Quiet Magic by Steve Miller, Sharon Lee and Steve Miller Read Free Book Online

are yours, as
well. Go now and have your shower. Breakfast will be ready when you
return."
    Clutching her gifts to her, Petrie
nodded, then turned and followed the puppybreeze out the door and
down the steps. At the bottom, she stood still, letting the
thoughts race through her head until she could see the pattern they
made. Then she forced her feet to move and went after the gamboling
puppybreeze, around the far end of the wagon to the shower-stall on
the other side.
    * * *
    SUNSET CAME QUICKLY, indeed, for one
used to days filled with chores and prayer. Petrie ate two meals
with the Master, did such straightening and dusting as there was,
much to the man's secret amusement, and spent the rest of her time
out in the sunshine, always within sight of the wagon, the
puppybreeze at her side.
    "Stay close, child. They're looking
for you in the town." He'd told her that at breakfast, watching as
she stuffed whole segments of orange into her mouth at once. Petrie
hadn't asked if the townfolk had noticed him buying clothes for a
girl of about her height. He was Master of the Winds. Common
blunders were beyond him.
    She echoed that thought to herself
now, as she sat on a grassy rise a short distance from the wagon,
the puppybreeze seemingly asleep with its head upon her knee.
Master of the Winds--he would know his own servants, surely; would
certainly know if he had called such a one. Would even know,
through his studies, how an evil--a left-hand--wind would seem.
Petrie frowned, her hand slowing in its gentle rubbing of the
little breeze's ear. The pup sighed in its sleep. If it had been
her wind, it did her little good. She did not know how she had
called it to her. In the event of such a test as the Master spoke
of, a wind she did not know how to command was as useless as no
wind at all.
    The shadows were deepening; in another
few minutes, the sun would be well down. The pup at her knee
suddenly sprang up, flinging itself skyward. She felt a cool breeze
brush her cheek, smelled vanilla and ozone--and she was
alone.
    A twig cracked in the brush at her
back and she jumped to her feet, turning toward the noise. The
brush crackled again and Authberk stepped into the
clearing.
    Petrie felt some measure of fear leave
her, to be replaced by wariness, by something approaching
horror.
    Authberk barely gave her a glance as
he pushed by, heading for the wagon. Fighting her revulsion, Petrie
followed, caught up, kept pace. They reached the bottom stair
together as the door to the wagon opened. The Master was in the
doorway, black cloak settling about her shoulders. He motioned them
to stop.
    "The lesson this evening will be given
outside." He gestured, pacing deliberately down the steps. "Over
there, I think."
    Petrie and Authberk gave way, moved to
the spot indicated, avoiding each other's eyes. The Master was with
them in a moment, smiling at both.
    "First, you will learn the technique
that enables a Master to remain centered in himself, so that he
does not lose his core of identity, no matter how strong the forces
he fights." He looked first at Petrie, then at Authberk, his brown
eyes stern.
    "This lesson is most important of all
the lessons you will learn, in this or another study. Mastery of
this skill depends upon Will more than Talent. Thus you learn that,
in the reckoning of mages, Will alone is counted more dangerous
than Talent. Talent backed by disciplined Will is a power to give
pause to any Mage or Master." He looked only at Authberk, now. "For
there comes a day that even the strongest Will wavers, my son. Do
you understand me?"
    Authberk nodded, the fire glittering
deep in his dark eyes.
    The Master sighed, then spread his
arms wide, the cloak leaping back over his shoulders. In each open
palm, he held a gem, red for the left hand, blue for the right.
Each gem gave off its own glittering light, scintillant in the
darkening glade.
    "Boy," said the Master, "look to the
red stone. Do not take your eyes from it. Child -- " But Petrie