Wedding Bells, Magic Spells

by Lisa Shearin

  “I had a spider bigger than I was sliding down a web at me faster than I could get out of the way. Trust me, I was scared. It didn’t work. I was just as scared when I threw myself between that spider and Tam and Imala. It worked then.”

  “That was instinct. Instinct is the source of a lot of the more powerful magics. They manifest during stressful situations and strong emotion, like protective instincts. Later they can be consciously summoned.”

  “But when it went after Vegard…”

  “Your magic came and you did what needed to be done.” Mychael kissed my head again. “You proved once again that you care more for others than you do yourself. You’re going to make a fine Guardian.”

  I pulled away, but only a little. “We’ve had this talk. I haven’t earned the title or—”

  “Okay, Guardian-affiliated—”

  The door opened.

  “Fierce battlemaid, Saghred slayer, and destroyer of stone gods!” Wybjorn boomed. “I bring you drink!”

  Mychael chuckled. “Those work. What do you think?”

  I grinned and elbowed him in the ribs.

  Chapter 20

  The next morning, we’d just finished having breakfast with Mychael’s parents and were waiting for our horses to be saddled. Isibel had excused herself from breakfast, citing a need to prepare for the resumption of the peace talks in another two hours. As far as I was concerned, Isibel could have used any excuse. She’d had dinner with her parents last night. She’d earned it.

  Mychael’s dad was just as charming as his son. We hit it off. Mychael’s mom? I couldn’t tell how she felt about me. She was still cool and collected. Either she’d decided what she felt and was being polite, or she was still reserving judgment, or she simply wasn’t the type to show emotion one way or another. I could usually read people. Not Edythe Eiliesor.

  Even Mychael had noticed, but he hadn’t said anything. Diplomacy ran in the family. Maybe he was still giving her a chance to come around. Maybe he knew it was a lost cause. Maybe I couldn’t stand it anymore and had to ask.

  “Does your mother like me, not like me, has no clue what to think about me?”

  “Mother is reserved,” Mychael said.

  “No kidding.”

  “She has to know someone a long time before she shows her emotions.”

  I sighed.

  “She likes you.”

  “No, she doesn’t.”

  “She doesn’t know you yet.”

  “And she doesn’t want to.”

  “Dad adores you.”

  I grinned. “He’s great. I could fall for him pretty quick, too. Like I did his son.”

  “Give Mother a chance.”

  “I’m giving her a chance. It’d just be nice if she’d give me one.”

  Mychael’s hands tightened around my waist, his expression solemn. “I don’t care what my mother thinks, and you shouldn’t either.”

  I opened my mouth to retort.

  “I said you shouldn’t care, but I know you do. And that’s just another reason why I love you and want you to be my wife.” He suddenly grinned like a little boy. “Wife. I love saying that.”

  I snuggled against him, my chin resting on his chest, looking up at him. “And I love hearing it, Husband.” I stood on tiptoe and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. “Well, your mom’s going to like me—or not. I only know how to be myself, and if she doesn’t like that, then…” I threw my hands up in the air.

  “That’s my girl.”

  *

  Mychael had been at the goblin embassy last night because A’Zahra’s questioning of the member of Sarad Nukpana’s inner circle had borne fruit. The Khrynsani did have a plan in place to regroup should they ever suffer a catastrophic defeat. The Saghred had been their reason for existing for the past thousand years. In one night, the Saghred had been destroyed—at least, the rock it’d lived in had been smashed—sea dragons had gutted their temple, and their leader had been carried off into the Lower Hells.

  I’d call that a catastrophic defeat, and apparently the Khrynsani agreed.

  The Khrynsani prisoner had known the name of the dimension/world where they were to regroup.

  Ferok.

  The goblin name for iron.

  Unfortunately, neither Imala, Tam, nor Dakarai had recognized the name as anything other than that. Mychael had forwarded the information to Cuinn last night.

  During breakfast with Mychael’s parents, we got a response from Cuinn. He had an answer for us.

