Wind Magic

by Nicolette Jinks

  Good, I thought. “So, what’s the deal?”

  “The Broken Feather Rite will require Death to meet with us in Selestiani on a new moon. The one next month will be the soonest that we will have the required potions cured.”

  I considered this is mute silence, wishing that I could ask them if there was a way we could trick the spell into accepting the current moon, or find the potions already cured. Neither could be done, and nobody knew this better than a Swift did. Another thing that I could rest assured of was that if anyone understood how important it was not to have Death stuck as a mortal, it would be the First Order.

  “Death’s party is well before the new moon,” I commented instead, knowing that this would be our next largest obstacle. “He won’t skip it.”

  “No,” Julius said. “He wouldn’t.”

  “So, how are we to keep him from dying during it?” I mused, snatching a leaf from a convenient bush and rolling it between my fingers to form a slender tube with the glossy edge outside. I wished that there was a generic health potion that we could give him a ton of, but Lilly would have tsked at me for expressing the thought. They’re all specialized, she’d say, you should know that.

  The three phoenixes exchanged the same blank expression. Julius said, “I showed you warding and good-luck charms.”

  “Yes, and I’ve done them, but I’m afraid that it won’t be enough.”

  “If you have the money, you could attempt to hire a personal guard for him,” Aurelius said.

  Mordon or Leif may be able to get the money together, but I wasn’t convinced that would do what Death needed. “I think he’d leave them behind, with how often he travels and how little he trusts people. Not to mention, I’m not sure if we could pay someone enough money to babysit Death when someone else has enough money to outbid us. No, I think we either need to make him immortal again before the party, or find another way to ensure he doesn’t die.”

  “It is not possible to act before the next new moon,” Julius said, prepared to launch into detail about why this was.

  “Yeah, yeah. I assume that your potion will require mandrake mingled by the silver light of the moon mixed with clear spring water and stirred with a unicorn hair or some such thing like that.”

  Artemis gaped at me with an open mouth and huge eyes, as if I had just predicted accurately the color of her underwear. She said, “I thought that no one else remembered it.”

  “It was what Mother would say whenever there was a task that had become unnecessarily complicated.” I cocked my head in consideration. “Huh. It’s been ages since she’s said that. I didn’t even remember it until now. So far as I know, she’s never actually done anything remotely like that, though, so I don’t think we remember the potion. At least, not enough to repeat.”

  Soothed by my admission, Artemis closed her mouth and regarded me with less shock. My words had still made her feel uneasy, though, she leaned away from me as if expecting me to turn into a snake if she took her eyes off my body. Cool wind gave me a shiver. The sun was setting on the far side of the redwood and evergreen trees bordering the lake, lighting the water and sky with brilliant streaks of purples and pinks. Through the woods, I heard the hoots of the group I’d left. They were getting louder.

  Julius rested his hand on my shoulder, as if he understood where my mind had gone. He said, “We will do all that we can, I promise that to you, but these are things which took time to be done and will take time to be undone.”

  I nodded. “I know.”

  “We will have the rite prepared, and we will have the potion done, but there is no way to take a short cut on this matter. We can and will restore him to his former position, but our resources are strained in order to do this. We need you to carry out what needs done in the interim.”

  Frowning, I was able to understand what he meant even through the fuzz in my head. “So, once the new moon arrives, Death is your job. Until then, he’s my charge to keep safe?”

  “Yes.”

  “Great. I’ll have to think about how I’m going to do that, since Death isn’t the best patient. He tends to run off without telling me where he’s going.”

  “I think it is obvious where he is going,” Julius said with a wry smile.

  I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, that’s true.”

  “I’m confident you will think of something.”

  Then I frowned. There was something nagging at my memory, but what was it? Denise, I had Denise’s face coming to me, but I didn’t know why. She surely did not know how to restrain Death, and she’d been learning safeguarding spells from me.

  “What is it?” Julius asked.

  “I’m not sure. I think I may have an idea, but it’s slipping away. That’s going to bother me now.”

