Ember stared in astonishment. That was not supposed to happen. Not once in her sixteen years had she ever seen the magelights extinguished in the dark. They were as dependable as the morning sun. She stared for a long time, sure that at any moment the lights would flicker back to life, but the orbs remained dark.
Instead, delicate flakes of ash began to settle around her, turning her brown hair into a mass of gray that set her to coughing. That was definitely not supposed to happen. No weather should penetrate the shields unless the magi allowed it. The domes over Karsholm held back everything that threatened the city—even rain, when it came in flood-like amounts. The ash falling around her told her the mage shields had dissolved.The smell was awful, much the way she imagined S’Kotos’ Helar must smell; full of acrid smoke hinting of burning oil and rotten eggs. Still, she stared at the lamppost until white fluttering wings landed on its top. The white hawk that always seemed to be watching screeched and awoke her to the reality of the situation. He screamed again, then rose into the air and flew at her, as if shepherding her back to the house, green swirls trailing in his wake.
Ember’s heart pounded in her chest, the fear finally taking over as she realized how little distance a day’s journey truly was from a fire-spewing mountain. She scrambled up and over the cedar shingles, then dove through the window to her room. She slammed the window shut and latched it, little poofs of ash swirling around her, settling to the floor. The hawk fluttered to a landing just outside her window and cocked his head. His piercing eyes caught hers, a faint green glow coming from his shoulders.
Ember blinked, but the glow was gone by the time she opened her eyes. Strange, she thought. She stared outside as the ash began to cover everything within sight. In a very short time the air was so thick with it, she could no longer see past the rooftop, let alone to the high road that marked Paeder’s property.
“Great. Happy birthing day to me.” She kicked the wall, only distantly feeling the pain in her big toe.
At that moment all she wanted to do was crawl back into bed and bury her head under her blankets. She had a feeling the eruption of Devil’s Mount was going to create problems for her mother— problems she didn’t want to deal with today. There was enough going on without her mother’s overprotectiveness getting in the way.
Paeder’s cough echoed up the stairs to her room. He usually woke up coughing, but not like this. Today her stepfather sounded as if his lungs were turning inside out. It had to be the ash. Ember doubly cursed the volcanic explosion.
The medicines worked less each time, and the sickness that rotted his lungs stole his life, until his mountainous strength faded to nothing more than a fragile shell of the man he’d once been. Ember had already lost one father—she really didn’t want to lose another, and it didn’t seem there was anything more Ezeker could do for him.
She threw herself off the bed and crept down the stairs, hoping for a moment to visit with the man who had been her father since before she could remember. Her mother’s voice stopped her at the midlanding.
“Get out of here! Get, get!” Marda yelled. Ember heard a flutter of wings and the window slam shut. She was sure the white hawk was in Paeder’s room again. It seemed to like her stepfather, for some reason, and only Marda was bothered by it. The twins had crept close enough to pet the bird on several occasions, but never Ember, no matter how she longed to caress the silky feathers.
Glass clanked against spoon as Marda poured medicine for Paeder and tried to soothe his cough. Ember crouched down on the stairs and watched through the railing.
“Take it, Paeder,” Marda pleaded.
“It isn’t working,” Paeder said. His breath came in strangled gasps that sounded painful. They probably were, though the man rarely complained.
“Now, now, it will help for a while. Take the medicine, Paeder,” Ember’s mother soothed, but there was no denying the steel in her voice. There was the slurp of medicine and a clank as the spoon was laid on the bedside and the deep hacking began to subside. Ezeker’s magic increased the potency of the syrup, and though it would take effect quickly, it didn’t last long anymore. None of them wanted to face the truth, though it was there staring at them in Paeder’s hollowed eyes—he was dying.
“You’re going to break her heart,” Ember’s stepfather finally croaked. That stole Ember’s attention in a way nothing else could. Her breath caught and set her heart to racing in an angry pitter-pat.