  *

  I didn’t know what to expect on the inside of a building that housed the Conclave college’s department of dimensional study, but what I saw wasn’t it.

  It was the middle of the semester, early in the day, and apparently between classes. Students filled the halls, the crowd punctuated by an occasional dark-robed mage professor. Most of the kids and all of the professors wore what looked like medallion-sized lockets on chains around their necks.

  I knew that inside those lockets were mirrors.

  Thankfully, none of them were large enough to get anything into—or for anything to get out of. It was more a badge of their field of study than anything else. But hopefully, the kids had enough sense to keep their fingers to themselves and out of their mirrors.

  They were talking excitedly in small groups, talk that turned to absolute silence when they saw me and Mychael walk through the front doors. Vegard was with us as well as four other Guardians, but I knew who the silence was for.

  I half turned to Mychael and tried to speak without moving my lips.

  “One day I’d like to walk into a room and have no one notice.”

  “Today’s not that day, ma’am,” Vegard said from behind us.

  Some would have recognized me as the wielder of the Saghred. Others would have also known that I’d been responsible for bringing down Carnades Silvanus, resulting in him being sent to Regor and his death at the hands of Sarad Nukpana.

  The silence from the students and professors was followed by smiles, which turned into applause, and then cheers.

  Not one of them was afraid of me.

  They knew who I was, what I was, what I’d done, and they were giving me a—dare I say it—hero’s welcome.

  Words could not describe how badly I needed that.

  I suddenly had a lump in my throat.

  “Thank you.” I said the words, and they couldn’t hear me over the cheers and whistles, but they had to know how much I appreciated it.

  I kind of wished we’d brought Mychael’s mom. I might have earned a few points.

  Mychael threw his arm around my shoulders and gave me a squeeze. “I’ve told you there are good people here.”

  Cuinn Aviniel waved to get our attention from behind a group of cheering students. He good-naturedly shooed them out of the way and motioned for us to follow him. We did and quickly arrived at his laboratory. Cuinn closed the door, cutting off the sound of the students, but that was fine. I’d heard it once, and would never forget it.

  Two of the Guardians remained outside of the lab, the other two and Vegard came in with us.

  “Sorry it took us so long to get here,” Mychael told Cuinn. “We were having breakfast with my parents.”

  Cuinn turned to me and blanched, an impressive feat for somebody already that pale. “I interrupted you meeting your in-laws for the first time?”

  “Technically, I met them last night, but—”

  “I am so sorry.”

  “Don’t be.”

  “But I’m sure they—”

  “Were still tired from their trip and didn’t mind in the least,” Mychael assured him.

  Cuinn took a breath, and blew it out with a wince. “Good. Because I have a lot to tell you.”

  *

  “I didn’t accept the department chair position, but I accepted Carnades’s lab space,” Cuinn said, turning up the lights in the high-ceilinged room he’d led us to.

  I stopped, suddenly creeped.

  Surpri
singly, there were only four mirrors in the entire lab. All were set in heavy wooden frames mounted on wheeled stands. They were in what I’d learned was locked mode. It was a spell that distorted whatever the mirror reflected, making the surface look like an undulating wave, its pattern constantly changing. Yet another reason why I never would have made a good mirror mage, or even a bad mirror mage—every time I looked at an undulating mirror, my stomach would do the same thing.

  The elf mage gave me a quick smile. “Don’t worry, those are mine. Everything that belonged to Carnades is in storage, though the archmagus had his investigators go through all of it for evidence first. And after all the equipment was gone, I had the place scrubbed, magically and otherwise. I was tempted to have a priest cleanse it, but a friend from the necrology department came over and declared it clean. He’d known Carnades Silvanus and assured me that his ghost wasn’t here.”

  I smiled. “That friend wouldn’t be Vidor Kalta, by any chance?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “He’s a good friend to have, and he definitely knew Carnades. If Vidor said Carnades isn’t here, he isn’t.”

