Once upon a Dream Read Online Free PDF Page A

“What is it you are, back in your Boston?”
    â€œI’m an antique dealer. That came through the blood. My uncles, my grandfather, and so on. Brennan’s of Boston has been doing business for nearly a century.”
    â€œNearly a century, is it?” he chuckled. “So very long.”
    â€œI suppose it doesn’t seem so by European standards. But America’s a young country. You have some magnificent pieces in your home.”
    â€œI collect what appeals to me.”
    â€œApparently a wide range appeals to you. I’ve neverseen such a mix of styles and eras in one place before.”
    He glanced around the room, considering. It wasn’t something he’d thought of, but he’d had only himself to please up until now. “You don’t like it?”
    Because it seemed to matter to him, she worked up a smile. “No, I like it very much. In my business I see a lot of beautiful and interesting pieces, and I’ve always felt it was a shame more people don’t just toss them together and make their own style rather than sticking so rigidly to a pattern. No one can accuse you of sticking to a pattern.”
    â€œNo. That’s a certainty.”
    She started to curl up her legs, caught herself. What in the world was wrong with her? She was relaxing into an easy conversation with what was very likely a madman. She cut her gaze toward the knife beside her, then back to him. And found him studying her contemplatively.
    â€œI wonder if you could use it. There are two kinds of people in the world, don’t you think? Those who fight and those who flee. Which are you, Kayleen?”
    â€œI’ve never been in the position where I had to do either.”
    â€œThat’s either fortunate or tedious. I’m not entirely sure which. I like a good fight myself,” he added with that quick grin. “Just one of my many flaws. Fact is, I miss going fist to fist with a man. I miss a great many things.”
    â€œWhy? Why do you have to miss anything?”
    â€œThat’s the point, isn’t it, of this fireside conversation. The why. Are you wondering, mavourneen , if I’m off in my head?”
    â€œYes,” she said, then immediately froze.
    â€œI’m not, though perhaps it would’ve been easier if I’d gone a bit crazy along the way. They knew I had a strong mind—part of the problem, in their thinking, and part of the reason for the sentence weighed on me.”
    â€œThey?” Her fingers inched toward the handle of the knife. She could use it, she promised herself. She would use it if she had to, no matter how horribly sad and lonely he looked.
    â€œThe Keepers. The ancient and the revered who guard and who nurture magic. And have done so since the Waiting Time, when life was no more than the heavens taking their first breath.”
    â€œGods?” she said cautiously.
    â€œIn some ways of thinking.” He was brooding again, frowning into the flames. “I was born of magic, and when I was old enough I left my family to do the work. To heal and to help. Even to entertain. Some of us have more of a knack, you could say, for the fun of it.”
    â€œLike, um, sawing a lady in half.”
    He looked at her with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. “This is illusion, Kayleen.”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œI speak of magic, not pretense. Some prophesy, some travel and study, for the sake of it. Others devote their art to healing body or soul. Some choose to make a living performing. Some might serve a worthy master, as Merlin did Arthur. There are as many choices as there are people. And while none may choose to harm or profit for the sake of it, all are real.”
    He slipped a long chain from under his shirt, held the pendant with its milky stone out for her to see. “A moonstone,” he told her. “And the words around are my name, and my title. Draiodoir . Magician.”
    â€œIt’s