Poisonwell (Whispers from Mirrowen #3)

“I almost had you,” she teased, panting.

“You came close,” he agreed. He cast his gaze around the training yard, seeing glimpses of the memories it contained. “I’ll miss the Bhikhu temple,” he said solemnly. “It is colder in Shatalin. Do you fancy climbing the side of the mountain again?”

“Only if you are there to catch me,” she answered slyly. “You realize I saved your life in the Scourgelands, Paedrin. When Tyrus was going to burn you to death. He would have, you know.”

He gave her an arch look. “You want me to admit it?”

She nodded vigorously.

Paedrin grabbed her around her waist, his mouth crinkling with joy and a wistful smile. He stared hard into her eyes, soaking her in. “You did save my life, Hettie. And I’d like to thank you. The Romani way.”

She smiled, nuzzling up against him. “I’d like that.”




Annon cleared the branch away, exposing the small hut. It surprised him to see that much had changed since he had last visited Dame Nestra and her husband. He recognized the stump near the fire pit, the whetstone sitting outside the hut. But a barn had been constructed and some of the woods had been cleared. It looked peculiar, jarring with the memories he had of the place. A little prick of disappointment flashed inside his heart, but he stifled it. He had changed much himself since he had last wandered the forests of Wayland.

“Annon?”

It was Dame Nestra. She came from the doorway of the hut, her expression brightening when she recognized him. “Darling, Annon is back! Look at you!” She swept from the hut and approached him, eyeing him with mouth agape. “You’re a grown man now, no longer a boy. Bless my heart, but you’ve changed. It’s been so long, Annon. Where have you been hiding all this while?”

He took her hand and then gripped her husband’s when he emerged from the hut, stroking crumbs from his mustache. “Bless me, lad. Look at you!”

Annon smiled in spite of himself, feeling grateful for the warm greeting. “I’ve been away too long. You have a barn now. It’s impressive.”

The woodcutter chuckled. “We get too many visitors, you see,” he said with a shrug. “Word of my wife’s cooking has spread in these parts, and folks come out of their way to pass by. Many are Druidecht, but occasionally Romani too or stonemasons from the west. It’s safer in these woods, boy. The things you taught us—how to watch for the spirits and not disturb them.”

Dame Nestra patted her husband’s arm. “He listened to you. We both did. Some of the other woodcutters have accidents. The spirits don’t bother us. In fact, they help us. We’re always generous to travelers who come through. Now, since you look like a grown man, I’m sure you have a man’s appetite as well. I was just going to start on some soup, and the bread will be done ere long. I keep telling him we should build an inn or something with all the visitors we get. You can still sleep outside if you prefer, Annon. You’re always welcome here.”

Annon smiled at the hospitality and nodded his acceptance. He didn’t dare tell them that they were entertaining one of the Thirteen of Canton Vaud and that he could have stayed at the palace of the King of Wayland if he’d chosen. He was glad he had decided to stop to see them on his way to the king’s city. He patted the Tay al-Ard fastened to his belt.




Tyrus lowered the cowl of his cloak in reverence. The mighty oak tree looked as if it had seen a thousand winters and summers. The forked trunk was twisted and furrowed. New growth had started from the trunk and the existing branches were crowned with healthy leaves. In the distance, the sound of chisels and stone beating to rhythms faded. The fortress was starting to rise from the rubble, the grounds full of scaffolding, men and pack animals hauling stone from the mountains near Basilides.

He paused before the oak, head slightly bowed, listening for the whispers from the talisman around his neck.

Phae stepped from around the tree, smiling broadly. She came forward and embraced him, kissing his bearded cheek. “Hello, Father. The work is progressing. It will be beautiful when it is finished.”

He reached out and clasped her hand, feeling its warmth and strength. “You’ve seen it already, I imagine.”

Phae nodded. “It’s a marvelous structure. Canton Vaud will be the center of learning throughout all the kingdoms. You are its first Archivist, you know. The custodian of many secrets. You will even have your own tower again.”

He was satisfied by that and squeezed her hand. “Thank you for seeing me, Phae. I don’t mean to trouble you.”

“It’s no trouble, Father,” she replied. “I will always be here, even when you are old and gray. Your whiskers are starting to turn, but there is still much you will accomplish in your lifetime. Time passes differently for me. It won’t be long before you join us.”