“I’m not sure I understand.”
She patted my arm. “They will safeguard and protect, even when you do not remember their presence.”
I held out my arm and examined it closely; as I watched the outline faded into the creamy hue of my skin. It almost might not have happened at all, except for an ever so delicate imprint. Nest wandered away, and I made my way towards the courtyard. Mordon stayed behind to talk with people. I didn’t mind, still admiring my arm with fascination. Mordon indicated that I could go. The Elders were leaving, anyway.
According to their reactions, today’s small drama had been just that: a small drama. Nothing too important, nothing unexpected. That they had expected my answer made me wonder. As I got out of the thick of the crowd, I heard the conversation sway towards different subjects. Things like the weather, or who was live-bearing, a comment to discourage another woman from trying to raise a clutch.
I glanced at my arm.
The mark was gone now, and I could imagine that it had never truly been present. Magic could be so peculiar at times, so quick to fade, yet so permanent. I wandered about the courtyard, not noticing people as I relieved the strange occurrence. A tree laden with pollen shuddered beneath a squirrel, dusting my shoulders. I shook it off, brushing at my dress.
When I bumped my trinkets necklace, I realized that the bottle was warm. Two words inside winked at me.
Drink Me.
It seemed I had a message. I glanced around. Nobody seemed to notice me, but I wanted privacy just in case I should respond.
Careful of steps worn to a saggy middle, I climbed up a staircase within the castle walls. My quarters were near at hand, but I couldn’t recall which covering draped over the entrance to my small room. Was it the tapestry of the koi pond, or the water lilies? Or the garden scene with the bridge? A quick peek inside confirmed: it was the one with the bridge.
Someone had left a collapsible tray made of fancy joinery of various woods. They’d taken the idea of stained glass and applied it to wood, bringing it to a high polish with what smelled like bees wax. When the tiny table was set up, I sat on the bed and the tray angled over my lap. How they knew I wanted a writing surface, I wasn’t sure. It probably had to do with their ancestors. Though I hadn’t ever seen any ghosts here, I certainly did have an uncanny way of not getting lost in the castle despite my long history of getting lost everywhere else.
I took one last look at the glossy depiction of an idealized farmland complete with many blossoming flowers, then focused on the task at hand.
I uncorked Leif’s message.
You are on the Council Persons of Interest. Not good. All 150 armed guards on patrol have your ID. Stay away. Also - No record of BFR. It’s Unwritten. -L.
No surprise that Cole would have me on a watch list of some kind or another. That was to be expected. The news about the guards was strange, however, since I’d never known anyone but Constables to be in the Market. Where did they even get guards on such short order?
Private hire. Had to be.
I sighed, rubbed the bridge of my nose and tried to let myself think.
A patrol force of privately hired guards spelled out nothing good. Who footed the bill? Who did they listen to? Fifty guards would have been adequate for peacekeeping the Market, considering that usually it was watched over by Barnes, Mordon, and a small civil force of ten or so residents. They’d be outnumbered fifteen to one if they came into direction conflict with Cole’s private hire guards. I didn’t like those odds.
Supposing the civil force grew their numbers to compensate, I could foresee the guards growing, too. This was a train wreck waiting to happen, but amidst cries for safety and stability from us ‘militant creatures’ …
I stopped.
This was what Leif’s special project had been about: to see how far Cole could use Creatures as a scapegoat, to see how big of a force he could hire to keep the civilians in line with. All under the guise of a concerned civil servant, who was acting completely in with the thought of keeping order and prosperity.
I got up and paced across the floor.
Leif’s project must have impressed Cole after all, in order for him to have access to these hard numbers and know who was on the Persons of Interest list. My spine turned to jelly. I sank onto the floor with my shoulders pressed against the wall.
Leif was in too deep to withdraw now.
We both were.
I couldn’t abandon him now, and I couldn’t reveal our secret without endangering him.
Cole had set the chessboard; our pieces were in order, the first preliminary moves made. Me ousted from the Market, Mordon gone with me. Lilly as leverage if Leif misstepped. Leif nestled in close to him. Did he know? Was he using Leif deliberately, controlling what it was that Leif was told? It could be. The way to know would be to have others like him in different places, to cross-reference their reports against one another. But who else did I know? Who else was I willing to risk?
No.
I dabbled in many things. Spymaster could not and should not be one of them. This deal with Leif had simply happened, and I needed to be there for him. Plain and simple.
My task was to work in tandem with him, to take whatever he said with a grain of salt.
I had to find the Broken Feather Rite, one Unwritten in a class of spells whose number was unknown and which only the eldest people even somewhat remembered. Before it was too late.
Chapter Fourteen
Late afternoon found me in the Colony’s mead hall getting strips of roast beef off the spit, balancing my plate with my bag of books. Kit happened to be in the hall at the same time, and she stopped running her errands briefly to see me. She reached into her basket and withdrew a bandana which was wrapped around hard, compact cookies of some kind.
