River Running (Indigo Elements Book 1)

by Eden Reign

  Manda’s eyebrows flew upward. She hadn’t expected this.

  Grey launched himself at Jackson, his arms strangling Master Coal’s neck. “Thank you, sir!” He danced a little whirlwind around the kitchen. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

  Master Coal chuckled as he turned back to Manda. “Briary Beach is rarely occupied and I think will be a good haven for you. It lives up to its name; many brambles and briars grow beneath the sand, and naturally, people avoid it. So be careful where you step.”

  Grey danced by, shrieking his delight, and Jackson caught him by the sleeve. “Go on back to the house, Grey. Miss Westerly has extra stockings for you.” Grey darted out the door into the darkness. Manda prepared to follow, but Master Coal touched her arm before she could bypass him. “Miss Rivers, a moment.”

  Manda paused, not trusting her voice. Her emotions hovered at breaking point.

  “I—lost a dear friend, the son of a cropper, when I was only a boy of eight. Near Grey’s age. We were heedless, swimming near the shore on a stormy day when the tides were exceptionally potent. Neither of us were strong swimmers, but I was the lucky one that day and he was not. When the riptide pulled us away from the shore, we lost sight of each other. I made it back. He didn’t.”

  Manda couldn’t see him; the tears had completely obscured him from her sight. “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t know.”

  “How could you?” he asked. His warm hand still held her arm.

  She nodded. “I shall take extra care, sir, that Grey is safe today. Don’t waste a thought on us. You’ve too much on your mind already.”

  His gaze dropped to his hand, and he lightly squeezed her arm. “I know I can trust you, M—Miss Rivers. Thank you.”

  When he turned for the door, Manda followed slowly, the basket over her arm.

  Chapter 11

  Jackson

  Jackson paced the front verandah, waiting for the inspectors, while Mr. Flacks leaned against the brick wall of the house, his arms folded. Mr. Stone, normally so helpful and willing, had listened impassively to Jackson’s explanation about the bureaucratic visitors, and then shocked him by requesting the entire day off for “personal matters.” Since Stone had never once requested a day off, Jackson had granted it, though he would have preferred to have the butler’s competent assistance on this of all days. Abigail Windham, while capable of running the house in Stone’s absence, did not have the Nanu man’s good nature or discretion.

  Jackson eyed Mr. Flacks’s cool demeanor enviously. For himself, he’d been unable to sleep—again—and he’d been disgruntled when he’d arrived in the kitchen to find Manda and Grey both up and ready well before him. He’d dithered away his morning, unable to rid his mind of worries: about the inspection, about Grey, about Miss Rivers herself. His only relief was that she already knew the secret of Grey’s heritage and understood the danger Daniel Lake presented. He could trust her. Even so, he hated the thought of Grey and Manda at Briary Beach, an isolated strip far from the route of the tour he’d planned. He was as jumpy as a wildcat as he tapped his boot on the verandah planking.

  The sound of an approaching carriage startled Jackson from his reveries. Merciful Rivers, when would the girl get out of his head? He sighed and stepped onto the circular drive to welcome the inspectors, followed by Mr. Flacks.

  Daniel Lake, tall, thin, and looking even more dour than usual, emerged first. He brushed off his broadcloth walking coat and set his top hat on his greying hair which had been pulled neatly back with a bit of ribbon. Wilcott Blazen tumbled out behind him, his fat cheeks flushed and his nearly-white hair sticking out in all directions. A sallow, middle-aged man with fair hair, and a heavyset woman with a too-red complexion followed. Jackson recognized them from his father’s funeral: Master Ambrose Zephyr and Mistress Eugenia Clay, who’d both given him deadly glares while whispering with Daniel, despite the fact that he’d never met either of them. Wonderful.

  “Sirs, ma’am,” Jackson called, “welcome to Coalhaven.” He first shook Daniel’s hand and then Master Blazen’s, hoping he could get the firemage alone to pursue the invitation extended at his father’s funeral. Both Blazen and Lake ignored Mr. Flacks, and though Jackson knew plantation overseers were often treated this way, the rudeness stung anyway.

  Blazen jumped in, talkative as ever. “Jackson! Good to see you looking so well. And Coalhaven, too.” He inhaled deeply. “Ah, freshly turned earth and seedling indigo. It smells like springtime. Of course you know Master Lake, but may I introduce Master Zephyr, our representative of the Eternal Sky, and Mistress Clay for the Eternal Tree.”

