Call of Brindelier (Keepers of the Wellsprings Book 3)

by Missy Sheldrake

  “Oh,” Mouli chuckles and hugs him back. “Figures the one time I don’t cook, you come looking. See this?” She touches her elbows around his waist. “If not for my own bosom, I could put my arms around you twice! Sit down, sit down. Tib, you too. Hm.” She squints past Rian at me and her brow goes up.

  “Well, well,” she grins, “thought you were all at the palace! What’ll it be for you, then, little one? If you’re anything like Flitter, you’ll want your sugar cubes.”

  Mouli slips out of Rian’s embrace, leaving him gaping from her to Shush in disbelief.

  “Oh, indeed,” Shush darts closer to her to whisper. “I do enjoy those. Though, have you any more of those delightful sugared fruits that were out a few days ago? I very much liked those.”

  “Wh—” Rian stares at the two of them in disbelief as she opens a clay canister and tosses Shush a sugared cherry. “You…you can…”

  “Oh, right. Should have told you. We all came in this morning. From Kythshire. It was a big event. Too bad you missed it,” Shush whispers.

  “Mmhm!” Mouli agrees cheerfully as she gathers up some cheese and bread. “It was quite a sight! That’s where everyone is, of course. The palace. Having breakfast with the elves and fairies. I thought you had gone, too. Sit, sit!”

  She practically shoves Rian onto a stool. I sit, too, before she gets pushy. Beside me, Rian seems to be in some kind of trance. Like it’s too much for him to grasp. He’s trying to make sense of it. Mouli sets a plate in front of him, and nudges him when he doesn’t start eating.

  “Eat!” she orders. “Before there’s nothing left of you!”

  “So that spell, all those little hopeful points,” he says to Shush, “those were fairies?”

  Shush laughs, “No, can you imagine? There aren't that many here now. They went back to Kythshire once dawn broke. Only Flitt and Twig and I are here now.”

  Rian takes a bite of bread and chews thoughtfully.

  “So what is that spell, then?” Rian asks.

  “That’s the Princess,” he says. “Margy’s blessing.”

  Rian chokes on his bread. He sputters and gulps from his mug and coughs.

  “What?” he asks weakly. “The Princess?”

  “Sure,” Shush whispers around a mouthful. “That’s why they came. To let everyone know her magic is permitted. She’s had it for a while now, poor child. That’s a big secret to keep.”

  Rian’s eyes slide to Mouli and back to Shush.

  “Are you sure it’s wise?” he whispers to the fairy.

  “What? Oh, yes,” Shush nods. “Everyone knows now. There need to be a lot fewer secrets if we’re going to beat the Dusk. Speaking of which, weren’t we going to make a plan?”

  The churning of my stomach over this news doesn’t trump my hunger. I keep shoving bread into my mouth while the other two talk. Margy’s secret isn’t a secret anymore. They’re going to have to keep her safe now. There’s bound to be people who’ll fear her. Who’ll try to hurt her. Who’ll think it’s too much power for a princess. I hope His Majesty realizes old Finn isn’t going to be enough protection now. I hope the king forgives her for her secret.

  Between that, the offerings, Errie, and the machine, I have too much to think about. Too much to do. I start to eat faster. That’s when I notice their eyes on me.

  “Whut?” I ask through a mouthful of cheese and melon.

  “Rian asked if you’d be coming to the palace,” Shush whispers.

  “We need to get everyone together, on the same page, and work out a plan. The palace is the safest place to do that, and everyone’s there already,” Rian says.

  “You’re right,” I reply with a nod and finish what’s left on my plate in one mouthful. “Do you think you can start without me? I’m going to check on my contraption.” I sigh. “I was going to try and get it done without magic, but I don’t think that’s possible now. I’ll get Valenor to help.”

  “Good idea,” Rian says. “We’ll need that finished sooner rather than later.”

  “Take this,” I say, and hand him the red bottle. He accepts it with a reverent bow of his head.

  “I know just the place for it,” he says quietly.

  My walk from the Elite hall to the shed is strange without Zeze. I think of her, of Margy, as I make my way. Those days are gone. It makes me sad to think about it. I’ll miss her company, but there’s no way she’ll ever be able to join me in the streets again, cat or not. It’s too unsafe.