  Cuinn gave us a big smile. “Always good to have a result confirmed. It’s good science and good for my nerves. We moved in two weeks ago and haven’t had any disturbances.”

  “If Carnades was going to ‘disturb’ you, he would have done it by now.”

  I couldn’t help but gawk at what filled the ceiling area above our heads.

  Moving slowly in circles were what looked like clouds of various sizes, sparkling from within with twinkling lights, as well as spheres in a combination of colors and sizes. Both the clouds and spheres were strung like jewels on narrow metal rings. Some of the rings were small, others large, all interwoven, and slowly orbiting. I didn’t see a power source, but there had to be one.

  I couldn’t imagine Carnades building something this beautiful.

  “Did this belong to Carnades? It looks like it’s been here a while.”

  “No, that’s all mine,” Cuinn said with a hint of pride. “I’ve spent a lot of sleepless nights lately getting it set up. This is the first time I’ve had a laboratory large enough to display it. It’s a work in progress. We’re discovering new dimensions and worlds all the time. The clouds represent dimensions, and the spheres are worlds.” He pointed up. “See the green and blue one there?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s our world.”

  I suddenly felt incredibly tiny.

  “And all these others?” I asked.

  “These are the worlds and dimensions that are close enough to our own—not in proximity, but through portals and rifts—for access year-round. There are other worlds and dimensions that can be reached from our own, but they only occasionally come into contact with the edges of our orbit. Once every million years, every hundred years, twenty years, twenty months. Those aren’t represented here. There’s not enough room.”

  “Wow.”

  Cuinn gazed up at the smoothly orbiting planets and dimensions like a kid with the best toy ever. “Yes, wow.”

  “There’s another blue and green world on the other side of the room.” I pointed it out. “What’s that one?”

  “Its inhabitants call it Earth. It’s very similar to our own world. While we can travel there year-round, it’s easiest twice a year at what they call their ‘equinox.’”

  “Access to Earth is highly controlled,” Mychael told me. “The inhabitants are rather advanced; however, they don’t believe any of us exist. They have elves and goblins in their mythology, but they think we’re simply that, myths.”

  I snorted. “That’s gonna be a rude awakening one of these days.”

  “The goal is to not have that happen anytime soon. The population is strictly human. Those that go there must wear full-time glamours to disguise what they are. It’s odd for a civilization to be that advanced, yet so adamant that they are the only life in the universe.”

  “They have buildings that are framed in steel and are over a hundred stories tall,” Cuinn said with quiet awe.

  My eyes went wide at the thought of being that far above the ground. And I knew steel was light, but to build with it? “No. Just no.”

  “They also have hollow metal machines that fly through the air like sky dragons. People sit inside to travel great distances.”

  “Okay, that’s just horrifying.”

  Cuinn nodded in agreement. “I would love to see the buildings, but I have no desire to fly inside of a metal sky dragon.”

  “I don’t want to fly, period.”

  “Is all of this yours?” Mychael asked him.

  “I felt guilty taking this large of a space for myself,” Cuinn replied. “So I’m sharing it with several colleagues—friends, actually—who are interested in the same kind of research as I am. Research that, thanks to the soil residue I found on Director Sevelien’s clothing and Chancellor Nathrach’s armor, has just moved from theoretical to having real-world applications.” He paused. “I know where the Rak’kari came from.”

  “Was the information I sent last night of any help?” Mychael asked.

  “It’s the goblin word for iron,” Cuinn said, “but I didn’t recognize Ferok as either a dimension or a world.”

  “We were thinking it must have been a Khrynsani code name.”

  “That would be my guess, as well.” He flashed a little grin. “However, discovering that it’s the goblin word for iron confirmed what I did find. Rak’kari don’t need air and could have been stored anywhere. But if the Khrynsani planned to regroup there, they’d need air to breathe. The soil residue on the clothing and armor was identical. The Rak’kari’s legs must have come in contact with the ground before they were driven through an unlinked mirror and into the Void. Of all the known worlds or dimensions that can be accessed from our own, only one has soil containing such a high quantity of iron as well as a breathable atmosphere similar to our own. Timurus.” He pointed up to a small, dark red planet slowly orbiting near our own world.