  Jackson bowed to the newcomers, ignoring Mistress Clay’s unimpressed lip curl and Master Zephyr’s frown. He gestured to his right. “I thought we could begin with the northern fields.” He wanted to keep them as far from the coast as possible.

  He allowed Mr. Flacks to lead the way, striding behind his overseer as he led them up a row where the seedlings had just been planted. Mistress Clay, surprisingly nimble for her size, bent and cupped the small plant, her brown eyes blurring as she tapped the Wells and performed her assessment. She grunted and rose, lifting her violet parasol, opening it with a brisk click. Jackson’s heart sank as he surveyed her frown.

  Then she surprised him. “The Coalhaven plants are strong, as always,” she said. Disappointment tinged her voice. Jackson wondered how badly she’d been wishing for him to fail his father’s legacy.

  “Indeed. There will be plenty of strong indigo this year to fuel the Wells,” Jackson said. Tension eased from his shoulders. He’d never been party to an official indigo inspection before, and he’d not known what to expect.

  “Master Zephyr, perhaps you will accompany me to the west fields, while Master Lake and Master Blazen can take the east and the south?” Mistress Clay asked.

  Jackson glanced at Mr. Flacks and nodded. Flacks gestured toward Mistress Clay and the western fields. “If you’ll come with me, I’ll take you to them.” The two groups separated, and Jackson followed Lake and Blazen. The south and east fields were closer to the beach, and the two men set his nerves on edge.

  “Ah, Coalhaven,” Blazen said jovially. “Not another plantation like it. Has a bit of everything. The sea—” he gestured east, “the fields, the house, the trees, the river. It’s truly a haven. How fortunate you are, Jackson, that your father left it to you—despite everything. We thought he might leave it to the Brotherhood, or one of his friends, given the circumstances.” He cleared his throat. “How my Leah would love it here. She has a fine eye for beauty. She’d do wonders with that house. Coalhaven needs a mistress. It hasn’t had one in so long.”

  Jackson’s stomach tightened at this oblique reference to his mother. Julia Coal’s loving touch had been the force that had turned Coalhaven into the thriving place it still was. Henry had never changed a thing after her death—the death he had blamed on Jackson.

  “Merciful Rivers, Wilcott, spare us your heavy-handed match-making,” Daniel Lake growled without stopping his determined march up the row of seedlings.

  Wilcott bent and rather savagely ripped up one of the new seedlings of the south field, lifting it and blurring his gaze as Mistress Clay had done. After a moment, he tossed it aside. “Sacred Wells, that’s strong! Beyond sufficient, as I’m sure you’re aware, Jackson. I’d never have thought to find indigo with fire-power like that after Henry’s death.” Oddly, the portly man did not seem pleased. He jutted his chin at Daniel’s back. “He’s in a mood again, though I can hardly blame him. The Arcanan Army has officially changed his son Elijah’s status from missing to deceased. Daniel’s taking it hard, to say the least. Elijah was his only relation, you know. He divorced his wife many years ago in an unpleasant court case. She was a strange girl, part Nanu, not from the High Families, but talented and smart, until she went crazy when Elijah was a young boy.” He leaned close to Jackson, dropping his voice to a whisper. “I never understood why he married her. It was step down for him, marrying a nobody like
her. But I suspect he wanted to know more about her Nanu magic. Daniel divorced her because she tried to kill young Elijah.”

  Jackson had heard that ugly story many times. Lige had said his father had been cruel to his mother, but no one had believed a young boy’s word against Daniel Lake’s.

  Wilcott prattled on, “Daniel never remarried, and now he is alone, without even his heir. I doubt he will ever recover.” He sighed heavily. “The war was a terrible thing. We lost so many, and those who remain—Jackson, some are broken.” He clapped Jackson on the back. “But not you, you fine specimen! You’re as hale as they come. Now, why don’t you show me that beautiful house? I haven’t been inside it since before the war. If I recall, your father had some genuine works by Anastasia Mistral hanging in the parlor. Those must be worth a fine fullmark these days.”

