Tales of the Dragon's Bard, Volume 1: Eventide Read Online Free PDF Page A

chisel.
    “Melodi, would you get the bowls?” Sobrina asked, though it was not spoken as a question.
    “Oh, gladly,” Melodi answered, glancing up from behind her book. She flicked her wrists four times and, with a whump sound, four ornate bowls appeared on the table, clattering as they settled abruptly onto the surface. The sound made Sobrina jump.
    “Melodi! Pay attention!” Sobrina said as she straightened up. The forgotten spoon, no longer enchanted, slowed with the stew in the pot. “What is that book your nose has been in so long?”
    “This?” Melodi looked up. Melodi would have been considered pretty were she not constantly eclipsed by her sisters. As it was, she had a voluptuous form, an upturned nose and an easy, seemingly perpetual, mischievous smile. The only feature she had inherited from her mother was her raven black hair, which she often coaxed into tight curls.
    It was rare that Sobrina took any interest in her reading, and Melodi delighted in the chance to talk about it. She stood at once and leaned over the table. “It’s absolutely wonderful! It’s called Drakeskeep —the tale of a fortress near a dragon’s lair. There’s this wonderful story about this Lady of the Keep who falls for this ne’er-do-well Bard and her three brothers find out about them and—”
    Sobrina rolled her dark eyes. “Melodi, you know we can’t afford—”
    “Oh, I didn’t buy it!” Melodi countered.
    “I should hope not!” Sobrina sniffed.
    “I found it.”
    Sobrina’s eyes narrowed as she looked at her sister. “Found it?”
    “Yes,” Melodi said as she sat down on one of the four mismatched stools surrounding the table. “I was gathering wishes around the Fae Grotto and went a little too far south through the woods. I found an abandoned camp off the Meade road, and the book was just lying there.”
    “Melodi, nobody just abandons a camp,” Sobrina said in her sternest voice. “That book belongs to someone, and you’ll take it back first thing in the morning.”
    “Very well.” Melodi frowned slightly but there was still a twinkle in her eyes. “I’ll have finished it by then anyway.”
    Caprice took the spoon out of the pot, her enchantment twisting it into a ladle. “How long will the bowls last, Mel?”
    “Half an hour, I think,” she answered, turning the bowl in her hands as she examined it. “I patterned them after a description from the book. Do you like them?”
    “They’re lovely,” Caprice replied as she ladled stew into each of the bowls.
    Melodi beamed.
    Caprice helped their father to the table, then took her place. The bowls would vanish after dinner; anything remaining of their meal would fall into the bucket into which the bowls had been placed. The ladle, too, would disappear, as would the shining forks and knives Melodi had provided. She was the most talented of the three, it was true, but, as Caprice reflected, in the end it would not matter. The enchantments always ended, their small magics were but temporary, and their lives remained as broken as the wishing well they tended.
    The Morgans took hands around the table and bowed their heads to thank the gods for the wishes of the day.
    Caprice opened her eyes. Looking into the bowl of stew, all she saw was an empty well of wishes.
    “Caprice?” the Dragon’s Bard repeated. “That’s her name, then?”
    Jarod had once jumped off a cart as a boy. It had been going too fast, and no matter how fast he ran, his feet could not catch up with his body and he finally crashed, sliding across the ground. He had known he was going to fall but he had kept desperately running anyway.
    The rush of words coming out of him gave him the same feeling.
    “Yes! She’s the most beautiful . . . I mean . . . if you could just see her . . . not that you should see her . . . but if you did see her you’d know . . . there are other girls . . . women, I mean . . . or girls . . . who I know and they’re fine . . . some of