Blood-Bound [ Lore of Penrua: Book I ]

2

One of Koreti and Mhera's favorite places to visit after their morning lessons was an old part of the palace called the Archmage's Tower. It was a mysterious place, partly because of its archaic name—no archmage lived there anymore. In fact, there had not been mages in the palace for many generations; those worthy scholars lived in a compound of their own now known as the Mage's Keep, which was far from the palace. But legend had it that the high tower had been the quarters of the most powerful mages in the realm of Penrua, and the weighty legacy ensured the odd name endured.

The room at the top of the Archmage's Tower was unlike anywhere else in the pristine, white-walled palace. Spirit globes illuminated the gloomy chamber, supplementing light from narrow windows. A shabby patterned rug covered the marble floors, softening the sound of footsteps. To one side of the room was a door, always closed, that led to sleeping quarters beyond. High shelves lined the walls, each one overburdened with books and scrolls that seemed to physically crowd the place with centuries of lore. Trinkets and treasures from the reaches of Penrua and beyond nestled tightly among the books, and well-worn furniture gave the room a comfortable atmosphere that was lacking in most of the palace chambers.

Eovin, the man who presided over this curious domain, was called the lorekeeper. He was a quiet, dignified man of middle age whose tolerance of the royal children made him one of Mhera's favorite adults. Compared to the other grown folk in the children's lives, Eovin possessed an otherworldly patience when they interrupted him at his work; far from being annoyed with their attention or their questions, he fascinated Koreti and Mhera with stories and snippets of history. To Mhera, such learning always seemed more interesting coming from Master Eovin than from their tutors.

"Good morning, Master Eovin," Mhera said from the doorway on one such occasion.

The lorekeeper smiled, looking up from the largest book Mhera had ever seen. He always seemed surprised to see them, even though she and Koreti were not very quiet in the halls. They loved to shout up the winding staircase of the stone tower, listening to their voices echo back to them. Still, the lorekeeper treated each visit like an unexpected pleasure. "Lady Mhera, good morning! And to you too, Prince Koreti."

He put aside his work at once. It never mattered what was at hand—a stack of letters to transcribe, a new scroll to study, or a half-written book. He always turned his attention to the children as if they were the most important part of his day. Frequently, as was the case on that pleasant day, a tea tray would already be sitting on the old wooden table, laden with a plate of Koreti's favorite ginger cookies.

Eovin rose from his writing desk and strode across the room toward the table standing near one of the windows. On his perch, the lorekeeper's pet raven, Turi, rustled his feathers with ill temper. "I was just about to have tea," said Eovin, stroking the bird's head with a forefinger. "Will you join me?"

Koreti wasted no time in helping himself to a cookie for each hand. "Thanks, Master Eovin!" He ate the first in three bites.

"You're welcome, Your Highness." Eovin took a cup and set it in front of Mhera. "Tea, my lady?"

"Please." Mhera was already reaching for the honey bowl. She helped herself to three dripping spoonfuls, making a mess of the table as she did. Eovin waited for her to finish, then poured tea for her. She dipped a spoon into the cup and stirred, glancing over at Koreti, who was now making faces at Turi.

"Careful now, my lady," Eovin said, watching her slop tea onto the saucer. As if to punctuate his sentence, Turi gave an irritated croak.

Mhera furtively wiped drops of tea from the table with her sleeve, then wiped her sleeve on her skirt, hoping to weaken the stain to avoid a tongue-lashing from Madam Gella. She glanced up at Eovin and judged his expression. She said, "Too much tea."