Dragon's Tongue (The Demon Bound) Read Online Free PDF

gave it a shake, and thought he felt something shift. Peering into the hole, all he saw was a shadow. He shook it again, but this time nothing moved.
    I must be drunk…and tired . There was a bitter taste on his tongue, like he’d been sucking copper. He sighed, put the psaltery into its case, and slung the strap across his shoulder. It thumped against his back, an unfamiliar weight.
    Moments passed like hours. Fenelon said good-bye to every woman in the place, some more than once. We’re never going to get out of here, Alaric thought. Time for him to take a stand before he became incapable of standing at all. He growled under his breath as he snagged Fenelon’s arm and hissed, “Will you come on before I pass out now!”
    “Oh, yes,” Fenelon said, giving Alaric a critical look. “Sorry, my beauties but I must leave now. Time to get this wee one warm in his trundle…”
    Some of the lasses giggled. Alaric bit his tongue and headed for the door, dragging Fenelon who went more willingly than expected. Of course, Alaric realized that if Fenelon chose to resist, Alaric would not have been able to move the taller mage. Still, it gave Alaric a sense of satisfaction to be in charge for the moment.
    Outside, the streets were dark, save the amber, gold and rosy flicker of torches and watch fires on some corners. Mage eyes did not care. Like cats, mageborn could see in the near dark, allowing Alaric to avoid the puddles gathered on the cobbles. The rain had stopped, and a thick mist hung tattered draperies on the cool air.
    Fenelon took a deep breath and clapped Alaric on the shoulder, nearly spilling the unsteady youth. “Well, did you enjoy yourself, my friend?” Fenelon asked.
    Alaric nodded, staggering several steps until he caught his balance again. Horns, he really was drunk, and at this rate, was likely to be suffering a hangover tomorrow. “Yes, I did, but I think I’m rather drunk just now, for I’m tired and just want to go to bed.”
    “Not used to city air, I would imagine,” Fenelon said with a smile.   “You know, you play very well. Some of those songs you sang sounded familiar? Who taught them to you?”
    “Ronan Tey,” Alaric replied.
    Fenelon gave Alaric a wide-eyed look of admiration. “You learned bard craft from Ronan Tey?”
    “Yes,” Alaric said. “He was an old friend of Marda’s and used to come by Gordslea Hold often. My sisters were madly in love with him, but he always ignored them and spent his time with me and Marda instead.”
    “That’s because Ronan Tey was never one for the ladies,” Fenelon said with a look of mischief that made Alaric frown as he wondered just what the master mage meant. “Go on…”
    “Well, he taught me all sorts of songs, and he would talk about the old days with Marda, which always seemed odd to me since he barely looked half her age.”
    “Actually, Ronan Tey was much older than Marda,” Fenelon said. “He was mageborn.”
    “Really?” It was Alaric’s turn to look surprised. “He never mentioned it.”
    “He was not terribly fond of the power,” Fenelon said. “The one time I met him was in Marda’s company almost twenty years ago. I knew at once he was mageborn, which fit the rumors I had heard of how he denied his power for the sake of his music. Of course, he couldn’t resist putting a little magic in some of his riddle songs, but he refused to share them with me or anyone else at the time. He said that knowing magic and mixing it with songs had only brought him grief, so he ignored his mageborn heritage at every turn.”
    Alaric nodded in thought. He could hardly blame Ronan, for Alaric had often felt the same way when he found out he was destined to carry the mageborn gift.
    “What songs did he teach you, if you don’t mind my asking?” Fenelon said with renewed curiosity.
    “Quite a few, actually,” Alaric said. “There was something called The Unicorn’s Well .”
    “A lovely piece,” Fenelon said. “I got to hear him