Free The Witches of Ne'arth (The Star Wizards Trilogy Book 2) by Joseph Schembrie Page A

are vulgar enough to stoop to such ignoble tactics!”
    “Yes, dear,” Andra said soothingly.  “If only Carrot had talked to you before entrusting her silver into the hands of strangers.”
    “Archimedes' silver,” Prin said softly.  “Matt, shall I make arrangements for a demonstration flight?  Is tomorrow morning not too soon?”
    Matt bowed consent, and then the pair asked about his medical tour.  During the conversation, he was aware that Savora quietly watched his face.  Becoming the object of female interest was an aspect of life on Ne'arth that he was still getting used to, but Savora's attention was distinctive.  Not exactly rapturous, he assessed.  More like inquisitive.  It reminded him of how the scientists had inspected him when he had been introduced at the Council of the Moon. 
    Intending to see Carrot before dark, Matt excused himself.  Savora caught up outside the hangar. 
    “Matt,” she said.  “I'd like to have your body measurements so I can make you a uniform.”
    “Actually, I don't need a uniform,” Matt said.  “I'm happy with my jump suit.”
    She eyed the neon blue jumpsuit with a twisted expression.  “It's a bit, well, to be frank, garish.  You were thinking of blending in, weren't you?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “When you take the airship to the other side of the world, there will be people and societies over there, and some of them may be hostile to your mission, and you may not want to stand out as much as you will while wearing that . . . garment.”
    Matt hadn't considered that angle.  The jump suit was self-cleaning and just the right amount of bagginess for mobility and comfort, which was why he wore it every day.  Yet, she was right, the color and style did stand out in a crowd.  That was a good thing in Britan where his 'Wizardliness' was enhanced by self-promotion.  Maybe not so good in places where a Wizard could be greeted with suspicion and hostility.  Still . . . .
    “Maybe your clothing would be considered odd where we're going,” he said.  “If you were in Rome, people would stare because you're not wearing a robe.”
    “I'll make you a robe too if wish.  Now, can I measure?  It won't take more than a moment.”
    There was something about the firmness of her voice, he automatically complied.  She stretched a cord of evenly-spaced knots along the length of his sleeves and glanced at the markings.
    “When do you plan to leave?” she asked.  “To the other side of the world, that is.”
    “Well, we have more flight testing to do, so I'm not sure.“
    She wrapped the cord around his waist.  “The ship is ready.  Your main concern is weather.  The Western Sea is uncrossable in winter.” 
    “It's not that I want to delay.”
    “Of course.  So much depends on it.  Your brother may be the only one who can stop the Romans.”
    He's not my – but Matt had surrendered that battle long ago.  Though their extensive gossip network assured that virtually every Britanian knew of every detail of every conversation he'd had on the island,  they still hadn't grasped the concept of an 'archival clone.'   
    She knelt and measured his inseam.  She didn't physically touch, she kept an appropriate distance, but it was disconcerting to Matt because he knew that a typical Britanian woman would have registered some hesitation.  Savora treated it as just another measurement. 
    “Done!” She arose and gave a direct look.  “It is very important for you to cross the Western Sea as soon as possible.  Before the weather changes.”
    Savora sharply strode away, leaving Matt with the afterimage of penetrating, dark eyes.
    “Ivan,” he subvocaled.  “Do you notice anything about Savora?  I realize that's vague, but . . . anything?”
    Ivan replied, “I did not detect a mentor.”
    “There's something about her.  Like I already know her.”
    “She bears a strong physical resemblance to your friend, Synesthesia.”
    “She