The Heir Chronicles Omnibus

by Cinda Williams Chima

  “Oh, we have no intention of escaping,” Hastings said. “We like it here.”

  “There is no way the two of you can hold the keep against an army,” D’Orsay said, trying to sound convincing.

  “Who says there are just two of us?” Downey replied. “And it seems amazingly well-built. Are there any weaknesses we should know about?”

  D’Orsay very nearly told her before he caught himself. Her voice was like a song that insinuates itself into your mind until you find yourself humming along.

  Damn her! The Master of the Games generally preferred to keep his distance from violence by delegating it. But just then he would have welcomed the opportunity to rend the pair of them into little bits. Personally. By hand.

  The worst of it was that, with the exception of a few caches of choice pieces that D’Orsay kept elsewhere in the ghyll, the lion’s share of the hoard of magical weapons was in the inner keep of Raven’s Ghyll Castle—now in Downey and Hasting’s possession, and no longer accessible to D’Orsay and his new allies. There was the risk that the Roses would be unimpressed with what little he would be able to deliver—his contribution to the cause.

  “We’ll starve you out!” he blustered, though he was not one to make empty threats.

  “It appears that will take some time,” Hastings said. “My compliments on your wine cellar, Claude.” He paused. “In fact, I’m finding your cellar very . . . intriguing.”

  He’d found the hoard, then. It was heavily warded, but, still ...it was Leander Hastings. Soon enough, he’d be using the sefas against them.

  “Where will you be staying in the meantime?” Downey asked sweetly. “In case someone calls?”

  Dev pressed forward, and D’Orsay grabbed his arm, hauling him back. “No, Dev, they are trying to make you do something foolish.”

  “Make them leave!” Dev’s face was white with fury. “That is our home!”

  “Never mind, Dev.” He turned to his captain. “I want a twenty-four-hour guard on this castle. No one enters or leaves without my permission. Anyone left alive inside, stays there.” He paused. “And, damn it, next time you hear someone singing, stop up your ears.”

  “Where will we live, Father?” Dev asked, shoulders slumped dejectedly. “All my things are in there.”

  D’Orsay patted his son on the back. “You’ve wanted to leave here, anyway. So, we’ll gather up the weapons we can salvage, and go on to Trinity. I think it best that we’re there to keep an eye on our new allies.

  “You see, I believe Hastings and Downey have made a tactical error in coming here. Possession of the hoard is unimportant next to possession of the Dragonheart. With Hastings and Downey in the hold, the rebels have lost two of their most effective agents. We’ll see how the children do on their own, hmmm?”

  Chapter Twenty-three

  An Ultimatum

  “Jack.”

  Jack Swift paused with his hand on the latch of the back door and looked back up the stairs. His mother stood on the landing, gazing down at him.

  “Where are you off to?” she asked.

  That was a difficult question to answer, since he was off to pull guard duty at the Weirgate, where his job was to prevent the unfettered coming and going of spies, assassins, and would-be magical thieves. He blessed the fact that Shadowslayer was hidden in the duffle bag slung over his back.

  “I’m ...going hiking. At Perry Park.” The Weirgate was within Perry Park, the largest tract of unbroken forest in the sanctuary.

  Becka descended the steps until she was at a level where she could look him in the eyes. “Okay if I come along? It’s been a long time since we’ve been hiking together.”

  “Well. That would be . . .” A disaster. “That’d be great, except we’re going rock climbing. At the gorge. It’s a technical climb. You wouldn’t like it.”

  She crossed her arms. “Okay. I’ll be more direct. What’s going on?”

  “Going on?”

  Becka hesitated. Nagging didn’t come naturally to her. “Harold’s complaining that you haven’t been around to prep the boats for the season. He’s had to hire another full-time captain to keep both boats in service. Seph’s quit working at the docks altogether. Jason, too.”

  She sighed, an exasperated sound. “You’ll be graduating in a few weeks. I’d think you’d want to earn money this summer. Or get a head start on your classes. Or do you want to go to Boston and work with your father?”

  “No,” Jack said quickly. “I want to stay here.”

