Tethered by Blood

by Jane Beckstead

  With a thunk, my stomach dropped to my feet.

  Kurke’s hand was on his midsection. “Good God, Garrick. Are you trying to give me an attack of the heart?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. Did I startle you?” The master’s voice was thick with sarcasm. “My sincerest apologies. Please, go back to kissing my apprentice.”

  “We weren’t—”

  Kurke held up a hand to silence me. “Don’t be dramatic.” He betrayed no hint of discomposure. “Why in the three kingdoms would I kiss your apprentice? He’s a boy. You know that doesn’t interest me.”

  “I see.” The master's voice contained all the warmth of a glacier. “Then what were you doing?”

  “He had something in his eye. I was trying to help him get it out.”

  They both looked at me. “That’s not—” I began, and stopped myself when I noticed Kurke’s hand twitch. There are blood spells that could take him out in an instant. If I didn’t agree with Kurke, would he kill the master right now?

  I swallowed past a lump in my throat. “All right,” I said. “Yes, that’s all it was.” I rubbed at my eye for good measure. “I can honestly say if I were to kiss a man, he’d be the last one I’d choose.”

  Master Wendyn looked back and forth between the two of us. “Underwizard, I’d like you to wait in the hall.”

  I rubbed at my eye a moment longer, then nodded and edged toward the door, pausing only long enough to swoop my books into my arms. The two men were too busy staring each other down to spare me another glance. One I closed the door behind me, I ran the books upstairs to my room. By the time I returned and tried to listen through the heavy wood door, the master must have cast a privacy spell, for it was no use listening; I couldn’t hear a thing, not even when I cast a listening spell.

  The weariness really hit me then, and I let myself plop into a sitting position against the door, my knees drawn into my chest and my head in my hands.

  All at once the door opened, and I fell into the study, flat on my back, staring up at Master Wendyn.

  “Get up, Mullins.” His voice was short. “I’m ready to speak to you.”

  I scrambled to my feet and into the room. But though I peered into every corner, I could find no sign of Kurke. He must have exited via the wizard’s door.

  Master Wendyn closed the door behind me and then took the chair behind his desk. “Sit,” he said without even looking up at me. “Depending on your answers, this will either be a very short or very long interview.”

  I took the chair across from his desk uneasily, wondering how much the master knew.

  He ran a hand over his face. “God’s ghost, Mullins.” He looked me in the eye. “You know how to complicate matters.”

  I chewed on my lip, hating all of this. Knowing there was a lie between us and I couldn’t even speak of it felt like torture. I hated not having the master’s trust.

  He slumped back, his face resigned. His eyes, dark and disappointed, bored into mine. “I know Matt well enough to see he’s not being honest. It’s plain as plain he knows you’re a girl.”

  I cleared my throat. “Yes,” I admitted

  Master Wendyn sat forward. “I’ll be honest. I’d expect this deceit from you, but not Matt. How long has this been going on between the two of you?”

  “He’s known for quite some time,” I admitted. “From the first time I met him.”

  “I see.” His jaw worked, and he fiddled with one of the magical devices on his desk, the one with the spinning arrow on the top. “You realize that as your master, I can't allow this to continue.”

  “Allow what to continue?” I asked blankly.

  “Your relationship with Matt, I mean. I know him well enough to realize when he takes an interest in a woman, it’s for one reason. You two have been meeting secretly, haven’t you? Having some secret affair, perhaps?”

  My mouth fell open. “That’s not true!” I said hotly, coming to my feet. “We never—I would never—I despise the man. I would never meet him in secret!”

  Pain like a hammer slammed into the base of my skull. My vision splintered, and I collapsed in the chair, whimpering.

  From far away, the master’s voice came to me. “I should have warned you I worked another deception defense. I told you it was painful, didn’t I?”

  A moan bubbled up from my throat, and I rubbed at my thumping head. I should have chosen my words more carefully. I had met Master Kurke in secret, though it was always against my will.

