Volinette's Song by Martin Hengst Read Free Book Online Page B

a hand and the pieces of the pitcher leapt off the floor and reassembled themselves. With a flick of his wrist, he settled the restored vessel in the basin and brushed his palms against his robes. He flicked a hand at the scowl Qadira was giving him. “Don’t start with me, Elf. You do magic your way, I’ll do it mine.”
    “A mage’s power isn’t to be used in place of honest labor,” Qadira retorted.
    “Yes,” Fulgent agreed. “And I remember teaching you that when you were yet a whelp, so in this case, listen to your old teacher when I say that I was just sparing someone a nasty cut on one of those shards.”
    Fulgent winked at Volinette and indicated the floor with an outstretched finger.
    “That water will need to be cleaned up before someone slips. I’m sure you don’t need a mage’s power to pick up a mop.”
    “Get out,” Qadira snapped. “Out. Out. Out! I have a patient to attend to.”
    “Then perhaps you should see to it.”
    With another wink at Volinette, Fulgent slipped from the cubicle and slid the curtain across the door. Qadira disappeared and returned a moment later with a mop, which she used to clean up the spill while muttering under her breath in a light, lilting language that Volinette couldn’t understand.
    Instead, she focused on the meal the cleric had brought her. There was a bowl of rich brown broth, a hunk of crusty bread, and a cup of water. Even that meager repast seemed to be too much. Volinette lifted the bread from the tray, turning it over in her hands as if she were seeing bread for the first time.
    “Tsk,” Qadira said with a sigh. “You’re supposed to eat it, not play with it.”
    Volinette glanced over at the elf who was leaning on the mop. Qadira’s eyes were bright, but Volinette couldn’t figure out if it was in amusement or annoyance. Perhaps both. Determined not to make another enemy in the Academy, Volinette dipped the bread into the rich broth and took a bite.
    Much to her amazement, her stomach not only accepted the offering, but demanded more. For having felt so sick so recently, Volinette was surprised that her hunger had returned with such force. It wasn’t long before she’d finished the meal that Qadira had brought her, right down to draining the last few drops from the mug of water.
    The cleric, who had gone to attend to other charges while Volinette ate, returned with a promptness that made her wonder if Qadira wasn’t using magic to attend to her.
    “No magic here,” she said with a smile, as if she was reading Volinette’s thoughts. “Just many years in service of my trade and craft. One develops a second set of senses when they’re practice d long enough. Just like a singer’s voice, no?”
    Volinette’s back went rigid at the question , and Qadira raised an eyebrow at her.
    “How did you know?” Volinette stammered, the tips of her ears going red with embarrassment. She’d thought she’d have some sort of anonymity in the Great Tower, but now that she thought about it, she didn’t know why she’d had such a notion.
    “I’ve seen your family perform at the spring festivals, Volinette. You’re hardly the first young person to enter the Great Tower with hopes and dreams of leaving their past behind.”
    The cleric lifted the thin blanket from the foot of the bed and spread it across Volinette, tucking the ends under her with deft fingers.
    “Don’t worry,” Qadira said, smoothing down the worst of the wrinkles in the blanket. “Your secret, such as it is, is safe with me. Everyone deserves a second chance. Now get some rest.”
    Volinette felt as if there should be something else to say, but in the few moments that it took her to wrap her mind around Qadira’s words, the cleric had turned down the wick on the lamp for the second time and retreated from the cubicle, drawing the curtain closed behind her.
    A glance at the high slit window showed Volinette that evening had descended over the Imperium. The sounds of the