  “And do what?” She paused, and when Jack didn’t answer, said, “I feel responsible for all three of you with Linda out of town.” A hint of judgement crept in. “Even though she seems to think Seph and Jason are fine on their own. I haven’t seen Jason for weeks. And he hasn’t been at school, either, from what I understand.”

  Official-looking notices from the attendance office at the high school had been arriving regularly at Aunt Linda’s, addressed to Parent or Guardian of Jason Haley.

  Here was one piece of good news he could give her. “Jason’s back, Mom. He got back two days ago. He . . . uh ...was visiting Madison in Coalton County.”

  “In the middle of the semester?” She lifted an eyebrow.

  “Yeah, well, then he came down with something.”

  “You know how important attendance is. Mr. Penworthy will be all over him.”

  “He was. All over him, I mean. Jason was in the attendance office all morning.” Jack couldn’t help thinking there was a reason why the classical heroes didn’t have lawyers for mothers.

  “It’s not like you’re lying around at home playing video games. In fact, you’re never home.” She reached out and put her hands on his shoulders. “On the plus side, it’s obvious you’re getting your exercise. And I haven’t heard any reports of all-night parties on the beach.”

  Ironically enough, that would be harder to get away with in a small town than building a magical fortress. Linda and Hastings weren’t the only ones with an intelligence network centered in Trinity. Information flowed to Becka Downey from all over town.

  As if she’d read his thoughts, Becka leaned against the banister and said, “Bill Childers says he’s afraid you and Will had a falling out.” Will’s father, the newly elected mayor of Trinity, was one of Becka’s regular contacts and closest friends.

  “What? No, we’re fine,” Jack said. “It’s just been kind of crazy with Will’s work schedule. Plus he’s on the soccer team and there’s practice and . . . everything.”

  “That’s another thing. You didn’t even go out for the team this year.” She paused, and when he didn’t speak, continued. “Why not? You love soccer, or you used to.”

  “I just . . . I just didn’t think I had the time, with my classes.”

  “Bill asked if Ellen had been spending time over here. I guess she’s among the missing, too.” Ellen lived with Will’s family.

  “Yeah. We’ve . . . um . . . been spending a lot of time together. Hiking.” Jack snuck a glance at his watch. He and Ellen were sharing the next shift on the wall, and she’d be on his butt if he was late. She was totally into military discipline when it came to the security of the sanctuary.

  “Has Ellen decided what she’s going to do next fall?”

  “Hmmm? Oh. She’s still thinking about it.”

  “I’m worried about her. She’s so bright, and has so much potential. But she doesn’t seem to be considering her future at all.” Becka brushed dust off the newel post with the hem of her T-shirt. “If money’s an issue, let me make a few calls. I’ll see to it that she has the funds she needs to go to college.”

  And she would, too. All his life, his mother had been taking in strays.

  She was also a pacifist. So he didn’t know how to tell her that, absent the impending crisis in Trinity, Ellen’s obvious vocational outlet was a post in a magical mercenary army.

  “You know visit day at Trinity College is tomorrow.”

  Oops.

  “Do I r
eally need to go? I feel like I’ve spent my life on that campus. I could probably lead the tour and give the dirty lowdown about most of the faculty.”

  Becka laughed. “I’m sure you could. But this time you’ll be there in a different role.” She paused. “I hate to admit it, but your father might be right. About going away for school, I mean, Ivy League or not.”

  “Mom, I ...”

  Becka plowed on. “You’ve lived here all your life. You’ve never known anything else. To be honest, I’m surprised you want to go to Trinity. I know living in a small town gets on your nerves. Sometimes you have to go somewhere else to appreciate what we have here.”

  “I do appreciate what we have here,” Jack said desperately. “I don’t want to go away to school. Trinity’s fine.”

  “Listen to yourself. ‘Trinity’s fine.’When I was your age, I couldn’t wait to go away to school. I wanted to be as far away from my parents as possible. I wanted to live in awful student housing and immerse myself in the English poets and stay out all night.” She frowned and bit her lip. “All right. Forget that last part.”

  He did his best to avoid the explicit lie. “I feel like this year is like—you know—a turning point. Like nothing is ever going to be the same. Fitch is going to Stanford. Will’s going to Ohio State. I know they’ll be home for holidays and stuff, but still.”

