Mage Confusion (Book 1)

by Virginia G. McMorrow

  “Still not fair.”

  “No,” he agreed, “but she knew he wouldn't be comfortable raising a mage-talented child, which is why she gave me the pendant should something happen to her.”

  “So you could train me if I showed any signs of talent?”

  “Yes. The task became quite interesting when you first showed a hint of magery as a child. Poor Jules.”

  “You were in Port Alain when that happened?”

  “Not long after. I was eavesdropping on the council, who’d become interested in you. But then your talent seemed to vanish, and I hesitated to come forward. Perhaps I shouldn't have hesitated.”

  He left me an opening should I wish to continue his train of thought. I chose not to and went on to a topic I was all too familiar with. I yanked the cork free of the wine bottle. Standing opposite him, I took a deep breath and tried to find the right words. Not an easy thing to do under the circumstances. “When my mother was giving birth, could she…” I stopped to blink back unwanted tears. “Could she have saved herself if she hadn't made that promise to my father?”

  He stared at me for a long silent moment, utter compassion in his eyes. Finally, he shook his head. “No. I feared so myself when I first heard the news. Believe me, Alex, it was the first thought I had, and I would've made your father suffer for had it been true. But he told me what happened and that she'd been troubled by odd pains, and, well, no,” he faltered, “I don't think she could have.”

  “But would she have tried?” I whispered, hugging myself to stop the trembling as he rescued the bottle from my hands.

  “Does it matter?”

  “Yes. No.” Crying, I shook my head fiercely, embarrassed. “Not really. It was still my fault.”

  “You are stubborn.” Anders pursued me to the alcove where I kept food and drink and slammed the bottle onto the counter. “You had nothing to do with her death.”

  “If I hadn't been born—”

  “Alex.” He grabbed my shoulders, shaking me with gentleness. “There were some odd things about her pregnancy, but that could easily have come from her own physical condition or problems no one knew about. You were the only child she ever had, so we don't know. But there are matters I do know something about, and I want the truth.” His eyes turned unexpectedly grave as he tightened his grip on my shoulders. “I owe it to your mother.”

  Wiping my cheeks with the back of my hand, I stared, confused. “Like what?”

  “Well, for one, what kind of mage are you, Mistress Keltie?”

  I stared at Anders in silence for several heartbeats, and then headed for his pack. I grabbed the leather satchel and handed it to him. “I suggest you leave now, Master Perrin, and leave me the hell alone. In fact, if I ever see your face again, I may not be able to stop myself from ripping out your heart.”

  “Alex—”

  I flung open the door, held it wide until he recognized my utter seriousness. Without a word, Anders nodded, eyes narrowed in thought, and left my cottage; left me alone with the two halves of my mother’s seamage pendant.

  As divided as my own heart.

  * * * *

  “Who is he, anyway?” At my immediate snarl, Lauryn’s eyes widened. “Nevermind.”

  I straightened the stools from the children’s abrupt escape at the end of their geography lesson. “Don’t mind me. I’m a little cranky.” When I glanced up and caught Lauryn’s worried expression I forced a smile to my lips. “I’m sorry. He just rattled me a bit.”

  “That’s obvious.”

  “Does everyone on the Hill know I had a visitor?”

  “Yes, but nothing more about him. Except…” Lauryn had the grace to look embarrassed.

  “Go on.”

  “Kerrie finished meeting with Jules late in the day to go over the accounts. When Kerrie was leaving Jules’ study, he met the gentleman.” When I muttered a rude comment at her loose use of the term, Lauryn didn’t blink. “Kerrie saw him leaving Rosanna’s suite. It seems he’s staying at the Seaman’s Berth.”

  I stopped straightening the crude, colorful maps of Tuldamoran and sank onto a stool.

  “Alex, what’s wrong?”

  “If he’s still at the inn, that means he’s got no intention of leaving.”

  “Still?”

  “It’s a long story, but he’s been there for several weeks already.”

  “Who is he?”

  I sighed, knowing I owed Lauryn an honest answer for all her years of genuine friendship.