  Mychael frowned. “I’ve never heard of it.”

  “Not many have, outside of academic circles,” Cuinn told him. “Which is probably one of the reasons why the Khrynsani selected it. They needed a storehouse for their Rak’kari that would remain undiscovered. And they remained undiscovered because no one lives on Timurus—at least, they haven’t for a very long time. There are still animals there, plenty of animals. Timurus had a thriving civilization—one that was rather similar to our own—that was suddenly wiped out about seven hundred years ago, leaving an archeological treasure trove.”

  “By who or what?” I asked.

  “Still unknown. They came, they killed or took the people, and they left.”

  “Killed or took?”

  “Astava, the city most easily accessed from our own world, didn’t contain nearly enough remains to account for the population.” Cuinn shrugged. “And we assumed that the invaders left since no one’s there any longer to ask.”

  “So the Khrynsani have this world—or at least a portion of it—to themselves,” Mychael said.

  “We assume so.”

  “And they sent the Rak’kari into the Void from there?”

  Cuinn nodded. “They would need an unlinked mirror and a mage who had the talent and strength to hold it open.” He saw my confused expression and backtracked. “When a mirror is linked to another, it forms a tunnel inside the Void from one place to another, a destination. Tunnels are what give mirrors their stability and enable travel. When an unlinked mirror opens directly into the Void, the Void itself is the destination.”

  “But nothing—well, other than Rak’kari—can live there,” I said.

  “Exactly. And in the hands of anyone other than a master mirror mage, such an opening would instantly turn into a vortex. Everything in its pull would be sucked into the Void. If the mage completely lost control of the mirror, theoretically there’s no limit to what would be pulled inside.”

  I whistled.
“That would be bad.”

  “Very.”

  “But if the mirror mage was strong enough to hold and stabilize an unlinked mirror,” I ventured, “you’re saying that it would give them direct access to the inside of the Void itself.”

  “Correct.”

  “And they could essentially toss in the spiders and ‘slam the door,’ so to speak.”

  “Precisely.”

  “You’re the strongest mirror mage on the island right now, which makes you one of the strongest in the Seven Kingdoms.”

  “Well, that’s open for debate, and—”

  “Yes or no.”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you strong enough to hold an unlinked mirror?”

  “I believe so, yes. However, I’m not stupid, desperate, or insane enough to try.”

  I turned to Mychael. “If an elf mirror mage allied with the Khrynsani, that’d qualify them as insane, or at the very least arrogant enough to believe they’d survive dealing with Sarad Nukpana’s inner circle and an unlinked mirror.”

  “Are you thinking of a member of Carnades’s family?” Cuinn asked quietly.

  Silence.

  “We are,” Mychael admitted. “His older sister is reputed to be—”

  Cuinn was shaking his head. “His mother.” His lips curled in a humorless smile. “Another advantage to eavesdropping. I heard Carnades telling one of his…” He paused as if searching for the right word.

  “Minions?” I offered helpfully. “Cronies? Bootlickers?”

  “All of the above, and some you politely didn’t mention. He bragged that he inherited all of his skill from his mother. According to Carnades, Methena Silvanus is considered to be the most powerful mirror mage the Silvanus family has ever produced.”

  Mychael and I exchanged a glance.

  “I’d say that bumps her up the list to our prime suspect,” I told him. “And what do you want to bet she blames all of us for her son’s death.”

  “Can you pinpoint exactly where on Timurus the Rak’kari were released into the Void?” Mychael asked Cuinn.

  “There are only six places on Timurus—at least that are documented by explorers—that are accessible from our own. Of those, there is one plateau where the soil is so permeated with iron that it’s the color of rust. The plateau overlooks the city of Astava, or at least what’s left of it after the war.”