Wayfinder by C. E. Murphy Read Free Book Online Page A

Barrow-lands’ bickering and politics. They had asked her to uncover hidden truths. She was not going to stand aside now, not when she had come this far.
    Emyr waded out of the pool. It was a measure of him, Lara thought, that he could be as unforgiving and regal as he was even standing thigh-deep in water. “Did you drown the Unseelie lands, Emyr? Did you start this war?”
    “I do not recall.” The precision of his words belied their softness, making them more a threat than a confession. But the music in them rang pure, if unsettled: his voice could carry a whole orchestra of sound, perhaps as the result of age. The symphony it played was one of foreboding and distrust, directed as much inwardly as toward Lara. Emyr
didn’t
recall, and from the rumbling music, loathed thatinability. “It is why I said to ask Hafgan,” he went on, music thick with stress. “And yet it seems his memories were failing, too. When so much time has gone by, Truthseeker, what does it matter?”
    “People are still dying over it, that’s what it matters. Ioan, the Drowned Lands, the healing waters … are you sure Hafgan’s not just dead? You’re not using a euphemism?” Lara doubted it; figures of speech tended to set off warning bells, and Ioan had come across as sincere.
    He shook his head. “At rest, but not dead. He could be roused,” he said reluctantly. “If it is necessary, he can be awakened.”
    As could Dafydd, Lara concluded silently. Relief swept over her as heat, making her want to turn away and hide her face until her expression was under control. But Dafydd’s health, important as it was to her personally, might be the least of the concerns she faced. Clinging to the hope of his recovery, she steadied her voice to say, “Okay. So we have two old people—”
    Emyr made such a violent sound of protest that Lara laughed. “Forgive me, your majesty. Ancient peers. Venerable elders. Respected monarchs. Old people,” she repeated with cheerful emphasis. “Neither of whom can remember all the details. I might be able to help you remember, but I’m going to need both of you. And probably anyone else old enough to remember the drowning of the lands. Was Oisín here then?”
    Aerin nodded, earning a dark look from her king. Lara, though, smiled. Oisín and she had not only mortality in common, but also love for an immortal. More usefully, though, their magic interfered with elfin power. Glamours and other misguidances might cease to function with two human magic users on hand. That would save time, as she doubted either Emyr or Hafgan would willingly reveal the secrets they half recalled.
    “And what will you do if you find answers?” Ioan wondered.
    Lara touched the staff she wore across her back. “Try to fix what was broken. Isn’t that the whole idea?”
    Ioan’s gaze sharpened as if he hadn’t fully seen her until then. “That—?”
    “I found it in my world, like you thought I might.” Lara spread one hand and let it fall, willing to let the simple explanation suffice. “I have to be sure of what’s happened here before I’ll be ready to use it, but it has tremendous power. If anything can help set things right here, I think it can.”
    “
If?
If you’re willing to use it, if there’s anything to be healed? How can you doubt?”
    “Because none of you know the whole truth, and I’m not about to start rearranging the landscape here on anybody’s say-so.”
    “Forgive me, Lara.” The lines of Ioan’s face hardened as he spoke, intimating that he had no expectation of forgiveness, but every expectation of obedience. “My people have suffered far too much to wait any longer. I will have that staff from you now.”
    His voice rang with command, even with truth, but Ioan’s demand was so preposterous Lara had a fleeting moment of simply not believing him. Her gift had changed in the past weeks, adapting enough that she could have such moments, but the sensation of disbelief was still almost