pleasant feeling of being here alone was interrupted by the quick flutter of wings. Rhianon immediately stopped. The first association was painful. Madael might have already flown in for her and was now watching from above, but somehow she did not feel his presence near her. On the contrary, the city seemed to her free of both his servants and his minions. No magic but a slight otherworldly vibe. Only a few witch doctors could roam here, but not Lucifer’s armies.
A low cawing sound from above confirmed that she was wrong. Rhianon looked up to see crows perched on the perimeter of the roof. The darkening stranglehold of tiny figures on the beautifully sloping eaves was ominous. Rhianon only now noticed how beautiful the house she was standing in front of was. It was two stories high, decorated with tiles and slender columns, and the curved friezes and pediments gave the impression of something fabulous. Rhianon stared. She wished she could live alone in a house like this, away from everything. The walls made her feel cozy. It must be beautiful inside, too. And why have a castle full of gossiping servants, when she could live in such a quiet secluded place. Here she wouldn’t be affected by wars, or the strife of men and angels, or the crushing power of Madael’s secrets. It would be so nice here. Rhianon approached the porch. The frame of the canopy concealed a door with an exquisite hammer made in the shape of a lion’s head. She barely touched it when she realized she was not alone. She turned around quickly. Standing nearby was a gentleman, very tall and sturdily built, dressed in black. Wavy strands of black hair fell from beneath his broad-brimmed hat and though it had not rained for a long time it looked as if water were dripping from it.
«Would you like to buy this house?» The echoing voice sounded as if it had never been heard. Rhianon scrutinized the face hidden by the shadow of the hat and could not make out a single feature. It was as if she were speaking to a void.
The offer was tempting, but somehow too hasty. It made her a little wary. «How much would it cost?»
«How much would you give?»
The question puzzled her. Rianon wondered how little jewelry she wore at the moment. She could pull off strings of pearls and a sapphire-trimmed sash, and one of her feathers would probably be worth a whole small estate. But what could she offer for a house? Suddenly she remembered the coins Dominic had given her. She didn’t carry much with her, just a handful. She pulled out three of them and held them out to the stranger.
«What could you buy with them in Vinor?»
He studied the exquisite coinage for a long time. The gold gleamed oddly against the black leather gloves lined with mink. Rhianon noticed how disproportionately large his hands were. It frightened her a little. He could easily squeeze her throat with his hands.
«Dwarf’s gold…» he whispered softly.
«It is right,» she didn’t know how he could have guessed, but she was struck by his expertise. Maybe he was a wandering magician himself, or maybe he was just a connoisseur of magical rarities. Manfred was such a connoisseur, too, and even as Hildegard found out, those who cannot conjure themselves appreciate the fruits of other mages’ efforts. And there are also those who do not mind collecting wondrous objects. If the Inquisition gets its hands on such collectors, they’ll be in trouble, unless they’re rich and noble. This stranger, judging by his clothes, might have been both rich and noble. The mountain fur on his cloak and velvet of the best quality from which the camisole was made spoke of the exquisite taste and solvency of the customer. Only the black color was so gloomy.
«Have you any more of these coins?» he inquired cautiously, not letting go of the first three ducats.
«I’ll give you two more to buy the house.» Rhianon was not accustomed to bargaining, which was unbecoming to royalty, but now she wanted to bring the price down to a minimum. She had a dozen coins left, but held out only two to the stranger. He greedily grabbed them.
«Enjoy your new accommodations,» his bow was courteous, but the brim of his hat didn’t even line up with the level of her head. He was too tall. Rhianon watched him walk away. The flaps of his short cloak flapped in the wind like the wings of a raven.
«The keys are under the door,» he said as he hurried away.
He sounded like one of the birds on the roof. Rhianon grinned. His voice was not husky, but sounded like the cawing of a raven.
«Why did you decide to sell the house?» She shouted after him, not expecting to wait for an answer.
«I didn’t decide,» he turned and looked at her carefully, as if in a hurry to read something curious in her unfolding mind. «It was the house that had decided it was time to change ownership.»
Rhianon heard no further words from him. Ravens, meanwhile, were flying off the roof and following him as if he were their tribesman. Strangely enough, he was a man, not a raven, but in her mind he became associated with the bird for some reason after he left.
She did find the keys on the doorstep. She had only to push aside one of the poorly held planks, and beneath it, like a nest, the whole brass bundle gleamed. Rhianon stepped over the threshold of her new abode. One would say it was a fortunate acquisition. It was indeed very cozy inside.
Rhianon ran her fingers over the wrought iron grate of the great fireplace. Copper faeries seemed to be tangled in it. Intricate arabesques joined together in an intricate pattern. The soft, fluffy mats underfoot were also covered in intricate patterns. There were on the walls small tapestries with pastoral scenes. Rhianon stopped in front of one depicting a lady who had tamed a unicorn. She would have liked to see the scene of the dragon-tamed lady herself. If she knew how to draw or weave a pattern of colored threads, she would have thought of just such a picture.
She also liked the dressers with their carved walls and the brass-rimmed mirrors. There were no animal skins or hunting trophies around, unless you counted the branching deer antlers pinned to the wall. Not far away, two broadswords were crossed in staples. Such a weapon would have suited her well for self-defense. Rhianon wished she had brought a sword with her. Though a bulky weapon could hardly be worn with a dress, she would have been more suited to a stiletto hidden behind a corsage or a small, dainty dagger. Madael had plenty of weapons, but she hadn’t had time to take any with her. Now she had only these two broadswords. Rhianon removed one of them from its bracket and removed the leather scabbard. The blade was rusted and blunt. She set it aside in annoyance. Such a weapon was good for nothing. She couldn’t sharpen knives, and was in no mood for it. And she was bound to have trouble cooking if she lived alone. There was a kitchen in the house, of course, and plenty of cast-iron utensils, but Rhianon had no idea how to melt an oven, mix bread dough, or even make a pot of stew. She rarely watched others cook, and she certainly wasn’t going to do it herself. Perhaps she should have had gnomes or fairies do it for her. With their powers and charms, simple household chores wouldn’t be difficult for them. Rhianon was sure that it was only necessary to mentally utter the names of the magical creatures who had befriended her, and they would immediately come to her call, but for some reason she did not dare.
She remembered the embrace of the fairies and the simple courtesy of the field dwarves. She could afford to have company if she had her own house, but she put it off until later. She could invite old friends over later.
Rhianon sat down by the fireplace and casually glanced at the oval wall mirror. The sight of her own exposed throat startled her. The chain with the lovely pendant was somehow not reflected in the mirror. Or was it missing altogether? Rhianon ran a hand up and down her neck. The pendant had disappeared. She jumped to her feet as quickly as she could and searched the floor. The gold chain was nowhere to be
