The Choice of Magic - Michael G. Manning Page 0,137
wasn’t enough to help substantially.
Dismissing the rune, he made another. This time he used pertos, which was essentially just a fat dot roughly the size of the end of his thumb. When he had first learned the runes, his grandfather had been insistent that he make them fixed, so that they wouldn’t move. Apparently, that was important when crafting a spell so that all of them could be added without ruining the structure, but as a result of that practice he also knew quite well how to make them move, for that was what they did when he messed up.
Rather than make this pertos rune perfectly, he affixed it to the end of his left index finger. The light was still poor, but he could move his hand to bring it close to things he wanted to examine. Will was rather pleased with himself when it worked just as he had hoped.
Slowly working his way around the room, he found his letter had come to a stop against the bottom of one of the chests. He retrieved it and placed it neatly on top of the desk. He was about to leave when a cough and rustling from the direction of the cot stopped him cold.
The occupant had rolled over, but after a short time Will decided they must still be asleep. He moved closer, until he could definitely tell it was a woman. She had rolled onto her back, twisting the blankets until they exposed her left shoulder and one of her feet.
Taking a few more steps, Will reached the edge of the cot, and he lowered his finger so he could study her face. It was Isabel. The light was too dim to make out colors, but he knew from seeing her before that the smooth, full lips would be a soft pink color. A dark lock of hair had fallen across her cheek, and he fought a sudden urge to brush it aside. He stared at her for a minute, unable to take his eyes away.
Tailtiu came to his mind then, for the fae woman was flawlessly perfect in every detail. Isabel was not; from the faintest asymmetries in the shape of her face, to the pimple on her brow, she was profoundly human. But I’ll be damned if she isn’t the most beautiful human woman I’ve ever seen, thought Will. Unlike the alien beauty of the fae, Isabel’s warmth seemed to call to him.
Breaking out of his reverie, Will went back to where he had come in and got down on the ground, extinguishing his makeshift light at the same time. Then he slid out and took his time putting the tent stakes back in place. He couldn’t put the spell that he had destroyed back, but perhaps it wouldn’t be a problem. At the very least there was no way they could figure out who had done it.
The journey back to his own tent took just as long, and he was grateful when he was finally able to take off his boots and close his eyes. The next day would be rough with only a half a night’s sleep under his belt.
Chapter 42
Will woke with a shock as horns blared outside, and Sergeant Nash yelled at them from the tent entrance. Sitting up, he pulled his boots back on and started to lift the gambeson so he could slide it over his head and shoulders. He was stopped when someone’s hand fell on his shoulder. “William Cartwright?” said a deep voice.
Two soldiers he didn’t recognize stood behind him. Both were clad in mail byrnies. “Yes?”
“On your feet, soldier!” barked the one who had spoken already. Will got up, and the two grabbed his arms and dragged him into the aisle, where they turned him around and bound his hands behind his back.
“What’s going on?” asked Corporal Taylor.
“We’re taking this man into custody at the order of Lord Fulstrom,” said one of the two men holding Will’s arms. Without another word, they shuffled him out of the tent and marched him across the yard. Once outside of Company B’s campsite, they turned right and took him in the direction of the officers’ tents. As they went, Will could see men hurrying back and forth. Sergeants were yelling, and patrols had formed to sweep the area outside the camp.
His stomach sank, and he realized that he was the most likely cause for the frenzy of activity.
They took him to a large tent he had never been in