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Informationen zum Autor Lynn Viehl Klappentext The High Lord of the Immortal Darkyn has sent his most trusted warrior! Korvel! to retrieve a coveted scroll that's rumored to contain maps to Templar treasures and the secrets to eternal life. Uniting with Korvel to recover the dangerous artifact is Simone Derien! the daughter of the scroll's guardian! and a woman with many deadly secrets... “Do you know what time it is?” In complete darkness Simone Derien lifted a mass of worn, cream-colored cloth from her washbasin and gently twisted it to wring out the water. “Time to buy new bedsheets. These have so many holes they are turning into lace.” With the slow but sure steps of a person who could not see in a very familiar space, Flavia Roux came in and sniffed the air, then bent and groped until she touched the clean, damp wash Simone had placed in a basket. “You should be sleeping, child.” “The wind, and the broken shutter outside Terese’s room, would not allow it.” Simone dropped the sodden sheet onto the top of a basket before drying her hands on the threadbare towel pinned to her skirt. “Just as well. I wanted to get an early start so I can weed the winter vegetables.” “That is Nichella’s responsibility,” Flavia scolded. “You have taken on enough chores.” “Nichella hates bugs, and the last time I asked her to pick some potatoes, she brought me morels.” She reached for the clothespin bag hanging over the rust-edged sink and clipped it to her belt. “Besides, I have to pick out a baking pumpkin for you. Father Robere will be here for dinner tomorrow, and you know how much he loves your autumn bread.” Flavia picked up a basket and followed Simone out to the moonlit yard. “I suspect the wind was not all that drove you from your bed tonight.” Simone shook out the wrinkles from a pillowcase before she clipped the left corner to the clothesline. “I did try, as you suggested, to count sheep jumping over a fence. They ignored my wishes, stampeded over the pumpkins, and disappeared down the hill. I expect now they are grazing their way through Madame Lambert’s beet patch.” “Child.” She smiled down at the petite tyrant whom she had loved all her life. “You worry too much about me, Mother. You know I will sleep when I need it.” She bent and kissed her furrowed brow. “Now go back to bed, and I will see you at breakfast.” “Which no doubt you will cook,” Flavia grumbled as she picked up an empty basket and went back to the laundry. Simone continued hanging up the wash, but kept her eye on the old woman until she made her way safely back into the convent. Aside from the common ailment they all shared, most of the women who resided at La Roseraie suffered from the various frailties of advanced age. Flavia, a former teacher from Milan, had still been quite young when her illness had ended her career. La Roseraie, an inheritance from her last living relative, had first provided her with a sanctuary as she learned how to cope with the abrupt change in her circumstances. Her faith had done the rest, and over the next thirty years she had opened the doors of the convent to other sisters who, by illness or injury, had found themselves in the same condition. As soon as Simone’s father had brought her to live with him, he had taken her to the sisters to receive instruction. As young as she had been, Simone still remembered that brief, tense meeting. “The girl is to be versed in all mathematics, sciences, literature, and world affairs,” her father said. “Teach her every language you and the others speak. She will come every morning except Sunday, until she is of age.” “Monsieur, what you ask is simply impossible,” Flavia had protested. “No child could master so many subjects in so short a time.” “I am not asking, madame.” He handed her a folded slip of paper. When she had passed her fingers over the strange bumps that covered it, he...
