Free Winter Witch by Elaine Cunningham Page B

ribbon of light over the blackness of the Jeggare River. No shadows moved through the bright circles cast by the lanterns spaced along its length. By some happy turn of fate, it appeared that Declan would have the bridge entirely to himself. He shook the reins over the stallion’s neck and urged the horse into a gallop.
    A squad of city guards, conspicuous in baggy red trousers tucked into low red boots, emerged from a side street just before the bridge. All were afoot, and Declan knew they would saunter in front of him, claiming the road for themselves just to show they could set his pace for him by dint of the uniforms they wore. On any other day, he might have tolerated it, but he was in a hurry. Declan gauged the distance and decided he could gallop past them before they could fan out and block his way.
    As the gray stallion thundered toward the bridge, one of the guards stepped forward and raised a wooden wand. A short burst of light pulsed from it, and Declan’s borrowed horse stopped in midstride.
    Declan, unfortunately, did not.
    Time slowed to the languorous pace of dreams. Declan flew over the stallion’s neck and floated down toward the street at a speed that recalled the flow of treacle from a jar. Despite the oddly slowed descent, he hit the cobbles in a bruising tumble. He rolled to a stop and lay staring at the spinning stars, idly wondering if it might be prudent—and for that matter, possible—to draw another breath.
    The flow of time resumed its normal pace. Guards gathered above him. Their faces swam in and out of Declan’s vision, but he was pretty sure the wand-carrying wizard among their ranks was smirking.
    Two of the men dragged Declan to his feet. He cast a quick glance at the gray stallion. It stood frozen in mid-stride, balanced precariously on its back hooves, front feet stalled out in the act of kicking powerfully down.
    Declan blew out a long breath, the closest he could come to an incredulous whistle in his current condition. Holding spells were common enough, but seeing a galloping horse suspended in midair was still impressive.
    “Last I heard, the law prohibited magical attack against citizens of Korvosa,” he said.
    “Magical detention is permitted if that citizen is engaged in a crime,” the wizard intoned, “or otherwise endangering the populace.”
    “Or looks like he’s trying to avoid us,” chuckled one of the other guards to his companion.
    Declan looked pointedly toward the empty bridge. “What populace? There was no one in my path.”
    “The law forbids riding recklessly through the city streets,” the wizard said.
    “Giving your horse free rein on an empty bridge is not reckless.” Declan looked to the guard wearing the captain insignia on his jacket. “With respect, sir, unless you had good cause to stop me, you’re acting outside of your charter.”
    “Zimbidge didn’t stop you,” the captain said, reaching out to clap the wizard on the shoulder. “He stopped your horse. Dangerous beast.”
    His squad seemed to find that amusing.
    Declan hissed a sigh through gritted teeth. “Time is not my friend, gentlemen. I need to consult one of my professors at the magic school on a matter of great urgency.”
    Most of the guards suddenly misplaced their smirks, but the wizard’s face twisted in doubt.
    “If that’s true, you’re riding the wrong way.”
    “I’m not going to the Acadamae,” he said. “I studied at the Theumanexus.”
    “Oh.” A droll expression crossed the wizard’s face and he rolled his eyes toward the squad captain. “The law does make some allowance for the feeble-minded.”
    The captain shrugged. “A wizard is a wizard. He’s done no harm. I say we let him go.”
    Zimbidge spun back to Declan. “You have your Theumanexus medal, I trust? Or at least your student papers?”
    “I turned them in when I left the school,” Declan said. “And I have no medal because I didn’t complete the training, which is why I need a wizard’s