By Andre Norton A. C. Crispin
Eydrth is a grasp Songsmith...who has no magic. she's going to do whatever to save lots of her father from the evil that has stolen his brain. however the paths to the magic of the Witch international are many--and to avoid wasting those you like, the truest magic needs to come from the heart...Andre Norton has been known as "one of the preferred writers of our time" (Publishers Weekly) and has for over twenty-five years enchanted readers with the main well-known and well known of her works: the mesmerizing Witch global. With bestseller A.C. Crispin, Norton has woven an everlasting love tale, packed with magic and sweetness. Songsmith is the unconventional that Witch international enthusiasts were ready for--a shining jewel within the Witch international cosmos.
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Extra resources for Songsmith (Witch World Chronicles)
Lydryth pounded a fist against her knee. "If I had gone for his parents, or Hyana, or even my father, somebody he would have listened to—! But, instead, I searched for him myself, only to find him before the door to my mother's chamber. ' I shouted. He gave me an impish grin, then his little hands clenched, and his chubby face grew taut with effort. Even as I watched in horror, the ribbon came untied, the rowan rope fell apart. " "I screamed, because I knew how vital that rowan rope was. In moments my father was there, and Lady Joisan.
The youth rested an arm across his horse's back, leaning comfortably against the animal's barrel. He was not tall; his eyes and Lydryth's were nearly on a level as they stood together. "What brings you to the horse fair. " he asked. Lydryth briefly explained her desire for a mount to carry her on her journeying, but admitted ruefully that her taste in horseflesh exceeded the wealth of her purse. Dakar nodded sympathetically. "There is fine stock to be had here. Lady, but only for those with the silver to purchase it.
Lydryth smiled as she walked, feeling the heavy purse weighing down the belt she wore inside her jerkin. Enough, and more than enough to purchase a fine mount. I'll be in Lormt ere I thought possible! As she set off across the nearly deserted tangle of tents and booths, Lydryth saw Dakar walking Monso not far from where they had first met. Shrugging her pack a little higher on her shoulders, the songsmith veered aside from her chosen path with the intention of thanking the youth. Torchlight sputtered in the night breeze that had sprung up, its reflection again awakening that disturbing scarlet spark in the black stallion's eyes.
Songsmith (Witch World Chronicles) by Andre Norton A. C. Crispin