River Running

by Eden Reign

  They were silent for several moments before Miss Rivers’s small hand touched his arm, and Jackson nearly dropped his seedling. He halted.

  Her wide, blue eyes swam with moisture. “Thank you, Master Coal,” she whispered.

  “For what?” He should be thanking her for saving his paltry explanation of halfmages.

  “He needed this walk,” she motioned back toward the mills, “more than any lesson I could have taught him today.”

  Jackson swallowed hard, forgetting that he held a plant, that he was alone with the governess in a secluded wood, that Grey was out of sight, already in the northern fields. He gazed into eyes that were bluer than his indigo, and felt that he was drifting over an azure sea toward an unknown destination. “No, thank you, Miss Rivers,” he murmured, “You saved me there, explaining about halfmages—”

  “Master Coal! Miss Rivers!” Grey’s voice interrupted the moment, and Jackson yanked his gaze away, desperately trying to regain his bearings. Miss Rivers bobbed a curtsey, moving toward Grey and the open air beyond.

  Cleansing Fires, Jackson berated himself. Get hold of yourself, man.

  He followed Miss Rivers to the fields. She and Grey picked a spot near the end of a row. Jackson approached, pushing Miss Rivers to the back of his mind, no easy task as her clean scent washed over him when he stooped beside her. “Here, Grey,” he said, “poke a nice hole into the soft earth, as deep as your longest finger.”

  Grey performed the task with clumsy movements.

  “Now,” Jackson went on, “take one of your seedlings and fit the root into the hole you made. Then pat the dirt around the plant, gently now, so the plant stands upright.”

  “Now, you do yours,” Grey said, motioning to the seedling that somehow still survived in Jackson’s hand.

  Jackson went quickly through the motions. Grey shoved the last seedling at Miss Rivers. “Will you do this one, Miss Rivers?”

  She smiled, her slim fingers digging a hole and making her own planting beside Grey’s, neatly brushing the dirt from her hands as she finished.

  “These three plants are special.” Grey straightened like a king with a decree. “We must find a marker for them, because they are our plants. A family, all together. One for the papa,” he pointed at Jackson’s planting, “one for the child,” he pointed at his own, “and one for the—”

  “Yes, well, I’ll find a stone we can put beside them, shall I?” Miss Rivers interrupted, her cheeks as crimson as camellias. She fled toward the woods, her skirts belling in the eastern sea breeze.

  “One for the mama,” Grey whispered, glancing shyly at Jackson.

  And though he knew he should, Jackson could not find the heart to correct the boy.

  Jackson sat in his father’s study on the ground floor of Coalhaven with papers spread over the desk in front of him. He’d reviewed the entire folio that Lawrence Easterly, Esq., had passed to him, solidifying his conviction to reform the cropper system upon which Coalhaven relied. His father’s croppers had long been held in the typical debt slavery of most mundanes who tried to live among Arcanan fullmages. Justice was long overdue.

  When Julia Coal had been alive, the croppers had been treated fairly, or more fairly, anyway. While Henry refused to allow them wages surpassing the bare minimum, Julia had made up for it in other ways, providing their wives and children with clothes she’d sewn herself, spending whole days in the kitchens baking breads to distribute, especially in the winter when garden harvests were less forgiving. She had been resourceful, and Henry had never caught her at it, but many times, she had included Jackson in her secret “quests,” as she’d called them.

  After Julia had died, the croppers’ debts had expanded, as Henry, stricken with the pain of losing his wife, tightened his cruel grip on their contracts.

  Jackson’s jaw tightened as he reviewed the paperwork. Forgiving the croppers’ debts was the easiest approach to fixing the problem, but he was treading delicately. These folks had as much pride as any man, as Jackson had learned while working with them to complete the planting. He’d only proposed a new contract that morning—and characteristically, the croppers had made no comment.

  Fortunately, Mr. Flacks had promised to drop in that evening to discuss plantation matters, including the new contract, after supervising the day’s planting.

  Jackson set out a bottle of barley malt bourbon. He tapped his index finger against his lips, pondering the situation.

