Page 61 of Howling Eve

He paused and cocked his head. “I can take you back to the tent to wait for me if you are worried, little mate.”

She scowled up at him and shook her head. There was no way she wasn’t going to help, especially if this could be something that involved her kids.

Raskyuil inclined his head in acceptance and refocused on the tent. She could almost feel the static shift in the air as if something taut were slowly unwinding as pressure gathered in the air until suddenly there was a pop and pressure and static disappeared all at once.

Was that it? Her mate looked back at her with a triumphant grin that was just a touch mischievous, and she bit back her answering smile and jabbed him with her elbow in a silent command to focus. A grunt left him, and he chuckled quietly before he began to cautiously eye the lay of the land between them and getting inside.

His ears twitched, the long tips pricking faintly. His head turned slowly, a luminous yellow ring appearing around his dark irises. She stared in fascination. She’d been in the dark with him plenty of times but had never noticed that little trick. She wondered just how good his night vision really was. He seemed to have determined that the coast was clear because he reached back for her hand and drew her with him as he slipped silently into the tent.

She didn’t accomplish it quite as silently or gracefully. Apparently there was an art to running in a low crouch in the dark without tripping or running into anything that she didn’t possess. To her relief, Raskyuil immediately straightened to his full height once inside, allowing her to drop all pretense of stealth that she didn’t know how to carry off.

Even during the worst days following the Ravening she didn’t venture out after dark or do anything that required her to sneak anywhere. Running and hiding had always been her preferred methods of coping with danger. Sleeping when it was dark in whatever hole she could stuff herself into had been preferable to blindly trying to find her way around when many of the creatures were the most active.

Thankfully the tent wasn’t dark. It was actually the nicest place she’d ever set foot in. He had to have an entire wagon devoted just to hauling his crap around because the tent boasted elegant furnishings compared to the the drya twins with their simple tables, a set of chairs, and curtained sleeping area.

Elwyn’s tent, however, was extremely lavish with finely woven rugs laid over the bare ground, a long settee arranged at one side of the room with numerous boldly colored and invitingly plump pillows piled upon it. A little reading table sat to one side that was surprisingly bare but the piles of leatherbound books with gold lettering pulled out of trunks and stacked randomly around exquisitely carved tables spoke of his luxury to be able to carry all that around with him.

There were woven blankets set about against the chill in the air, and no fewer than two braziers visible to keep the tent adequately heated. MaryAnne had no doubt that the curtained sleeping area in the back had another one to keep him pleasantly toasty warm. Her eyes fell upon exquisitely embroidered clothes set piled in trunks, and a jacket that hung in one corner with such exquisite detailing that she wanted to run her fingers over the tiny images embroidered into it out of pure fascination.

On the largest table there were several more piles of books and what looked like various tools of magical nature. It was all set neatly at one end while at the other was a goblet and crystal pitcher with burgundy liquid within it. Wine?

She shook her head and wasn’t surprised to see boxes with various jewelry strewn in them lying open on what appeared to be a dressing table. That wasn’t even counting an entire corner devoted to chests that likely contained the same gold coins as were visible in the partially open chest sitting on the top.

“It’s here,” Raskyuil muttered, as he slid up to a table.

He started to reach for a thin black book sitting on top of a stack of other old volumes on the small table in front of him but then thought better of it. Holding his hand over it, his fingers worked in a pattern before there was another small pop with a hint of a golden glow around the book that rapidly faded. With the tips of his claws, he carefully opened the book. He grunted and peered down at it as he studied the contents.

MaryAnne crept to his side and looked down at the open book. There was a loose page sitting on the top written in a dark rust-red ink. Her brow furrowed at the unfamiliar writing.

“I can’t read this,” she whispered.

“It’s in aelvish,” he muttered, his claws lightly trailing over the script. “Of course an aelvish mage wouldn’t bother to write anything in the common tongue.”

She glanced up at him. “Does that mean you can’t read it either?”

That was disappointing. She couldn’t believe that they broke into Elwyn’s tent for a piece of paper that neither of them could read.

Her mate smirked. “Actually, I can. All my headaches playing intermediary with the aelvish court messengers who insisted on writing inonlyaelvish will finally be beneficial. See here,” he tapped on the page. “This refers to the Hallow Night when the spirits of the dead are at their highest power.”

His brow furrowed. “It doesn’t say anything about younglings just that the dead can be used to create a spirit funnel of power that can be fed directly into a conduit for a magical structure to increase its power output. It essentially increases its power a hundredfold. Or so Arch-Mage Hurandor suggests.”

MaryAnne frowned at the page, a terrible worry gnawing at the back of her mind. “Do you think that the children in the mist are all dead and he’s looking to utilize them?”

“I don’t know,” Raskyuil sighed. “I don’t think so. He may have been trying to harvest them, as a newly dead soul has more raw energy still attached to it from living, especially a child who has the energy of all their potential years still gathered around them, and simply failed without the right incantation. But it doesn’t seem likely. Aelves don’t typically waste their magic on large workings without knowing that there will be a reward. It’s more likely that he heard of the spell and simply is making use of the perceived phenomena to feed into the carnival. He’s afraid too.He conceals it, but I can scent it still. I suspect that it was what motivated him into acquiring the arch-mage’s library if it meant increasing the power of his carnival because of it.”

She bit her lip uncertainly. “Does that mean that we are still going to need to do his little scavenger hunt?”

Raskyuil’s head shot up, and he gave her a hard, searching look. “We?” he hissed softly.

“Yeah, we.”

“The Bend is not…”

“Safe. I know. All the more reason you should have me there with you, watching your back.” She tipped her head thoughtfully. “Hey, Raskyuil. Do you think that the raiders could have anything to do with this?”

He greeted her question with a look of utter confusion. “Raiders? What brought them to your mind?”

“Just something that was said at the outpost,” she replied. “They seemed to think that there was something of a problem with them.”

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