  “You don’t understand,” I managed, peering up at him. “There are things you don’t know, things I have to tell you about Ku—” But I’d gone too far, and blank fog descended on my thoughts.

  Master Wendyn sat before me, bitterness in the lines of his face. “You don’t need to tell me anything,” he said. “I figured out what I need to know already, that Matt can’t be trusted, and neither can you.”

  I blinked and the immediate blank hole in my memory filled in. The master had caught Kurke and me together.

  “I’ve been trying to decide what to do with you, Mullins, and this...situation...clarifies things. I won’t turn you in to the Council, but I want nothing more to do with you. You’ll need to find another master. Or better yet, give up this madness altogether.” He ran a hand over his face. “I don’t care what you do. You’re not my problem any longer; that’s all.”

  “No,” I whispered, rubbing at my temples, trying to will away the thumping pain that made it hard to think. “Please don’t.”

  “I’ve decided. I’d like you gone within the week, although sooner is better. Now, please leave. I have work to do.”

  My mouth opened. I had to keep talking. There was more to say—but my head hurt so much that I couldn’t even think what. Pain thumped through my skull with an insistent pounding, like my father’s fist on the door when he came home drunk and couldn’t figure out how to get inside the house. Thumpity thumpity thump thump thump.

  This conversation would have to wait. I’d convince the master to talk to me tomorrow, when my head was clearer.

  “Yes,” I said. “Very well. Goodbye.”

  And then I stumbled to the door and left.

  ***

  It was a reasonable plan, made more difficult by one little detail. Next morning, the master had left.

  “What do you mean, ‘he’s not here’?” I asked Mrs. Pitts over the breakfast table.

  She set the tray down. “Just what I said. Master Wendyn is not here.”

  “But—but—where’s he gone?”

  With practiced hands, she poured the tea. “I’m not sure. He took his fishing pole and enough clothes to last for a week or two.”

  “I didn’t know he fished.” My voice seemed to be coming from far away.

  “He goes all the time,” she offered. “Not sure which fishing hole. He’s never told me. He could be anywhere in the three kingdoms.”

  What a nightmare.

  I chewed on my lip for a moment, until resolve came over me and I squared my shoulders. Fine. If that was the way he wanted it, I’d wait right here until he returned. No matter what he said about leaving within the week.

  She gave me a stern look. “He mentioned that you would be leaving. Before he gets back, he said.”

  My mouth opened and then closed again. So this was how Master Wendyn won arguments. He retreated so there was no possibility of further conversation.

  “I have a lot of packing to do,” I said. “I can’t promise it’ll be done by then.”

  “Then I’ll help you. You won’t be here when the master returns; I can promise you that. Do you understand?” She frowned at me. Either she’d retrieved some of her memories from the oblivion spell—which was impossible—or she had developed a dislike for me anew.

  “Very well,” I said. “No need to help. I can do it on my own.”

  Ivan slipped into the room just then, delight crossing his face as he took in the hot food on the table.

  Mrs. Pitts nodded at Ivan, gave me one last
stern look, and limped out of the room with her empty tray.

  So much for my plan.

  ***

  I spent several days packing and trying to come up with a plan. When that grew tedious, I turned to translating the book Orly sent me. There seemed to be a section on blood oaths, judging by my sketchy translations. Following the words with one finger and flipping through the dictionary with the other, I made slow progress, recording my translations onto a piece of parchment as I tried to muddle through the meanings of each sentence. When I finished an hour or more later, I’d come up with the following translation:

  Blood oaths are always forged using the blood of two or more parties. It is optimal if all parties are consenting, as each person must say the incantation. It is possible (but not recommended) to force a party to say the incantation by means of magic. The more people sworn into the oath, the higher risk of oath failure. Consequences of unfulfilled blood oaths are more permanent and damaging than any other oath, save for life bonds. Blood oaths should never be undertaken lightly. See fine print for dangers of unfulfilled or failed oaths.

  The incantation was written below, though I couldn’t find meaning in the translation.