“These are for you, milady. I heard you’re going to be in the sky a lot over the next few days, and no one else is going to think to tell you how exhausted you’ll be. This is a fat ball. It’s made of butter, oats, nuts, dried smoked salmon, grated Parmesan, and dried cranberries. You’ll want to eat two or three per day, I’ve given you a dozen. I recommend eating it after a hard flight, that’s when you’ll be hungry. Come see me in a few days, and I’ll have more made.”
Curious, I sniffed one. It didn’t smell bad, not at all, but I wasn’t sure what to think of the combination of ingredients. “Thank you.”
She nodded, dipped her head, and said, “I need to go to the nursery now.”
“Of course.” I watched her go, wondering if I detected just a hint of jealousy or sadness from her. I couldn’t tell. At times, I could be as dense as a brick when it came to other people’s emotions.
I ate quickly, hesitating when it came to trying the fat ball. While I had no reason to think that Kit would give me anything bad to eat, the doubt still lingered in my mind. I tucked it back into its wrap without tasting it.
With the ticking timeline that Death had given me, I had plenty to do. It required a place to work. My fire watching station house could do.
I started to head in that direction, but when I reached the door to the mead hall, I physically bumped into Aeron.
“Feraline, I was looking for you.”
“Ah. Alright.”
He held out an arm and indicated we should go outside. “Where to?”
“A nice, quiet place I could practice some new spells that I’ve learned would be great.”
Aeron thought about it for a moment, walking us along the edge of the courtyard which had gone no less quiet than the day before. Instead of a market, the entire area had been turned into an activity zone for children to burn off energy like little banshees on a caffeine overdose. Human children dominated the scene, but a small number of them were in their dragon bodies learning how to fight from the ground. I would have stopped to watch, but Aeron kept us moving.
“How does the garden pergola sound?” he asked.
“It’ll be fine if it has a good table and is quiet.”
“Sounds perfect, then.”
We approached an entrance in the castle walls. Aeron led the way through the narrow hall, taking me in a different direction than I’d ever gone before.
Aeron stepped out of the hallway. I followed him onto a sloping road cobbled with river stones which led into a formal garden complete with a babbling brook, a lily pond, neat hedges, and a pergola. It was tucked into a corner near the pond.
All four sides were open to the elements, but a folding screen rested against one pillar to be used if needed. Hooks of all heights hung from the rafters over the table, and beneath the table were shelves upon shelves of everything one could require for spell crafting.
The wood thudded under Aeron’s heavy boots as he climbed the three steps to the pergola. He rapped his knuckles against the table. “What do you need?”
“Uh. Candles, I think. And let me see if I have all the plants.” I dumped my bag unceremoniously onto the table, tossing the plastic baggies of herbs this way and that as I checked them against the list on page 45 of Skills of the Thaumaturge, where I had recorded Julius's recommendations. The pages twitched in the wind.
Aeron grabbed the screen, saying, “Here. Let’s set this up for a wind block.”
“Thank you,” I said instead of reminding him that I was a wind elemental.
He seemed to remember on his own. He stopped, hands on the screen. “Were you going to let me make a fool of myself?”
“I was going to ask for it to block the sun. I’ll turn red as a lobster in no time at all,” I said with a smile.
Aeron blinked, as if for once he truly saw the blinding snowy whiteness that was my complexion. He said, “You could learn to bring your dragon hide up. It will protect you.”
“Huh. Really?” I held out my hands and tried to summon a few scales. Nothing happened.
“It comes with time and practice,” Aeron said. He came to my side of the table, turned the book slightly so he could read it.
“Aethel’s book, is it?” he asked, evidently recognizing the slim volume.
“It is.”
“How did you pry it from Mordon’s fingers?” Aeron looked amused at the thought of it.
I grinned at the mental image of me trying to pry anything from Mordon’s fingers. “I didn’t. He gave it to me.”
“Fascinating.”
“Why? Was he fond of it?”
Aeron let one shoulder rise and fall in a half-shrug. “It has history to it, and Mordon is fond of anything with an intriguing past.”
“Oh.”
We talked. Sometimes it was about what could go wrong with this spell, or how to fix that one, or how to measure volume when the units had changed long ago. I was surprised by how well I could carry on a conversation with Mordon’s father. My earlier experiences with him had been a little overwhelming, but now we fit together as if he had always been part of the family.
We each ate a fat ball, the taste was largely that of the cranberries and a bit of the fish. Surprisingly, I didn’t mind the flavor so much. It restored my energy quickly, making me feel a little jittery as if I’d eaten a lot of sugar.
Hours went by without my notice. We’d gotten onto the subject of the advantages of stone masonry over brick laying when I asked, “Who was responsible for building the mead hall?”
“Amongst our earliest settlers were Basque brothers. With patience, they had the other drakes trained for construction. In fact, we still have one of their daughters who advises on the planning board.”
Aeron was about to say something more, but a voice cut him off.
“Aeron!”
My stomach flopped. I knew that voice, and I didn’t like who it belonged to. Striding across the river rock path with fury in his swinging arms was Caledon. He looked newly awakened, as if he’d slept all day long. I clenched my fists, releasing a long breath through the nose to steady myself.
