If it still existed.
I muttered an oath in frustration as darkness started to fall. Hugging my wool cloak tighter around my shoulders, I was on the point of giving up my search for the night when I stumbled over the roots of the old lightning-split oak. With a grin of satisfaction, I reached into my pack for one of the small torches I'd tucked away just in case.
Recalling the instructions, I moved a child's height to the left and two heights forward. Spun around halfway, and a half-height to the right. Then gave a stifled shout for joy as I cleared the dense underbrush from the hidden rock and uncovered the opening in the hillside. With a look around to make sure I was alone, I lit the torch and poked it through the narrow entry. Peeking in, I saw by a swift inspection of the dark, chilly shadows the tunnel appeared still passable. Tossing my pack in first, I shoved through the narrow crevice, far smaller than I recalled as a child, and into the cave. The smooth path was in good condition, untouched by weather and the constant tread of boots. I wondered whether Elena used it on her recent midnight visit to Port Alain.
Carefully placing the torch in a bracket along the smooth wall, I crawled halfway through the crevice to cover the entrance with undergrowth to keep it safe from prying eyes. Not wanting to pass the night in the dark here within the tunnel entrance, or, indeed, waste the torch by keeping it lit all night, I immediately started along the cool passage. I thrust the torch above and ahead of me, alert for bats, which I feared would get caught in my curls. Conserving my strength, I kept a steady, relaxed pace as the passage started its gradual climb.
By the time the torch was half consumed, I knew I was almost there. Determined not to waste time, and promising myself a well-deserved rest at the end of the climb, I trudged onward through the narrow passage. I was flanked by smooth walls, unbroken save for occasional traces of dampness. In a daze from the monotony and stillness, I missed my footing as three steps appeared suddenly at my feet, leading to the fortress library. Off to the side, a narrow branch of the tunnel extended left toward the old storage rooms, and to my right toward the throne room. I went right and soon found myself blocked by a similar set of steps.
With a grin of infantile spite and mischief, I inched onto the ledge and pushed the hidden door ajar. It was safely covered by the tapestry behind the throne, and I plopped wearily to the ground. With one last cautious glance around, I extinguished the torch, rested my tired head on my traveling satchel, and fell immediately into a surprisingly dreamless sleep.
* * * *
Hollow thuds vibrating beneath my head jarred my skull against the leather sack. I scrambled groggily to sit upright. Lords of the sea, I'd forgotten how Elena's steward would brutally pound the Tuldamoran staff against the dais. If I hadn't slept against the leather pack, my ears would still be ringing.
No small wonder I despised this town.
A thin slice of light from the audience chamber shone through the open door. Crawling with unaccustomed stealth, I poked my head around the doorway to confirm the thick tapestry was still in place between the throne and the tunnel. Satisfied, I rummaged through my pack for some plain bread, quiet food which wouldn't reveal my presence. Edging back through the partially open door, I leaned against the wall just as Elena settled herself, heavy silk robe of office rustling, on the throne mere inches above me.
Eyes closed, I listened as she passed judgments and controlled the discussions, impressed by her poise and knowledge despite myself. Elena’s voice conveyed a calm awareness of everything and everyone in the high-vaulted audience chamber. Formal, polite, and patient, she responded without hesitation to each grievant, treating all with equal courtesy as her father had always done. It was hard not to be bored after a short time with her near-perfect royal poise and sense of fairness over matters in which I had not the slightest interest, not even from an academic perspective. I found it difficult to stay awake, particularly during a merchant's unceasing drone. How could she stand it? I fell asleep, waking shortly thereafter with a painful jerk as my head snapped forward.
Alert, uncertain whether I'd given myself away by snoring, I listened for a change in Elena's voice to indicate she'd heard any noise behind the tapestry. Her voice, however, registered barely veiled resentment and irritation, a distinct change from earlier. Curious, I listened, careful to make no sound as I inched nearer the tapestry.
