SummerDanse by Terie Garrison Read Free Book Online

going on. Why couldn’t I used my maejic?
    When Anazian returned, I said nothing as he pulled the leaves and restricting vines from me. Then he pulled me to my feet, his eyes dancing although he refrained from laughing out loud.
    Now that my hands were free, I rubbed my temples.
    “Ah,” Anazian said in a scoffing tone.
    “What?” I snapped, then waited for him to turn on me.
    He just laughed again with a condescending expression on his face.
    It didn’t take long to get ready to leave. Anazian hitched up the horses while I packed up the bundles we’d used and made sure they were secure. Once everything needful was done, Anazian made me get back into the cage, and another day of flesh-pounding misery began.
    I’d never imagined how uncomfortable and downright painful riding in a wagon could be. I felt every bit of unevenness in the road: in my muscles, in my bones, even in my teeth.
    This day went on much as the first, except that, unlike yesterday morning, the woods around us were bright and full of life. We stopped again at midday, and Anazian went off into the trees again. This time, I saw that he took meditation candles with him. Meditating three times a day? That seemed strange. I’d never heard of anyone doing that before.
    Then on we went through the afternoon. By the time we stopped for the night, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to get out of the cage when Anazian released me. It took an effort of will, and I scraped my shin badly in the process.
    The mage was in a strange mood that evening. Once again he sat close to the fire while I did all the work. He kept muttering under his breath.
    As I put a bit of dried meat and herbs into the pot to cook, he said, “I forgot to tell you, didn’t I?”
    By now I’d grown tired of having to listen to one-sided conversations, so speaking as meekly as I could, I said, “Tell me what?”
    “Ha! I knew I’d forgotten something. So I’ll tell you now.”
    And I waited for him to do so. Time stretched out. I stirred the pot. Just about the time I decided to ask, he spoke again.
    “The woods back there.”
    I glanced over my shoulder.
    “No, no. Back there.” He waved an arm toward the road in the direction from which we’d traveled. “Those are nasty trees. Did you notice?”
    I nodded, my curiosity growing.
    He whispered his next words, and I had to strain to hear them. “They hate magic.” Then he nodded as if he’d revealed a great secret.
    I could well believe that what he said was true, but why was he telling me this? The whole time we’d been together he’d spoken to me only to give instructions or to mock, or both simultaneously. Why now did he seem to want to carry on a normal conversation?
    “And yet I tamed them,” he went on while I stared at him. “I worked them, and they submitted. To me. I bent them to my will, and then—” He broke off and started giggling. “I bent them, oh yes, indeed I did.”
    I was quickly beginning to wish that he’d return to his old conversation habits. His childish behavior unsettled me.
    He sat up straight and gave me a serious look. “The black trees, they are black straight to their hearts. They hate the magic that men do, and they reflect it back. There are few of them left in the world. That wood back there might be the very last of them. Most folk today believe them to have been wiped out completely. But I felt them; I knew they were there, and I sought them out.”
    Probably because your heart is as black as theirs, I thought as I gave the pot another stir.
    Then he scooted around the fire and came close to me. He put one arm around my shoulders and lifted the other toward my neck. I jerked my head aside, but all he did was touch the wood collar.
    He whispered again, his face close enough to mine that I felt his breath on my cheek. “Have you not guessed?” And in that instant, I did. “This wood, and the box in which I keep you safe. Both are made of the black wood. And that is why you can’t do any