  I chewed on my lip as I stared at the words I’d written, reading through it one more time. None of it seemed to give me any new information, although the bit about oath consequences being “more permanent and damaging than any other oath” didn’t comfort me. Oscar alluded to something along the same lines—but just what sort of consequences did he mean?

  I traced the words of the footnote as I flipped through the dictionary to translate it.

  As with all blood spells, the magic ties one life to another, blood to blood.

  That explained the twinge in my chest whenever Kurke was nearby. We were literally tied together, my blood to his.

  I shuddered and continued with my translating.

  For the duration of the oath, all parties to the oath are tied together as though their hearts beat as one, symbolizing that blood oaths must be fulfilled, or the consequence to all parties is death.

  I stared at that sentence and then read it again.

  Blood oaths must be fulfilled, or the consequence to all parties is death.

  The weight of the words settled on me, until I felt as though I couldn't breathe. I moved to the window and pushed it open. The cold wind moving past the window revived me, and I tried to think what I must do.

  It couldn’t mean what it said. It wasn’t meant literally.

  Yes, that must be it. Perhaps it was a metaphor. The consequence to both parties was death, it said. It could refer to all sorts of deaths. The death of reason, for example. Or the death of one’s magical abilities. Inconvenient, but preferable to being dead, I suppose.

  But the longer I stared out the window, growing chilled and restless, the more I doubted this assessment. Spell books, as a rule, didn’t speak in hyperbole. And I’d heard Belanokians were known for being a quite literal people—besides being sociopaths. I returned to the book and read the words one more time.

  Blood oaths must be fulfilled, or the consequence to both parties is death.

  If Matthias Kurke and I didn’t kill Oscar Wendyn, both of us would die.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  I sat on the floor of my room, surrounded by open spell books, when a tapping sounded at the door in the usual pattern that Ivan used.

  “Go away, Ivan.” If I didn’t memorize all the spells in these books before Kurke turned up again, I'd have lost already.

  The door opened, and Ivan strode into the room, mouth twisted into a scowl.

  You leave? he gestured at me, movements so frenzied that I almost couldn’t understand him.

  I frowned. “I have no choice. Who told you?”

  Heard Mrs. Pitts talk Edie.

  I sat down in a chair, facing the window so I didn’t have to see him. I purposely hadn’t told Ivan because I knew he’d take it hard. We’d become as close as Gavin and I were, my own brother. But wherever I was going, I couldn’t take Ivan with me.

  “Master Wendyn wants me gone within a week. Well, I suppose I’m down to five days now.” I ran a hand over my face.

  A weight dropped on my shoulder, and I glanced up. Ivan stood beside me, his face covered with determination, hand on my shoulder. I come.

  “No. You’re staying here. You don’t know half of what’s going on. You could wind up—” Dead, though I couldn’t bring myself to say it. As dead as I might. I shook my head. “Never mind. But you’re not coming. It’s better for you to stay with someone who can take care of you.”

  Ivan’s jaw tightened in a show of determination and anger I’d never seen from him before. Don’t care better me. Us together.

  “Listen, Ivan. It’s for your own good.”

  You good?

  I understood what he meant by it—what about what was good for me? But I couldn’t take it, this extra worry about Ivan on top of everything else. My fist came down hard on the table, and everything jumped. “Blast it, Ivan! You’re not my brother, all right? You know nothing about me. Stop pretending you do! You’re some kid I ran into in Bramford one day, and you’ve been tagging after me ever since. Will you stop being such a bother and leave me alone?”

  Ivan stared at me with a tightness in his mouth and jaw. His eyes turned hard and angry, and he stomped out of the room.

  When he was gone, I stared at my ink-splattered hands and desk. It must have happened when I pounded on the table. I had made a mess of everything.

  I washed my hands, scrubbing and scrubbing at the ink. It wouldn’t come off. At last I gave up and went back to packing my trunk.

  ***

  Lunchtime came around, and though I had nearly finished my packing, I couldn’t bring myself to face Ivan or anyone else. My stomach growled, and I pondered whether to go down to the kitchens to grab a bite to eat. I didn’t want to run into anyone, but I was also tired of being cooped up in my room.

