Hemlock And The Dread Sorceress (Book 3) Read Online Free PDF

protect your Tower.
    “Thank you,” said Gwineval, bowing.  He turned to Hemlock.  “Until tomorrow, then?”
    …
    Hemlock carefully navigated the morning market throng as she made for the apartment where she, Mercuria and Tored resided. 
    An unlikely quartet walked erratically in front of her.  A young man, dressed in the plain, durable robe common in the Warrens, had his arm around a young woman wearing a soiled white robe of the Elite district.  Beside them was a similarly attired couple but reversed in role and gender—an Elite man with a young woman from the Warrens.  Both men wore beards and long hair that were uncharacteristic of the City just a few months prior.  Neither of the women wore the facial makeup that was customary in both neighborhoods.  Collectively, they bore the hallmarks of the burgeoning “Cult of Cassandra,” the pleasure witch that Hemlock had given refuge to in the center of the City. 
    The youths laughed despite the deep bags under their eyes—they were exhausted but jubilant.  Hemlock admired them in a certain sense.  Though she doubted the wisdom of their lifestyle, their air of freedom made her feel shackled by comparison. 
    As Hemlock watched the four youths, who were little older than her but seeming like children living in a bubble of naiveté, they reminded her of the fate of Cassandra.  The Senate—Samberlin in particular—were furious over the changes caused by the witch, and continually passed resolutions demanding the ouster of the controversial cult.  But Hemlock had deferred any decision on the issue for six months.  That milestone was rapidly approaching, but she anticipated deferring a decision again in light of the renewed threat of DuLoc.  Whether the Senate would listen to her, in her new, diminished and poorly defined role, was not a certainty, however.
    The sight of a local ruffian pushing his way through the crowd distracted her attention from the issue of Cassandra.  The young thug was known as Jasper, an ill-tempered sort who seemed to alternate between two states of being—criminal intent and incoherent intoxication, with success at the former typically followed by the latter.
    Hemlock was surprised to see a small vial of liquid in the cutpurse’s right hand.  The liquid glowed in a way that was obviously magical.
    She approached Jasper to inquire about his unusual possession.  As she neared him , he greeted her with a wide grin.
    “Hold up.  What do you have there, Jasper?”
    “Just me morning draught,” the young man replied evasively. He quickly popped the cork on the vial and raised his hand in a mock toast.
    Hemlock considered knocking the vial from his grip, but the fact that no crime had been committed stayed her.
    A whistle sounded in the distance, and the youth guzzled the glowing tincture.  Hemlock immediately sensed a magical radiance emanating from his body.
    She used her power of magical affinity to ascertain the effects of the small potion.  It seemed to create concentric waves of energy that spread out over the market.  No other effect was evident.  But soon, Hemlock perceived other, similar waves of energy flowing into and meeting the waves emanating from Jasper.  Using her sense, she followed these waves to their source as other wave sources intersected.   Suddenly, she was in the midst of a cacophony of magical emanations with no apparent purpose.
    She looked to her right and noticed another known criminal several yards away. A glass vial, similar to Jaspar’s, dropped from his hand.  Her eyes darted to her left and saw yet another participant in what she now feared was some sort of planned action.
    But what is the purpose?
    Jasper provided a clue by mocking her as Hemlock darted away in search of more information amongst the crowd—most of which seemed completely unaware that something very unusual was happening.
    “What’s wrong ? Your second sight not seein’ too well, lass?” said Jasper.
    As she trotted