was uncovered and lying in the middle of the table.
    The falcon’s once-sleek feathers had been charred, and its eyes were dead and glassy. One wing bent at an unnatural angle, and its blackened talons clenched shut. The scouts had found it scorched and dying in a thicket several miles outside of camp and brought it in for the wizard to inspect. By the time Markal and Whelan saw it, the bird had been dead for hours.
    Whelan stared at it, his lips thin and pressed together.
    “You are sure?” Markal asked.
    “See the notch on the left side of her beak? A fox once tried to take the rabbit she’d killed. Fool bird nearly lost her life for it.” Whelan nodded grimly. “It is Scree. I don’t understand why she would be here and not with my brother, but I am sure. It’s the same falcon.”
    Daniel and Sofiana had taken the bird with them along the Spice Road to Marrabat. That was hundreds of miles away.
    Whelan closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “How will I bear it?”
    “Soldiers are dying in your service every day,” Markal said gently. “You cannot let your men see how upset you are about the loss of a falcon.”
    “It’s not the falcon, Markal. Though I am upset enough about that. I should have left her in Eriscoba, not carried her with me into danger. That’s not what is bothering me.”
    A sudden draft flapped at the tent and made the torches sputter and smoke. Markal turned a sharp gaze toward the entrance, thinking immediately of wights, but the guards seemed unperturbed, and the draft died as suddenly as it had come up. There was no magic in it. It was only the wind.
    But Markal was still frowning as he looked back to Whelan. “Then what?”
    “Scree was no homing pigeon—she couldn’t have found me by herself. She wouldn’t have flown over hundreds of miles of desert and wasteland alone. So someone brought her.”
    “You mean your daughter?”
    “Who else?” Whelan asked. “Sofiana is headstrong and stubborn. No doubt the girl ran off on her own, and if she did, I’m sure she managed to lose whoever was pursuing her. She must have brought Scree to hunt and provide meat for the journey. They must have been close—it was only a few miles from here that they found the falcon. If my daughter survived, if she wasn’t captured or killed, then where is she?”
    Markal was momentarily surprised. The falcon had the scent of magic all over her; it was so strong that he’d assumed that Whelan felt it. Darik would have. But without knowing that, no wonder Whelan’s thoughts would go to his daughter. Everyone he loved was far away—his daughter, his wife, and his two remaining brothers—menaced by threats beyond Whelan’s control. Worry for them must have weighed heavily on Whelan’s shoulders already. So if he’d seen his dead falcon, naturally he would have assumed . . .
    “Let me set your mind at ease,” Markal said. “Nobody brought this animal to the khalifates, she flew alone.”
    Whelan clenched the edge of the table. “I told you, Scree couldn’t do that. She—”
    Markal rested a hand on the man’s arm. “Whelan, listen to me. There’s magic in this. Someone sent her to us, that’s how she crossed the desert. Sofiana had nothing to do with it. No doubt your daughter is still in Marrabat. Darik was with her, and he’s more tenacious than you give him credit for.”
    Whelan released his grip on the table. Relief washed over his face. “The Brothers be praised. You’re sure?”
    “Of