Heart of the Exiled Read Online Free PDF Page A

wordless concern enfolded her. She swallowed, her heart still pounding.
    Are we going to torment ourselves like this every day?
    He did not answer immediately. When he did, the tone of his thought was quiet, contrite.
    No. I am going to rest a while, love. Speak to me when you are ready to hear our news
.
    Turisan—
    A wave of warmth swept through her, then was gone. She stood still, frowning, regretting her impatient words. After a moment she bent to her work, collecting the rest of the firewood and scattering the brush she had cleared so that the only sign of her activity was the absence of two dead willows and a bit of the tangled undergrowth.
    Hefting her sling, she started downhill toward the camp. Dusk was falling, dimming the light within the wood. She was angry with herself, and troubled that the gift she and Turisan shared enabled her to hurt him even though they were leagues apart.

 
    Rephanin gazed at his circle of adepts, seated in the magehall’s largest chamber, where they met each evening shortly after sunset. The room was round and windowless, its walls of golden stone minimally adorned. Chairs and small tables comprised its furnishings, and a large open hearth at the north side was the main source of light.
    Golden fireglow washed the fair Greenglen faces of the adepts. Rephanin felt a deep pride in them. They were skilled mages, most having studied with him for several decades.
    “I am afraid our studies will be interrupted for a time. Instead, you will have intensive practice at focus-building.”
    Jholóran, a rather serious male who was among the longest-standing members of the circle, looked at him. “What sort of focuses, my lord?”
    “Those that will benefit the army being raised. Weapons blessed for accuracy, cloaks for protection. We will review the technique—”
    The door opened, and Rephanin was surprised to see Lady Heléri enter softly. She had come to Glenhallow to attend the Council, having once governed Alpinon. She was dressed in violet with her long black hair looseover her shoulders, still every bit as lovely as when he had first seen her many centuries ago in Hollirued, the first city of Eastfæld.
    They had met there shortly after the Bitter Wars, both having come thither to study magecraft. Soft-spoken and filled with wonder at the grandeur of Hollirued, Heléri had made little impression at first, though she had caught Rephanin’s eye. He had flirted with her and even considered paying serious court to her, but he had found her reserve tiresome and at last dismissed her as pretty but simple, one whose admiration he would accept but who merited little more of his attention.
    How bitterly he had come to regret that choice. He had wasted decades indulging himself with more openly appreciative companions until the Council of Governors had convened again in Hollirued. At that Council, Alpinon was represented by a new governor, Davharin. Not long after his arrival, Heléri had come to Rephanin asking advice on how to understand and manage mindspeech, and he had begun to realize what had slipped through his grasp.
    Her smile was every bit as entrancing now as it had been then. “One of the magehall attendants told me you would begin work tonight. I wish to contribute, if I may.”
    “Of course.” Rephanin swallowed and turned to address the circle. “Some of you may have met Lady Heléri. Please make her welcome.”
    A murmur, a shifting as Heléri joined the adepts. Stepping forward, Rephanin gestured for the mages to rise and set the circle. They moved closer until all were in arm’s reach of their neighbors.
    Rephanin held out his hands toward the mages on either side, right palm up, left down. His neighborsplaced their own hands a handspan apart from his, close enough to feel the khi between them.
    When the whole circle stood thus, he sent khi flowing from his left hand. In a moment he felt the pulse return through his right hand, augmented by the khi of the others. Silently