“Your answer isn't very helpful, my lord mage.” Elena's voice was tense with controlled anger. I was all too familiar with that tone.
“Unfortunately, no.” A clipped answer omitted reference to Elena's title with rude intent.
“I was under the assumption the Ardenna Crown Council of Mages existed to provide information and counsel to the crown. Or,” she paused, “have I been under the wrong impression all these years?”
At some point, while I slept, Elena lost her exquisite politeness. Not that I blamed her. But with whom was she speaking?
“You were not misled.”
“But?”
An artful pause. “But we’re not spies and certainly don’t lower ourselves to such a pursuit.”
As some of your friends do? I'd never heard of any mage reading minds, but I hastily shoved all thoughts of eavesdropping and spying aside. Just in case.
“I haven’t requested you to spy, only asked your opinion of the raids along the coast of Belbridge Cliffs,” Elena responded tightly.
“Didn't Duke Barlow provide that information?”
Instinctively, I braced for the attack on Jules' good name and ugly accusations of unforgivable treachery. I imagined it would be followed by slanderous remarks about me and my renegade ancestry, curious as to how Elena would manage it.
“He did, yes.”
“Then I’ve nothing more to offer. The duke’s word is trustworthy,” the mage responded with cool politeness.
Where in flameblasted hells was the accusation? Or even the hint of one? Had I somehow missed it?
“Then it seems we've nothing further to say to one another, Lord Ravess.”
Lord Ravess. Charlton Ravess, firemage and head of the Crown Council, long white hair, deep brown malevolent eyes. I hated the bastard since the day I clumsily walked into him some ten years ago. I was trailing happily after Elena on the way to her suite after a visit to the stables. Ravess had snarled at me and raised a hand to strike, but Elena stepped between us. Without a word, he spun on his heels, muttering a gutter insult Elena chose to ignore. I never heard the insult, only the last two words he spat over his shoulder, eyes locking cruelly with mine.
Orphan child.
I shook my head to chase away the hateful memories, but there were no more words between Elena and the mage. If Ravess believed Jules guilty of treachery, or me, how could he miss the opportunity to hurt Elena with words of betrayal by her closest friends before an audience? Lords of the sea, what were Jules and Elena plotting? And why? And given they were my closest friends, why were they keeping the truth from me?
Chapter Six
Confused and dismayed, I returned to Port Alain, pursuing some elusive truths of my own. “When are you going to hire more groundskeepers?” I asked Rosanna, a few days later, watching as she skillfully dug around some roots to tug out what I judged to be a tenacious weed.
“When I'm too old to get down on my knees,” she answered, tugging harder, with no indication of any surprise at my abrupt reappearance. “Which means, not for quite some time.”
“Here, let me help.” I knelt down beside her in the moist earth and stretched out a hand.
“Get away.” She slapped my hand back. “I know you mean well, Alex, but you don't know the difference between a weed, a winter fern, or a summer rose.”
I laughed, not the least bit insulted.
When she saw I was at a safe distance from her beloved blossoms, she started digging again. “You didn't really come here to help me weed, did you?”
I took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. And another; keeping watch on her busy movements. She arched
an inquisitive brow before turning her attention back to another stubborn weed. I took another deep breath. “Where's the other half of my mother's copper pendant?”
Rosanna stopped digging, spade stuck in the dirt as she leaned on it for support. She turned her gray-streaked head to give me a long measuring stare. Unreadable, almost.
I grinned, sitting on one of her decorative rocks. “If my interpretation of that expression is correct, you want to know why it took me all these years to ask.”
“Precisely.”
“I'm a little slow.”
“And you're teaching my grandchildren.”
“Well?”
“These dreams of yours are becoming a problem.” She fidgeted with her old, patched, woolen gardening trousers to loosen the material at her knees and started digging again. “Not to mention your recent unannounced disappearance and how it might conceivably have spurred you to ask this long overdue question.”
“I wasn't talking about dreams. And my disappearance had nothing whatsoever to do with my question about mother's pendant.” I flushed beneath her slow, steady appraisal.
