The Weaver's Source

Chapter 73

I moved purposefully through the tall narrow empty halls in search of the Lord Master's room under Ana's instructions. It didn't take too long. I found the door Ana described, two great curved oak doors with wrought iron clutching at them. I noted the keyhole and remember what Ana said. I needed a key. All the same I touched the handle and gripped it, twisting it hard in faint hopes it wasn't locked.

It was.

I sighed and almost began my hunt for the fat maid with the key until my magic stirred. It had no fear touching it, only purring in recognition. I glanced to the door and flinched a little when I saw the myling's face staring at me from the wood. His black eyes were as empty as ever but he looked far less terrifying than when I saw him trying to kill Ana. He looked tired and worn.

I waved lightly at the myling and it ducked away. A soft click followed and the door opened slowly.

I was hesitant in entering the room as my instincts told me to run. I had to remind myself that Grigore was content with me being alone around it and my magic wasn't kicking up a fuss. I was safe.

I inhaled deeply and pushed open the door and hurriedly slipped inside. I closed the door behind me as lightly as possible and glanced around quickly. The myling wasn't there but he hadn't left entirely. My magic still felt him nearby.

"Little boy, I'm here to help you. I'm going to help you get your justice." I whispered as I observed the large room, noting the massive bed, huge coal fire and numerous hunting trophies.

But there in the corner was a large wardrobe, the place Ana said to look. I cautiously stepped over to it and pulled the doors open. Inside was a large deep space, filled with furs, leathers, expensive shirts of varying colours and numerous cloaks. I felt I was intruding horribly as I began to rummage around the items of clothing but that thought died when I stumbled across a tiny wooden box. I pulled it out and held it in my hands, observing it closely. It wasn't anything special or inlaid with jewels or carvings. It was just a bland box no bigger than my hand.

Praying the Lord Master would forgive me, I opened it, a little surprised to find it unlocked. Papers burst free. Small bits of paper with black letters scrawled over them. Letters. So far, Ana hadn't lied.

I felt the presence of the myling growing as I knelt down and began to look through the letters. The handwriting was horrible and scrawled. I was guessing who had written them wasn't used to writing at all. My mother had gone out of her way to teach me letters and how to write them and read them, something not many people in my position would know.

As I slowly deciphered the dreadful scrawl, I began to realise it was a woman addressing the Lord Master. Eila, the woman's name was. And the letters were dated back years, eight or so, each a year or six months between each other. They weren't love letters, they didn't hold any secret affections, but only spoke of one thing.

A child. Eila's son. The Lord Master's illegitimate child.

I read closer. Eila mostly spoke of how the boy was doing, how well he was, when he first started walking and talking and how beautiful he was and how brave. She said he was dreaming of being a knight so she hoped he would grow tall soon as he was small for his age. She spoke of when he was sick, pleading for help for fear of losing him then later thanked the Lord Master for the expensive healer he had sent. Eila never asked for much, only food or clothes when she was truly desperate.

Daryl, the child's name was.

I stared, my mind racing. Very quietly, I spoke the name.

"Daryl?"

Almost instantly, the boy was next to me, staring up at me with those void like eyes. I realised it then.

"You're Daryl. The Lord Master's son born out of marriage." I said as I gazed at the hollow face.