Color Mage (Book 1) by Anne Marie Lutz Read Free Book Online Page A

Mikati.
    “I’ll thank you not to disturb either of them. The Healer will manage. Stay with him. Call some servants—Borin will help.”
    Lord Mikati swept out, leaving Callo fighting a rush of anger. On his heels came a slave leading an ancient woman with ruined eyes and a young woman with defiantly cropped hair. Both wore cloaks beaded with water from the sea spray and carried bulky bags.
    “The Healers, Lord Callo,” the slave said.
    “Thank you. Stay close for a while, in case we need you,” Callo ordered.
    “I am Ruthan, and this is the new Healer from the college, Hon Kirian,” said the old woman. She ignored the flashes of color magic around the man on the bed and walked right up to touch his forehead. “This man is very hot. A binding fever, you say?”
    “He is newly Collared,” Callo said. “He was not expecting it. It was in the nature of an attack.”
    The younger woman’s brown eyes searched his. “Is this his first binding, my lord?”
    Callo nodded. “He went into this fever almost immediately, Healer. I warn you, he is a color mage, and in this fever he will be dangerous.”
    “We will reduce the fever,” Ruthan said to the young Healer. “Bitterwood.”
    “Do you want me to bring in Lord Arias’ manservant to help you?” Callo asked.
    “Is that who was huddling out there?” the younger woman asked. “He’s not doing much good. He is afraid of the magery?”
    Callo nodded. “He’s not wrong to be afraid, Hon Kirian.”
    The old woman interrupted, her hand on Arias’ wrist as she measured his pulse. “Mix me some mellweed too, young Kirian; he looks to need it.”
    “But . . .” Callo stopped.
    “Mellweed,” Ruthan repeated. Her blank eyes looked in Callo’s direction. “It will send his mind elsewhere, into dream or vision. He might be fortunate enough to have a true dream, sent by one of the gods. But he will no longer have the focus to fight the Collar.”
    Callo nodded, understanding. It was a sad thing to conspire to thwart his friend’s will to fight against this binding that he clearly had no wish for. If asked right now, Lord Arias might even refuse the drug, choosing to struggle against the King’s binding with every bit of his strength. But Callo knew such a fight would kill Arias; he had no hope of succeeding. And he wanted Lord Arias alive, even if it meant his half-brother’s submission to the King’s vengeful binding.
    “Go ahead,” he said.
    The younger Healer mixed the bitterwood in an earthen jar. The familiar odor wrinkled Callo’s nose even where he stood. The mellweed, mixed with cold tea in another jar, looked innocuous and soothing; it was difficult to understand the power the thick substance had. Arias seemed to smell the mixtures as well; he paused in his restless movements and took a deep breath, as if inhaling the healing mixtures. The wild colors momentarily ebbed.
    “That’s right, my lord,” Ruthan said. “You know this is what you need. You’ll take it without any need to get that manservant in here to help, I think.”
    The old woman lifted the earthenware jar to Arias’ lips. She tilted the mixture down his throat and he swallowed, but then he struck out with a flash of red power that shattered the jar and the nearby window, throwing the old woman back onto the floor.
    Callo leaped to the bedside and pinned his friend’s arms to the bed. Kirian helped the old woman up. Hon Ruthan cradled her right wrist in her other hand.
    “Ruthan!” Kirian said. “Are you all right?”
    “No,” Ruthan gasped as she allowed herself to be helped to a chair. “When he broke that jar, he got my wrist, too. It’s broken; there’s no doubt.”
    “Oh, no!”
    “We’ll deal with that in due course,” Ruthan said. “Here’s a task for you, my new assistant! Get that mellweed down him, and the sooner the better for all concerned.”
    Kirian picked up the cup and nodded to Callo, who tightened his grip on his friend’s arms. She tilted the