Rosanna rolled her eyes in weary exasperation, absently rubbing soil from her cheek, which only streaked the dirt more. “Whenever you have these dreams, you start asking me all manner of questions about your mother. And I don't believe your holiday is coincidental. Something's not quite right with you lately. I’m not sure what, and I'm worried about you.”
“Why don't you ever talk about my father?”
“Has someone been sneaking spoiled honey in your tea?”
“You never talk about him. Why not?”
“You never ask, and there's not much to tell.” She started digging again with renewed fervor. “He came from Glynnswood.”
“Was he a criminal?”
A dark look flashed in her eyes. “Of course not.”
“Then—”
“Alex,” she sighed wearily, “he was a quiet, gentle man who loved your mother very deeply. But I didn't know him long. Emila grew up in Port Alain, but Sernyn Keltie was a stranger, though always courteous to me. All Glynnswood people are infallibly courteous. It's obvious you didn't inherit that particular trait.” Rosanna returned her attention to the weeds.
“Where's the other half?”
“Your mother gave it to a friend. A trusted friend.” At my look of impatience, she shrugged matter-of-factly. “Don't ask me who, because I don't know.”
“What do you know?”
“Only that he’s a mage of one kind or another. And,” she added slowly, “she gave it to him in case something happened to her.”
“Why not give it to my father?”
Rosanna looked away for a moment, and then back again. Her eyes were utterly unreadable this time. “Your father wasn't a mage, and Emila thought you might have a peculiar sort of mage talent, particularly since Sernyn was from Glynnswood.”
“Damnation, Rosanna!” I snapped. “Even my mother was part of this flameblasted conspiracy.”
“I can't believe I trust you to teach my grandchildren. Not an intelligent thought in your head. Not one. Not even a hint.”
“Don't try to sidetrack me. Did he ever come to visit or ask about me?”
“Who?” WhenI threatened to pull out her precious blossoms, she didn't blink. “No.” And waved me away with a careless gesture.
“Then why bother to give him half a pendant? Unless he came in secret and saw for himself I wasn't a mage and didn't need his help.” I thought for a long moment, playing with the top of my scuffed boots. Rosanna continued weeding as though I weren't even there, humming softly. “When did she give the other half of the pendant to you? The one that I have?”
“I see we're not finished yet.”
“Rosanna, please—”
“Alex. Alex.” She sighed, her voice and expression suddenly serious. “Your mother gave it to me three months before you were born, along with the oak chest.”
“Did she expect to die?” I tried to control the trembling in my voice and failed miserably.
Rosanna's eyes grew sad with remembered grief as she sat on her heels, appraising me in silence. “No matter their good health, many women fear childbirth. Emila was no different. She was afraid something might happen and she might not survive.”
“Why not?” I asked softly, kneeling beside the older woman again, ignoring the pebbles cutting into my knees. Rosanna turned her face away, but not before I caught the gleam of unshed tears. I tugged like a bewildered child at the sleeve of her dirt-smeared tunic. “Why not?”
“She was ill in the last months, in terrible pain,” Rosanna admitted slowly. “Your father sent for healers from Ardenna and Port Alain. Not one of them could determine what was causing the pain. Or stop it.”
I drew my hand back from her sleeve, not wanting uncontrolled trembling to betray me. “Don’t you see? It was me, Rosanna. I caused the pain and destroyed her.” Standing upright, I brushed tears from my cheeks with the back of my hand like a child.
Rosanna spun to look at me, eyes brimming with angry tears. Grabbing my arm before I could step back, she pulled herself to her feet. “Stop this, Alex. Stop this, now. I thought you'd banished this foolishness long ago. Your mother would be heartbroken if she knew how you blamed yourself when you had nothing to do with it.” I tried to disentangle myself, but Rosanna clung to my arm, tightening her grip. “Stop it.” I refused to look at her. “It wasn't your fault,” she whispered painfully, shaking my arm. “I know. I was there when she died.”
