The Gates of Winter - Mark Anthony [86]
“Forgive me, Your Majesty,” he said, his tone one of chagrin. “I've just learned today there is no rune for mule. And now I know why. This beast is completely uncontrollable.”
Actually, now that Graedin was no longer yanking at its reins, Grace thought the mule looked placid, even relieved. “I find it's usually best to let Shandis decide where to go and how fast to get there. You might try the same, Master Graedin.”
The young runespeaker grinned. “A remarkable idea, Your Majesty. You are wise indeed.”
“No, I just prefer to worry about the things I can control rather than the things I can't.”
“That's a lesson Master Graedin would be wise to heed,” Oragien said, giving the young runespeaker a pointed look. “He has a tendency to try for runes that are beyond his reach.”
“But how do you know they're beyond your reach unless you try?” Graedin said.
Grace bit her lip but couldn't stifle a laugh. “I'm afraid he has you there, All-master.”
Oragien shook his head. It was clear the elder runespeaker was very fond of his student.
“I wish we had more time, Your Majesty,” Oragien said. “We've learned much since you and Master Wilder left us last summer—more than I ever would have believed we could. We've managed to reunite several shards of the runestone, thanks in large part to the efforts of Master Graedin here. Yet there's so much we still don't know.”
“We'll just have to keep learning as we go,” the young runespeaker said.
Grace smiled at him. “I like that idea. I think we're all going to be learning on this trip.”
They rode in silence for a time as their shadows lengthened before them.
“So, are you truly a witch, Your Majesty?” Graedin said without warning as they passed through a stand of leafless trees.
“Master Graedin!” Oragien exclaimed, blue eyes flashing.
Grace held up a hand. “It's all right.” She imagined many of the men in her army had been whispering about her power. She might as well set the rumors to rest. “I suppose you could say I'm a witch, though not a terribly good one, I'm afraid.”
“I doubt that, Your Majesty,” Graedin said, eyes gleaming. “Could you do a spell? I've always been curious about the magic of witches, and if there are any similarities between it and runespeaking. You see, I have a theory about—”
“That's quite enough, Master Graedin,” Oragien said sternly. “It's time we returned to our brethren. We thank you for your indulgence, Your Majesty.”
The All-master shot Graedin a meaningful look, then turned his mule around and started back toward the other runespeakers. Graedin waved at Grace, then kicked his mule, so that the beast gave a buck before starting after the All-master. Grace was sorry to see him go. She liked the young runespeaker, and she was intrigued to know about his theory concerning rune magic and witch magic. She had thought the two irreconcilable, only then she had seen the hag Grisla—who was surely a witch—work a spell with runes in King Kel's camp.
“By Jorus, I thought those two would never leave.”
Grace nearly jumped from the saddle at the sound of a man's voice to her right. She glanced that direction. The tangle of bare branches overhead wove a premature gloom on the air, and it was a moment before she saw Aldeth riding not six feet away. His horse was as gray as his mistcloak, causing them both to blend into the twilight, and bits of soft felt were wrapped around every buckle and ring, so that the horse made hardly a sound as it walked over the mossy turf.
“Aldeth, I didn't see you there.”
“That was sort of the point, Your Majesty.”
She gave him what she hoped was a piercing look. “You're my spy, Aldeth. You don't have to hide from me, just everyone else.”
“I find it's best not to make exceptions. That way I'm always covered.”
Grace gave up. “What's going on? Is something wrong?”
“It's quite the opposite, Your Majesty. I had a camping site in mind for this evening, only I was afraid our late departure would prevent us from reaching