Masques Read Online Free PDF Page A

have belonged to a musician. Not only was the Archmage physically beautiful; he even sounded beautiful.
    Myr straightened abruptly, as if taken by surprise, and turned to look at the ae’Magi, who strolled up to stand next to him in front of the ornate cage.
    “She is extraordinary, isn’t she?” the ae’Magi continued. “I purchased her a month or more ago from a traveling merchant—she was captured somewhere in the Northlands, I believe . . . I thought she would go well with this room.” He waved a casual hand that managed to indicate the rest of the hall.
    Aralorn had grown adept at reading the ae’Magi’s voice, and his tone was just a little too casual. She wondered if he’d also heard the stories of the odd talent said to crop up in the Rethian royal family.
    Reth was a small country in size but rich in minerals and agriculture. It also had a well-trained army, left as the legacy of Myr’s grandfather. Its army had served to keep Reth independent every time the Anthran Alliance had periodically tried to swallow it over the past few centuries. Myr was a very new king, and certain conservative political factions would have been happier had he been the same kind of puppet as his father. But there were enough houses who would support him against all comers that Myr should be safe even from the Archmage. She didn’t know why she thought the ae’Magi might harm Myr. Maybe it was because part of her still believed she owed fealty to the royal house of Reth, and it made her overprotective. Maybe it was the way the ae’Magi reminded her of a cat watching a mouse hole.
    The sweet interest in the ae’Magi’s face gave Aralorn cold chills. Be careful, she silently urged Myr.
    Myr turned to the magician with a smile and more confidence than a boy his age should have had. “Yes, the ivory tinge is the same as the color in the marble here. It’s unusual to see a snowfalcon this far south; you must have paid a great deal for her.”
    The two men talked at length about falconry, something that Aralorn happened to know interested neither of them. When they had exhausted the subject, the ae’Magi abruptly changed topics.
    “My dear Myr,” said the ae’Magi, “please accept my condolences upon the untimely death of your parents. I had no opportunity to talk to you at the funeral. I sent a note, of course, but I wanted to speak to you face-to-face.”
    Myr started to speak, but the ae’Magi laid a long-fingered hand on Myr’s shoulder, effectively forestalling what the younger man might have said.
    “If you have need of anything, feel free to turn to me. I have connections and substantial power as the ae’Magi, and you may need what aid I can offer. It has never been easy to ascend the throne, especially now with the Uriah restless in the eastern forests. Not to mention that there are always opposing factions or”—he hesitated, waving his hand expressively—“other enemies.”
    With professional interest, Aralorn heard the slight edge of guilt in his voice. It was masterfully done and reminded her that the former rulers of Reth had been killed after leaving one of the ae’Magi’s elaborate parties. No one had ever implied that the accident might have had more sinister causes. She wouldn’t have thought about it on her own—but, given what she now knew, Aralorn would have been astonished to discover the Archmage didn’t have something to do with the king’s death.
    She wondered if Myr knew why the ae’Magi apparently had such interest in him. She could all but smell the wizard’s intent. She just couldn’t tell why he was so intent. Myr suspected something; his distrust was obvious from his little charade.
    Myr bowed his head quickly to acknowledge the offer without accepting it. “I know my parents counted you their friend. I appreciate your offer.” He smiled apologetically. “I have enjoyed our conversation, but I must excuse myself. You see”—he leaned in closer, as if confessing an