The Dreamer's Song
Page 1
Praise for the novels of New York Times bestselling author Lynn Kurland
“One of romance’s finest writers.”
—The Oakland Press
“Both powerful and sensitive . . . A wonderfully rich and rewarding book.”
—Susan Wiggs, #1 New York Times bestselling author
“Kurland weaves another fabulous read with just the right amounts of laughter, romance, and fantasy.”
—Affaire de Coeur
“As always, Kurland does a spectacular job blending thrilling fantasy adventure with rich characterization—making sure readers are in for an exceptional ride!”
—RT Book Reviews (4½ Stars)
“[A] triumphant romance.”
—Fresh Fiction
“Woven with magic, handsome heroes, lovely heroines, oodles of fun, and plenty of romance . . . Just plain wonderful.”
—Romance Reviews Today
“Spellbinding and lovely, this is one story readers won’t want to miss.”
—Romance Reader at Heart
“Kurland infuses her polished writing with a deliciously dry wit . . . Sweetly romantic and thoroughly satisfying.”
—Booklist
“A pure delight.”
—Huntress Book Reviews
“[A] consummate storyteller.”
—ParaNormal Romance Reviews
Titles by Lynn Kurland
STARDUST OF YESTERDAY
A DANCE THROUGH TIME
THIS IS ALL I ASK
THE VERY THOUGHT OF YOU
ANOTHER CHANCE TO DREAM
THE MORE I SEE YOU
IF I HAD YOU
MY HEART STOOD STILL
FROM THIS MOMENT ON
A GARDEN IN THE RAIN
DREAMS OF STARDUST
MUCH ADO IN THE MOONLIGHT
WHEN I FALL IN LOVE
WITH EVERY BREATH
TILL THERE WAS YOU
ONE ENCHANTED EVENING
ONE MAGIC MOMENT
ALL FOR YOU
ROSES IN MOONLIGHT
DREAMS OF LILACS
STARS IN YOUR EYES
EVER MY LOVE
The Novels of the Nine Kingdoms
STAR OF THE MORNING
THE MAGE’S DAUGHTER
PRINCESS OF THE SWORD
A TAPESTRY OF SPELLS
SPELLWEAVER
GIFT OF MAGIC
DREAMSPINNER
RIVER OF DREAMS
DREAMER’S DAUGHTER
THE WHITE SPELL
THE DREAMER’S SONG
Anthologies
THE CHRISTMAS CAT
(with Julie Beard, Barbara Bretton, and Jo Beverley)
CHRISTMAS SPIRITS
(with Casey Claybourne, Elizabeth Bevarly, and Jenny Lykins)
VEILS OF TIME
(with Maggie Shayne, Angie Ray, and Ingrid Weaver)
OPPOSITES ATTRACT
(with Elizabeth Bevarly, Emily Carmichael, and Elda Minger)
LOVE CAME JUST IN TIME
A KNIGHT’S VOW
(with Patricia Potter, Deborah Simmons, and Glynnis Campbell)
TAPESTRY
(with Madeline Hunter, Sherrilyn Kenyon, and Karen Marie Moning)
TO WEAVE A WEB OF MAGIC
(with Patricia A. McKillip, Sharon Shinn, and Claire Delacroix)
THE QUEEN IN WINTER
(with Sharon Shinn, Claire Delacroix, and Sarah Monette)
A TIME FOR LOVE
Specials
“TO KISS IN THE SHADOWS” FROM TAPESTRY
THE TRAVELLER
BERKLEY SENSATION
Published by Berkley
An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014
Copyright © 2017 by Kurland Book Productions, Inc.
Penguin Random House supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin Random House to continue to publish books for every reader.
BERKLEY and BERKLEY SENSATION are registered trademarks and the B colophon is a trademark of Penguin Random House LLC.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Kurland, Lynn, author.
Title: The dreamer’s song / Lynn Kurland.
Description: First edition. | New York, NY : Berkley Sensation, 2017. | Series: A novel of the nine kingdoms ; 11
Identifiers: LCCN 2017027230 (print) | LCCN 2017030072 (ebook) | ISBN 9780698198746 (eBook) | ISBN 9780425282199 (softcover)
Subjects: LCSH: Magic—Fiction. | BISAC: FICTION / Romance / Fantasy. |
GSAFD: Fantasy fiction. | Love stories.
Classification: LCC PS3561.U645 (ebook) | LCC PS3561.U645 D75 2017 (print) |
DDC 813/.54—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017027230
First Edition: December 2017
Cover art by Mélanie Delon
Cover design by Katie Anderson
Interior map illustration copyright © 2012 by Tara Larsen Chang
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Version_1
To Kate and Nancy
Contents
Praise for Lynn Kurland
Titles by Lynn Kurland
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Map
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
About the Author
Prologue
Afair-haired man stood under the trees on the edge of a forest, watching the heavens as the world turned toward dawn, waiting for a miracle.
