Free Mage of Clouds (The Cloudmages #2) by S. L. Farrell

to be real and for the words I hear in my head to really be your voice, calling to me. . . .

5th Silverbark 1148
    My Love:
    I had such a strange, strange dream last night. At least I think it was a dream. I awoke because I heard the sound of seals—not the normal browns that one hears all the time around Inishfeirm, which by the way is positively infested with the creatures—but the mournful moans of the blues. I got out of my bed in the darkness, trying not to wake Faoil, and went to the window, pushing it a little farther open so I could hear better. The Saimhóir were making an enormous, sad racket. The sky was bright with the nearly full moon, though the ground was misty from the rain earlier in the day. I saw movement below, close by the wall of the White Keep. When I looked, I thought I saw a young man, perhaps twenty and one—staring up at me as I gazed down at him. He was entirely naked even though the night was cold. I gasped in surprise and blinked hard to rid myself of the last bit of sleep, and he was gone when I looked again. Yet . . . the bushes near the base of the keep were swaying, as if someone had just moved through them.
    I thought of mentioning this to Siúr O’hAllmhurain, who is in charge of our floor, but decided not to do so since it was probably only a dream. Perhaps my thoughts of you were too much on my mind. . . .
    I have made something of a friend, though I’m half afraid to tell you about it for fear you’ll misunderstand. His name (aye, his ) is Thady MacCoughlin. He’s a third-year. His da and mam are MacCoughlins from An Cnocan; you may have seen his parents in Dún Kiil last year for the Festival of Méitha. Thady says they were there and were introduced to me at one of the dances, though I don’t remember them specifically—I end up meeting too many people to possibly remember them all. Thady’s already told me several things about Inishfeirm and the White Keep I didn’t know. He’s promised to show me a particular outside door that’s warded. He says half the acolytes know the ward-word to the door and use it to sneak out when they want to do so. I wonder if that doesn’t explain the person I saw outside last night (though not his nakedness—though perhaps one of the first-years was tossed out that way as a prank by some of the fifth-years, who are insufferably superior). Anyway, he’s very kind and helpful and I’ve told him about you, just to make sure that he understands. He’s just a friend, Lucan, and from such a minor name at that. That’s probably why he’s been so helpful to me, hoping I’ll say something complimentary about him to Mam or Da and gain favor for his family. . . .

8th Silverbark 1148
    Dear One:
    Thady told me the ward-word yesterday and tonight I used it. I heard the seals again, the blues, so loud they woke me. You know how I love the Saimhóir, and there was, well, something . . . I don’t know . . . compelling about the sound. Maybe some of what’s been said about my mam is true. I do know that listening to them made me want to get near them, the same way I felt every time I heard them in Dún Kiil.
    I slipped on my clóca and overcoat and put on my sandals, leaving Faoil sleeping in her bed. I tiptoed down the corridor, half expecting Máister Kirwan or that squinting Bráthair Geraghty to be waiting for me around the corner, or Siúr O’hAllmhurain to be standing in the door to her room at the end of the Women’s Corridor. But I could hear Siúr O’hAllmhurain snoring almost as loudly as the seals were calling, and so I went out of the wing and down the central hall to the Low Stairs in the back that we’re not supposed to use. At the bottom of Low Tower was the door: a tiny opening half-hidden in an alcove. I spoke the word and it clicked open, just as Thady said it would. I went out.
    The seals were still grunting and moaning. I hurried away from the keep (expecting that someone would call out an alarm as I did so) toward the trail