  Redstone Row is quiet and pleasant this morning. People mill around in the streets in small crowds, excitedly talking about the Dawn procession. Margy’s spell pulses from some of them, but not others. As I pass them by, I try to understand it. It’s hard to at first, but the magic tells a story. Little pieces that put themselves together as I gather them. The spell was a choice. It fell on those who believed in her. Who would protect her. Who love her. If they wanted to, they could pass it on to others. I wonder whether they know that.

  My shed is the same as ever on the outside. Chipped paint, barred door. I rest my hand on the latch. When I look at the door, something catches my healed eye. A figure inside. No, two. I see the outline of each of them. A man. A girl. Quietly, I take my hand away. Step back. Look harder. I can’t make out any more details, but I know who it is already. The likeliest pair to be lying in wait for me, in my own shed.

  My pulse quickens. My face goes red. Did they see my invention? Did they steal it? No, I think to myself. They don’t care about that. They’re here for me. Defeating Osven bought me a little time, but I’m still not safe. They still need my help. They need me to tell them where the entrance is. The floating island. The gateway.

  My instinct is to turn and run. To get as far away as I can from them. To tell the others, or palace guards. Get them arrested. Get them put away. I take a few steps back. Think about it a moment. About Errie. About the offerings. I take a step. Hide myself away.

  “Valenor,” I whisper, closing my eyes. “Are you there?”

  “As ever,” he replies from all around me. “What can I do for you, Tib?”

  “Can you look,” I whisper, “and see whether my plans are down below?”

  “They are,” he replies.

  “Can you send an idea to Ruben and Raefe?” I ask.

  “I can,” he replies. “Are you about to do something foolish, Tib?”

  “I think so,” I murmur with my hand on the latch. “Will you stay with me?”

  “I shall,” he says. “Though it might not seem so, I shall stand beside you.”

  “This is a really stupid idea, isn’t it?” I ask him.

  “One of your worst,” he replies, “though inevitable. Still, it holds promise.”

  Inevitable is a good word, I think. I keep fighting these Sorcerers, this fortress. Fighting them, and being taunted by them. I know I’m supposed to go there again. Valenor knows it, too. Something inside me compels me to do it. Some little voice in the back of my mind knows I’ll end up there eventually. If I’m going again, I want it to be on my terms. I won’t let them trick me again. Won’t let them hurt anyone else I love, or surprise me.

  “They’ll just think they did,” I whisper to Valenor.

  “Indeed,” he replies.

  I step out from hiding again and go back to the door. Look inside. See something else. Not just Celli and Dub. Something, or half of something. It shifts in and out, like a creature not quite there.

  “Is that a Dusk fae?” I whisper.

  “A spirit,” Valenor replies. “Do not be alarmed, but I believe it to be Osven.”

  “Great,” I mumble. “Just what I needed. Leave it to a Sorcerer not to stay dead.”

  I slip a knife from my bandolier and palm it. Not sure why. Dub has me beat with knives. Celli’s probably stronger than I am now, after whatever they did to her. And who knows what kind of damage a Sorcerer’s spirit can do. I hesitate with my hand on the latch. This is stupid. Brash. Even for me. I shake my head. Think of Errie. Unloc
k the bolt and push the door open. Step inside.

  Nothing. I pull the door closed behind me. Hesitate. Wait for an attack. When it doesn’t come, I start toward the hatch. Dub grabs me from behind around the shoulders. I grip my knife and raise it, then make a show of dropping it on the floor. It clatters in the dust. Celli comes and picks it up.

  Dub chuckles. Presses one of his blades to my throat. “Don’t. Move,” he hisses.

  Celli creeps into view, holding my knife. She looks me over.

  “You made him bleed,” she says quietly to Dub. “Master won’t be happy with that. We’re supposed to make friends, aren’t we? A truce, Tib. How about that?”

  “A truce?” I choke under Dub’s grip.

  “Loosen up a little, Dub,” Celli says. “Just so he can talk.”

  He does, but not much.

