Sorcerer's Luck by Katharine Kerr Read Free Book Online Page B

disbelief fought it out, and neither
won.
    â€œWhat was I saying, anyway? I know some of it was English. I heard the word thief. And I
think I said ‘bear’s son’ a couple of times.”
    â€œThat’s all I could understand, too.” Tor frowned, considering. “It reminded me of Gothic
or Old Norse, but it wasn’t either of them. Older than they are, I bet. But I
don’t get it. If he wants to accuse me of something, why disguise it like this?”
    â€œYeah. He could’ve just sent you a note. A first class stamp doesn’t cost that much.”
    Tor laughed with a breathy sort of chuckle. The sound reminded me of the bears I’d seen on
TV—chuffing, the voice-overs called it. I forced out a smile, but my heart
still pounded in fear. Thief. Who did the illusionist mean, me or Tor? Did he
know that I was a vampire, stealing other people’s lives, one bite at a time?
    â€œI hope to all the gods,” Tor said, “that the bastard’s blown out his brain circuits.”
    â€œMe, too. Do you think it’ll start again?”
    Tor shrugged. Yeah, I thought, silly question.
    As it turned out, the concert had ended for the evening. Around midnight we went
downstairs to check on the lower flat. As soon as Tor opened the door, I felt
the wards. I heard nothing, but the sensation fell in the same category as
hearing those loud, high-pitched noises, or maybe staring into a bright light,
or maybe smelling skunk—I experienced none of those physical sensations, but
what I was sensing repelled me in the same way as they would have.
    Tor made some gestures with his hands and said some words in a language I’d never heard
before. The sensations vanished.
    â€œNow we can go in,” he said.
    We did. He flipped a switch and turned on an overhead light. We’d entered a large room
which Tor had set up as a library. He had built-in bookcases crammed with
books, both cheap paperbacks and expensive leather-bound volumes, as well as
free-standing bookcases set here and there, equally crammed. On one side of the
room stood a fireplace that, I figured, stood under the one in the living room
above. This one was faced in antique brick instead of slabs of stone. Beside it
on the hearth stood a chunk of rock about a foot across and flat on top. Tor
noticed me looking at it.
    â€œThat’s for the nisse.” He sounded embarrassed. “It’s something I learned from my mother.
She came from Norway originally. She’s pleased I keep the old custom up, so I
do it.”
    â€œWhat’s a nisse?”
    â€œA house spirit, like a brownie. I put food on that rock for it now and then. On my
birthday, and the anniversary of Dad’s death. Fourth of July, Christmas, days
like that.”
    â€œThat’s kind of cool, actually. Does the food disappear?”
    He shrugged and smiled in pink-cheeked embarrassment. I let the subject thud to the floor.
As well as the rock, a couple of leather armchairs and reading lamps stood in
front of the fireplace. Heavy maroon curtains shrouded the room from the view
of the uphill neighbors.
    â€œI inherited these books from my father,” Tor told me. “I haven’t even read most
of them.”
    Off to the left I saw a kitchen, again, under the one in the flat above. Beyond the
kitchen, a hallway led into darkness. On the right I saw a closed door that, I
supposed, opened onto other rooms. Tor stood looking around, then shrugged.
    â€œNothing’s wrong down here,” he said. “I don’t understand this. Why would he give up so
easily?”
    â€œBecause he’s planning something worse?”
    Tor sighed, and his face sagged into gloom.
    â€œYeah,” he said. “With my luck that’s probably it. Why don’t you go upstairs? I’ll set the
wards again and be right up.”
    I grabbed my courage with both hands and went upstairs alone. I don’t know what I
expected would