Sianim 02 - Wolfsbane

howlaa today. It was sent, Wolf.”
    “Sent?” asked Wolf.
    “Uhm.” She nodded. “When I met its gaze, it spoke to me. Something evil sent it searching for us—it was meant to kill you.” She hesitated, then continued. “Then there was the wind . . . Wolf, I believe that there is something evil here.”
    Silence lingered for a while as Wolf thought of what she’d said.
    “Well,” he said finally, “as long as we are throwing out odd theories, I have developed one of my own, just for you. It even has to do with dreaming.”
    “You didn’t laugh at mine, so I won’t laugh at yours,” she promised.
    “Right,” he replied. “When it became obvious to me that Kisrah had worked the spell, I thought about just what it would have taken to persuade him to do so. I could only think of one thing—and tonight I realized that it was even possible. Let me tell you a little something you may not have known about human magic.”
    “That doesn’t limit the topic much,” she quipped.
    He ruffled her hair. “Quiet, little mouse, and listen. Human mages have different talents; one of them—though it is very rare—is a form of farseeing. The mage’s spirit leaves his body and can travel over vast distances in a matter of moments. In that state, he can speak to others in their dreams or merely watch them. Usually, they are invisible in that form—but occasionally they can be seen as a ghostly mist.”
    “All right,” agreed Aralorn. “I think I’ve heard of that. It’s called spirit travel or something of the sort—but I thought it was rare.”
    “Like shapeshifters,” agreed Wolf.
    “Your point,” she acquiesced, grinning a little in the darkness of the chilly old castle room. “So you think that maybe my dreams might be coming from a human mage? Someone deliberately trying to get information from me?”
    “My father could do it,” said Wolf softly. “I heard him talking about it once with another wizard. They were discussing another mage, I think. I don’t know which one. He said, ‘Of course I’m certain he’s a dreamwalker. I have some talent in that direction myself.’ I think he used his talent to influence his rise to power—by speaking to the other mages as they slept.” He hesitated a moment, then added, “I remember, because I marked a rune on my staff that kept him from doing the same to me as soon as I overheard him.”
    Aralorn tightened her arms around him, wondering how he was still sane after all his father had done to him. He squeezed her in return—to comfort her, she thought—and continued to speak without a pause.
    “If the body of a dreamwalker is killed while the spirit is outside, the spirit remains alive for a time. He probably would not be able to work magic as a spirit, but he can persuade others to act on his behalf.”
    “A ghost?” she asked.
    He grunted. “No. Ghosts are . . . bits of memory trapped in place. A spirit is—it’s too late at night for lessons in magic theory, my Lady. Let me get back to the subject at hand. It is possible that my father managed to leave his body before the Uriah killed him. In that state, he could have visited Kisrah—as well as the other mage who appears to have had his hands in the pie—and persuaded them to act in his stead.”
    “You think the only reason Kisrah would use black magic ...”
    “Was if my father asked him to do so,” said Wolf. “Yes.”
    “To use Father as bait for us.”
    “Perhaps.”
    Aralorn stiffened at his cautious tone, which usually meant things had gone from bad to worse. “What do you mean?”
    “My father wanted to live forever, Lady. Do you think that he would be content with mere vengeance?”
    “You think he’s trying to use Father’s body?”
    “Your father can’t work magic; but your father is connected intimately with three mages. Attack him with magic, and my father has a whole selection to choose among.”
    “He would prefer yours since you are the most powerful of the three.” Aralorn shivered and settled closer. “I think I prefer the Dreamer.”
    “Perhaps,” suggested Wolf mildly, “we’ll be lucky, and it is only Kisrah trying to kill me.”
    She snickered into his shoulder. “Not everyone would look at that as lucky.”
    “Not everyone is looking at our list of alternatives.”
    “True.” She yawned.
    They fell silent, and she thought Wolf had drifted off to sleep. She patted him gently.
    Her uncle had said that Wolf had a death wish.
    She’d known