  Maybe if I took the back stairs.

  I emerged into the kitchens a short while later, to find it void of company but for Cook. She dished me some stew without comment. I enjoyed the solitary meal and was close to finishing, when voices from the hall alerted me to visitors. I peeked out from the kitchen door.

  “When do you expect him back?” asked a deep voice coming from the broad-shouldered man. A woman stood beside him. Both were shaking snow from their over-things.

  “I don’t expect him back anytime soon,” Edie said. “He’s gone fishing.”

  “Fishing?” the man repeated, slapping a snow-encrusted glove against his thigh. “Garrick likes to fish?” He looked to the woman as if for confirmation, but she only shrugged. I saw the man in profile now. Something about the set of his jaw reminded me of...someone.

  I cleared my throat as I stepped into the hallway. The three of them turned toward me, and I saw the swelling at the woman’s midsection.

  “Ah...hello. I’m Underwizard Mullins. Are you, by any chance, the master’s brother?”

  The man strode forward, hand outstretched. “Ah, the underwizard. I’ve heard about you. Bastian Wendyn. Pleased to meet you. This is the one that saved Vito,” he told the woman, who could only be Cailyn.

  I shook his hand. “I’ll take care of this,” I told Edie.

  She frowned before turning to head for the kitchens.

  “Can you tell us where Garrick is?” Cailyn asked. Delicate tendrils of honey blond hair wisped against her jawline, falling from a smooth bun at the nape of her neck. Her comeliness left me feeling frumpy and outlandish in my underwizard’s robes.

  “No.” I fussed at straightening my already-straight sleeves, then settled on folding my arms. “He left rather abruptly.”

  Bastian gave me an appraising look. “Two of you quarrel?”

  I opened my mouth in surprise. “I—how did you know?”

  “He ran out on me after we fought too. The temper on that kid...”

  A memory came back to me
of the master in that carriage ride home from Bramford when we spoke of Bastian and Cailyn. I remembered the melancholy on his face in that moment of weakness. “He’s hardly a kid,” I snapped. “And anyway, it’s not like you didn’t do anything to deserve his anger.” I stopped then, surprised at my indignation on the master’s behalf. But I couldn’t take the words back now.

  Bastian and Cailyn exchanged a glance.

  “He told you about what happened?” Cailyn asked.

  I wondered how much I should say to this couple who had brought such sadness to the master’s face. After a moment of chewing on my lip, I shook my head. “Not really. I’ve heard things. What I know for sure is one of you jilted him and both of you betrayed him.”

  “I wouldn’t put it like that,” Bastian said. “He’s the one who threw us together, asking me to watch after Cailyn while she was in Hutterland. I mean, what did he think would happen? If you look at it that way, this is actually his fault.”

  So that was how this had all come about.

  Cailyn laid a hand on his arm. “Let’s just go, Bastian. Garrick isn’t here.”

  Bastian glanced at his wife. “We’re settling this, Cay. It’s been a year now that I can’t show my face at family functions. Well no more.”

  She sighed. “You’re not going to let this go, are you.”

  “Nope.”

  “You’re welcome to wait in the sitting room,” I said. “But it seems pretty unlikely that he’ll come back today. He’s gone fishing to nobody-knows-where.”

  “So be it. We’ve come all this way. It’s time to settle this once and for all,” Bastian said.

  “But... it could be days before he returns,” I said.

  “So find him,” Bastian said. “You’re his underwizard. It would seem to me if anyone can get him here, you can.”

  “But Bastian—” Cailyn began. She broke off when he fixed her with a look.

  “We’re staying. Even if it takes days.”

  She settled one hand on her belly. “You’d better show us to the kitchens, underwizard.”

  “What for?” I asked, startled.

  “I’m hungry. Besides that, if we’re going to foist ourselves on Garrick, I’d like to see that his favorite meal is on the table when he arrives.” She tugged at Bastian, and he followed her, a pleased smile on his face. “Stop looking so smug,” she told him. “You’re making dessert.”