  Wilcott Blazen’s words stuck in Jackson’s head like seeds in a cotton boll: some are broken. So broken they smashed mirrors and couldn’t sleep. So broken the memory of a ticking timepiece paralyzed them. So broken they’d never deserve the gentle touch of a sweet water-sprite with brown curls …

  Jackson snapped back to the present.

  “Are you coming?” Wilcott inquired.

  “I’d better go see where Master Lake’s gone,” Jackson said. “But do head back to the house, Master Blazen. My housemaid will escort you to the parlor with the paintings if you request it. I’ll be up shortly.”

  “Very good.”

  Jackson hesitated, his thoughts churning. You must resolve the magemark, you fool. It’s a matter of life and death. Lake can wait another moment.

  “Master Blazen?”

  “Call me Wilcott, my boy.”

  Jackson smiled tightly. “Wilcott, then. I’m still interested in learning more about the magemarks.” He swallowed his disgust for the obsequious man.

  Wilcott paused, uncharacteristically quiet as he stared across the indigo fields. “Well, Jackson, I don’t know. Our magemark research, it’s proprietary knowledge. We like to … keep it in the family, so to speak. If you came out to Blazenfields to meet my daughter, now that would be different ...”

  Jackson caught Wilcott’s slanted, sly glance his way, and helpless anger boiled inside him at the man’s ulterior motives. He should have known he’d have to put up with Blazen’s attempts at social chess and what Daniel Lake had called his “blatant matchmaking.”

  But without a cure for the mark, Jackson was a dead man. And Grey and Miss Rivers were as good as dead, too. He forced a smile. “Yes, sir. That is, of course, Wilcott. I’d be glad to meet your daughter.”

  Wilcott beamed, his cheeks growing even rosier. “Excellent, Jackson!” he bellowed as if he hadn’t been angling for that very thing. “After the inspection season I’m headed straight back to Blazenfields. Come and visit. Anytime after April twenty-seventh.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Jackson backed up a step. “I’d better go find Master Lake.”

  Jackson stalked through the orderly rows of tiny indigo plants, heading up the hill on the eastern side of the Coalhaven property. He worried that Briary Beach might be just visible if Daniel reached the summit, so he was pleased to see the older man hunched over a seedling only halfway up the hill.

  “Master Lake,” Jackson said, removing his hat and wiping his forehead. He nearly envied Mistress Clay her violet parasol as the sun rose higher. The longer hours of daylight were perfect for indigo growing, but brutal on the workers in the fields.

  “I’m glad to see you’ve lost Blazen.” Daniel rose from his crouch and nodded at the seedling. “The indigo is good. Strong.” He brushed his hands on his trousers. “I hate how we must depend on these crops for the essential fuel of our spellwork. It leaves us vulnerable. To crop blights, to drought, to storms. Anything that risks the crops risks the fullmage magic.”

  “And yet you hate halfmages, whose magic has no such weakness.” Jackson wished he could have held his tongue.

  Daniel’s expression turned poisonous. “Halfbreeds are abominations, and greater threats to our power than any ruined crop. You should hate their magic, too.” He gazed darkly over the crops, letting his words soak into the soil. “I’ve thoroughly checked the water-forces in your field samples. This the best crop I’ve seen at Coalhaven for representing the Eternal Ocean since Julia Coal’s death—and that’s saying something. Coalhaven indigo is known for its fire and water forces, but this—this is beyond all expectations. Have you been doing something different?”

  This time, Jackson did manage to bite his tongue to avoid saying: Paying the croppers. That wasn’t what Daniel Lake was asking; he spoke of the magical qualities of the indigo, a factor the mundane croppers had no power to affect. “No,” he replied. “Nothing. And the seedlings all came from last year’s stock.”

  Daniel shrugged, looking so much like Lige that Jackson’s chest constricted and his throat filled. “That’s the way it is with the indigo. It can sense the proclivities in its master.”

  “What do you mean, sir?”

  Daniel’s face looked weary and worn. He made a sharp gesture. “Only that you are friendlier toward the water element than your father.”

  “It’s not hard to be that.” Jackson couldn’t catch his tongue fast enough this time.

  Daniel did not rise to the sarcasm. His expression grew only bleaker as he stared out toward the ocean. Jackson spun around to follow his gaze, making certain no strip of beach was visible. He exhaled. The only horizon was water.