She froze on the stairs, her ears straining to hear more.
“Hush, now, husband. We all do what we must.” Marda’s voice caught. She picked up a fallen blanket and began to fold it. “I don’t dare send her now. This eruption is not natural. There is ill afoot—I can feel it.”
“You can’t know that.You can’t hide her forever, wife. She needs a chance to live.” Ember’s heart squeezed at the pleading she heard in his voice. There was never any doubt that Paeder loved her, whether they shared blood or not. He’d raised her. She was as much his child as the boys, and she knew it.
“I know she does, but . . . not yet. I can’t let her go to those trials. I can’t afford to take the chance,” Marda said from just inside the door. Ember glared at her mother’s head. She was going back on her promise again. Ember’s stomach burned with disappointed anger.
“But you already promised her—” a cough cut Paeder off.
“I know, I know, but I just can’t. She’ll understand.”
Paeder gave a sharp blast of laughter before coughing again. Marda gave him another spoonful of the syrup.
“This blasted ash. It does nothing but rush you to your grave. What a time for the shields to fail.” The snarl in Marda’s voice was obvious. “I’ll send Ember to town for more medicine.” Paeder caught his breath enough to answer. “Don’t do this to her. She deserves the chance to try. It’s her birthing day, Marda. Don’t ruin it for her,” he begged.
“I have no choice. She will not go to the trials, and I will say no more on it.”
Ember crouched in the middle of the stairs, despair battling with anger. Marda had promised. Promised! It wasn’t fair.
Her mother chose that moment to exit Paeder’s room and stopped briefly when she saw her daughter on the steps. She paused only a moment, then moved to the sink and began to scrub at the dishes.
“So I suppose you heard?” Marda asked, as if it was of no importance.
Ember scowled at her mother and made her way to the kitchen. She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned one hip against the counter. “Which part? The one where you send me to town running errands on my birthing day? Or where you tell Paeder I can’t go to the mage trials?”
“Well, I’m glad to have that out of the way. I’m sorry, Ember, but you can’t go.” Marda didn’t even have the decency to look at her.
“What do you mean, I can’t go? I have to go! You’ve been finding some excuse or another for eight years, and this is my last chance.”
Marda continued washing dishes. “Just what I said—you’re not going,” she answered, an edge creeping into her voice.
“But, Mum—”
“But nothing, Ember,” Marda said as she threw the dishrag back in the water and turned to face her daughter. “What do you want me to do? Plug up Devil’s Mount just so you can go to the trials? In case you haven’t noticed, all the magic is out. All of it. There’s no protection over Karsholm or the roads, no running water, no weather charms—nothing. It’s all gone. How do you expect to get to Javak under these conditions?”
“We can take the boxcar,” Ember said, referring to the wagon the family rarely used. “It would protect us.”
“And what about the horses? What will protect them? How are they supposed to breathe in all of this?”
That stumped Ember. “I don’t know, but Ezeker will come up with something. I have to do this, and so does Paeder. He’s got to get some help at the Mage Council, and I’m still having the dreams. Ezeker said—”
“I know what Ezeker said
,” Marda interrupted and turned back to her dishes. “Paeder can’t go out in this anymore than you can. It will kill him. And as for your dreams, well, we’ve had this conversation before. They’re only dreams. They don’t mean anything. I’m sorry, Ember. You’re not going.”
Ember couldn’t drop it. This was her last chance. The next trials would be after her seventeenth birthing day, and by then, she would no longer qualify. “You let the twins go—why not me?”
“Your brothers are men.” Marda shrugged. “Besides, I had no say in that decision, and you know it. That was for their father to decide.”
As if Ember wasn’t acutely aware she didn’t have a father. That hurt almost as much as her mother’s stubborn refusal. Ember lost her temper. “I can’t believe you! It’s my life, it should be my decision, not yours, and I want to go!” She couldn’t help stomping her foot.
