Prophet of Moonshae

knight outweighed him by perhaps a hundred pounds. Still, something in the thin man's gaze gave his opponent pause.

But Gwyeth had staked too much of his manhood on this confrontation. He could not back down. He lunged sharply at Keane.

The teacher snapped his fingers, and Alicia saw something like dust or sand puff into the air from the thin man's hand. At the same time, Keane waved his other arm toward the charging figure of Gwyeth.

In the next instant, the burly Gwyeth tumbled face-forward onto the ground. He lay still, only the rapid pulsing of his torso showing that he still breathed. After a moment, he found his voice, croaking a hysterical shriek amid a spattering of drool on the floor.

'Remove him!' barked Blackstone, gesturing to four men-at-arms, all of whom were required to heft the huge man and cart him from the hall.

'Sorcery!' The whisper passed around the great table, and the guests looked at Keane with new, appraising eyes, their expressions a mixture of respect and fear.

'I beg my lord's pardon,' Keane said, bowing to the earl before reseating himself. 'He shall recover free movement in a matter of minutes.'

'Pah!' growled the lord, returning to his meat. Alicia sensed that he was disappointed in his son's embarrassing performance as much as anything else.

The remainder of the meal passed in somewhat stilted conversation, mostly concerning the past five years of weather. Finally the dinner guests made their way to the doors, while Alicia and her two companions bade good night to the earl and retired, with a feeling of relief, to their chambers.

Tomorrow morning, after breaking fast, they would journey with the earl to the Moonwell.

The oil lamp flared and smoked as the wick soaked up the last of the fuel, but Deirdre took no notice. Instead, her pulse quickened with excitement as she read the pages of the tome before her. It was an obscure volume, the Origins of Arcane Power, by one Dudlis of Thay, but it provoked within her feelings that she had never before tapped.

She had stumbled upon the tome almost by accident. She had been browsing among the titles along several high shelves that she had not previously investigated, when the glint of candlelight along the book's golden spine had attracted her eye. At the time, she had laughed at the fleeting suspicion that the book was calling to her, asking to be read.

Now she wasn't so sure that her reaction had been caused by her imagination.

The mind must open to the power that would flow, and the power itself must be fed and nurtured. It is a matter of diet, of meditation-and of joy.

This writer, this wizard-he understands! She felt a kinship to the long-dead author, for this was the power she had long felt within herself. Keane had touched it for her when he had begun to show her simple enchantments, but then the tutor had stopped, almost as if he had been frightened.

When one has the power, it may be a matter of fear to others, even close friends. .

That was it-Keane feared her! The thought gave Deirdre a little thrill of pleasure. Her lip curled in scorn as she thought of Keane, of Alicia and all the others who dwelled smugly, secure in their stations. What did they know of courage? Of determination? Only one such as Deirdre, born to nothing by a second child's status, could truly grow up to be strong.

As always, the envy in her heart coalesced into hard anger, growing colder and more firm as she delved further into these works of power. Unaware of the omnipresent power of the storm that still lurked about the castle, Deirdre allowed her mind to wander. Her frustration, her resentment, grew to an almost palpable force, sailing forth from the library into the dark and windy wastes of the night.

And as these thoughts surged forth, they served as a summons to one who had been waiting long for just such an opportunity. A form sifted through the shutters of the window like air, swirling through the shadows of the room, gathering in a darkened corner, behind the back of the brooding princess. When finally the shape had gained substance, it moved, causing a soft scuffling of boots across the floor.

Deirdre gasped at the slight noise, standing suddenly and knocking over her stool as a figure advanced from the shadows in the corner of the library.

'Who are you?' she demanded, her voice steady despite her fear. 'Where did you come from?'

'Fear not, king's daughter,' said the man. His voice was rich and deep. . and soothing.

'How long have you been there?'

'But a moment, no more-though, to be sure, I have heard you from afar many times these last few years. You must realize that. After all, it was you who summoned me here.'

'I?' Deirdre stared, more astonished than ever. No longer, however, did she feel any fear of this strange intruder. 'I summoned you?'

'In a manner of speaking.' Now the visitor flung back his robe. His golden hair lay full, well combed and hanging past his ears. A smile, sincere yet somewhat pensive, curved his mouth. Deirdre thought he was the most handsome man she had ever seen.

'Please explain,' she requested, gesturing him to sit as she, too, took her chair. She very much wanted to listen to him.

'Your mind was freed by your reading, by that tome before you. I sensed your need and came here quickly.'

'From where?'

'Callidyrr. I have a small shop in the alchemists' lane, though I am seldom there.'

'Tell me of this need of mine-this thing that you sensed.' Deirdre spoke calmly, wanting very much to appear in control. Inside, however, her heart squirmed like a worm on a hook.

'You possess the potential for great power,' he said. 'You simply need someone to teach you the secrets of that power, the means of unlocking those doors.'

He knows! Deirdre had felt a rush of relief and gratitude and joy. The way before her-the secrets of her own power-suddenly seemed to beckon, a path that was wide and sunlit and smooth.

'Who are you?' she asked suddenly. 'What is your name?'

'I cannot tell you-yet,' the man said, softly waving away the question. And indeed the matter no longer seemed important. She realized that he spoke to her again.

'I must take care in my comings and goings. Besides, I know that you have done well with your studies, even without me here to guide you.'

'You know?' she asked wonderingly.

'Remember, my little blackbird,' he replied, 'you summoned me. Yes, I can feel your progress, and I know that you progress very far.'

Deirdre tingled to his praise. She would have clung to him in her joy, except he broke away to step over to the table. There he looked at the volume by Dudlis she had been reading.

'See-you make excellent headway, even in the advanced works. That is a very good sign.'

'But where does it lead?' she asked petulantly. She immediately regretted her tone when she saw the look of mild reproach he gave her. 'I'm sorry,' she whispered.

His look became a soft, sympathetic smile. 'I know your impatience as well, my dear. But you will need to wait for some levels of knowledge.'

Hesitantly she approached him, knowing the lightness of his words yet wanting to disregard them.

'But how long must we wait?' she asked.

'Already you learn great things and do not even realize it,' he said reassuringly. 'Here, let me show you.'

Her visitor went to one of the great tables and picked up a long taper. 'This is a power I'll wager you do not even know that you possess.' He drew a knife and whittled some shavings from the candle onto the stained planks.

'Come, girl. Sit beside me here,' he encouraged as he touched the flame to the shavings. To Deirdre's surprise, a cloud of dark smoke spurted upward, floating as a circular mass in the air.