  He looked down at the floor, avoiding her eyes. “Seph and Ellen and Jason and I—we’re just trying to find our way. I want to get through the summer before I make plans for the rest of my life. I hope you can just—you know—trust me.”

  He looked at her. “Believe me. I don’t think my future will hinge on whether I get into Harvard Law School.”

  She studied his face, then nodded. “All right. I’ll give you some space. But I do want you to go down to the registrar’s office tomorrow and sign up for classes. You can always drop, but deciding you want to go in September won’t get you into a closed section.”

  “Okay.” He shifted from one foot to the other, conscious of Shadowslayer’s weight across his back. “Thanks, Mom. See you later.”

  Moving at a trot, trying to make up for lost time, Jack cut across campus on his way to Perry Park. Ivy-covered buildings clustered around grassy quads. Tall trees shaded the stone walkways that quilted the greens. It was a place to be sequestered from the outside world. But, the outside world had a way of intruding into Jack’s life.

  Despite his rapid pace, he was intercepted before he made it into the margin of the trees. Will Childers appeared on one side of him and Harmon Fitch on the other. They were wearing athletic shorts and soccer jerseys, carrying duffles, and he knew they’d just come from soccer practice. He felt a twinge of envy.

  “Hey, there, Jack,” Fitch said, keeping step with him, despite Jack’s longer stride. “What’s up?”

  “Long time no see,” Will added.

  “That’s not true,” Jack said. Must be “catch up with Jack” day, he thought.

  “Fitch, do you think he knows we’re going away in another three months or so?”

  “Couldn’t possibly, Will. Otherwise he’d be more attentive to old friends. Nostalgic about old times. Anticipating the big good-bye.”

  “So where you off to, Jack?” Will asked, tugging at Jack’s duffle bag. “War games in the woods?”

  “How can we help?” Fitch asked. “We fetched Jason back. Now what else can we do?”

  “This isn’t . . .”

  “I know,” Will said, holding up his hand to stop the speech. “This isn’t our fight. It’s only taking place in our town and involves all our friends. Let’s pretend we argued about this and finally agreed that it is our fight.”

  “Well,” Jack said, giving in. “Come on. I’ll show you what Ellen and I have been up to.” Not that there’d be much for them to see.

  Perry Park straddled the city limits of Trinity. Mercedes had located the Weirgate deep in the woods in the hopes the traffic would be less noticeable to the nonmagical citizens. Nick Snowbeard had built a barrier around the gate meant to turn the average Anaweir hiker away. It was a confusion charm with a bit of structure to it. Jack had to create an opening for Will and Fitch. Still, passage through the barrier was not particularly pleasant for them.

  “This reminds me of Raven’s Ghyll,” Will said, shivering.

  Fitch turned so pale the freckles stood out on his face. “Why does it have to be so nasty?”

  “It’s just ahead here,” Jack said, pointing Will and Fitch in the right direction.

  “What?” Fitch peered ahead, into the trees. “Where?”

  “It’s right there,” Jack said, gesturing. “It’s finally finished. It’s—oh—about forty feet tall and fifteen feet wide. We’re going to the gate.” Jack unzipped his duffel and pulled out Shadowslayer.

  Will looked back at him suspiciously, as if he might be the butt of a joke. “We’re supposed to believe there’s a wall there.”

  Jack nodded, swinging his sword experimentally, feeling the usual thrill of connection with Shadowslayer. The blade glittered in the light that filtered down through the trees.

  “I saw the other barrier wall thingy. At Raven’s Ghyll,” Fitch said. “But I don’t see this one.”

  “That’s because this one is just for the gifted. They’re the only ones who can see it. You can pass right through.” He strapped on his baldric and slid his sword into its scabbard.

  “Remember when Seph first came to Trinity, and those wizards put up a barrier to keep him out? Same kind of thing.”

  But it was not the same kind of thing, not at all. Warren Barber had built a monster spiderweb around Trinity meant to catch Seph McCauley. It was utilitarian—woven of snakelike tendrils that would grab you when you tried to cut through.