  Julius opened his mouth, but closed it. We had company.

  Valerin stood at the head of the trail which led into the small garden the phoenixes occupied. From the way he held one wrist in his other hand, he had been sent by the others to retrieve me, but he knew better than to interrupt even a partial formation of the First Order. Artemis lifted her head in his direction, the setting sun casting a golden curve along her chin and neck.

  “Yes, Wolds?”

  He bent at the waist in a half-bow and spoke to the ground. “I am here at our host’s request.”

  Aurelius said, “Gudovan is missing his guest of honor, I assume?”

  “Yes, he is, if you are prepared to part with her?”

  According to the quirk of Aurelius’s eyebrow, Gudovan did not ask if he could have somebody. He commanded it, and Aurelius knew this. Artemis said, “You may have her.”

  “I like how my opinion was completely bypassed in this conversation,” I said. While I was prepared for this sarcasm to be met with irritation, I was not prepared for what it was met by: amusement.

  Julius asked, “What is your opinion?”

  Artemis and Aurelian both watched me.

  “I think if I didn’t have an excuse to get drunk before, I do now.”

  Valerin extended his arm and said, “You aren’t allowed to think about work. This is recreation.”

  We returned to the drakes, my mind buzzing.

  At the brazier, I found my seat between Gudovan and Glyka had been taken by a chicklet who was completely enamored with Glyka. I took an instant dislike to her and her perfectly painted nails, her luscious beach waves, and killer curves. Never before had I seen such a picture of femininity.

  I settled in between Firan and Valerin, annoyed that it gave me a clear view of the new girl. Firan asked a question I couldn’t hear, so he leaned in so close his lips brushed my ear. When he asked, “Do you want to know who she is?” I was a little astonished at the harshness of my tone, “No.”

  He tipped his head to see my face, and I put a name to the intense dislike I felt towards the woman. It was jealousy, not an emotion I was accustomed to feeling, and not a feeling that I wanted to have right now. As if the First Order’s double-whammy wasn’t enough, I also found that I was envious of the attention Miss-Perfect-Lips was getting from Glyka.

  Firan made a comment which was drowned out by a loud “ha-ha-ha-ha!”

  “What?” I asked, beginning to feel added frustration from all the noise.

  “I didn’t know you were bi,” he said right into my ear.

  I shrugged, thought about telling him that I wasn’t, and saw that would be a strange thing to say. Why else was I drawn to her? Now that I thought of it, she wasn’t the first girl I’d liked. A moment flashed through memory, when we were kids giving kisses on a double-dog-dare. To me, it hadn’t been a chore or even much of a dare at all, but to the girl who had kissed me it was worthy of a shudder and dramatized mouth-washing. I’d thought it was all for show, but maybe it wasn’t. Maybe I really was bi. It was a strange thought. How could I have gone this long without knowing? I guess I had Sam to thank for taking me out of the dating pool early, and then there was my restrictive upbringing …

  Firan and Va
lerin swept in suddenly, placing simultaneous kisses on my cheeks.

  “Hey!” I slapped the only part of them that I had access to: their knees. Laughter burst out all around us, in particular Gudovan’s ha’s and the perfect girl’s nasally snort. Glyka’s eyes opened wide at the piggish noise from her companion. Vindication swept through me. Glyka had enjoyed my laugh, but not Perfect Lip’s laugh. Mark one up for me.

  “That kiss was not so grand, my friends. See one better,” Gudovan said right as he turned to the piggish-snorting strumpet and kissed her at just the right angle so Glyka could join in.

  Jealous competitiveness reared its ugly head, and two beers later I’d drunk more than my meal could balance out and one three-way kiss led to partner swapping and the introduction of the double-dog-dare game. Amazingly to me, nobody else in the party seemed to really care about our antics. They called for the band to pick up the beat, and Firan became so enthusiastic about a bouncy tune that I agreed to join him in the line dance.

