The Brush of Black Wings Read Online Free PDF

at worst,
had shown its gratitude for his role in destroying Corruption by
offering saplings and labor to plant them in the ruins of the first
grove. The irony wasn’t lost on Martise.
    Silhara sat down next to her, his upper lip
curled into a sneer as he contemplated one of the oranges by his
plate. “These aren’t even half as sweet as the ones I grew, and the
flesh is dry. Eridici Halt is skiving me into penury with these
things. I can’t wait until we see the first fruit from Neith’s
trees.”
    Martise poured tea into his cup. “You’ll still
hate them, sweet or not.” An orange grower he was, but Silhara
loathed their taste. He ate them anyway in an act of defiance
against an inner demon that refused to fade from memory.
    “ Aye, I will, but at least they’ll
be mine to hate, and I won’t be paying good coin for inferior
produce.” He tossed one of the oranges back to Gurn and set to
peeling the one he kept. “One of these days I’m going to kill you,”
he told the giant in mild tones.
    Gurn sipped his tea and gave a scornful chuff.
Martise grinned. During the many years Gurn had served Silhara,
he’d likely heard that threat more times than he could count and
considered it with all the seriousness it deserved.
    The servant did question them about their grim
arrival, and his countenance grew darker as Martise recounted the
events in the wood. He signed to Silhara who shrugged in
reply.
    “ It’s just a ruin choked with ivy.
I’ve no idea what drew the entity.” He forked one of the cooked
mushrooms Martise had gathered into his mouth and chewed before
continuing. “I’ve searched every temple and rubble heap in that
forest. Not even a hint of magic until now.”
    Martise avoided looking at him for fear of
Gurn seeing the silent message passed between them—that her Gift,
reawakened, had somehow drawn the intruder. Silhara had been
insistent for his own safety and hers, that Gurn remain ignorant of
her particular Gift even when they thought it obliterated in
Corruption’s defeat. He’d only witnessed the aftermath of the
battle and never saw Martise’s role in helping Silhara destroy the
god.
    The mute servant was perceptive. He likely
guessed long ago that Martise’s Gift had somehow manifested, but if
neither she nor Silhara spoke of it, no forced seer bonding by
Conclave could make Gurn reveal that which he didn’t know. She
didn’t want to tempt him into asking the wrong questions because of
glances she exchanged with Silhara. While the mage might lie as
easily as he breathed, she’d find it difficult, especially to
someone she considered a valued friend.
    Gurn turned his gaze to Cael who stretched out
by the door that opened to the bailey. The dog rested his head on
his paws, a faint reddish glow still lingering in his eyes. The
servant signed even faster, shoulders hunched and features pinched
into worried folds and lines.
    Martise held up her hands. “Oh trust me. I
have no intention of going anywhere near that place. One scare per
morning is more than enough excitement for me.” She pushed her
portion of the parasol mushrooms around her plate. She liked the
delicacy well enough, but after her earlier struggle with the
temple’s visitor, she’d lost her taste for them and slid the plate
to Silhara to finish.
    His free hand trailed the length of her back
in a comforting touch. “As soon as I’m done here, I’ll return to
the temple.”
    “ But you already put up
wards.”
    “ I just want to take a second
look. See if there’s something I missed. If not in the temple
itself, then around it. I’ll take Cael with me.” He downed his tea
and made to rise.
    Martise caught his hand to stop him. “Please
be careful.” Silhara’s seer bonding and the merging of his Gift
with hers had cleansed her of most of the entity’s taint, but a
little still lingered in her nostrils—dark sorcery and
madness.
    His lips were soft on hers before he
straightened and left the table. His faint