Scholar of Magic (Art of the Adept #3) - Michael G. Manning Page 0,116

her body was already beginning to radiate a faint sense of vitality. He wished that Tiny and Janice’s problems were so easy to fix.

He laid her in the tall grass and sat down beside her to wait, though he felt a strong sense of urgency. Time wasn’t his friend. After something close to a quarter of an hour, there was a shimmer in the air, and his grandmother appeared. Will stared at her in surprise, for she had come from somewhere else, but not through the congruence point with his world.

What sort of magic was that? he wondered.

“You found her,” she said simply.

Will watched Aislinn carefully. “You seem surprised.”

She arched one brow. “Shouldn’t I be? A warehouse full of Drak’shar is a dangerous place. It seemed unlikely you would succeed.”

“You knew where she was?” he demanded, feeling his temper rise.

“What don’t I know, child? That is a much better question, and one I spend much of my time seeking to address.”

“Save the double-talk for someone else,” he said, spitting on the ground angrily. “You knew where she was and yet you left her to die?”

“You brought her back,” said Aislinn simply.

“I almost died. Two of my friends might still die.”

Aislinn gave him a sharp look. “Only one, child, don’t exaggerate.”

“You were watching the whole time? You were fine with me dying, even if it meant your own daughter would do the same?”

“Death is a gift, my grandson, one you have refused several times, and now, it appears you are refusing it on behalf of others. Are you sure you have the right?” She glanced down at her emaciated daughter. “Will she thank you for preserving her life?” Then she leveled her gaze at Will. “Will Janice thank you for it? And what of your lost friend, Rob? I’m sure he’s praying for it already.”

Will’s rapier appeared in his hand, and the edge was close to Aislinn’s throat before he realized what he was doing.

His grandmother’s mouth twitched into a smile. “Do it. Touch me but once with that iron and I will have won.”

“Not if I drag your remains into the mortal realm and leave them to rot,” he threatened.

“You understand nothing of me, despite everything I have said.” She gave a sigh of longsuffering. “Very well, I will show mercy this once and grant you a second lesson. Unprovoked violence will violate the accord. Strike me or put your weapon away. Choose which victory I will enjoy today.”

His fury was so great that the sword began to shake in his hand, but his mind continued to work. She wants me to kill her? Or does she want an excuse to kill me? Or is it the accord she wants destroyed? Would she really be happy with any of those results? Straightening up, he sent the sword back into the limnthal.

His grandmother seemed disappointed. “I suppose the game will have to continue then.” She snapped her fingers and Tailtiu levitated into the air, floating over to the fae lady. Then she turned her back and walked away. The two of them shimmered and vanished a moment later.

How the hell is she doing that? wondered Will. Irritated, he moved back to the congruence point and returned to his own world. The more time that passed, the more he was beginning to understand the goddamn cat’s disdain for the fae.

Returning through the pasture, he suddenly regretted letting the carriage driver leave. If he wanted to go back to the warehouse, he would have to walk on his own feet. Running was out of the question. Every muscle in his body was sore from his marathon sprint earlier, and that was without even considering the pain of the wounds that covered much of his body. All of it was minor, but it added up to a considerable burden.

It was almost an hour before he got to the warehouse. He half expected to find it on fire and surrounded by the Driven, but the area was still quiet and dark. He still had one spell prepared, Ethelgren’s Illumination, but he added a second copy and then a wind-wall