Marda remained silent, and Ember gave up talking to her. She wouldn’t change her mother’s mind, not in a million years, but there was no way she was going to miss the trials this year. She’d find a way. Somehow. Her dreams had shown her it was something she had to do if she hoped to survive. In the meantime, she had to get out of the house before she really lost her temper.
The door slammed as she stormed from the house. She was angered further when her mother called out as if nothing had happened between them. “Don’t forget to pick up Paeder’s medicine from Ezeker’s!”
Ember pretended she couldn’t hear as she pounded across the yard, the chickens scattering from her path to the high road, finding her way more by memory than sight. Between the ash and the tears that started the moment she slammed the door, she could hardly see a thing. She knew she was being rude, but at the moment she was too hurt, too angry, to care. She’d get the medicine, but not because of Marda.
She’d get it for Paeder.
“It’s not fair.” She kicked at the ash that dragged at her feet. “It’s my birthing day, and I should be able to have at least one thing I want. Can’t she let up just this once? I only want to try to be a mage. It’s not like they’d accept me anyway,” she grumbled out loud, then sneezed.
From her earliest memories, the magi had fascinated her, and she’d become particularly attached to her uncle Ezeker. The things he did to help people were astounding, from concocting the medicines that kept people like Paeder alive, to the simple kindness of fixing imperfections like clubbed feet and cleft palates. Ember wanted to make something of her life as he had, not settle for being just a wife and mother like Marda. There was nothing wrong with her mother’s life, she supposed, and it was something she wanted someday—but she just wanted more.
Ember rubbed at the pendant that never left her skin, tracing the familiar form of the emeraldeyed wolf ’s head. At times like this, it acted as a worry stone, helping to free her from the vice-like grip of anger.
“Ember!” A voice called from behind her. She spun, startled, having completely missed hearing the hoof beats through the ash.
“Aldarin? Is that you?” she hollered, recognizing her oldest stepbrother’s voice through the curtain of gray. “What are you doing out in this stuff? Where’s Ezeker?”
“He’s at the Sipes’. Little Waeli smashed his hand pretty bad, and he’s got quite a bit of repair work to do if the boy is going to use it again.” A light cut through the darkness until Ember was finally able to make out her stepbrother through the ashfall. “What are you doing out in your nightgown?”
Ember only then realized she hadn’t dressed. “I had a fight with Mum and forgot to change,” she answered rather sheepishly.
Aldarin chuckled, but didn’t pursue it. He pulled her up on the back of his horse. Ember wrapped her arms around his waist as he turned the horse to take her home. “What time would you like us to pick you up for the trials?”
“I can’t go,” Ember said, fighting the wave of anger and disappointment that washed over her.
“What do you mean, you can’t go?”
“I asked Mum the same question not ten minutes ago.”
Aldarin grunted. “What is wrong with that woman? She’s been promising you for . . . how many years now? What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know.”
“Sure you do, Sis. You stay home and listen to Mum.” Ember could hear
Aldarin’s grin.
She snorted. “Not likely.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning I’m going, whether she likes it or not. I’ll walk there if I have to, but I am not going to miss these trials, not again. I can’t afford to do so. I’ve at least got to try.” Her thoughts turned to Paeder once more. If she could make it through the mage trials, she’d have a chance to help him. There had to be something magic could do that medicine could not.
“Good for you, Em. So, what’s got her so worried this time?”
“I overheard her telling Paeder that she thinks the volcano isn’t natural and I’d be in danger.” Aldarin was quiet for a long moment. “She could be right,” he finally muttered, but continued without explaining. “So, do you want to come with us? We’ve got horses to spare, and with half the guard tagging along, Marda can’t do much about it—though you might want to consider sneaking out, just to be on the safe side.”
Ember laughed, knowing full well he was right. “Oh, yes. Most definitely.”
“Good,” he said and squeezed her hand. “Only, do you think you could get dressed first? I really don’t think you’ll make much of an impression in your dirty nightgown.”
