Fugitive by Magic: a Baine Chronicles novel (The Baine Chronicles: Fenris's Story Book 1)

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Fugitive by Magic: a Baine Chronicles novel (The Baine Chronicles: Fenris's Story Book 1) Page 15

by Jasmine Walt


  I kept an icy grip on my composure as I held the shifter’s gaze—even with the cedar aftershave, he would scent any fear or unease from me. “You are overestimating my abilities if you think that a shifter can cast sleep spells, hyena.” My tone was scathing.

  But the tax inspector’s eyes were on me now, his gaze tight with suspicion. “Double check these coins,” he told the hyena, pushing the sack of gold toward him even as he continued to stare at me.

  We sat quietly as he went through the entire sack, taking his time. I kept my gaze on the bag of coins while the mage watched me out of narrowed eyes. No doubt he was waiting to see if I did try to use magic—he had been too preoccupied to notice it earlier, and besides, he had not suspected me. But he could not dismiss the hyena’s claims out of hand. Luckily, I had no reason to use magic again, so I made myself comfortable for the next twenty minutes.

  Finally, the hyena put down the last coin, a deeply dissatisfied look on his face. “They are all authentic,” he admitted, shoving them back into the bag. “Every last one of them reeks of magic.”

  “Good,” the tax inspector said, taking the bag. “Then you have both done your job well.”

  “The coins are not the only things that reek of magic,” the hyena snarled, turning that angry gaze toward me again. “Your new shifter employee stinks of it, too, even beneath that nasty perfume he poured all over himself.” His gaze turned challenging, as if he now knew exactly why I’d put on the aftershave and was daring me to deny it.

  I shrugged. “That must be because I’ve been sitting next to a powerful mage all day and handling all these magically created coins.”

  “Yes, I can see how that might confuse the scent,” the mage said, sounding bored, while the hyena sputtered. Clearly, the mage had concluded the hyena was trying to get me in trouble out of spite. The mage stood up, pulled a quarter silver coin from the bag, and tossed it onto the table. “For your time, gentlemen,” he said with a hateful smirk as he walked out.

  I stared in disgust at the coin, impossible for either of us to touch with bare hands. “Keep it,” I told the still-snarling hyena as I left the booth. I had no need of the money, and it was the least I could do after ambushing him. He could pick it up with gloves or a folded handkerchief.

  I can’t blame the humans for being so resentful of the Mages Guild, I thought as I left the inn. The tax inspector had treated us all with barely veiled contempt, and the taxes were far too high compared to what simple farmers or artisans could earn each year. Since mages could produce as much gold as they wanted, the tax collection exercise was merely a means to keep humans under control. There was no reason not to lower the tax rate in years when the harvest was bad.

  As I headed back home, I wondered what Mina would think about my good deed for the day. I had not seen her today, so she had likely handed her tax form in earlier in the morning, before I had arrived. With her knowledge of the area and my unusual abilities, she might have picked up on what I was doing, even with her scant training. Our lessons were going well—she was progressing faster than Sunaya had managed, because she already knew her Loranian and had tight control and a solid base to work from due to growing up in a mage family. She might be one of the rare prodigies who completed their apprenticeship in seven or eight years rather than the average ten.

  It was too early to tell, though, and who knew where I would be when Mina completed her apprenticeship.

  Speaking of Mina… I changed my mind about cooking a full meal for myself and quickly ate a sandwich instead. We had a lesson scheduled for the late afternoon, and I couldn’t let this morning’s excitement disrupt our schedule. Not if we were to be prepared for our visit to the Watawis Mages Guild.

  16

  Fenris

  I’d barely made it back into town before Marris and his friends waylaid me, all smiles and good cheer. They insisted on taking me to the pub for drinks, and while I wanted to refuse, I was reluctant to plead that I was on my way to see Mina. That would lead to a line of questioning I was not ready to deal with—the fewer eyes on our magical lessons, the better.

  “You really didn’t have to do this,” I told them as I set down my near empty tankard. “Alcohol is wasted on me—shifters can’t get drunk on human-style drinks.”

  Marris shrugged and poured me another glass from the large pitcher on the table. “At least it gives us the illusion that we’re repaying you for what you did today,” he said, lifting his tankard to me. “You saved our asses.”

  “Hear, hear,” Cobil and Roth said, and they all drank deeply from their tankards.

  I followed suit, then set down my beer and gave them all stern looks. “I’ll admit, it was lucky I was here this morning,” I told them gravely. “Your stunt with the gold coins, well-meant as it was, put a great many townsfolk in peril today.” The young men had the grace to look embarrassed. “The three of you must immediately exchange whatever coins you have left for genuine coins at the nearest city so that this does not happen again. I will not be able to intervene every time tax season comes around.”