  “If you don’t want to tell me—”

  “I don’t, but I should. I need someone on my side I trust to be objective.”

  “It has to do with Jules and Elena and the whole fiasco.”

  “In an odd sort of way, yes.” I rubbed my eyes wearily, choosing my words with care. “I’d rather what I tell you stay secret with you. Is that a problem?”

  “Why would it be? We’ve always confided in each other.”

  “I know, and I’m grateful. I’d just rather no one but Rosanna know anything more about Anders Perrin, except he was a friend of my mother’s.” When Lauryn’s jaw dropped, I explained, “He showed up unexpected and went first to Rosanna.”

  “Who sent him to you.”

  “Precisely.”

  “Is that a bad thing?” Lauryn asked warily, sitting on one of the wooden stools.

  “I didn’t think so at first. I never knew my mother. If he could tell me about her, then, well, you understand.” Lauryn nodded, having listened to my grief at odd moments over the years. “But he wanted something from me,” I explained, staring hard at my hands, busy tracing the wood, scarred from seven years of tangling with adventurous children. “He asked me what kind of mage I am.”

  Lauryn’s hand came to rest on my bowed head before dropping away. “Elena, Jules, Rosanna, and now this gentleman are pressuring you to recreate a mage gift you want nothing to do with.”

  I looked up. “You’re implying I have it.”

  “You had it. You had something long before I arrived in Port Alain.” Her smile was warm. “You can’t deny that.”

  “I thought you’d be on my side.”

  “Hush and listen before throwing me into the enemy camp.” When I obeyed the maternal scolding, she continued, “From what I understand about magic, either you have it or you don’t. Which means you still have it, but you don’t want it. And in that case, they don’t have any right to pressure you.”

  “They seem to think so.”

  “They’re wrong.” She scowled at my cynical expression. “I’m not just saying that to convince you I’m on your side. I mean it.”

  Relieved someone was content not to pressure me, I said, “Elena and Jules have backed off for the moment, but Anders looks to be staying in town for awhile.”

  “With Rosanna’s encouragement.”

  “From the comments she’s made these past weeks, I assume that’s true.”

  “Shall I talk to her? Convince her to leave you alone?”

  “Waste of breath,” I muttered. “No, Lauryn, but thanks. I’ll handle Rosanna and Anders on my own.”

  “Just let me know if you need reinforcements.”

  “I will, thanks, but now I’ve got a handle on the gentleman, I’ll be able to deal with him.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “Mistress Keltie.”

  Only two peaceful weeks had passed since I asked Master Perrin with impeccable courtesy to take his flameblasted satchel and leave me alone. It was obvious he didn't take me seriously. Lauryn and I guessed it was only a matter of time before he reappeared at my doorstep. Knowing Master Perrin was still at the Seaman’s Berth, I sent quiet word to Chester, through the Barlows’ trustworthy steward, to forgive me for staying away until the troublesome gentleman left Port Alain.

  Anders Perrin was trouble, and it would just get worse.

  “Alex.” Carey tugged at my tunic sleeve. “There's a gentleman calling you.” He gave me an odd look as he scratched his curly head, bewilde
red. “I think he's calling you.”

  “Of course he is.” Hunter nudged his twin. “That's Alex's real name.”

  “Let's see what the gentleman wants.” I ushered my flock of innocent lambs in the direction of the crafty old beast who stood by the side of the road leading north, away from the ducal manor.

  “Thank goodness, I'm not too late. I was afraid I'd missed you.” He bowed first to me, and then to my students, who stared in wide-eyed curiosity.

  “We're on our way to Jendlan Falls, Master Perrin,” I said with all the sweetness I could muster, “and I do wish to move along before it gets much later in the morning. What did you want?”

  “Yes, well…” He coughed as Carey absently kicked up dust from the roadway in Hunter's direction. “Lady Barlow, the, ah, delightful grandmother of these young lords, sent me.”

  I clenched my fists, though continued to smile docilely over the children's heads. “I thought that possible.”

