Free Dragon's Child by M. K. Hume Page B

deeper.
    ‘Greater even than thy father, and greater than thy son, you will save your world for a time but it will be at the cost of all that you hold dear. Time will not change you, nor shatter your promise. You shall live, though your body be dead, long after the might of Rome has fallen into the dust.’
    The family was struck dumb by the enormity of Morgan’s prophecy. Caius’s mouth was twisted into a sneer of jealousy and Artorex knew the master’s son would make him suffer for the promise in the words of this wise woman.
    ‘You can spare me your promises, for today is enough for me,’ Artorex snapped, annoyed by the riddles in her words. ‘And what of you, Morgan? Do you dare to turn your gift upon yourself ?’
    ‘I will cast also,’ Morgan replied, still staring enigmatically into the eyes of the young man.
    She swept up the bones in one eloquent hand, and cast them down.
    ‘Blood calls to blood, whether I wish it or not. You should call on me, should you ever have need of me. My life skein is tangled with yours, and my name will endure as long as yours lives. I am bound inextricably to you by old wrongs.’
    Caius rose to his feet. His temper and resentment was clearly exposed in his dark eyes and Julanna flinched away from his peremptory hand.
    ‘Well, I’m sure this little game has all been very interesting, but Julanna and I are for our bed,’ Caius ordered, and led his reluctant young wife from the eating chamber.
    Livinia and Ector also rose to their feet.
    ‘We thank you for your gifts,’ Livinia said for both Ector and herself.
    As the mistress led her husband away, Morgan bowed low until she was a dark puddle of shadow on the bright floor.
    Artorex snapped his fingers and servants scurried to clear away all signs of the family meal. He noticed that the women gave Morgan a wide berth and one old grandmother surreptitiously made the age-old sign to ward off the evil eye.
    ‘Come, Morgan.’ Artorex offered his hand. ‘This evening’s charade is over. When are you going to tell me what you really want?’
    ‘I wanted to see your face,’ Morgan answered, with her head tilted upwards so she could see his unusual eyes.
    ‘And?’
    She took his hand and rose to her feet, the accoutrements of her trade having disappeared inside the voluminous black robe. Her fingers were soft and dry, like the skin of a snake, but he sensed the strength that lay under the surface.
    ‘I have nothing else to tell you, my lord. Nothing you do not know for yourself. ’
    ‘I have no idea what you are talking about,’ Artorex said irritably.
    ‘But I do not believe you came to Villa Poppinidii by accident. We are some little way east of the road that leads to the north.’
    Morgan smiled. ‘I believe now that you have not been told of your birthright. How surprising! Sometimes the ways of men are very strange. Now that I look at you, I can see a little of your mother in you,’ she added. ‘It is in your eyes, Artorex.’
    ‘You are speaking in riddles yet again. Perhaps it is the language of all charlatans.’ Artorex paused as Morgan’s pupils flared for a moment with an intense white fire. ‘Or perhaps you believe what you say. Who was my mother?’
    ‘It is not my place to tell you, my lord, if greater ones than I have kept silent.’ Morgan smiled and, for a brief moment, her face lit up from within and she was very beautiful indeed.
    ‘You should not invest me with titles that are not mine to claim,’ Artorex replied evenly, although his hand tingled from contact with her slim fingers. He frowned at her. ‘Where is your home?’
    ‘I am from the Fortress Tintagel, lord. I tell you nothing by saying this, for you have probably never heard of such a place.’ Morgan slid to the doorway.
    ‘You’re correct, Morgan, but I will not forget you,’ Artorex promised grimly.
    At his words, she paused for a moment, and stared back at him with eyes that drew the light to her face. ‘Of that, I have no