  But Mercedes couldn’t bear to create anything that didn’t add beauty to the world. So this wall was an elegant structure—like the crystalline rampart of some fairy castle, iced with crenelations, finials, towers, and turrets. Banners bearing the Silver Dragon flew from the towers.

  The gate was in an impressive barbican that jutted from the wall. Jack could hear Ellen before she came into view.

  “Come ahead and try me,” she shouted. “Who wants to be first?”

  Jack heard the music of her blade as she swung it.

  This was followed by a garbled hiss of wizard voices.

  Jack slid Shadowslayer free and barged through the archway to find Ellen, Waymaker in her hand, confronting four pissed wizards.

  Ellen looked pale, stubborn, and more than a little shaken. For good reason. Lined up against her were Ellen’s former warriormaster, Geoffrey Wylie of the Red Rose, and Jack’s old surgeon and would-be warriormaster, Jessamine Longbranch of the White Rose. His fingers crept to the spot on his chest where she’d made her incision, saving his life and changing it forever.

  Unbelievably, there was also Claude D’Orsay, Gregory Leicester’s co-conspirator who’d made his play at Second Sister to wrest control of the guilds from the Roses. What was he doing hanging out with them now?

  With D’Orsay was a fair-haired boy, maybe fourteen, who was taking everything in with avid interest. Now and then D’Orsay leaned down and said something to the kid, as if explaining.

  Some kind of apprentice monster? Jack wondered.

  It was like one of those scenes where you confront the demons from your past. He never thought he’d see leaders from both Wizard Houses working together. Let alone come to reconciliation with Claude D’Orsay. It gave Jack chills.

  “So glad you could make it,” Ellen muttered through gritted teeth as Jack took his place next to her. The wizards shuffled themselves, each trying to move to the back. None seemed eager to go up against Shadowslayer.

  “Where were you?” Ellen demanded.

  “I got hung up at home. My mom wants to know where we’re spending all our time and if you’re going to college.”

  “Oh. What’d you tell her?”

  The wizards edged forw
ard. Jack blasted flame through the tip of his blade, driving them back. “I said we were trying to find our way.”

  Ellen nodded, grudgingly. “That was good.”

  Actually, Jack thought as a group the wizards looked kind of sick and beaten down. But they seemed jazzed, too, like they’d just seen the cure coming over the hill. They kept looking toward the center of town, like filings lined up against a powerful magnet, though Claude D’Orsay kept himself somewhat aloof.

  Jessamine Longbranch finally shouldered her way to the front.

  “Jackson. I’m glad you’re here,” she said, flinging back her mane of black hair. “This warrior refuses to admit us into the sanctuary. Tell her to step aside before I do something irreversible.”

  “Losing your head,” Ellen snapped back. “That’s irreversible.” Waymaker sang in a broad arc, showering sparks over the wizard party. Longbranch jumped back, nearly falling.

  “New rules, Dr. Longbranch,” Jack said. “The sanctuary’s closed until further notice.”

  “By whose order?” Wylie demanded. The wizard’s voice had a dry, hissing quality, like air escaping from a tire, and his scarred face was twisted up in a scowl.

  “The sanctuary board,” Jack replied.

  “Rubbish,” Wylie said. “Wizards are slaughtering each other all over the world. We haven’t time to deal with the servant guilds.” He made as if to brush past. Jack thrust the wizard back with a concussion of air, landing him flat on his back.

  Jack extended Shadowslayer, pressing the point into Wylie’s neck until blood trickled down. The other wizards stirred disapprovingly, muttering among themselves. Wylie stared at the blade, his eyes wide and kind of crossed.

  “Next time I go deeper,” Jack said, lifting Shadowslayer away from Wylie and stepping back. He shivered. What was happening to him? He remembered a time when the notion of drawing blood seemed unthinkable.

  Longbranch glanced down at Wylie as if she didn’t mind seeing him butt-down on the turf, then looked up at Jack.

  “You’ve always been so delightfully physical, Jack.” She said this like he was some kind of volatile barbarian curiosity. “Now. We demand to speak with the wizard in charge about this new policy.”