  Once linked arm-in-arm with strangers, I soon realized that I knew absolutely none of the steps, but that it hardly mattered. So long as my arms were locked in with others, the whole line would pull me this way and that way, around a radius, then we had to break for a spin and partner exchange. Valerin snagged me while I was wandering after the rest, took me into a few tight steps, then I was yanked off-course into Gudovan’s arms for the same treatment, only faster.

  A rapid beat of the drum marked a change in the steps which I’d barely gotten used to, and next thing I knew I’d fallen into Glyka’s arms. She moved with me far better than Gudovan did, navigating my clumsiness with an expert nudge here and there rather than moving me by brute force. With Glyka, I felt like a dancer, not a rag doll.

  Then we were in the line again, and this time I knew the steps. Twice more I went through the motions, but each time the song repeated it got faster and faster, so by the third repeat I decided to sit out. Thoroughly coated in sweat and a bit dizzy, I wondered if I should sit in front of the brazier where I would not get cold, or stand out of its heat so I could cool off.

  That was where Glyka found me, leaning against a tree which was almost but not quite to the seating area. Her cheeks were flushed, and I wasn’t sure how much of it was from the dancing.

  “You feeling well?” she asked.

  I was. I was feeling more than well. “A little flushed, I think, that’s all.”

  “Ever been part of this before?”

  “The mating flight? Never. I assumed it was only done once?”

  Glyka smiled. “Everyone does a big event once, but they can chose to do others as well, or a series of small ones before the big one. Or any time they want to part from their partner.”

  “Have you done this before?”

  “Yes.” The smile faded, a distant expression glazed her eyes as she stared off into the darkness beyond the light of the fire. “She died.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Hunters took the one before her. My first mate was male, you know. We were a good team together, but we were friends rather than lovers. We’d been planning on splitting before they took his life.”

  “I didn’t know that drakes were still hunted.”

  Glyka shook her head, brought back from wherever she’d been. “It isn’t as bad as it used to be, but when he was killed was over a century ago it was still a common practice. Do you want to know what happened to my last mate?”

  “If you want to tell me.”

  “You are curious, though, aren’t you?” She shut her eyes as if that could shut out the memory.

  “Glyka,” I said. “You don’t have to tell me.”

  “Infection, antibiotic resistant. That was decades ago, when those infections were unheard of. It set in after childbirth.” She stiffened. “You must be careful. I know that single deliveries are touted as safer than clutches, but I think if we’d done differently...”

  “I think you did the best anyone could have.”

  She nodded.

  Tentatively, I cupped her face. Soft, padded cheeks, so different from men’s faces which were roughened with stubble. I wondered what she would think of me, what others would think of me for taking part in this. For now, I didn’t want that to matter. I licked my lips and kissed her. She tasted of heather ale and the hot spice from the lamb, smelled of wild pansy and chocolate perfume well worn by the sweat of dancing. She’d always known that I loved Mordon, and even now she did not deny it. This was a different kind of magic, the tender dalliance of two wanderers alone in the night soon to part.

  Glyka turned her body, her attention diverted by a change in the revelers. Several had stopped dancing and were now clustered together.

  For a second I could not see why. There were too many heads in the way, other people who had become intrigued the same way that we had but had the advantage of being closer to the interruption.

  Glyka was taller, and she rocked onto the balls of her feet to get a glimpse. At the same time, there was a brief parting in the crowd. Two men approached, both of them obscure silhouettes with the torches at the barbeque pit lighting the area behind them. When they walked, I recognized their movements.

  “It’s Mordon and his brother,” I said softly, for some reason amazed that they would appear now of all times.

  “Which one is which?”

  “Mordon has hair about his shoulders, and I think Caledon is taller.”

  “Hmm.”

  “What?”

  “Why do the attractive ones have to be asses?”

  I bristled at the implication that Mordon was not attractive. “Mordon is not an ass.”

  Glyka laughed. “I wasn’t calling him one.”

  “Well, you certainly couldn’t be talking about Caledon unless the torchlight is really doing something for his appearance.”

  “That must be it.”

