Free Highmage's Plight (Highmage’s Plight Series Book 1) by D.H. Aire Page A

don’t eat fish either.”
    She bowed again, giving him the requisite view as honor demanded then left to fetch him a serving of cheeses.
    Me’oh saw her stalking past.
    “Se’and,” she said gently, “it might not be that bad.”
    “He refused my offering! Who does he think he is?”
    “Oh,” was all she said with an amused look as the young woman headed back to the kitchen, then, “Oh, you have it bad, don’t you.”
    Balfour was drinking the Imperial wine. Tasting it, he knew it an excellent vintage. He remembered sharing a bottle with— well best not dwell on that. She was likely married by now and I had been a failure at the Healer’s Hall, after all.
    Staff twinkled across the room where George sat as Se’and returned with a heaping platter of cheese.
    ‘Bal, you’re not a failure,’ staff mentally said to him. ‘Stop thinking that way. Your talent is just on the human side of the equation.’
    Through the link he heard George say, “Thank you,” to the young woman, who was wearing a rather tight fitting and revealing dress.
    “May I join you?” he half heard Se’and ask George.
    “Uh, sure,” George replied scooting over on the pillow that served as his chair.
    ‘Bal, is there something about Cathartan mores I should warn George about?’
    I don’t think so , he replied, watching George’s reactions to his environment.
    The herbalist Me’oh brought Balfour a plate, “I brought you some fruit.”
    “Thanks. Uh, bringing fruit doesn’t have any special meaning, does it?”
    Me’oh chuckled, “Not fruit, no.”
    He watched her walk away and thought at the staff, Uh, you might want to mention to George—
    ‘Oh, don’t give it another thought,’ staff replied. If Balfour didn’t know better by now, he would have thought that the computer was laughing.
    Se’and edged closer to George, “You were heading west when we found you.”
    “Uh, yes, Bal and I are going to the Empire.”
    “You do not speak with an Imperial accent. Where are you from?” she asked.
    “Oh, from quite a distance, you wouldn’t have heard of it.”
    “I have studied the geography of the entire known world. Being Vyss’s only full blooded sister, I was expected to manage the affairs of his House.”
    “Well, I’m from someplace I doubt you’d have heard of,” George replied.
    “Pray tell!”
    “Well, I most recently lived in Europe, for example.”
    “Urp?”
    “Yes, quite a historic place really. Gave me plenty to do.”
    “Do? You are a mage, yes? Or a healer?”
    He laughed. “No, I’m an archaeologist, a department head at the University.”
    “Arki-mage at uni–ver–sity?”
    “Close enough.”
    She frowned, “You really have no elvin blood?”
    “No, and of that I can guarantee, I have the DNA scans to prove it.”
    “You are a very strange man,” Se’and said.
“Believe me, since coming to these parts I’ve seen stranger.”
    She glanced at her father, who was smiling and nodding to her as her brother Vyss watched closely, and realized what their father intended. Vyss hurriedly rose and took Fri’il’s hand, she had been sharing his seat cushion and had served him at the beginning of the meal.
    Se’and got the oddest feeling that the staff was somehow focusing on her, staring at her curiously. It also twinkled, as if to wink at her.
    George glanced at the staff, paled a bit, then took a rather large gulp of wine before hastily rising.
    “Uh, you’ll have to excuse us.”
    “Us?” she muttered as he marched off with his mage staff.
    Vyss had no sooner gone out of the tent with Fri’il, than George, clutching his staff hurried out. Vyss heard Je’orj muttering, “You could have warned me!”
    Fri’il and Vyss exchanged light glances as George, seemingly chastising himself, passed. Fri’il pensively beheld Vyss.
    “Are you alright, Vyss?” Fri’il asked, worried.
    “I’m fine. Father’s got to be planning to bond Se’and to him,” he said, ignoring Fri’il’s