  “Of course,” Marris said, sounding abashed. “We should have thought of this earlier. Only, we had no idea the mages would suspect anything. They never checked the coins before.”

  “It’s been…difficult,” Roth said, an uncomfortable look crossing his face, “to shoulder this burden with just the three of us. We wanted to help the townsfolk, but in the end, we’re simple soldiers, not strategists. We didn’t have someone like you around who could look ahead and see the pitfalls.”

  “Well, I’m glad I was able to be of assistance.” I smiled, ignoring the veiled invitation. Marris and his friends likely saw me as a potential ally, and were surprisingly inclined to trust me, merely on their suspicion that I had supported the Resistance. Though I did not want them to get in trouble, it would be foolish to get involved with their group. With any luck, I would find a way to deter them from other vigilante activities without actually joining their little band, and keep their activism confined to the illegal gold mining. I would set wards around the mine, careful spells that would keep other humans from accidentally stumbling upon the site so the secret was not revealed. They need never know about it, either.

  If I had Iannis’s abilities, I could simply wipe the location of the gold from their minds. But even he hesitated to interfere in others’ minds without supreme need, and perhaps it was as well that I no longer had the power to perform such a complex spell. Anyway, the hidden mine’s gold might yet serve a useful purpose. As an outcast myself, I did not feel obliged to uphold mages’ privileges and the laws that underpinned their power.

  I stayed with them for another hour, then prepared to take my leave—I was going to be late for my appointment with Mina. Just as I was standing up, ignoring the protests from my new friends, the door to the pub slammed open and Roor came stomping in.

  Along with three of his friends.

  “There’s the traitor,” he crowed, his lip curling back in a sneer. “Did you have fun today gloating over us as you sat next to that filthy mage and took our money?”

  I suppressed a sigh. Apparently, the bloodthirsty fool was no longer willing to wait for the full moon, only three days away.

  “Shut up, Roor,” Marris snapped, shoving out of his seat. Cobil and Roth silently rose as well, ready to step in with their fists if needed. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Roor scoffed, stopping a bare foot away from me. “Oh, so I guess when I came up to the tax inspector, I just imagined this mongrel sitting there and sniffing at my coins like a well-trained dog?”

  A look of disgust flashed in his eyes, but since he had no idea of my motives, his disdain left me indifferent. I shrugged. “Your opinion on the matter is hardly relevant, Roor. Or is it really your own opinion? Was it your mother, perhaps, who whipped up this ridiculous show of indignation? She does seem to be very busy these days.” I wondered if the Roor family had received the silver bullets they planned
to expend on me. Was there any point to bandying words with this young brute? Except that the moment we stopped, mayhem was likely to ensue.

  Roor’s cheeks burned like coals. “Don’t you bring my mother into this,” he growled, taking a step forward. “You’re not welcome in this town anymore. Pack your things and go back to the mages, since it’s so obvious you’d rather serve them.” His two companions nodded at this but prudently kept hanging a step or two back, behind Roor’s broad shoulders.

  “On your word? Hardly,” I retorted. “I’ve started making friends here, and Miss Hollin is teaching me all about caring for horses.” A lie—I was perfectly capable of caring for my animals. But trying to diffuse Roor’s anger would get me nowhere—the lout was spoiling for a fight. It was best to get it over with.

  “Don’t you speak her name,” Roor snarled, lunging forward. But I was fast—far faster than any human—and he crashed into the table behind me as I stepped aside. “I don’t know what kind of lies or witchcraft you’ve spun into Mina’s head, but I won’t let you get away with it,” he panted, whirling around again.

  His cronies chose that moment to join in, and Marris and his friends surged forward to meet them. Grunts and snarls filled the air as fists flew, and there was a crash as someone decided to use a chair as a weapon. Roor lunged for me again, but this time, I ducked under his guard and grabbed him by the throat. My triceps flexed as I lifted him off the ground and stared into his eyes with lethal calm.

  He barely had time to claw at my grip before I threw him across the room.

  The bartender and the few patrons in the room all gasped as Roor went sailing a good fifteen feet, his body shooting straight through a cluster of chairs that clattered to the ground. He slammed into the far wall, and I could hear the crack of breaking ribs. Wincing inwardly, I watched as he slumped to the ground, his head lolling forward—had I gone too far? Was he still alive?