  “I’ll come with you,” I say. “I’m tired of being scared about who’s next.” I glance at the shimmer of a form beside her in the darkness. “When that Sorcerer showed up at Nessa’s…” I shake my head. Hope I’m convincing. “I won’t let that happen again. They’re too powerful to fight. If they promise to leave my friends alone, I’ll do what they want.”

  Celli narrows her eyes. She looks at me hard. Fingers the bracelet on her wrist. The shimmer whispers something. I can’t really hear it. It’s all jumbled.

  “He’s not lying,” she scoffs. “That sounds exactly like the Tib I know. Self-righteous. Overprotective. The big hero.” She waves Dub away, and he lowers his knife.

  “You’re in charge, Celli. If I had my way,” he growls into my ear, “you’d be dead.” He shoves me toward her.

  “You take him back,” he says. “I’ve got other orders.”

  “Master didn’t say anything about other orders,” Celli glares at him.

  “They weren’t for you to hear,” Dub spits. His good eye looks me over. Bores into my healed one. He sneers angrily and utters a string of curses. Then he turns and yanks the door open and slams it behind him.

  Celli grips my arm hard. Leads me to the far corner. Pulls something from her pocket. Presses her hand into a carving in the wall. A carving that wasn’t there before. I can’t really see what she’s doing. It’s too dark.

  “Repeat after me,” she says. “Sparrow and fox, boar and perch, foreshine, forewarn, induct, destroy.” She glances at me. “Asio.”

  I do as she says. Repeat the words. I have no time to react. Something creeps over me. Tendrils. Magic. It grabs me and pulls me into the wall, and then I’m falling like when Rian takes me through the Half-Realm, only faster. More violently. We crash to the floor before I can brace myself, and I gasp for the breath that was knocked out of me.

  The room is circular, with a pinpoint window all the way at the top of a high dome. I roll to my side and pant as my ability to breathe comes back. Look around. The floor is a starburst, gold and black. The walls are alcoves. Three. Six. Two pedestals have bottles on them. Bottles of glowing liquid. Four are empty. My heart pounds. Of all the rooms she could have brought me to, what were the odds we’d end up in this one?

  I try to be still, to act like I’m stunned, so I can take stock of the magic here. Wards like I’ve never felt. Tangled up all together. Pressing down. Swirling and spinning. Anyone, any enemy, who tried to come in here would be confused. They’d want to leave. To run. They’d be terrified. If they made it in, they’d go mad.

  “Well, well,” the Sorcerer’s voice makes my skin crawl. I push myself to my feet. Try not to look too defiant. “Impressive, Celli.”

  He walks around me, looking me up and down. I recognize this one. Quenson.

  “He came willingly, Master,” she says.

  “Is that so?” Quenson tilts his head to the side. Watches me like I’m prey.

  “He says he wishes to cooperate, if we’ll leave his friends alone,” she says.

  “Really?” Quenson snorts. “But you have deceived us before, Nullen. How can I be certain you won’t do it again?”

  “I thought we could come to an agreement,” I say. “I’ll show you the gate if you’ll make a deal with me.”

  His eyes flash with that same greedy hope I saw in them the last time I made the same promise. Then they narrow.

  “It’s closer than you think,” I lean toward him. Try to be enticing.

  “And in exchange?” He licks his lips. It’s working.

  “The boys from Cerion. The ones you stole. Griff, Mikken, and Errie. Let them go,” I say.

  “Celli,” Quenson says slowly, rubbing his chin. “Take him to Osven’s chamber while I consult with the others. You shall treat him as our guest. And Tibreseli, I expect you to behave as such, as an act of good faith between us.”

  I nod to him in agreement, and watch him go.

  “This way,” Celli says. She’s got no emotion in her voice at all. No wariness. No concern or question. She walks in silence, guided by the spirit of Osven.

  So far, so good, I think. They trust me enough not to keep me tied or chained. They’re treating me as a guest. Valenor knows I’m here, and Mevyn would aid me if I asked him to. I’m confident, but not over confident. The machine? Taken care of, I hope. The son? Soon to be released, maybe. The offerings? Mine, if I can figure out a way to slip from Celli’s eye and back to that circle room without being seen. I’ll have to show them the island first, though. There’s no way around that, if Errie’s going to be saved.

