The Essence Gate War: Book 01 - Adept by Michael Arnquist Read Free Book Online Page A

sorcerer, Bellimar?” Amric demanded.
    Bellimar cocked his head to the side , but his smile did not falter. If anything, it broadened instead. “A curious opening to our conversation, friend Amric.”
    The swordsman took a deep breath . “I apologize for my poor manners, but I have little trust for things magical, and you have that air about you. My friends and I owe you a debt of gratitude for your intervention in the trade district. You seem to have taken an interest in us, and I would like to understand why.”
    Bellimar shook his head . “I took no offense. It is fair to say that magic was a field of study for many years for me, but I do not tamper with such forces any longer.”
    “And your interest in us?”
    “How could I not be interested in you, Amric? You are a fascinating riddle.”
    Amric folded his arms across his chest . “That is not an answer.”
    “True enough,” Bellimar said. “Allow me to elaborate, then.”
    He put forth one pale, slender hand and began to punctuate each point with a finger tap on the surface of the table. “You travel with a Sil’ath warrior who calls you sword-brother. Most Sil’ath can barely tolerate humans, finding them unpredictable and soft, and this one names you with a term of highest respect and affection. Moreover, he defers to you without reservation as he would his tribal warmaster, and you are an outsider of unique stature if you occupy such a position among the Sil’ath. Quite unheard of, in my recollection.”
    Bellimar paused to chuckle . “Do not look so surprised, Amric. Knowledge of the internal workings of Sil’ath society is rare, and my learning on the subject is meager since I have not lived among them as you have, but I was an avid student of history and this world’s various cultures long before you were born. And I am not finished.”
    He continued to tick off points, each a staccato click of one of his nails on the table . “You bear a price on your head and the enduring ire of a powerful nobleman for having rescued a penniless half-breed from a band of brigands. You did not take the life of that worthless bag of gas Vorenius in the bargain, showing remarkable restraint, if not sound judgment. You faced down two notorious assassins in this very room without apparent fear, and have now taken the Half-Ork under your protection, despite his obvious inherent ability and your personal aversion to all things magical. You show uncommon tact and wit for a simple swordsman, and you gather enigmas as you go.”
    Amric raised an eyebrow . “So you would have me believe that I am irresistible to a scholar such as yourself because I use words on occasion before swinging my blade, or because I keep company that would be unusual in any other city? I have seen races in Keldrin’s Landing that I cannot even identify. The diversity gathered here and the tales I hear of nameless things outside these city walls make one wandering swordsman seem mundane in the extreme.”
    Bellimar laughed and gave the table a resounding slap . “By the gods, but I like you, swordsman!” He made a sweeping gesture, as if brushing aside all his previous points. “You are correct. Everything I have just listed has only deepened my initial interest, which is owed to something else entirely.”
    “And that i s?”
    Bellimar leaned back and regarded him over steepled fingers . “You have no aura.”
    Amric blinked , and waited for elaboration.
    Bellimar studied him for a long moment before nodding . “I wondered if you knew, if it was somehow done intentionally, but I believe you. Every living creature has an aura, varying greatly in magnitude depending on many factors. It is the breath of primal essence intrinsic to the individual, marking one’s life force and affinity to magical forces. Call it the spark of life, if you will.”
    “Then there is no great mystery,” Amric said. “I do not have, and do not wish for, any aptitude for magic.”
    “ Your dislike for magic has