  “She thought you might. And, indeed, she suggested you might allow me to join your little excursion. With your permission, of course,” he added with an all-too-innocent tone, “and perhaps speak to the children about, well, seamage talent as we will be so close to all that rushing water.”

  “Seamage!” blurted Carey, eyes wide, tugging at my arm. “Alex, please? Oh, please?”

  The smile never left my face though I had the distinct feeling Anders was adept at reading my bloodthirsty intent. “I'm afraid that's not quite what I'd planned today.” As I turned toward the falls, my ten adoring charges gathered around, pleading, as though their hearts would break if I didn't allow Seamage Anders Perrin to join us. I took a hundred thousand deep breaths before grabbing Hunter's hand. “I suppose I couldn't very well refuse Lady Barlow's wishes. She does so care their education is all-encompassing.”

  “She certainly does, mistress. She's a marvelous grandmother,” Anders answered in a neutral tone, hands tucked behind his back. “Her foresight is remarkable, thinking of the future of her community by educating its little ones so well. Lady Barlow even gave thought to joining us, but was afraid she might intimidate the children from asking all their questions.”

  “Thoughtful of her.”

  “She is that, yes,” he agreed with bland good-nature.

  “And wealthy. Tell me, Master Perrin, is she paying for your stay at the Seaman’s Berth?”

  “Of course not.” His smile was wicked. “Though she did offer to help share the expense. I refused. It would hardly be seemly for Lady Barlow to extend such generosity to a stranger. Though she is kind.”

  “She’s a beastly old seawitch,” I muttered under my breath and turned away to start north on the road to Jendlan Falls.

  “Pardon?” His eyes brimmed with cool amusement as I watched from the corner of my eye.

  “I said we'd best be going.”

  “Yes, of course.” He gathered the children to him. “It's getting late. Come along, children.”

  As he shepherded my flock, I stomped ahead, setting a brisk pace, fervently hoping the old troublemaker would have a heart attack and beg for mercy. How had my mother tolerated him? And why? Anders matched my pace, ignoring me as I ignored him, speaking only to the children so they soon lost their awe and began hammering him with questions. I paid scant attention to their conversation, allowing my mind to wander as the road curved northward, beginning the gentle incline leading to Jendlan Falls. On both sides the forest was dense, predominantly oak and elm, though other types were scattered at random. So I was told. I couldn't remember the difference and made very sure Rosanna taught that particular lesson.

  It wasn't very far to the Falls. Long before Carey exhausted his endless questions, I heard the rushing surge of water and quickened my pace. I'd been here countless times. Yet I still gaped in wonder at the sweeping force of the Jendlan River thrusting itself over the cliffs to the churning maelstrom below. It came to rest in a quiet pool before heading south to Shad's Bay and, finally, the Skandar Sea.

  “Humbling, isn't it?”

  “I didn't think you knew the meaning of the word.”

  “If you'd rather I leave—”

  “I'd rather you leap off the top of Jendlan Falls,” I whispered, “but the children would never forgive me.”

  “Yes, they would.” An odd expression deepened the gray of his eyes. “The children adore you. They'd find some reason to explain away your change of heart, in spite of their disappointment.”

  I blinked and looked away, my gaze caught by the drifting spray which blew in our direction with the chilled breeze. “But they'd still be disappointed. And I adore them right back and couldn't have that. So give your flameblasted lesson.”

  “Then I'll leap off the falls.” When I didn't bother to respond, he said, “I'd leap from the bridge if it was high enough.” He nodded at the old wooden bridge spanning the pool where the children were waiting.

  “It's not high enough to guarantee your demise.”

  “Your mother would be appalled.”

  “My mother would never tolerate your attitude.”

  His smile turned suddenly engaging, and I could see, damn his beastly soul, how she could tolerate him. “There were times I found myself fleeing a hailstorm of books, dishes, and any other loose articles she could lay her hands on.”

  “I can understand why.”

  “Alex, I’m not trying to make your life miserable.” When I stared him down, trying to ignore the flush creeping up my face, he sighed and glanced back at the bridge. “Why don't we take the children up there? I can teach just as well from that point, and they could have a better view.”

