Free Wings of Wrath by C.S. Friedman Page A

and transported him to the High King’s estate to meet with her, arriving what I hoped was far enough from the palace that Kostas would not sense my presence there. Where the battle you cited was already engaged. So you see, Colivar, no strange coincidence there, simply two roads leading off from a single point that converged a short while later of their own accord. The ‘serendipity’ of timing simply betrays their common source.”
    For a long time there was silence as Colivar considered the parameters of their exchange. At last he said, “The hawk was a woman. Whether she was witch or Magister I am unsure—obviously the latter is highly unlikely—but she was an accomplished shape-shifter, as you saw.” He hoped that would be enough to satisfy Ramirus. Clearly it was not. The cool blue eyes were merciless. For several long minutes Colivar studied him, trying to gauge just how much he would have to offer the man and just how much the information he got in return would be worth. His opponent waited patiently, the faintest flicker of a smile playing about the corners of his mouth. Win or lose, he clearly enjoyed the game.
    Finally Colivar said, “I believe she was the one responsible for Prince Andovan’s illness. As well as the death of that idiot Magister in Gansang—Raven, or Flamingo, or whatever his name was.” Ramirus’ expression remained stonelike, impassive, but Colivar thought he saw a flicker of surprise in his eyes. “And then she was gone, before I could test those suspicions. I have not seen her since.”
    â€œThe others all think that Raven’s killer is dead.”
    â€œYes,” Colivar agreed. “I was the only one who knew the truth. Until now.”
    Ramirus nodded slowly, digesting his offering. As the Magisters measured such things, it was considerable. Finally, his lips set in a tight line, he nodded. “Rhys already knew of Danton’s decline, and of the queen’s precarious situation. When I asked him for help he told me there was nothing he could do. He said that no words existed that could convince Gwynofar to confront her husband in the manner I desired, and besides, he loved her too much to cause her that kind of pain.
    â€œThose seemed weak excuses to me at the time, but sorcery granted me insight. Apparently Rhys knew what Danton had done to his half-sister. He was afraid that if he went back there again he would lose himself to rage and do something truly terrible to the High King . . . something Gwynofar would suffer for, even more than she was suffering then.
    â€œI was trying to think of some argument that might change his mind when, all of a sudden, he stiffened in his saddle. For a moment his eyes lost their focus and his body shook as if from some sort of seizure. As I was summoning the power to counter it, the fit passed as suddenly as it had come.
    â€œRhys looked at me as if he had seen a ghost. His eyes, which moments ago had been clear and bright, were now bloodshot and stricken.
    â€œ ‘The monster is here . . . I saw it . . . through her eyes . . .’ He stared at me in horror. ‘A Souleater.’
    â€œI did not know at the time that such a creature had returned to the world, you understand, so I imagined that some dark vision had possessed him. But the distinction hardly mattered. He was convinced that the High Queen was in great danger and he begged me take him to her immediately. Which I did. The rest you know.”
    Colivar drew in a sharp breath. “Witchery?”
    Ramirus shook his head. “What I saw that day was not simple witchery. Nor do I believe that Gwynofar consciously chose to send a message to her brother—and he very clearly did not expect to receive one.” He folded his fingers one by one as he spoke. “It is said the gods of the north once promised that if the Souleaters ever returned, the Protectors would awaken to some special power. I believe