* * *
Mordon didn't warn the others about my suffocation abilities, at least not as far as I could tell. When Lilly came home in a gray robe covered in vomit, she only glanced at where we sat reading through Mordon's Latin book. He had been learning the language, and was mere days ahead of me in lessons.
Mordon sniffed and bared his teeth. “Goblins?”
“They don't like being told 'no',” Lilly huffed, then disappeared into her quarters.
“Wait,” I said, blinking. “A goblin intentionally threw up on her because he didn't like what she had to say?”
Mordon did not look surprised. “If you ever see a goblin, be sure they don't see you.”
His finger tapped the page, and I proceeded to slaughter the pronunciation. The book responded by bolding the words I got wrong. I tried it twice more, and succeeded only in adding to the bolded characters.
“Well, fine,” I told the book, “why don't I just do this the way I know I can?”
Lilly entered and stood before me while I translated a passage about interpreting dreams.
Lilly cut me off, “While that is fairly accurate, the point of learning Latin is more so you can cast spells.”
“Why Latin?” I asked, thinking to myself that she had not gotten all the smell off despite her wet hair and evidence of a shower.
Lilly sighed. “Didn't you listen to my mom? I know it's been a while, but…”
“Railey and I were usually doing other things,” I admitted.
Lilly blinked at me, then turned to Mordon. “I need to return to the market. Anything that you two need?”
“One or two things,” Mordon said, and the two of them worked out a quick list.
I searched my memory, and remembered an experiment Railey and I had done. Spells were created by training magic to behave in a certain way at a certain set of words. Someone who tried to train their magic in their own language only resulted in unpredictable spell casting. The magic would have to be trained to sometimes obey the commands, which meant on occasion a spell would not work when it was needed, or would occur during conversation.
“Can I do Anglo-Saxon? This whole romance language thing just isn't working out for me.”
Both Lilly and Mordon gave me equal blank looks. Mordon was the first to fall into a thoughtful expression.
“It is a dead language,” he said.
Lilly shook her head. “You'll still have to learn Latin. Very well. And translate it over into Saxon.”
I shrugged. “If memory serves, I could make a coin fly even to nonsense words like 'Goopy Giggly Dook', but then I'd have to eventually put together a working grammar and extensive vocabulary so I could work more complicated things. You know, Klingon or Tolkein's Elvish would be pretty interesting. Imagine being on the other end of those spells.”
Lilly put a hand to her lips to hide the strangled laugh that threatened to come forth. She cleared her throat. “You should still learn the basics. To understand how it works.”
“Yes, yes,” I said, waving dismissively at her. “You should go back and tell Leif I'm going to do my spell casting in Saxon, Elvish, or Klingon. I expect he will call it an early day.”
Lilly shook her head in wonder. “I thought life was interesting with a drake and a constable.”
She left, and I heard her laughing as she went.
Mordon said, “Once again, you go straight for the most difficult tasks.”
“You can't tell me you aren't interested.”
“Oh, very,” Mordon said, closing up the book we were clearly done with. “I just find it intriguing.”
“Which part?”
He studied my face and cocked his head to the side. “You see, I cast spells in Saxon.”
Now that was interesting. It didn't take long before I had him agreeing to teach me Saxon. The price was I would have to dedicate myself more in Latin.
Mordon and I worked through several basic spells, including making light, boiling water, and teaching me how to use the air as a cushion against an attacking spell. My strength sapped away in greater and greater portions until I could only go through the motions without putting any thought into anything.
“That will be more than enough for a day,” Mordon said, “It's time for a good meal, and-”
The goat bells clanged against the wall when the front door was thrown open and Barnes' rough voice bellowed up the stairs, “Goblins and pixies are at it again! Come join in the fun, Mordon.”
Mordon's lip curled. “Pixies. Do they have thumb tacks?”
“Needles! But Julia is working on enchanting those.”
“Wonderful,” Mordon said though he did not look in the least bit pleased. He looked up and down the room and growled out a spell too quick for me to understand. Then he said, “Right, I will be back in a few hours. I've activated the wards, so you will be fine. If you come out into the market, know that it's all for themselves at the moment, and those pixies know how to shove a needle under your nails. And goblins don't run out of vomit.”
My stomach didn't need the extra twist when he added the part about the goblins. I curled my fists protectively around my fingernails. I glanced at the room, realizing that I would have a few hours of quiet if I remained, as well. “I think I'll stay here.”
Mordon swung a cloak made of thick leather over his shoulders and grunted. “Good. Rest up. Tomorrow won't be any easier.”
“Let's go, Mordon! We will miss out on the chaos.” Barnes sounded all too joyful, as though he lived for such free-for-alls and wished they would happen more often.
Even Mordon's gait had a bounce to it as he skipped stairs on the way out, but he shut the door softly behind him. The last clank of a goat bell descended into nothing, and I was left with only a distant buzz to fill the instant quiet that clapped over my ears. I shifted position on the couch.
“What to do now?” I asked the empty air. It felt like a void, like nothing. It felt like before I had magic back. Hesitantly, I let out a breath and sent a wisp of wind over the hat rack Mordon's cloak had been hanging on. It was cold, metal painted to look like wood.
For a few seconds I tried to envision pixies and goblins starting a brawl in Merlyn's Market, but without knowing what the market looked like, the scene was cut short. I shook my head in wonder, and secretly hoped I would be able to witness such a scene soon. But not now. Now I didn't have the motivation to even climb down the stairs.
I considered making soup. We had the pot of water in the kitchen, still hot from bringing it to a boil. I really should make food. Even if I felt too tired to do it.
A chill ran down my spine. There was nothing I could see to make me nervous, and as far as I knew Mordon and Leif would have been certain to riddle the place with wards. Mordon had told me he activated the ward, right?
My brow narrowed. He had said that, but had he ever told me what type of ward it was? How strong was it? Would it keep something out, or was it only a warning device to those in the residence?
For several minutes, I scanned through the pages of the potions book Mordon had been looking through. Not finding anything of interest, I crossed over to the couch and gave up fighting sore eyes and weak muscles. Sleep refused to come in its entirety, but I could encourage it to arrive.
Time passed as I listened to absolutely nothing, but soon I found that I was actively listening for…what? Something, but what? I couldn't tell, but my back tingled in warning.
A feeling of dread filled the pit of my stomach for no reason. The commons lounge was exactly as it always had been, though it had become darker. I lit the oil lamp by the couch, and the hairs on the back of my neck rose when I heard scratching at the door. I reasoned with myself. There was no scratching. I was hearing things.
But then I heard it again. I told myself it was a woodpecker on the outside of the house. Or something reasonable. Then there was a scrape, and the door to King's Ransom opened on its own.
My mouth went dry. It had to be the wind. I wa
s tired. I'd been training with Mordon. I might not feel the ebb and flow of the air. And it might be nothing more than Leif and the others silently returning so they didn't disturb me.
But then the bells on the door rattled, shaking violently. There came a growl, deeper and more raspy than a dog, at the foot of the stairs.
Feral Magic: An Urban Fantasy Romance-Thriller Page 8