“And right before she died, I was born.” Prying her dirt-streaked fingers from my tunic, I freed my arm. “You're wrong. It was my fault. I don't know how or why, but it was me who caused the pain and anguish. She should never have given birth to me.”
Chapter Seven
After our unpleasant little chat, I kept my distance from Rosanna. When her son approached me some days later to go riding with him, I wondered whether she’d nudged him in my direction.
“I'm going back to Port Alain tomorrow morning. If you'd like to come along and meet that sea captain…” Jules left the suggestion hanging in the air between us as we cantered along the road.
“The only reason I accepted your invitation to go riding is because you told me you'd be pleasant company. Obviously, you lied.” I scowled at him.
My horse snorted in agreement, prompting a smile from Jules as he adjusted his bright green cloak against the breeze. “I thought the captain might make better company, but I also assumed you'd rip out my heart and force it down my throat if I made today's adventure a party of three. Or two, if I sent him without me.”
“You assumed correctly.” Flinging back a strand of loose curls, I added, “Though I don't usually need a reason to feel the urge to strangle you.”
“Now, Alex.” He reined in his horse as we neared the end of the open stretch of coastal road, well-maintained by Elena's network of local craftsman paid by our taxes. Waves crashed below, not so far we were safe from frigid, salty spray. “All right to go a little further?”
“Sure. I haven't been out riding in a while. It'll do me good to be reminded just how much my muscles can ache.” I slanted a look in his direction. Jules appeared to be relaxed, a perfect opportunity to catch the devil unawares. “Has Elena sent any further word about suspicion against you or me in Ardenna?”
With a long-suffering sigh, Jules kept his eyes on the road ahead. “Only that it's getting worse.”
“Anyone in particular speaking out against us?”
Jules frowned, causing lines to appear in his tanned forehead. “Every time someone mentions my name in front of Charlton Ravess, you remember him, Alex? The firemage and chief mage of the Crown Council?”
“I’ll never forget him.”
Jules slanted me an odd look I chose to ignore. “Ravess is the primary person swiping viciously at my reputation. He seems to be behind the worst rumors.” With a glance toward the open sea, Jules hunched down into the shelter of
his cloak as the breeze whipped it back.
Not when I was eavesdropping. “I should think Elena walks a fine line with Lord Ravess then,” I said evenly, without a hint of doubt, “defending you without betraying her duty as queen should you be guilty.”
Jules idly scanned the road ahead to the side where denser undergrowth started to line the road. “She's always defending my honor, urging Ravess to produce evidence of my guilt and put an end to his talk. You're lucky he's not focusing on you.”
Maybe I slept through that part of the royal discussion, but the tone of the exchange I overheard wasn't quite as Jules led me to believe. Ravess' mockery at mention of Jules was no different than his tone when addressing Elena. He despised them both and thought them beneath him, but gave not a hint of Jules’ treason.
“Can we do anything to help her?” My feigned concern hopefully masked my confusion, though Jules seemed distracted.
“I can’t see what, not at the moment, anyway.”
“Is she keeping an eye on him?”
“Yes. Especially since she heard there’s to be a secret meeting between Ravess and the head mages of all the local councils in two weeks. You know Elena.” He smiled with charm. “She'll infiltrate that meeting somehow.”
“Dangerous. Should you send your own spies to help out?”
“I offered, but she'd rather I stay tucked out of sight, keeping watch with your help.” Brushing a hand through wind-blown light brown hair, he turned to me, adding neutrally, “However you can manage that.”
I didn't bother to reply, stifled an urge to scream, and turned away. Along the seaside of the coast road, the low stone wall ran for miles east and west of Port Alain. At this part of the stretch, heading toward Belbridge Cliffs, low shrubbery and an odd assortment of trees grew dense, making the road appear darker, more illusion than reality. I guided my restless horse forward, leaving Jules behind so I could think away from his lying eyes.
Mage Confusion (Book 1) Page 5