  Chapter Thirty-Six: Dining Hall

  Azi

  “She says she doesn’t want to see you right now,” Saesa whispers after having slipped out of the dining room door just a moment before. Merry sounds of revelry drift through the thick carved wood: laughter, song, and dance. “She said…” she looks away and takes a deep breath.

  “What, Saesa? Tell me,” I slump back against the wall, defeated.

  “She said you’re a bad Mentalist, and if you want to stay friends with her, you have to figure out a way to prove you’re sorry.” She winces. “Sorry, m’lady.”

  I rub my eyes and push myself from the wall to start pacing. “Prove it?” I whisper. “How, though?” I try to contain my anger at myself. We don’t have time for this now. I should be in there doing my duty as Ambassador to Kythshire. Making plans to triumph over the Dusk. Keeping my promise to Princess Margy. Instead I’m cast out, and it’s all my fault.

  “Can you go back in,” I say, “and just ask her what I can do? How I can make it up to her?”

  “Of course,” she says, and goes in again.

  This time when she comes out, she looks very grave.

  “She said…” she hesitates again.

  “Saesa, it’s all right.”

  “She said, ‘Thick as always. Typical. I said figure out a way, didn’t I? That means she has to think of it herself. Or maybe ask…” Saesa shifts uncomfortably and clears her throat.

  “Ask who?”

  “…Stinky,” she replies, and her cheeks burn red. “Sorry, Lady Knight, but that’s what she said.”

  “This is the last thing I need right now,” I say, clenching my fists. “How could I have been so careless?”

  “You? Careless? I don’t believe it,” Rian’s voice echoes in my mind and I whirl around, searching for him. As soon as I spot him coming from the opposite end of the corridor, all of my anger drops away. I forget myself and break into a run through the palace hallway until we crash together in a tight, desperate embrace.

  His soft kiss starts out sweet, but quickly grows deeper and more passionate. We forget our place for a moment until Saesa clears her throat softly from down the hall and we force ourselves to pull away from each other.

  His eyes linger on my face, and his finger traces the Mark at my collar. I start to look away in shame, but he lifts my chin with a gentle touch and tilts his head with concern.

  “What happened?” he asks, not with a judgmental or harsh tone, but out of concern. His tenderness causes the floodgate of tears to open once more, and I can’t help myself. I bu
ry my face into the chest of his soft robes and cry.

  “We’ll be back, Saesa. Wait here please,” he says, and I feel the shift as he slips me into the Half-Realm.

  “Azi, what happened?” he asks again after the torrent of tears settles down. I recount my entire morning to him, from the moment I woke up until the moment he appeared in the hallway. He’s patient and quiet as he listens, which only makes me feel more awful. If I had his restraint, if I was able to control myself the way he does, I wouldn’t be in this situation. When I’m finally through, he lets out a breath as though he’d been holding it the entire time I was talking.

  “Why didn’t you tell Master Gaethon about the archer?” he asks. His question throws me off.

  “I did,” I frown. “I thought I did.”

  “You didn’t. If you had, he would have reacted differently. Look,” he guides me to look at him again, his hazel eyes inviting and warm. “What you did was overreaching, Azi. Looking into a sleeping mind without consent. Stealing a memory that you shouldn’t have taken. But the reason you did it was forgivable. You were concerned for the safety of the King. As for Flitt…” he sighs. “Shush?”

  “It was a misunderstanding,” Shush whispers as he slowly comes into view beside Rian. “Flitt’s got a wren in a spider’s web when it comes to you. One small move and the gossamer breaks. She’s put a lot of faith in you through all this. She talked you up to everyone, even the Queen herself. She probably just feels like she has to keep you in check, that’s all.”

  His effort to help me feel better only causes my heart to sink more. I shouldn’t have let her down.

  “We need to get this resolved and focus,” Rian says matter-of-factly. “Too much is in the balance right now. The stakes are high. I’d show you,” he looks at me, “but I don’t think you’d better for a while.”

  “I won’t,” I say. “I don’t want to, ever again.”

  “I’ll tell you, then,” he says, and he does. He recounts everything from his encounter at the Ganvent house to his journey to Kaso Viro to his nearly missed breakfast this morning. By the time he’s through, my tears are dry and I feel a fresh determination to jump to action.