Dragonwitch Read Online Free PDF

replied, “Oh no, I can find my way well enough. And if I miss a turn, surely someone will direct me.”
    Relieved, Alistair bowed over her hand and kissed it in a distracted manner. The next moment, he was hastening off behind the stableboy, and Leta watched his red head disappear into the gloom of the stables.
    There was nothing for it. She must return to her rooms and the boredom of a day highlighted only by a prospective supper with her future mother-in-law. “Our woman’s lot,” she muttered again and retraced hersteps through the gates. Determined to ignore the crypt with its fine marble, she turned her head away and saw, on the opposite side of the inner courtyard, a humble shed.
    Even as she watched, a wizened little man emerged from it, a lowly scrubber carrying a mop over one shoulder. He saw her too and grinned and bowed. What an ugly creature he was, as old as age itself! She gave a cool nod and hastened on to the keep.
    Oddly enough, as she passed through the doorway into the dim and drafty halls, Leta met no one. She continued to meet no one as she climbed the first set of stairs and paused at the top, trying to remember from which way she had come. The passages right and left looked exactly alike to her, so she took the right one and went up another winding stair, though she was certain by then she’d chosen incorrectly. Arriving at a long, well-furnished passage that seemed familiar, she hurried to its end and opened the final door, expecting to come upon her own rooms.
    She stood at the threshold of the castle library.
    Leta paused, her mouth open and her eyes wide. What a wondrous sight! Why had Alistair, amid all his boasting of wells and defenses, neglected to show her this room? It was dark and dusty, lighted only by a few candles, but she could smell the wealth of knowledge contained therein. Volume upon bound volume filled the various tables and shelves lining the walls, and a hundred or more scrolls! A long table littered in papers took up half the floor space on one side, and a desk covered with inkstands and parchment was drawn up to one of the windows.
    You should shut the door, practical Leta advised. Shut the door, own your mistake, and retrace your steps. Someone will have noticed you’re missing by now.
    Yes, and what a stir that will be! rebellious Leta thought, amused. And she stepped into the library and closed the door.
    A book lay open on the long table, a candle lighting its pages. Leta approached with all the reverence due holy things and leaned over to look upon the written pages. One page boasted a fine illumination of a house, she thought, though it was turned away from her. With tentative fingers she gently moved the book to a better viewing angle.
    And there it was. The House of Lights. She would recognize it anywhere, the heart of all North Country history and legend. The House of Lights,built by Faerie hands and filled with the light of a magical lantern. The illuminator had depicted it as it once was, its doors flung open and light pouring out in sacred brilliance that was almost song. Beneath it all were written words. Leta put out a hand as though to catch them even as they danced across the page.
    â€œI wouldn’t touch that if I were you.”
    â€œI’m sorry!” The words fell from Leta’s mouth, as much a reflex as her hastily removed hand. She whirled about, expecting to see some stern figure standing behind her. But there were only more shadows and more books. “I’m so sorry. I have never seen so many books in one place before.” She spun slowly as she searched the library for some sign of the speaker. “How many are there? A hundred at least, I should imagine. Two hundred even! Aiven cannot boast half that. Indeed, I think my father possesses no more than twenty bound volumes, even were you to combine all his estates.”
    There was silence for a long moment. Then the same voice spoke. “Ferox boasts the