Although the last magician on the continent of Agoling was burned by the Inquisition eight hundred years ago, its inhabitants still encounter manifestations of supernatural powers from time to time.
For Deirdre Drien, the daughter of Baron Drien, th...
The 41day of the year 879 from the Fall of the Triumvirate
Warm sunlight flooded the spacious room with molten gold. Archon Safir's study drown in blissful tranquillity, as if time had stopped in it, subject to the will of the Sun Queen. The red banners on the stone walls shone with threads of impeccable sewing. The soft carpet underfoot hid footsteps. The massive oak desk was bursting with unfolded maps, books and open correspondence.
Safir Faber herself, however, seemed alien to this familiar calm. The archon sat silently in her chair, covering her eyes with the heel of her left hand resting on the armrest. Her snow-white hair with a slight amber tint fell down in long curls, framing her slimmed down but still beautiful face. She seemed frozen and lifeless, but only at first glance. Even from her spot, Noa could see her mistress's irritated lips pursed. The fingers of her other hand, clutching the armrest of the chair with effort. Her tense, like a bowstring, chiselled body, dressed in a golden flowing fabric that favourably emphasised the light chainmail that the archon never parted with, even, quite possibly, in her bedchamber, and other elements of her armour.
The archon was silent, and Noa was silent too, not getting up from the carpet where she was now kneeling on one knee.
Since Noa had entered the study, a ray of sunlight from the window had crept across the carpet closer to her, rising to the very edge of the silver kneeler decorated with an intricate embossed pattern.
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The sun smelled like dog, although it was quite possible that she, Noah, smelled like dog.
Safir looked up and seemed to realise only now that there was someone else in the room besides herself. Time sped up. Her gaze focused on the person standing opposite her.
"You have always served me faithfully, my Silver Wolf," the archon said, her voice oozing with thick melted honey, extremely pleasant to the ear. "You are the only one I can entrust with this task."
As if to emphasise the importance of her words, she stood up from her chair, without giving Noah a sign to rise from his knees. Safir's gaze never left her knight's alienated face. Stepping quietly and gracefully, like a big cat, she came closer, within arm's reach.
"Bring the girl to me, alive," she said, not bothering to specify who it was. Noa already knew who she was talking about. Noah knew a lot of things. "For any cost."
The archon leaned down and tweaked the knight's chin with her thin but strong fingers, forcing the woman's head up and looking directly into her light brown, almost golden eyes.
"Get rid of her brother if you must to."
Safir fell silent, not taking her eyes off Noah. However, the knight remained as dispassionate as ever. Not cold or indifferent, no. The gold of her eyes flashed every now and then in the very depths, indicating the lively work of thought. This glint was familiar to the archon from the time when the Silver Wolf had her back in the battle on the Ice Wasteland.
