Magic Zero Read Online Free PDF Page B

father, and a metal man for company, Leander thought. His earlier thoughts persisted. No matter how he had worked to transform the island, Patience was not truly Timothy’s home.
    “Something sure smells tasty,” Edgar croaked, perching atop the back of a chair beside a small dining table. The rook flapped his wings in anticipation, ruffling the thick black feathers around his neck.
    The boy beamed, turning toward the pot that bubbled in the hearth. “It looks like Ivar started cooking before we even got to the workshop, so we shouldn’t have to wait too long before we eat.”
    The boy’s mention of an unfamiliar name snagged Leander’s attention. “Ivar?” he asked. “Who—”
    A round vegetable, with skin very like the color of the ocean outside, suddenly seemed to float up into the air from a woven basket at the base of the hearth. It hovered, then dropped into the steaming pot with a splash.
    Leander’s mind raced. Is there magic at work here after all? He could see nothing but a slight shimmer in the air before the stone fireplace.
    “He’s not used to company either,” Timothy said, directing his stare toward the same shimmering spot. “It’s okay, Ivar,” he said. “You know Edgar. And Master Maddox—Leander—is a friend. They came because my father is . . .”
    The air in front of the hearth seemed to thicken, growing darker as something began to materialize. No, not materialize, the mage determined. The man had been there all along; it was just that Leander had been unable to see him.
    “Ivar is an Asura,” Timothy said quietly, glancing at Leander.
    Leander looked at the boy askance. “Surely not. They’re extinct, the Asura. Savages. The last of the tribe died out half a century ago or more.”
    Timothy chuckled softly. “Well, he looks fairly healthy to me. I don’t know the whole story, but Ivar was living here long before I arrived. My father brought him here, just as he brought me. Ivar looked after me when I was a baby. He and Sheridan are the best friends I have.” He looked away from Ivar and a sad smile crept across his face. “The only friends I have, really, now that my father is gone.”
    Leander was sensitive to the boy’s sadness, yet he could not help staring in amazement at the Asura warrior. The savage tribe was not extinct after all; there still lived at least one last warrior. Here was another thing Argus Cade had kept from him, and Leander had to wonder what else his mentor had failed to mention.
    According to what he knew of them, the Asura were an ancient race, much more in tune with the natural order of things than the supernatural. The tales told of fierce warriors and great hunters, who had resisted overreliance upon magic and been ostracized as primitives, as savages. Whenmore “civilized” peoples tried to take their homelands, the Asura had fought back and been destroyed.
    Ivar leaned over the bubbling pot, stirring the contents with a large wooden spoon. His skin was fair, a pale white, but at a moment’s notice its color could change, allowing him to blend with his surroundings. It was a unique talent that had made the Asura such expert hunters.
    “All who are present now were friends of the Arguscade,” the Asura said in a voice like the rumble of a distant storm. “This meal we shall consume in his honor. The pleasure we receive from it shall be bestowed upon him in the great lands beyond this.”
    Ivar turned his pale features to all that were present to see if they were in agreement with what he had proposed. Leander had seen only portraitures of the ancient people and was taken by the Asura’s strange but fascinating appearance. Ivar was short and powerfully built, pale, almost translucent, with not a trace of hair upon his body. Leander had read that strange patterns demonstrating an Asura’s mood could appear on the skin, but currently Ivar’s flesh was unblemished. His eyes were dark, penetrating, and his cheekbones high and pointed. He