Free Shadow Magic by Patricia C. Wrede

eyes closed and she slept.
    Bracor and his guests returned to Brenn at dawn, having left most of the guardsmen behind to continue the search. They had found no trace of Alethia or her kidnappers, and they were tired and frustrated. Even the message Har and Maurin had left with the gatekeeper did little to raise their spirits, for even if their assumptions were right, it was far too late to follow them. Bracor sent a new detachment after them anyway. Then he and the two lords rode slowly through the streets to Styr Tel.
    Isme met them in the courtyard. As they dismounted, Bracor shook his head. “We found no trace of them,” he said. “Har and Maurin have gone another—”
    “Bracor, I must speak with you,” Isme interrupted, her expression grim. “Alone.”
    Handing his reins to a servant, Bracor nodded. “You will excuse me, my lords,” he said to Armin and Gahlon, and without waiting for a reply, he followed Isme inside. She did not speak again until they reached the study and the door had closed behind them. Then she turned to him and said, “There were traces of magic in the courtyard. Spells of calling, and of concealment.”
    Bracor’s face stiffened. “Magic? Not—”
    “No. The spells were entirely unfamiliar to me.”
    “But the Lithmern knew enough to use them, and to know they would be necessary,” Bracor said, frowning.
    “Possibly,” Isme said. “The spells were very strong, and subtle enough that I did not notice them until afterward, when I went to look. Of course, I am somewhat out of practice. But that they used spells to hide themselves does not mean they suspected me of possessing similar skills. It may have been the only way for them to succeed in their attempt.”
    “Or the easiest way. Though you are right; I don’t know how else they could slip half a dozen men unseen into and out of Brenn, let alone Styr Tel.” He paused. “There is another thing. If the Lithmern have learned magic of their own, it must change our preparations for defense. How much shall I tell Lord Armin and First Lord Gahlon?”
    Isme looked at him. “How much will they believe?”
    “I don’t know.” Bracor rubbed a hand across his eyes. “Everything, or nothing. I will have to think about this more when I am rested.”
    “Then go and rest,” Isme said, and touched his arm gently. “There is time, now. There may be none, later.”
    “I hope that is not another of your hunches,” Bracor said with an attempt at a grin. “The last one was too accurate for anyone’s peace of mind.”
    Isme only smiled a little sadly, and did not reply.
    Harsh cries woke Alethia. Her eyes flew open. Green daylight poured through the branches of the trees, making deep shadows on the forest floor; it must be nearly noon. The fire had gone out, and all of the Lithmern raiders except the captain were scattered on the floor of the clearing, sleeping so soundly that they might have been drugged. Even the horses stood with their heads down.
    The Lithmern captain was stumbling painfully from one man to another, shouting and shaking them in a futile attempt to arouse them. He turned toward her, and Alethia shut her eyes quickly. Perhaps too quickly; the shouting stopped, and the sound of footsteps drew nearer, then stopped by her side. Despite her fear, Alethia tried to breathe slowly and evenly. After a moment, she heard the captain walk away. When she cautiously raised her eyelids a crack, he had gone back to his men. Eventually, he gave up and reeled toward the horses, where he disappeared from view.
    Hardly daring to believe her luck, Alethia raised her bound hands to her mouth, keeping careful watch for the vanished leader. It was slow work, and every minute she expected to see him coming back. Finally, the stubborn knots gave. With her hands free it took only a few moments more to untie her ankles, and she kicked off her remaining shoe and tried to rise.
    Her stiff legs would not hold her at first. By the time she gained