Free [Hurog 01] - Dragon Bones by Patricia Briggs Page B

had dug in almost a finger’s length, and at others, it was little more than a faded scratch. Each rune was nearly as tall as me.
    â€œOreg?” I said, after a quick glance to confirm that the room was empty. I was the only one who saw him whenever he was present. He used some sort of magic to keep other people from seeing him, though he usually showed himself to Ciarra, too. I’d learned to be very careful about talking to him in public places. I was supposed to be stupid, not crazy.
    Magic began to gather in the room so strongly it brought a flush to my face. Much more magic than usually surrounded Oreg.
    â€œOreg?” I asked with a bit more urgency.
    â€œI wrote this,” he said, waving a hand at the wall. “I did it after he killed the dragon. Her eyes shimmered with silver waves, and he killed her, so I presented Hurog’s future to him.”
    â€œIt looks like a lot of work,” I observed, trying to draw his attention. I’d begun to recognize when Oreg was about to have one of his fits. Sometimes he talked to people who weren’t there or just stared blindly through me. Usually, he left abruptly, and the next time I saw him, he was fine. Butonce or twice, I’d been able to pull his attention to me and stop the fit.
    â€œHe couldn’t read it—illiterate bastard.” His voice hit the last word with raw hatred.
    â€œIt’s in old Shavig. Not many people can read it,” I commented.
    â€œHe had me beaten when I told him what it said.” As he spoke, the threads of his shirt parted in a short, straight line down his back from his right shoulder to his right hip. He flinched, and another line of broken threads appeared. Incredulously, I saw blood darken the edges of the material, but Oreg didn’t turn his attention from the wall.
    â€œOreg,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm, though this time I could hear the snap of a whip as a third invisible blow hit him.
    My mother could work illusions. Sometimes I’d walk into a room in the castle, and it would be filled with vines and exotic flowers from her homeland in southern Tallven. This didn’t feel like an illusion: Blood dripped from his back to the dusty floor.
    â€œOreg, that was a long time ago. He can’t hurt you anymore,” I said.
    â€œHe could have killed me,” continued Oreg in that unnaturally calm voice.
    I stepped between him and the wall to catch his eyes, but when I saw his face, I couldn’t say another word. His face was swollen past recognition, and white bone showed through his cheek.
    â€œBut he didn’t. He had someone else use the whip. Do you know why?”
    â€œNo,” I whispered. “Tell me.”
    â€œBecause he didn’t want to lose Hurog. He knew how much I wanted to die. He wore the ring so only he could kill me, and he knew that’s why I baited him. So he had someone else do it.”
    â€œOreg,” I said, touching the top of his head gently, for it was the only place unmarked by ancient pain.
    â€œWard?” said my uncle just behind me. “Who are you talking to?” His voice was soft; it sounded very much like the voice I was using on Oreg, whom he obviously couldn’t see.
    So much for my plan to explain to Duraugh that I was really normal.
    â€œI was reading the words on the wall,” I said without looking around. “My brother Tosten tried to teach them to me once, but I only remember a little.”
    â€œAh,” said my uncle, sounding much relieved. “Garranon and his brother are here.”
    I turned abruptly from Oreg, trying not to react when he began a high-pitched keening as I pulled the shield of stupidity firmly around me. The visitors had hung back while my uncle approached, but it only took me a few strides to reach them.
    â€œGarranon!” I grabbed his hand hard and shook it vigorously, despite his decorous attempts to escape. Then I slapped him on the back,