Free Gossamyr by Michele Hauf Page A

And that
made him all the more appealing.
    "The dirt from the fight," Ulrich commented as he angled
forward to study her. "It covers your face."
    Gossamyr wiggled her nose. Another sneeze tormented.
    "It is bone,"he said of her dirty covering. "It
hides your glimmer."
    "Bone?"
    "That means good."
    "Then why not say good?"
    "For the same reason you say mortal. We have our own slangs,
do we not?" A click of his tongue beckoned Fancy onward.
    Gossamyr paralleled him but a leap to his left. He suspected; she
knew that he did.
    "I wager you are safe from wonder so long as you do not favor
bathing. Though your clothing—"
    "Will be changed anon. I need only locate a seamstress.
Mayhap something bright, like yours." She glanced over Ulrich's
attire. The cloak swung merrily with his strides, intermittently
revealing the tight striped hose he wore.
    "I'm afraid a change of costume won't be so easy in Aparjon,"
he said. "'Tis a very small village, as most villages are. It is
not fortified, which will prove bone. Our entry will not be
questioned. If I recall from my travels there is a stable behind the
one lone tavern that rents out to riders. Plead to Luck to find a
horse for purchase, especially a swift one. As well, it may be
difficult to get a room for the night." He turned and scanned
back down the road.
    "Dead as a doornail," Gossamyr reassured. And who
decided when a doornail was dead? "What lends you to believe I
wish to stay the night in the next village?"
    "You said you were tired?"
    "Yes, but a rest and some hearty fare will serve. I am off to
Paris."
    "Indeed?"
    Ulrich handed Gossamyr Fancy's reins and skipped ahead, turning to
walk widdershins in front of her. His cloak billowed as he gestured
and filled the air with the rumbling tones Gossamyr found she favored
more and more.
    "I cannot resist questioning when there is so much of
interest about you, fair lady. Whence do you hail? And, skill aside,
what finds a lone woman trekking to Paris with so little fear of
danger?"
    "I am in search of a...woman. She goes by the moniker of the
Red Lady."
    She picked up her pace in hopes of the man stumbling, but he tread
backward with ease. His arms pumping, his robe splayed open with each
stride, to reveal long legs and ankle-high suede boots with pointed
toes.
    "And where in Paris does she reside?"
    "I know naught."
    "Paris is a big city. Mayhap I can help you locate her?"
    "How might you discover a woman you've never met?"
    "I found you."
    "But you weren't—"
    "I've a location spell that may be of use."
    A spell? Caution fired. "You said you are not a wizard."
    "That I am not."
    The last thing Gossamyr needed was to align herself with a
practicer of magic. She had come to stop the damaging effects done to
Enchantment, not contribute.
    "But I did pay attention when His Most Magical—er, my
former patron—needed to locate a lost dream or dragon."
    "You practice magic?"
    "Not enough to make it real."
    But did his attempts tap Enchantment? And with the rift, the
damage caused was increased immeasurably. Mayhap choosing to share
the road with this man had been a mistake. Where was the fetch? If
Ulrich proved a threat, would Shinn intervene?
    Quickening her footsteps, she commented, "I fear the woman I
seek be more dangerous than a fire-breathing dragon."
    "You say so?"
    "I've said enough. We must keep to ourselves. We've only to
accompany one another to the next village."
    "You're not keen on friendship, eh?"
    Gossamyr shrugged. Not with a man who practiced magic.
    Mince was the only friend she had ever known. Not even a good
friend if one considered Shinn paid her as nursemaid. Gossamyr had
been schooled and trained exclusively by her father, and kept from
most situations that would see her surrounded by vindictive fée.
The few times she went to market or escaped to participate in a
tournament were such wonders. There were food stands offering honeyed
petals and toadstools carved like miniature castles, pavender creams
and smoky