  Glyka strode towards the commotion, skirting the edge so we got to the center faster. The wind was stirring now, excited in a way that it hadn’t been since I’d first met Mordon in his shop with no idea of where to go.

  It brought the scent of black pepper, nutmeg, and smoke. Mordon's smell. His signature. I remembered our times together, the delicate stroke of his hands, the fire in his eyes.

  By the time I set eyes on his face, I was ready to fling my arms around him. The hard set to his shoulders stopped me.

  Both brothers stood side-by-side facing a semicircle of drakes with curled fists and stiff expressions, the charge to the air was one of threat and impending violence. It made my heart send chills through my veins, then hot bursts. I wanted to interfere, but Glyka snared my wrist fiercely.

  In a low tone, she said, “Don’t.”

  “But, they’re outnumbered.”

  “Not against those two.” Glyka’s eyes were vertical slits when she stared at me, trying to make me understand what she was saying.

  “Mordon would never hurt me.”

  “We are going to ensure that neither one does.”

  The garden edge we stood in was still warm from the barbeque cinders, lit harshly by the torches and the clouds covering up the night sky. A whisper of honeysuckle wove between bodies and touched Mordon. He glanced once in my direction before returning his attention to Gudovan. They spoke, tense words, hushed words of terms about how they would be allowed to remain, what would cause their eviction, what would cause their ire. Caledon agreed first, bowed at the waist without making it respectful, and stepped aside.

  The noise of other conversations and whispers died so there was an instant of absolute silence disturbed only by the trickle of the creek running over rocks in its course. Everyone waited to hear Mordon's answer.

  “No.”

  The wind was alone in response, tugging at my clothes, twisting my hair. By the time I realized what I was doing, I was standing between an outraged Gudovan and a remarkably calm Mordon.

  “I should have realized that was going to be your answer,” I said with irritation. “W
hy did you say no to his terms, hmm?”

  He was the first person I’d seen at this confrontation who was still completely human, with round eyes and soft skin, hands loosely by his sides. A wrinkle formed above the eyebrow which usually raised, and he said mildly, “I said no because they were his terms, not yours.”

  I poked myself in the chest. “I said yes to Gudovan’s terms. This is his home, not mine, not yours. Everyone else here has agreed to follow them, what makes you special enough to refuse?”

  His eyes flickered briefly to Gudovan then to me again. Mordon tipped his head, folded one hand over his heart, and bowed to Gudovan, saying, “I was in error. Will you permit me to make amends?”

  Gudovan’s jaw went slack, as if he had just witnessed an amazing thing. Then he threw back his head to release a belly laugh. “Hahaha! Yes, of course, welcome to my home. You are a long-lost cousin, and late to dinner. What would bring you pleasure, Mordon?”

  If Mordon was astonished, he did now show it—however, all of the others did. As Gudovan threw his arm around Mordon's shoulders, the rest remained tense yet also interested. Valerin collected me by the hand, guiding me to the midst of the group again, leaving Mordon with Gudovan and a handful of the burly people Gudovan seemed to rely upon.

  “I want to speak with him,” I hissed at Valerin.

  “Do it later, after he’s socialized with Gudovan and Firan.”

  “Firan?” To my surprise, Firan was right there at Mordon's side, watching him with a degree of seriousness I hadn’t seen Firan display before.

  “He is a not what you would assume a fighter looks like, I know,” Valerin said. “He’s practiced, though, and has a way with being able to see the truth behind people.”

  “Does he?”

  “Think of it this way: after the mating flight, you’ll have Mordon all the time. This is the only time you will get our company.”

  The music picked up again, and with it returned the dancers and the previous air of jubilation was eventually restored. There was no doubt that the tone had changed, that the flavor of the wind had altered with the presence of the two brothers. A timer, a countdown, had started. With their arrival had come the physical manifestation of the feud which had too long been ignored. What would happen to the brother who was ousted? Glyka and Valerin remained close by until my eyes were sore from the smoke and my body was tired from the night.