The Sapphire Flute: Book 1 of The Wolfchild Saga

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Kardon was at C’Tan’s bedside when she awoke, the red light from the windows high above streaked across her black walls. It was a perfect reflection of her mood. She had not heard him enter, and only became aware that Kardon was there when he touched her, awaking her with a start.

  “Kardon!” she spat, raking her fingers through her illusory hair. “Has your memory left you so quickly that you have forgotten my words of this morning?”

  “No, mistress,” he answered. “I remember both of your threats quite clearly, but since I am not disturbing you early, you have no reason to carve my heart and serve it to our master, as you promised you would.”

  She snarled. “I ought to flame you where you stand.”

  “As you wish, mistress, but you may want to hear me before you decide to turn me into a human barbecue.”

  C’Tan fought the urge to laugh. It was not like Kardon to joke. For him to make such a comment meant he had very good news for her indeed. His face remained an expressionless mask, seemingly molded from stone, so cold and still was it. The only thing that showed he was truly alive was the movement of his eyes and mouth and the slight flaring of his nostrils with each breath. She had wondered many a time if he were not a simulacrum of S’Kotos sent here to torment her, but he had proven the humanity of his physical form often enough to convince her that his body did indeed live, even if his heart did not.

  “Oh, very well then,” she sighed, bored, though she was anxious to hear his apparent good news—important enough to wake her from the small amount of sleep she was able to get.

  “We have found the flute,” he answered, still not smiling, though his eyes held a small amount of excitement for once.

  “Yes, so you told me this morning. Have you nothing more for me? I do so want to get some sleep before the moon rises.”

  There was a flash of annoyance in his eyes, and C’Tan smiled, though her face didn’t show it.

  Finally, she had gotten to the old man.

  “This morning the flute manifested itself. Tonight we discovered who has possession of it.”

  C’Tan stilled. Her heart skipped a beat at his words. “Tell me more,” she purred.

  “The flute is held by one Kayla Kalandra Felandian of Darthmoor. We have tracked her location, and she is currently staying at Dragonmeer, the keep of Duke Domanta. Rumor has it the youngling is engaged to the duke’s son. What are your wishes, my lady?” he asked, obviously pleased with himself.

  “Kay-la . . .” She drew the name out like a caress. “What a common name for such a special little girl. What do we know about her?”

  “She is not well accepted there, mistress. Her father was evahn, and her mother is a disinherited noble.”

  “This could work in our favor. Perhaps the people of Darthmoor will send her to me with only a small amount of persuasion.“ She smiled coldly and threw the silk blankets from her. She waved a hand in the air and pulled her riding clothes from the same insubstantial place where she stored her mirror. The red leather and silken cape suited her well. She pulled them on, disregarding the man still standing in her room as if he was of no matter, and truly he was not.They both knew he was no threat to her.

  “Well, then, we’d best saddle up the dragons and pay her a visit, hadn’t we, Kardon? See to it.”

  The ageless man bowed and backed his way from the room.

  “It shall be done.”