The stars were obscured by clouds that resembled nothing so much as a thin layer of wool that had been tugged and stretched to fit the glittering expanse, but they were still occasionally visible if one looked carefully enough. That was an apt metaphor, he supposed, for his part in the drama that lay before him, a drama he was doing his damndest to stay out of. He was, he had to admit, having far less success at that than he would have liked.
But what else was he to do? The fate of the world hung in the balance and for the second time in as many years, he found that he simply couldn’t not at least reach out to steady the scales.
He thought he might not want to make a habit of it, actually.
He glanced at the woman who stood next to him, a woman he knew was a great deal l
ess philosophical about their present business than he was. She was watching the sky with a frown.
“Is the spell of concealment they’re using that good,” she asked, “or have they fallen off their dragon somewhere between here and Tor Neroche and plunged to their deaths?”
The man paused, sought out the travelers with thought alone, then shook his head. “They’re still alive.”
“Your Highness, you could do more for the success of this venture than just make certain they’re breathing every now and again.”
“I don’t like to interfere—”
His companion snorted rather indelicately. “You continue to tell yourself that, but how you manage not to choke on the words, I don’t know.”
He had to fight his smile. “Few dare speak to me with such frankness.”
She looked singularly unimpressed. “I do not fear you. That, if you’re curious, is nothing more than you deserve for rescuing me all those many years ago, then recently plucking me from my safe, comfortable obscurity only to drag me into events too large for my poor soul to bear.”
“Yet here you are, in spite of everything,” he noted.
“I have my reasons.”
He had his reasons as well, though perhaps his weren’t so personal. Being concerned about the fate of the world rather than the players involved tended to protect his heart, though he supposed he couldn’t keep that up forever. He wasn’t sure what he would do when the day came that he couldn’t manage it, but perhaps it was something he could put off thinking about for a bit longer.
He continued to watch the sky for any hint of something more substantial than the stillness of the night air.
“Is he kind to her, do you think?” his companion asked suddenly.
He shrugged lightly. “Time will tell, I suppose.”
“I absolutely despise it when you say that.”
He looked at her in amusement. “Have you known me long enough to form such an opinion?”
She glared at him. “Almost a score of years, which is long enough to acquaint myself with phrases you use when you don’t want to answer a question. And aye, I realize a score of years is likely younger than your favorite pair of slippers, but that’s hardly my fault.”
“Indeed it isn’t,” he agreed. He looked up, then nodded. “They have arrived.”
She swore. “I can’t see them—ah, damnation, I can see the edges of the spell.” She let out an unsteady breath. “I’m not sure I’ll ever accustom myself to that sort of rot.”
He smiled a little at the thought of just how much of that sort of rot he had been privy to himself, then watched the spectacle in front of him with more jaded eyes. The spell of un-noticing covering the pair flying on that rather impressive dragon was a good one, which had likely served them well to that point. Unfortunately, he was who he was and he could see them perfectly well in spite of the magic covering them. His companion could also boast sight clearer than most thanks to her progenitors, but perhaps that was something he would be wise not to point out at present.
He supposed even a simple woodsman wouldn’t have required any special powers to know what had arrived in that glade given how enthusiastically one of the riders was commenting on their descent. The dragon dropping out of the night with his claws stretched toward the ground was doing so without much mercy for the pair on his back. He tore through the spell of un-noticing and landed with a ground-shaking thump. If his fire-laced snort warmed the entire place up considerably without actually setting the glade on fire, well, who could complain?
Certainly not the man chortling as he hopped off the dragon’s back and turned to hold up his hands for his companion.
If nothing else, that lad there had decent manners.
The dragon shook off his scales and resumed a very sensible horse shape whilst his two passengers indulged in a brief but salty discussion of their journey thus far. A third man unspun himself from a bit of swirling wind, then joined in the spirited but whispered conversation about spells, libraries, and the need for a decent breakfast sooner rather than later. Friendly curses were exchanged between the two men before the first man gathered up his horse’s reins, offered his arm to his shivering companion, then walked off toward the gates of the city that squatted there in the distance. The third of their number was left to obviously follow or not, as he willed.
The blond man looked at his companion. “Satisfied?”
She closed her eyes briefly. “I’m not sure I have much of a choice. I know what you think already and I’ve made my peace with it, but I will say a final time that Acair of Ceangail has a horrible reputation.”
“He’s not exactly able to do anything to augment that reputation at the moment, as you well know.”