Ember slugged him in the shoulder, but continued to laugh as he carried her through the darkness toward home.
CHAPTER THREE
"Lady Kayla! My lady, wait. I must speak with you!”
Kayla looked over her shoulder and saw him—young, well-dressed, but bouncing up and down to get her attention. She grimaced. When would they ever let her be? She clutched the bag containing both flutes to her chest and pretended she couldn’t hear the boy. He was probably one of Duchess Domanta’s “lads,” and Kayla couldn’t take any more today. She was exhausted in every way possible. Sleep had been in short supply the night before, with her nerves as agitated as they’d been.
She picked up her pace, frantically searching for a cab to take her home. She knew she should turn and let the boy dote on her— that’s what one did when one was trying to make an impression—but she was just too tired to do it. Spotting an empty coach, she scampered toward it with as much dignity as her dress would allow.
“Please, mistress, wait!” the young man begged from behind her. Why couldn’t he just go away? All Kayla wanted to do was get home to tell her family of the king’s gift and promise of a duchy.
“Are you free, sir?” she asked the elderly chauffeur.
“Yes, miss,” he said, tipping his hat and giving her a lop-sided grin. “Where’d ye be goin’?”
“The Balania residence on Marlon and Weils,” she answered and took his outstretched hand. But before she could pull herself up, a strong grip took her elbow.
“Lady Kayla, I been chasin’ ye all the way from Dragonmeer.”
Kayla groaned, though not out loud. It wouldn’t make the right impression, and after all the years she’d put into creating her public face, she couldn’t escape from it now—not when she was so close to getting what her family needed. Instead, she turned to the boy and put on a moderately polite expression.
“The duke,” he panted. “He be wantin’ ye to have this and said I was to wait for instructions.” He handed her a folded piece of sweaty parchment, and Kayla opened it with distaste. The boy had the decency to redden as she shook the paper open, holding it by the barest of corners. She began to read:
"My dearest Kayla,
I have spoken with King Rojan, and he has advised me of your new and upcoming status. Congratulations. My wife has been nagging at me to have a bit of a party for a while, and I think this would be the perfect excuse. Would you be willing to come to a ball in your honor this evening at Dra
gonmeer? I’ve sent Joyson with the coach and instructions to take you any place you wish between now and then. Bring your nicest gown. The ball will start at eight.
Duke Domanta"
Kayla had lost her aversion to the paper after the first line, and by the time she had finished, she gripped it with joy. She pulled it to her chest, fighting herself to keep from jumping in the air with excitement, but she could not help the glow she felt in her eyes as she turned back to the boy she assumed was Joyson.
“Miss?” the elderly chap asked as she moved away, and she quickly returned, embarrassed that she had forgotten him in her excitement over the letter.
“I’m sorry, sir, I won’t need your services after all, but thank you for your assistance.”
“No problem, miss—perhaps another time.”
She turned and took the boy’s arm. “All right then, where’s this coach of yours?” she asked. He pointed down the street to a magnificent carriage moving toward them. It was completely enclosed, with curtains at the window to keep out the dust. Kayla had never ridden in a carriage so fine, but she tried to contain herself. It wasn’t seemly to act childish over such a simple thing. After all, she was seventeen, practically a woman.
The carriage driver stopped the matching horses before her, as Joyson led her to the door. He opened it and extended his hand to help her up.
“My lady, your carriage awaits,” he said in a very gentlemanly manner, with no trace of country accent. Kayla grinned at his cliché use of language, beautiful as it was. She took his hand, stepped up, settled herself in the deep velvet cushions, and crossed her ankles.
“Where to, Lady Kayla?” the boy asked, leaning slightly into the carriage.
“Home, Joyson. The Balania residence on Marlon and Weils,” she said for the second time that day. Joyson nodded at her and, shutting the door, hopped up on the side of the carriage.
The Sapphire Flute Page 4