Sorcerer's Legacy by Janny Wurts Read Free Book Online Page B

still afternoon, murmurs of assent swept the packed galleries. Elienne’s temper roused, stripping away the last vestige of restraint. Caution abandoned, she slipped past Kennaird and walked boldly onto the floor.
    “Fools!” she said scornfully. “Would you listen to that lame old rooster? Fathering children is a pastime for the young.” She shot a withering glance at the elder, whose jaw quivered with outrage in a face gone red to the top of his bald skull. “Or had you forgotten that, in the advanced state of your senility?”
    Hard hands gripped Elienne’s arm, and a flurry of black velvet rippled against her skirts. “Will you shut up?” hissed Kennaird in her ear. The council chamber had fallen silent, and every eye in the room was upon them. At that moment, Elienne noticed who sat in the great chair at the top of the dais.
    She had not looked closely at the man when she first entered, but now his golden gaze drew all of her attention. Fear knotted her stomach. Though unfamiliarly framed by a court setting and a collar of burgundy brocade, the fine, light hair, high cheekbones, and sculpture-perfect features were indelibly etched in Elienne’s memory.
    “Have you business here, woman?” Faisix said softly. “If so, it had better be exceedingly important. Your abusive contributions are not welcome.” His eyes passed lightly over her gown of yellow silk. “And the clothing you wear is a royal affront. How dare you, without this Council’s approval, dress yourself as Prince’s Consort?”
    Kennaird objected loudly. “She has Ielond’s endorsement.” He flourished the writ in his hand, and confusion erupted across the council chamber.
    “Silence!” The uproar reluctantly subsided as Faisix nodded pointedly at the document. “Bring that here.”
    Kennaird bowed neatly from the waist. “Your pardon, Excellency. I was instructed to give this only into Master Taroith’s hands.”
    Faisix seemed unperturbed. “Very well. Taroith?”
    A tall, white-haired gentleman rose from a seat on the dais. Robes of silver-gray covered a spare body, and the eyes, brown and kindly, were set in a face molded by wisdom and compassion. From the first glance, Elienne knew she confronted Ielond’s equal, a Sorcerer she could both trust and like.
    “Kennaird,” Taroith said immediately. His step, as he descended the dais, was that of a man half his years. “I see you wear mourning for Ielond. You have my sympathy. He was the finest Master Pendaire has ever known.”
    Taroith gave Elienne a smile of reassurance and with honest curiosity accepted the writ. “Welcome, my Lady.” He looked down and briefly inspected the seals on the document. “Pendaire could benefit under a Queen such as you. I wish you the best of fortune with the Prince.”
    The Sorcerer broke the seals with swift efficiency in a certain prescribed order. Though bent with age, his fingers moved like lightning. As the last wafer of wax parted, a bright blue glyph blazed into view alongside the light of his focus.
    Taroith smiled and addressed the Council. “That is Ielond’s own ward. It could have been set only by his living hand. Therefore, what it sealed lies beyond our right to question here.”
    The chamber became still as death. Taroith quickly scanned the written lines and at last raised his eyes from the parchment.
    “Your Excellency,” he said to Faisix. “My Lords.” He directed a respectful glance toward the galleries, momentarily preoccupied; then, with a confident gesture, reached out and grasped Elienne’s hand. “The writ of Ielond, Guardian of the Royal ward, Darion of Pendaire, recommends to us this maiden, Elienne, as candidate for Consort. Ma’Diere bless her presence. She has solved a difficult problem.”
    A tumultuous wave of talk rose, drowning Taroith’s last words. Beckoning to Elienne, the Sorcerer nodded toward the dais.
    “Go with him,” said Kennaird. “And good luck, Missy.”
    Elienne moved forward,