Free Thornbear (Book 1) by Michael G. Manning

it. “Please don’t,” he told her.
    “Don’t what?” she asked innocently.
    “Feed me information just so you can watch me for clues. I may not be as clever as some, but it gets really old, especially when your mother is like mine,” he answered somewhat bitterly.
    “Sorry,” said Grace honestly.
    “I just wish people would say what they mean, nothing more and nothing less,” he continued. “Mother is probably the world’s greatest adept at the art of conversation. She truly enjoys it, but it just makes me tired.”
    She waited a moment before replying, “You’re right. I didn’t consider your feelings.”
    Gram felt bad for making such a fuss over it then, “I shouldn’t be so touchy.”
    “I like to talk,” she said sincerely, “but I will try to be more straightforward with you.”
    “It’s alright,” he told her. “Just ask me what you want to know.”
    “What’s Matthew working on?”
    “Are you asking, or are you asking for Moira?”
    “For myself,” she said promptly. “I’m just curious. I won’t betray your confidence.”
    He gave her a long stare. “It’s something private, and it’s important to me.”
    “Fair enough.”
    “I have a question for you, though,” he said then.
    Grace perked up, “Certainly.”
    “Why are you so interested in me?”
    A dozen replies ran through the magical construct’s mind, but she discarded them all. They were facetious stories, artful lies. She knew he wouldn’t accept them. If she was going to continue talking to him, she would have to be forthright, even if it was painful. “Loneliness,” she said simply. “Not many people are kind enough to talk to me, or take me seriously.”
    Gram started to interject, but she rushed to finish, “No, wait. I’m not speaking ill of anyone, but Moira only has so many hours in the day. She spends a lot of time with me, but the rest of the time I really have no one to converse with. People tend to ignore me, or avoid me when they think I may be spying on my mistress’ behalf.”
    He mulled her words over for a minute, “You don’t have any friends.” It was a statement, not a question.
    “Just Moira,” she answered.
    “How about me?” he asked.
    Her button eyes were incapable of tears, but emotion swept over her nonetheless. Gently she hugged his neck. “Thank you,” she said. “That’s two then; you, and Moira.”
    She dropped from his shoulder and left him at the next doorway, waving a simple good-bye.
    The rest of his day was uneventful, though he looked forward to seeing Cyhan that afternoon. Unfortunately, his ‘training’ consisted of more of the same treatment as the day before. Sit, be still, don’t talk. He felt certain he would go mad before they were done.
     

Chapter 7
    Gram sat in his customary place at the high table for dinner that evening, which was beside Matthew and Conall at the right end of the table. The high table itself was quite long, over twenty feet, and Rose Thornbear sat near the center beside the Countess, Penelope Illeniel. Consequently, he didn’t have to worry about making conversation with his mother.
    “Have you thought about my plan?” asked Matthew in a conspiratorial tone.
    “No.”
    Matthew sighed, “I’m almost finished with the diagramming, but I can’t start on the actual work until we get it.”
    “Mother isn’t really happy with me right now, Matt,” began Gram. “This isn’t a good time to piss her off even more.”
    “There’s never going to be a good time,” said the young wizard. “Besides, she won’t even know.”
    “Can’t you just make a new sword?”
    Matthew blinked, surprised at the suggestion. “I could, but that’s not the point.”
    “What sword?” whispered Conall, enthusiastically leaning toward Gram.
    Gram looked at the younger boy, unsure what to say, “Uhh…”
    Matthew leaned in front of him, “Mind your own business, turd-burglar. It’s one of my projects, so dust off.”
    Conall made a face