  A soft knock sounded on the door jamb. “Master Coal?” Fair-haired, blue-eyed, and brawny, Mr. Flacks was cast in the mold of the Arcanan ideal. He’d been an overseer on a much smaller indigo plantation before his time with Jackson’s battalion in the war.

  “Mr. Flacks, do come in. Thank you for meeting so late in the evening. Bourbon?”

  Flacks nodded, and Jackson poured. “How did the day go?” Jackson asked. Flacks had hoped to finish planting the western fields that afternoon.

  “The seedlings are in, Master Coal, and as hardy as we’d hoped.”

  “And the croppers? They are well and happy with the new contract?”

  “I believe they are, sir. Every single one of them signed it. They know they thrive only as long as the plantation thrives. But honestly, today, they were more interested in getting the last of the indigo in. As you know, we’re late, due to your father’s death and the uncertainty of the inheritance—and the departure of my predecessor.”

  Henry Coal’s former overseer—and several other servants—had abandoned their posts when they’d learned the new owner of Coalhaven was Jackson Coal, Leveler rebel.

  Jackson breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m glad all is well, then, for everyone’s sake. And I’m glad all the croppers have decided to stay on with the new arrangements. Better contract terms doesn’t make up for the larger rights denied to mundanes, but it’s better than nothing. Drink up.”

  Flacks sipped his bourbon. “I had heard some of the bills being debated in Congress include provisions for mundane rights—the vote, citizenship, the ability to own property in the cities.”

  Jackson sighed. “I fear that mundane rights are even more controversial than halfmage rights, given that the mundane population is so much larger. The Brotherhood-dominated Congress is unlikely to grant mundane rights of any kind, if you ask me. It will be up to individual property owners to do what we can for them until a more sympathetic Congress convenes.”

  Meeting the families over the past weeks had been delicate, but they had proved willing to work with him, and kind, too.

  At least the new contract would give them a fairer share of the plantation’s proceeds, which were considerable. During a war that had ruined most plantations, Coalhaven had been turning a monstrous profit.

  The reason was the indigo plants that blanketed Coalhaven’s rolling hills. These were no ordinary plants, but rather the magical grade variety, Baptisia Azure, that was used in the transmutation that turned physical matter—the spun indigo—into the quintessence that fueled the Indigo Wells. This indigo was vital to the power of fullmages. Without the indigo, the fullmages’ powers would be reduced to little more than a few sparks and bangs. With a large and healthy crop, both Jackson and the croppers could expect fair fortunes for years to come. The war had only intensified the need for the magical grade indigo, as the more mages tapped the Wells, the sooner they needed replenishing.

  The indigo crop presented another problem, however. “Will we be ready for an inspection in two days?” Jackson asked Flacks, who’d drained his tumbler and set it down again on the desk.

  “Certainly, Master Coal. We’ll be working long hours to make it so. I’ll be up before dawn tomorrow.”

  “Thank you, Flacks. I do appreciate all your efforts. Now, go and get your rest.”

  The overseer bowed and departed the office, leaving Jackson staring at his amber bourbon and his other problem. The one that would keep him awake all night.

  Atop the other papers, the cursed letter sat like a vile spider,
only a single page, but as poisonous as a brown recluse.

  Daniel Lake was coming to Coalhaven—and there was nothing Jackson could do to prevent him.

  The process of replenishing the Indigo Wells was handled by a select committee of fullmages, all members of the Brotherhood fully vested in fullmage power. Daniel Lake had long served on this committee, and according to his blasted letter, he and a delegation of three other fullmages—a representative for each element—came to personally inspect every crop of magical grade indigo at both planting and harvest time. Daniel had written to Jackson to announce the committee’s spring planting visit to Coalhaven.

  Two days. Jackson had but two days to prepare, to ready the fields, to gather his wits, and to protect Grey from any notice.

