The recollection of hunting Vordana stuck in her mind. In the river town plagued by that sorcerous undead, Wynn had encountered another dog, not nearly so lovely as a majay-h. She willfully focused on the memory of an old wire-haired wolfhound named Shade.
The young majay-h stared at her without moving. And with a sigh, Wynn gave up.
Obviously she couldn't transmit a memory to this one any more than she could speak back to Chap through thought. That left only one other thing to try, and she scooted forward on her knees. She moved oh so slowly as she placed her hands upon the sides of the female's face. Using touch, she tried again.
She recalled the memory of the wolfhound standing beside Chap in the courtyard of the manor house outside of the river town.
The female's ears pricked upand the memory echoed back to Wynn. She quickly tried one more.
She hadn't been there when Shade had roused Chap from a phantasm cast by Vordana. But Wynn did her best to imagine itto envision itfrom Chap's later description.
The female remained silent and still, poised in waiting.
Wynn frowned. Constructed thoughts weren't enough. It seemed only those experiences seated into her memory would work. But the way that memory of the wolfhound and Chap had repeated gave Wynn another notion.
She recalled the female's own recollection of playing in the forest with her siblings.
The female sniffed wildly at her. A maelstrom of like images, sounds, and scents whirled up in Wynn's mind. And Wynn's mild hunger knotted into nausea.
"Waitnot so much!" she squeaked, and jerked her hands from the dog's face.
She clamped a hand over her mouth and buckled as her head finally emptied of memories.
Wynn took several hard breaths until her stomach settled. The female cocked her head in silent puzzlement, and Wynn scowled at her. They could communicate, to a point, but only with memories shared by touch, or by Wynn's own called up by the female.
A knock came at the door, sounding too loud in Wynn's quiet little room.
The female snarled, turning toward the door.
Wynn clambered to her feet in dread. However she'd gotten back in her room, no doubt others knew she'd broken curfew. Either Sykion or High-Tower now came for her, or a messenger sent to summon her before the council. She was in deep trouble, enough to ruin any chance of seeing the translations. And how could she ever explain a wolf in her room?
"You are finally awake," someone called from outside.
The familiar voice was far less than patient. Wynn knew it was Domin il'Snke even before she squeezed the latch.
The instant the door cracked open, il'Snke pushed it wide, not waiting to be invited. Shooing Wynn back with a flick of his hand, he stepped in and closed the door. He was carrying the staff with its crystal now sheathed.
Wynn shrank a little inside.
Entranced by the majay-h, she'd forgotten even to check for the staff. And if il'Snke had it...
"Yes, I found you," he said coldly.
Wynn backed away from his glare.
"Before someone... or something else did," he added. "Not that I should have had to."
The dog watched him carefully, her jowls twitching, but she didn't growl. Her yellow-flecked eyes locked on the staff he carried.
"You were not to use this without my supervision," il'Snke snapped, and then softened only a bit. "Though I suppose you had little choice, amid your foolish outing."
Wynn braced for an onslaught. What was she doing alone outside the guild at night? Why would the black-robed murderer be hunting her if she carried no folio? Where had this wolf come from, and why had she come to protect Wynn?
To her surprise, il'Snke walked over and leaned the staff in the corner by her desk.
"You might have died," he whispered, his back still to her.
For an instant, Wynn was struck mute by his concern.
"I'm all right," she managed to say. "That thing never touched me, so I'm"
"You lost your focus!" he hissed, and then whirled around.
Wynn flinched away from the fury tightening all of il'Snke's features.
"You are not an adept, let alone a mage," he continued. "Though it was neither spell nor ritual that you toyed with, it is still thaumaturgy imbued in the crystal... as well as a trigger of my own devising."
Wynn was tired, feverish, and overwhelmed. The last thing she needed was another lecture from a superior.
"Then why make it so hard to use?" she asked angrily.
"To keep it from those wise but malicious," he nearly snarled, "as well as the witless! And I did not make it difficult. Magic is difficultand dangerous... even when embedded in an object through artificing!"
The domin slid forward, too much like that black assailant in the night.
Wynn backed up at his threatening tone, until her legs bumped against the bedside. Even Chap's daughter circled away to the room's far corner, though she growled.
Anger's flush further darkened il'Snke's complexion, until his face appeared to sink deep within the shadow of his cowl. Before Wynn could muster another retort, his voice lashed at her again.
"No created artifact is used by brandishing it with arrogance, or waving it about while babbling some poetically arcane phrase. Such nonsense is for children's fables and peasant lore! A thaumaturge feels the inherent connections of the five elements within the physical world. But he detaches himself in manipulating them, holds himself outside the web of things... or succumbs to the very effects that he"
"You told me already," Wynn warned, as anger got the better of her fright.
"Then remember it!" il'Snke whispered loudly. "Unless you enjoy the feel of elemental Fire cooking your insides! Disobey again, and I am done with you!"
Wynn remained quiet. Il'Snke's ire was born of fearful concern as much as disapproval. But another rumble rose in the room.
The female majay-h paced warily around the domin along the door's wall and crossed over to join Wynn.
"I see." Il'Snke sighed, frowning tiredly at the animal. "One of your elven dogs."
Wynn glanced up at him. How did he know that?
He seemed to feel her eyes on him and straightened, still studying the female.
"Like any who have worked on the translations," he said, "I have read some of your journals."
Wynn was almost relieved. She didn't care for any more mysteries at the moment. Not that she would ever see her journals again, after last night.
"Now sit," il'Snke commanded.
The young majay-h remained on all fours.
"I meant you," he added, looking at Wynn.
She settled on the bed's edge. He came to her, laying his tanned palm upon her forehead as he closed his eyes. In that moment of silence, more questions popped into Wynn's head.
She wasn't the only one who'd broken Sykion's curfew. What was he doing outside the guild last night? And for that matter, how had he managed to come upon her? Had he seen Chane?
Domin il'Snke opened his eyes with a muffled grunt. "You are well enough. The remaining backwash you suffer should fade in a day or two."
Wynn studied his dark brown eyes. Well enough for what? His right eyebrow arched as he watched her in turn.
"Yes?" he asked.
"You saw it," she said, challenging him to deny this. "The black-robed figure in the street, so silent in movement. I'm not losing my wits!"
"I never said you were." Il'Snke's mouth tightened, and he nodded with an answer. "Only for an instant, before the crystal flashed."
"Do you know what it is?" she blurted out. "Rodian insists it is some malevolent mage, after seeing it walk through the scriptorium's wall. Maybe it is, but it's more than that. He is just seeking a rational explanation for the royals."