Free Blood Lies (Dark Brothers of the Light #9) by Janrae Frank

aren't my
cup of tea," muttered Travis, which earned him an exasperated
glance from Darianna.
    Luck ran his gaze across them as if
assessing the possibilities. "I'm in favor of it. The boy has no
one left. And I think he's trying to behave. If Isranon can't or
won't make time for him – as you've said, Nevin – then we ought to
step in."
    "It won't be the same, but we're better than
nothing." Nevin downed the last of his ale and gestured at a
passing nibari for more. "So we're agreed?"
    Travis opened his mouth and Darianna poked
him in the ribs, bringing a reluctant nod from him.

CHAPTER FIVE
CORDWAINER
     
     
    Veranoctem 9, 1077
     
    For the past decade, Geoffry Cordwainer had
been archmage of Ildyrsetts, serving King Jurgen VI in every way
demanded of him. Like most of the native Ildyrsetti, he was a lanky
mon; the kind that would turn gaunt as he aged, and his hair was as
red as the element he had mastered. Where Koejelus had insisted
upon a surprise visit, Cordwainer asked for preparations to be
made, customs to be observed, and he came alone. Nans had finally
permitted Isranon to move about his suite freely, and so they met
in the parlor. Shielded by formality, Cordwainer framed his words
with care.
    "Edvarde offered us very little information
about you, other than the fact that you rescued King William
Gryphonheart of Gormondi, have renounced your dark ways and hold
the possibility of stopping the Minnorian Empress from penetrating
further into Gormondi and Darr."
    Isranon listened to the long-winded
sentences and struggled with some of Cordwainer's words. He spoke
Engla – sometimes referred to as the common tongue – and Isranon
had only begun to learn it four years ago. He had gotten a lot of
practice by reading the spellbooks and journals that Josiah had
given him. That, and the fact that many languages of the region
were actually dialects of Engla, ensured that Isranon's fluency was
rapidly improving, but he still had a ways to go.
    "Edvarde says that you call yourself a
'majios sa'necari'. I want you to explain what that means."
    Nevin, sitting at the end of the table where
he could look at both of them, raised a hairy eyebrow. "So the
interrogation of my spiritbrother continues."
    "They need to know." Isranon reached over
and squeezed Nevin's arm reassuringly. "Most sa'necari are born
with a mage gift in addition to the natural necromantic talents.
However, it fades in the course of adolescence. I believe that the
rites of mortgiefan strengthen the necromancy and destroy the other
gifts. The Dark Brothers left all of their arcane talents
undeveloped, believing that their use would lead to the darkness of
the rites. So I have nothing to go on other than my own experiences
and theories."
    "You're a conundrum, Isranon. It is hard to
credit the rumors and Edvarde's insistence that the most powerful
mage since Josiah Abelard is a sa'necari renunciate."
    "A conun– A what?" Isranon glanced at Nevin
for an explanation. "Is that bad?"
    Nevin translated the word into lycan,
bringing a smile to Isranon's face.
    "I suppose I am."
    "Suppose?" Cordwainer sounded bemused,
wondering if Isranon was being disingenuous. "You're
sa'necari-born. We brought only veterans, Isranon. There isn't a
master or journeymon among us who hasn't accounted for at least
half a dozen of your kind."
    "And the apprentices? You brought some of
them also." Isranon smiled gently so that his words would not be
taken as criticism.
    "I stand corrected. Yes, we brought some of
our apprentices and novices."
    "The red-haired girl is your daughter?"
Nevin leaned closer.
    "My niece. You've met her?"
    A loud guffaw exploded out of Nevin. "She
keeps trying to pet us. If she wasn't so cute about it, one of us
would have given her a tongue-lashing. We're lycans, not dogs."
    "She's never been around lycans before."
    "I gathered that."
    "And, well, Chinisi is a bit peculiar. I
will tell her to stop."
    Isranon's head came up with a sharp glance
at Cordwainer.