“How is that better?” she asked sharply. “At least with his magic, he could keep his companions safe.”
The man considered for a moment or two. His sight was, he was the first to admit, sometimes a bit too clear to allow him to sleep easily at night, but, as he told himself more often than he liked, if there were no evil in the world, what would there be for good men to do?
He suppressed the impulse to shift at the memories of all the looks he’d had in return for stating that truth, looks ranging from incredulity to fury.
He let out his breath slowly. “He is a mage of terrible power,” he conceded, “and questionable morals—”
“Wonderful!” she exclaimed, throwing up her hands in frustration. “Again, how is this better?”
“Because he’s also damned clever,” he offered. “He would also be the first to admit that keeping himself alive tops his list of things to do each day. I believe that enthusiasm for continuing to breathe extends to his traveling companions.” He paused. “Well, perhaps not as far as to that prince of Neroche who travels with them, but to the woman he’s obviously fond of? Aye, he’ll keep her safe enough.”
She looked at him seriously. “He would do better with his magic.”
“Which he cannot use, for reasons you understand very well.”
She cursed him as she pulled on gloves, then cursed a bit more as one of her fingers went through the wool. She looked at him sharply.
“Don’t fix that.”
“I hadn’t intended to, actually—” He closed his mouth for the simple reason that he thought she might pull the dagger from her boot and stab him if he didn’t.
“You have no bloody idea how tempting it is to seek out any of the women you’re favoring with your attentions and warn them about you.”
He smiled briefly. “My own reputation already does that, I fear.”
“Then you have sympathy for that black mage wandering off toward Eòlas without anything but his wits to keep his company safe.”
“More than I’ll admit to.”
She pulled her hood up over her head. “I’ve been away too long. I don’t want to be missed.” She took a step or two away, then paused and turned toward him a final time. “Anything to add?”
“I have said too much.”
“You haven’t said anything.”
That wasn’t true and she knew it, but, as he’d reminded himself earlier, he’d had no choice but to speak more than he’d wanted to and interfere more than he’d been comfortable with. In the previous month alone, he’d sent a black mage off on a noble quest, handed that mage a rune to use to summon him if aid was required, and put the finishing touches on a scheme he’d been reluctantly considering for two decades. The only way he comforted himself over any of it was reminding himself—he’d lost count of how often—that occasionally there were circumstances that required a bit of judicious meddling.
His companion had vanished into the night in a thoroughly unmagical fashion, following after that trio who had also decamped in the same manner, leaving him to either stand there and freeze or build himself a fire by thoroughly magical means. That was possib
le, of course, but unwise, and he was not unwise.
That he had to stand there for a moment or two and remind himself of that was more unsettling than it should have been, but it had been that sort of autumn so far. Winter was sweeping over the Nine Kingdoms with a fury, which he supposed wasn’t going to help matters any, but there were things even he couldn’t bring himself to change.
He cast a final glance in the direction of those who held the fate of the world in their unknowing hands, then turned and vanished into the bitter pre-dawn air.
One
Horses. Grain. Manure. Those were useful, reliable things a woman with any amount of good sense chose to fill her life with. Anything of a more untoward or unnerving nature was obviously something that same sort of woman should avoid like a pile of mouldy oats.
Léirsinn of Sàraichte stood in the shadows of a rather disreputable-looking pub, shivered, and made a valiant effort to focus on those things that had made up so much of her life so far. Horses were majestic creatures, grain kept them happy, and cleaning up after them was the price she’d paid for the joy of riding on their backs. It was a simple, predictable circle that had given purpose and meaning to her days. How she had strayed so far from such a pedestrian life, she couldn’t say—
She sighed and stopped herself from even finishing that thought. She knew exactly how she’d come to be where she was and how barn work had led her to such a terrible place. It wasn’t something she particularly wanted to think about, but she was trapped where she was for the moment and she needed something to help her pass the time. It seemed like the least dangerous of the things she could be doing, so she made herself more comfortable against the outside of the pub and allowed her thoughts to wander.
They wandered without much effort to the moment when her life had become something so thoroughly not what she’d been accustomed to. There she’d been, innocently going about her chores as usual, when a man had arrived at her uncle’s barn looking for work. What she should have done was take away the pitchfork he quite obviously had never used and shown him the quickest way out of the barn.
Instead, she’d stared just a bit too long at his truly spectacular visage and apparently lost all her wits. Not only had she allowed him to remain in her uncle’s stables attempting work he was singularly unqualified to do, she had listened to him long enough to be convinced that her uncle wanted her dead and her only hope was to flee. She had somehow lost her grip on good sense and traded the three things she knew best for other, less comfortable things such as mages, magic, and mythical beasts.