  Chapter 10

  Manda

  Master Coal had been tense since they’d gone to the mills, and Manda could only surmise his surliness resulted from the flurry of work in the indigo fields. The planters were working twice as hard, and Mr. Flacks, the overseer, could have been an airmage with the way he flew from one field to the next. Manda did her best to keep Grey out from underfoot, but the boy’s natural curiosity drew him toward the bustle of the fieldwork. They had spent a long, hot afternoon walking the outskirts, observing, but never venturing so close as to become a nuisance.

  Manda had been thankful to see twilight. Her feet ached, and she could feel the disarray of her hair when she finally closed the door on the boy tucked into his bed. He’d looked like a little cherub, his long lashes resting against his cheeks, the worn stuffed bear she’d found in an attic trunk snugged beneath his arm. Manda wondered if the bear had belonged to Master Coal when he was a boy.

  She sighed as she headed down the hall toward her own bedroom, halfheartedly reordering her hairpins.

  “Miss Rivers.”

  Manda nearly leapt from her own skin at the double-bass voice. She turned to find Master Coal at the top of the stairs, gripping the banister so hard he was like to break it. He looked tired, with shadows beneath those deep brown eyes.

  “Master Coal,” she replied.

  “I have guests coming to the plantation tomorrow,” he said, moving along the hall until he stood in front of her. “They are coming to inspect my indigo. The government takes great interest in it, as it is magical grade. These inspectors are from the Indigo Wells Purchase Bureau. They are important members of the High Families. Among them…” He trailed off, pulling a pocket watch from his waistcoat and peering at it through the shadows. He lifted his gaze, fire kindling in his brown eyes. “Among them will be Grey’s grandfather, Daniel Lake.”

  Manda’s heart stuttered. “Sir, if he finds—”

  “He cannot find him. You’ll take Grey somewhere out of the way so Daniel won’t stumble over him, even by accident. It is imperative that Daniel not see Grey.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Master Coal fidgeted with the watch. “The undeveloped northwestern portion of Coalhaven’s lands are perhaps best. Or there is Briary Beach.” He hesitated. “The beach is closer.”

  “But near water, and along the eastern boundary of the property,” Manda reminded him. “My element is water. Water is strong in the east, according to the principles of the elemental square.”

  Jackson nodded, though he seemed distracted. “As you say.” He did not move from the walkway. “Perhaps I should go with you.” He stopped fidgeting and clasped his hands behind his back, his expression daring her to disagree.

  “Sir, with respect, that would be foolish. You are the master of Coalhaven. If you aren’t here to give the inspectors a tour through the fields, who will?”

  “My overseer is capable and trustworthy.”

  “I don’t doubt it, but your absence would invite questions, and what if you were found to be away on an outing with your ward and his governess? Wouldn’t it call attention to us?”

  Another cloud of doubt shadowed Jackson’s face. He sighed, running his free hand through his curls, a habit Manda had begun to enjoy. It made his too-long hair tumble in riotous waves.

  “Man—Miss Rivers, I’m responsible for the boy.” He paced. “How can I send you both off tomorrow without protection?”

  Manda touched his arm, and a jolt of fire ran through her body, stealing the air from her lungs. Master Coal stilled, staring at her hand on his coat sleeve.

  “Sir, we shall do very well. Have no fear. I will keep Grey far away from Daniel Lake and anyone else.”

  They were a motionless tableau, neither moving for several silent moments. At last, Master Coal reached for Manda’s hand on his sleeve and turned it palm up. His four-fingered hand dropped the pocket watch into her palm and gently closed her fingers around it. “Come back from the shore before six of the clock,” he said quietly. “They are to be gone by the afternoon, but their departure time is not set exactly. And while I don’t wish you to cross paths, I don’t want darkness to overtake you, either.”

  His hand still rested on hers, and heat crept into Manda’s cheeks. “Yes, sir,” she whispered.

  “Master Coal?”

  Manda jumped at Grey’s voice, whirling to where the boy stood behind her on the balcony, his hair mussed, his hand gripping the teddy bear by one of its arms.

  “What do you want, Grey?” Master Coal asked.

  “Are we truly going to Briary Beach tomorrow?”

  When Master Coal didn’t answer, Manda crossed to Grey, crouching before him. “Would you enjoy that, Grey?”