  My heart started hammering. “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don't like bridges,” I was forced to admit.

  “All right.” His expression was nonjudgmental, though I didn’t trust him. “I certainly don’t want to make you suffer more than you need to during the lesson.” Smug and satisfied, he turned back to the children and guided them toward the edge of the calm, shallow pool where the falls turned gentle.

  Hunter tugged at my cloak. “Master Perrin's going to start. You don't want to miss this lesson, do you?” Wide-eyed, he studied me, uncertain of my mood, as perceptive as his mother.

  “Of course not.” I ruffled his hair and went to sit behind Carey, Hunter nestled close beside me.

  Anders dispatched an unreadable expression my way before giving the children his full attention. “You all know what a seamage can do. But how many of you have ever seen one use talent?”

  Not one raised hand, including mine. I refused to answer. Besides, Seamage Brandt was right. I didn't make a habit of hanging around the council hall.

  Anders cocked his head to the side as the breeze ruffled his thick hair, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Well, then.” With a disarming smile aimed in my direction, he gestured at the placid pool. Eyes locked on the gently swirling water, he held himself to utter stillness.

  I waited for some melodramatic, theatrical chanting, but it wasn't necessary to impress this adoring audience. All ten of my sheep gasped simultaneously as the pool turned to steam, formed a dense cloud over the still flowing water, and rained. A gentle fall at first; then a fierce downpour, still over the pool, and then again, a light spring shower that drifted in our direction until it was over our heads, sprinkling us with mist.

  “Interesting sort of talent,” I murmured, distracted by an odd feeling I couldn’t quite identify. Or maybe chose not to.

  Anders held my gaze over Carey's head for a long moment. “And useful. Don't think for even a moment it's not. Suppose there was a fire nearby? Or a flood? One seamage could put out the fire or dry up the flood, saving lives and crops.”

  “Is that how seamages contribute to society?”

  With a smile at the children, his tone shifted with delicate subtleness as he looked at me. “Any mage, whether master or mistress of water, air, fire, or earth, is bound by all the laws of decency to contribute to the we
lfare of his fellow citizens.”

  “Is the Crownmage bound, too, Master Perrin?” Carey gazed wide-eyed at Anders, as though he’d discovered a new hero.

  “Yes, of course.” Though Anders answered the boy, his eyes never left mine. “Even more so because the Crownmage is master, or mistress, of all elements. The more power a mage has, the more responsible he or she must be.”

  “Like father?” Hunter asked.

  “Yes. The Duke of Port Alain is a powerful man who must guard the livelihood of his people. Now go beyond him. To whom does he answer?”

  “Grandmother,” Carey blurted with a grin as I tweaked his ear affectionately.

  “Yes, of course.” Anders smiled, enjoying his jest. “But beyond your grandmother, your father must answer to the queen, who’s responsible for the livelihood and welfare of all the people in Tuldamoran.”

  “Father says she worries about keeping us safe from raiders,” Hunter said quietly, at my side.

  “Not only raiders, but fires and floods, poor crops, anything that can harm you. She understands her responsibility and does everything she can to fulfill her duty. Something we should all do, whether we’re bakers or sailors or even schoolmistresses.” Anders’ eyes met mine in a silent challenge.

  “Why don't you show the children what other wonders you can perform,” I suggested in an icy voice, tucking a clenched fist under my cloak so the children wouldn't see, wonder, and ask questions.

  With a bland nod, Anders Perrin went on talking, answering questions, and demonstrating his talent. After quite some time, he explained constant use of his talent was wearying, and so they thanked him without my nudging them forward. The children then turned to thank me, wrapping their skinny arms around my waist. After returning their hugs with no less affection, I took a deep breath to confront Anders flameblasted Perrin one final time. But he'd vanished.

  “Turned into sea mist and blown out to sea,” I murmured, uneasy at the thought. “I hope.”

  * * * *

  “If you ever do something so vile, deceitful, and underhanded again—”