She let her hand fall and she sighed, “Not yet.” She turned and waved her hand and a tall silver goblet lifted off a trestle table and floated into her reach. She took a deep swallow of what smelled like wine and then bowed her head.
The sight of the goblet maddened him even though wine was forbidden. He nearly tried grasping it from her hand, but knew that would be very foolish. The full reek of magic was gone, but some of it lingered, poisonously clinging to her skin.
“What other memories? What have you seen recently?”
Exeres bowed his head, trying to wrestle his thoughts under control. He tried to summon up a spark of Earth magic, but he could not. It was as if the magic was a blanket and she stood on it, preventing him from lifting it.
“Don’t try that, Exeres,” she said with a mocking smile. “The magic will not obey you when I am near. Tell me another vision. What else have you seen?” She took another deep swallow.
He squeezed his eyes shut, unable to bear watching her throat bulge as she drank. “When I came to Landmoor and saw the mists around it, I…I felt like I had seen it before. A city in the clouds.”
“A city in the clouds,” she answered and her robes swished.
He opened his eye and saw her back to him, head bowed in thought.
“Who is she?” Exeres asked again, taking a cautious step forward. “The woman in the cage? Will you tell me nothing?”
Miestri turned, her smile belying the glint in her eyes. “You truly wish to know?” She offered the goblet finally.
Exeres bit his lip and waved it away. “Just a little water. Please.”
“Then tell me what I wish to know.” She lowered the full cowl of her robe, letting her midnight hair spill down past her shoulders. She was the most beautiful and frightening creature he had ever seen in his life. “Where did you get your Druid’s Eye?”
“I was born with it.”
“Did your father work any magic that caused it?”
Exeres shrugged. “I…I do not know. He taught me to be a Zerite. He was one himself.”
“Your mother? She was Shae? From where?”
He nodded, his jaw tightening. “I never knew her. Not even as a little child. I have been cursed with this eye all my life. I see things that I do not understand. I have dreams I can never know the meaning of. “
“You are young,” Miestri said.
“They have brought me nothing but pain.”
“You would rather be rid of them?”
He frowned, not liking the sound of the implications in her voice. “I would…I would rather have been born whole.”
She set the goblet on the floor. “Sit with me,” she ordered, gathering her robes as she sat on the dark carpet. Exeres watched her warily and then sat on the furthest edge.
A smile lit her face. She seemed amused by that. “You are more dangerous now than you were before,” she said. “Lord Ballinaire will want you dead if he fears you can harm him. So will Commander Phollen.”
“Me?”
She set the goblet half-filled with wine between them. Exeres saw the residue around the rim and wrinkled his nose. A little sip from the waterfall would be so delightful. He didn’t care how muddied the waters were.
“Your fate resides in my hands.” Her smile trailed away. “You are dangerous to us as long as you see those visions. But I can make them go away.”
Exeres folded his arms. “How?”
“Commander Phollen would like to send you away to deliver a message for him. You would like to leave Landmoor…wouldn’t you? But since I cannot let you leave without being certain you are harmless, let us share a drink.”
A knot tightened within Exeres’ stomach and it was not his hunger. Something was wrong. He wanted to back away from her, to run screaming from the pavilion, but the dark pools of her eyes held him. She smiled at him, sending a cold shiver across his back.
“Give me your arm,” she said, reaching into the folds of her robes.
“What are you...?”
She cut him off. “Just obey me, Exeres—I will not hurt you. Give me your arm.”
His trembling hand raised and he held his arm out before her. Why am I doing this? Why can’t I stop?
His eye twitched towards the flap of the pavilion. He could not summon his magic, but what about running? Running like a jackrabbit. But something whispered darkly in his mind that he did not have enough strength to run. He’d stumble or lurch and then she’d kill him.
She reached out and rolled his tunic sleeve up to his elbow and raised a shard of wood no longer than a finger to the vein on his arm. He flinched but could not pull his arm away.
“No…I don’t want…”
“It must be wood instead of iron,” she whispered, drawing a small cut in his skin. It stung. Blood welled up from the cut and dribbled down into the silver goblet. Exeres’ arm quavered, and he tried to swallow past the dryness in his throat. He watched the drops one by one.
Blood was forbidden...