  “You were friends with Elijah before the war. Your father worked with watermages because he had to, but he never liked us. That’s all I meant.” Daniel’s voice took a bitter cast.

  “Yes, Elijah was my friend,” Jackson replied. “I am so sorry to hear of his—”

  “Blazen blabbed, did he?” Daniel glared down the hill toward the house. “That man’s worse than a gossiping spinster. Yes, Elijah’s dead. So they tell me.”

  “I’m sorry,” Jackson whispered, unable to meet the man’s hard gaze.

  Daniel huffed. “You two were like twin leaves even when your father forbade it, even after you left Coalhaven. Don’t tell me it isn’t so. It was because of you that Elijah got revolting Leveler notions into his head. He nearly joined the Levelers until I set him straight and showed him what had become of his mother when she started spouting treasons.”

  Jackson flinched, but tried to hide it by bending to pluck a few indigo leaves from the nearest seedling. He ground them between his fingers. He’d seen the scars Daniel had left on Lige’s back after he’d “set him straight,” scars made by Daniel’s water-lash. Was Daniel saying he had used his lash on his wife, too? Jackson shuddered and could not hide it this time. He released the crushed indigo leaves to the breeze.

  Daniel gazed at him speculatively. “Did Elijah ever mention a sweetheart?”

  “A what?” Icy horror took hold of Jackson’s heart. He shoved his hands into his coat pockets.

  “A lover. A secret amor. A bride.”

  “A bride,” Jackson rasped. His feet wouldn’t move.

  “In Blue Hill.” Daniel placed a restraining hand on Jackson’s arm.

  “Blue Hill?” Jackson commanded his mind into sharp focus. “Isn’t that a mundane village?”

  Daniel Lake’s grey-blue gaze bored into him. “As mundane as root vegetables. But I found this in Civil Records in Savana.” He held out a single sheet of yellowed paper.

  With a growing sense of dread, Jackson took hold of the page. Certificate of Marriage, it read in fancy copperplate across the top. Municipality of Blue Hill.

  We the undersigned, do declare that we have exchanged vows and did join in sacred matrimony under the auspices of the Eternal Ocean on this, the 29th of November, 1857.

  Two signatures, a bit faded, ran below the words.

  The first: Jenifer Rivers of Blue Hill. The second, in a flowing script Jackson knew as well as his own: Elijah Lake of Chalton-Savana.

  Oh, Merciful Rivers, Lige, why did you h
ave to go and make it official? The reckless act was exactly the sort of thing Lige would do. It’s the principle of it, he would have said. I can’t let Jenny bear my child out of wedlock, even if it means taking liberties with the truth. And so the noble fool had falsified Jenifer’s last name—using the catch-all watermage surname of Rivers and disguising the fact that he’d actually married a mundane. Lige had not only broken the Arcanan Marriage Miscegeny Laws, he’d illegally falsified records as well. Likely he’d left his own name intact for the clout and influence it offered. No small-town registrar would dare to contradict the Lake heir.

  “Perhaps it’s a different Elijah Lake,” Jackson said lamely.

  Daniel snatched the marriage certificate out of his hands. He fisted the lapel of Jackson’s coat. “Let me be clear, Jackson Coal. I blame you for this. It was you who brought Leveler nonsense into our home. You think I didn’t try to hunt down this girl, this ‘Jenifer Pond’ of Blue Hill? She doesn’t exist. Blue Hill is a mundane settlement. Her real name was Jenifer Harper. My son—my own son—married a mundane! This is your fault, and I’ll give you but one chance to make it right, and only because your father was a man of honor, even if he did think he was better than the rest of us. Tell me now if there was any offspring, any miserable issue, and I will forgive you for whatever role you may have played in Elijah’s regrettable deceit.”

  It was the “miserable issue” that did it. Unable to restrain himself further, Jackson grabbed the weathered hand still squeezing his coat and shoved. “Unhand me, Lake. Whatever choices Lige made were no business of mine. We fought on opposite sides in the war; we hadn’t been in touch in years. Get hold of yourself, man.” Jackson straightened his coat, frowning. “As to offspring, I could not say, but I doubt it. You do his memory no justice by rooting around in secrets better left buried in the past.” He paused, glaring at Daniel’s livid features, forcing his own fury back down inside him as he grasped at the thread of hope that Daniel knew nothing about Grey.