  Eagerness flushed across his face like the tide. His eyes turned to stars. “Yes! Yes, I want to learn to swim, Miss Rivers! Will you teach me to swim?”

  “No, Grey,” Master Coal’s brusque voice cut through Grey’s excitement, smothering his eagerness like a blanket. “I don’t want you learning to swim until I can be there with you. Miss Rivers won’t be able to go in the sea with you, and you can’t swim by yourself.”

  “But—”

  “You heard me, Grey.”

  The boy’s huge eyes filled with shimmering liquid. He stared at Master Coal for a long moment before dropping his gaze and turning back to his bedroom. A shining streak moistened his cheek. His hapless teddy bear dragged behind him through the door into the darkness.

  Manda’s heart wrung. She straightened, facing the master.

  “Sir, I’d be glad to—”

  “I said no. I meant it.” His face was hard. “Don’t petition me again, Miss Rivers.”

  Abruptly, he brushed by her, hurrying down the stairs. Then the door to his study slammed shut on the floor below.

  Manda’s eyelids felt like lead weights the next morning when she rolled from her bed. Darkness still poured through her windows. She pulled on her dimity dress, noting the fraying at the wrists in the weak candlelight. She slung a shawl over her shoulders and stepped onto the balcony, running lightly along the carpeted walkway to Grey’s room.

  When she opened the door, she found Abigail had already awakened the boy and laid out his clothes. The blonde maid muttered as she departed, “I would have thought a decent governess would be the one to get up early and lay out her charge’s clothes. Honestly, am I the only one who does any work around here?”

  Manda shook her head and ignored the maid. Everyone in the house was accustomed to her bitter commentary.

  Grey had pulled on his breeches, though his waistcoat was inside-out. Manda helped him correct it before taking his hand and leading him down the stairs and out the back doors to the kitchen.

  Rose was already there, her black hair windblown as she wielded her air power to blow serviettes and dishcloths into a basket while she wrapped up sandwiches and fruit for Manda and Grey’s outing.

  “Good morning, Miss Rivers,” the young cook chirped, a happy contrast to Abigail. “Good morning, young Master Tailor.” She smiled at Grey, and atypically, Grey did not return the smile. He stared at the floor, silent.

  Manda turned her attention back to Rose. “Thank you, Miss Westerly. Would you—” sh
e glanced at Grey again. “Would you run upstairs and grab an extra pair of Grey’s stockings? An extra pair always comes in handy at the beach. Or see if Abigail can do it?”

  “I’ll do it myself. Abigail will only complain if I ask her to do extra chores.” Rose gave one last pat to the basket and hurried out the door.

  Manda sat on a chair that stood against the wall, pulling Grey to stand in front of her. “Grey,” she said, tilting his chin up so his gaze met hers. “Do you want to talk?”

  He said nothing, but his eyes filled with tears.

  “Is it so important? To learn to swim?” she asked.

  He sniffed, and shook his head. “No, ma’am. I just—have always wanted to learn. Like the other boys. With their papas. In Blue Hill I saw Stewart Higgins and his papa swimming together at the waterhole all the time. And all I could do was catch frogs on the shore.”

  “Oh, Grey.” Manda pulled him close, cuddling him against her chest. She stared over his shoulder, not knowing what to say, nor how she would say it even if she did.

  Movement in the doorway stilled her, and she stood quickly. “Master Coal!”

  He came in the door, dressed, but with his hair unkempt and a shadow of a beard still on his face.

  “Miss Rivers.” He dropped his gaze to Grey, who had buried his face in Manda’s skirts. “Are you ready to go?”

  “Soon. Yes, we’re ready.” Her hand rested gently on Grey’s head, her fingers smoothing the soft hair.

  “Grey.” His voice was rough, but no longer so harsh as the night before.

  Grey peeped at Master Coal from behind Manda’s apron. “Yes?” His voice was muffled.

  Master Coal sighed, crouching beside the table, holding out his hand to the boy. “Grey, I was too strict last night. You—may play in the water today, and…” he cleared his throat. “And learn to swim. A little. Whatever Miss Rivers can teach you.”