The Simbul's gift - Lynn Abbey [26]
The Simbul had cast a spell on Zandilar's Dancer. There was no other way the colt would have stayed inside the wide and glowing circle she'd made in the center of the fenced-in yard. But magic wasn't enough to keep Dancer calm or convince him that the Simbul was trustworthy. He reared when she tried to reclaim his dangling halter rope.
Bro watched the colt he'd raised from birth straighten his neck and sink onto his haunches. He knew as surely as he knew his own name that Dancer was going to bolt and that breaking a wizard's circle was certain death or worse. With waving arms and a banshee wail, Bro raced toward the colt.
He felt his hair rise like cat's fur as he leapt over the glowing line. It seemed as if countless hot thorns had pierced his skin, but Bro kept his balance when his feet touched down inside the circle. He lunged for the halter rope then hung on for dear life when the Simbul shouted his name and Zandilar's Dancer reared for the sun.
*****
Alassra spread her arms in a desperate attempt to control the spell the boy's sudden appearance within her circle had disrupted. She almost had the magic in balance when his sister followed him across the line. The spell was ripe. Either it carried them away or it killed them. She seized the boy with her left hand and the girl with her right, then let it fly.
There were foggy cracks in time and space around them long enough for Alassra to count to ten-twice as long as she considered prudent. There were dangers between here and there that couldn't be ignored-which meant she didn't know where they were headed, except it wasn't Velprintalar. That meant more spells unreeled from her memory to insure that they hovered a moment in breathable air when the fog dissipated.
The boy, naturally, chose that moment to wrest free, taking the colt with him. They hit the ground running… through faint moonlight… into dark, thick trees. Alassra put a quick stop to their escape with a bit of crystal and a word that froze both in midstride, then she lowered herself and the girl to the ground.
A tangle of branches hid the sky. "Trees and moonlight! Cold tea and crumpets! Where are we? When are we?"
A moment's concentration and, stars or no stars, the Simbul had one answer: The Yuirwood. The forest's ancient magic pressed against all her senses. The trees tolerated her presence among them; they did not welcome her. Respectfully, Alassra made herself small and inconspicuous, though not before she cast one last spell above the living canopy. The stars of summer were in the sky, each one subtly displaced.
The principles of movement through time were the same as those through space-every traveling spell required a bit of both. But to move herself, two children and a horse far enough through time that the stars were displaced should have been-after her skirmish with the Red Wizards-temporarily beyond her abilities.
"Damned odd," she muttered, puzzled but not concerned.
In six centuries of wizardry, Alassra had survived far worse than a misdirected traveling spell, though usually it took more than children and domestic animals to confound her. The horse, she knew, was more than it appeared to be, hence her interest in it, but it remained a horse, neither help nor hindrance where magic was concerned. The little girl, whose hand Alassra still held, didn't know her own name, much less where they were; she hadn't played a role in bringing them here.
That left Bro, the half-elf-Ebroin of MightyTree, to give him the Cha'Tel'Quessir name she'd plucked from his thoughts and the lineage she read from the beads strung around his neck. They'd come to rest in his native place. Bro was as overwhelmed as his sister, but far from empty-minded. In the two years Alassra had been watching him and his colt, he'd shown no magical bent, either for wizardry or the forest magic of his ancestors but this wouldn't be the first time shock had kindled latent talent. Poised on the