Caledon didn’t even acknowledge my presence. He faced Aeron and demanded, “Why is there no combat challenge?”
Aeron lifted a single brow the same way Mordon usually did, and he said, “The Elders convened. They decided that a combat challenge was not in our best interest.”
“I had no say in the matter!”
Aeron held stock still, taking in his elder son for a few seconds. At last, he said, “You were passed out drunk in your room.”
Caledon’s face flushed brilliant red. He stared at Aeron, his whole body tense. I thought he was going to launch himself at Aeron in a violent rage. Aeron stood calmly, waiting.
Caledon whirled on his heel and strode away, muttering loud words of ill-contained fury.
Aeron stared off in the direction his son had gone. Presently, he turned to me, taking in the last traces of the spell as I cleaned off my work counter.
“You work too hard,” Aeron said finally.
“If I could get things right, then I wouldn't have to,” I said with a shrug.
Not long later, I took a damp rag to scrub free the remaining chalk lines on the near-black table. Aeron tied my chalk roll shut. A deep furrow formed between his eyebrows. The expression could have easily been picked up off his face and dropped onto Mordon's. Both men seemed to be sporting it ever since Caledon had arrived.
His persistence left me rather rattled, though I did not want to call attention to it. True, Caledon's behavior could barely be called harassment and it might even be called complimentary. Still, the knowledge of his position as Kragdomen's heir gave him a predatory edge. At least he knew not to cross unspoken boundaries.
I thought about the possible mating flight, how quickly it could go wrong and how it would be to take Caledon instead of Mordon. A shudder went through my body.
Aeron flipped a cover over the table. “We should talk.”
He made for one of the walking paths which wound the grounds below the castle. This particular path had the downhill side lined with a white, two-rail fence. Sweet peas snaked their way up posts, the most mature of them just beginning to form green buds. We made it to the first switchback, and I saw that the rocky face also had some kind of bean climbing up it.
“I haven't been on this path yet,” I said.
Aeron's arm swept to encompass the valley our trail led to, all green fields and livestock. Hay was down in some fields, farmers were cutting it in others, releasing the sweet scent of alfalfa through the softening light. Aeron said, “It is my favorite walk.”
“I can see why.”
We kept going until we reached a small deck with its benches. A quietly chattering mother-daughter pair passed by us on their way uphill. They nodded to Aeron, who nodded back but no one spoke until the ladies were gone.
Aeron said, “I heard rumors about you and a girl called Willow-Fitzgerald?”
“Railey Willow-Fitzgerald, yes. She was my friend, killed when she was trying to end an Unwritten.”
“You were there?”
“It was go with her, or leave her to her own devices. Yes, I went. I wish I'd done differently.”
Aeron's face was devoid of emotion as he stared out at the valley. “It haunts you.”
“How could it not? Most days are good days, though.”
“Why are you haunted by her?”
I opened my mouth, then closed it. Why? That was a good question. “I was supposed to keep her safe. I didn't.”
“Your sense of duty drives you to overwork? You believe that your failure means that now you must fix the Unwrittens?”
“I hadn't thought of it like that. I'm not sure.”
“If you fail now, will you think that your first true failure started with Willow-Fitzgerald?”
“No. Cole was behind her death. I can't be held responsible for another's actions.”
Aeron nodded. “I am sorry for your loss. It is truly a tragedy.”
“Thank you.”
Aeron resumed the walk, taking each step with confidence that came from
practice. He said, “Have patience with Mordon. He's gone though a great deal to reach this point.”
“I'm under the impression he wasn't going to rule, thereby living under Caledon's shadow, and at some point Caledon left Mordon to fill his shoes?”
“You put that rather colorfully, but it is essentially true. When Caledon reached the age of seventeen, he undertook his Journey. As a journeyman, the young adults explore the greater world. They must make their own way, even if they must go hungry from time to time. They may return if needed, but it is reserved for extenuating circumstances, and the journeymen are sent on their way as soon as is reasonable.”
“It gets them out to see what the rest of the world is like, huh? Ever have anyone decide life was better away from the colony?”
He snorted. “Caledon.”
“Oh. That was a dumb question.”
“No, I was rude. Yes, some individuals choose not to remain with the colony, but that number is slim. Of those who choose to leave, most go to other settlements or live solo with a mate.” He sounded tired and wearied at the thought of losing people.
“It must be hard to watch them go.”
“Everyone here is cared-for and beloved. We believe in freedom of the individual. Should they be happiest here, we prefer it. However, if their well-being depends upon them living elsewhere, then we would rather they go.”
“You said happiness and well-being. Is that your duty to provide?”
Aeron raised a slow, skeptical brow now that he realized the change in our interviewing roles. “My duty is to provide a safe, stable environment and to serve those under my wing.”
“The leader as a public servant? It's a difficult claim to maintain.”
Aeron grunted as if he'd heard the almost-accusation a hundred times before. “My job is first to see that they are able to do theirs.”
“Hmm.”
“You do not sound convinced.”
“It isn't that. It's something that I noticed around here.”
“Yes?”
“The leader eats last.” A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. “And Mordon takes after you.”
Wind Magic Page 10