The Prodigal Mage: Fisherman’s Children Book One Read Online Free PDF

And I can’t fault you for feeling frustrated, or slighted, but—”
    Father banged his emptied crystal glass on the wide oak arm of his chair.
“Slighted?”
    “Now, now, Rodyn, there’s no profit in working yourself into a temper,” said Lord Vail. He sounded uneasy. “And there’s no need to take umbrage when Sarle says you’re feeling slighted. Barl knows
I
do. And I warrant Sarle feels the same way. What you say is true. We did make a mistake in the weeks after Morg. We let that Asher and his woman and the rest of the Olken ride roughshod over us. But it happened, and what’s done is surely done.”
    “No,”
said Father. “What’s done can be
undone,
if we have the will and the courage to undo it. Do you think Ain Freidin is the only Doranen tempted to explore forbidden magics?”
    Father’s friends stared at him. “Rodyn,” said Lord Baden, his voice husky. “Surely you’re not admitting—”
    “I’ve broken no laws,” said Father. “I’m not such a fool. I’ll do nothing to jeopardise my place on the Mage Council. Someone needs to keep a close eye on Asher. But that doesn’t mean I don’t think—
dream
—of a different future. It doesn’t mean I don’t envisage a time when our people are freed from the cage Barl made for us.”
    Lord Vail sipped his brandy. “You think you’re the man to turn the key in its lock?”
    “I think I’m the man who’s noticed there
is
a lock,” said Father. “
And
a cage.”
    “Then why do you need us?” said Lord Baden. “Why summon us here?”
    Father smiled. “As I said, Sarle, I’m no fool. I can’t do this alone. I need good men, like yourselves, who’ll help me make the dream a reality.”
    Father’s friends exchanged another look, guarded this time. “And what is it you dream?” said Lord Vail. “These vague hints do you no credit, Rodyn. Come. Speak plainly, since we are your friends. What do you want us to help you make real?”
    Father turned his head. “Arlin.”
    He jumped a little in his chair, then slid to his feet. “Father.”
    “Come here,” said Father, beckoning.
    Was it the blocks? Had he done something wrong with the blocks? But he hadn’t, he knew he hadn’t. They were stacked perfectly now, their competing energies correctly aligned. Nothing would scatter them. Until he released them they would stand tall and strong.
    “Arlin,”
said Father, his eyes narrowed, and snapped his fingers.
    Doing his very best to conceal his trembling, he crossed the library to stand before his father. “Sir.”
    Father handed him his emptied brandy glass. “Transmute it.”
    “What?” said Lord Baden, startled. “Rodyn, the boy’s
ten
. He’s not old enough to—”
    “Show him, Arlin,” said Father. His eyes were glittering. “Make a liar out of my dear friend, here.”
    “Yes, sir,” he said.
    With an apologetic glance at Lord Baden, he balanced Father’s empty crystal glass on his carefully flattened palm. The brandy-smell lingered, smeared in traces of amber. It tickled his nose. Teased him almost to sneezing. He didn’t like its sharp taste in his throat. But that wasn’t important. Pleasing Father was important. He let his eyes drift half-closed, and coaxed his idled powers to life. They answered him readily, pliant and supple, and he understood why he’d been set to working with the blocks. They were a limbering exercise. One trotted a horse before galloping. This was no different.
    Transmute the glass. Into what? Father didn’t say, so the choice must be his. A bird, perhaps. He liked birds. He envied them their wings, and the sky.
    The transmutation incant flowed as easily as Father’s brandy. The sigils were in his fingers, waiting to be released. He felt the air ignite in brief fire. Felt the crystal warm, and melt, and remake itself as he commanded.
    “Amazing,” said Lord Vail, and laughed. “Rodyn, that’s
amazing
.”
    Arlin willed his power to sleep then opened his eyes. Cooling and perfect on