  The rest of the pub had gone deathly quiet. Even the other brawlers had stopped fighting to gape at me. I turned my gaze toward them, and Roor’s cronies blanched. One of them sported a broken nose already, the other a split lip from fighting with Marris and his friends, but it was the sight of their fallen leader that decided them. They took one look at me and fled, not even bothering to stop and collect Roor from his prone position on the ground.

  “Sorry about that,” I said to the owner as I knelt in front of Roor to see if he was still alive. The innkeeper was standing behind the bar, his eyes glassy with shock. After confirming that Roor was indeed breathing—though he would be in no condition to come hunt for me on the full moon—I set a gold piece on the counter. “This should be more than enough to cover damages—put the rest on my account.”

  I walked out of the pub without a backward glance.

  “Damn,” Marris breathed as he and the others followed me out into the afternoon sunshine. “That was some throw.”

  “Remind me to never pick a fight with you,” Cobil said, his tone a combination of terror and reverence. “Ever.”

  I chuckled at that. “This has been fun, gentlemen, but I really ought to be going now. Until next time.” I clapped Marris on the shoulder.

  As I headed down the street to Mina’s house, I felt lighter than I had in weeks, even with the weight of their stares on my back. Nothing like a fight now and then to lift the spirits. The weeks of sparring I’d done before my departure of Solantha had come in handy, and I forgot how good it had felt after a particularly intense match. Perhaps it was something I could indulge in more often…if I could find an opponent who didn’t break so easily.

  Or one who deserved breaking.

  17

  Mina

  A week after Fenris had started our magic lessons, we found ourselves setting out for Willowdale. Waiting any longer, we agreed, could lead to renewed suspicion, while any less would not be in character for the grumpy old lady mage I was pretending to be.

  Peering out the window of the rickety steambus that had direct service to the state capital, I pressed my hand against the cool glass pane and tried not to be too nervous. Fenris, in his wolf form, pressed against me—he sat in the aisle seat next to me, his large, furry body a comforting presence. He was too large to fit in the space between the seats, so I had bought an extra ticket so he could sit next to me.

  The other passengers had glanced askance at Fenris—and some had looked downright alarmed—as we’d all piled onto the bus. Fenris didn’t really look like a dog—his shifter form was large even by wolf standards, his paws nearly the size of my face. But I’d simply told them that he was a large breed and I was taking him to a new owner in the capital. It had seemed to settle them a bit. They all knew I was a veterinarian and very good with animals, and that was enough to reassure them Fenris wouldn’t try to maul them.

  “Relax, Mina, you’ll be fine,” Fenris said in mindspeak, likely scenting my discomfort. “We’ve practiced very hard these past few days.”

  “I know.” We’d done some magical training, but most of the past week had been focused on perfecting my role as the old lady mage. It had been harder than I’d expected, learning to slide into the skin of another person’s identity. I’d used raw magic the day the inspector came calling to modulate my voice, and to save energy, Fenris had taught me the proper spell to do it. That spell had been a lifesaver, as my grandmother’s deceased friend had possessed a northeastern accent very different from mine, but magic could do nothing about my woefully modern vocabulary. We’d spent hours conversing, perfecting older speech patterns, practicing how to carry myself, and discussing what a three-hundred-year-old female mage might say and do in certain situations.

  It sounded very much like Fenris had personal experience with elderly mages. I wondered just how many older female mages he’d spent time with. And why.

  As the steambus bumped and jostled along the road, groaning and creaking with every mile, I was glad that we were renting a steamcar for the return trip. Since everybody in Abbsville thought I was going into the city to pick up veterinary supplies, I couldn’t very well return without them. Fenris, too, planned to do some shopping—he needed materials for refurbishing his home.

  He’d been late the other day when he’d come for our lesson, reeking of ale, though he was clear-eyed and fresh-faced. When I’d demanded what had happened, he’d told me Marris and his friends had waylaid him for a drink at the pub, and he hadn’t been able to refuse them without giving away our semi-secret meetings.

  I hadn’t thought anything more of it—it was just the sort of thing Marris would do. But the next morning when I’d visited the general store, Barrla had been waiting, her eyes glowing with delight and her cheeks flushed with the gossip that was just bursting to come out of her. Apparently, Roor had stalked into the pub while Fenris was there, with a couple of his no-good friends, and had picked a fight. And Fenris had wiped the floor with him.

  I don’t know why you’re so surprised, I scolded myself as I glanced sideways at Fenris. I wasn’t an expert on shifters, but it was common knowledge they were stronger and faster than humans, and that even a small shifter female could best the average human male. But I was having a tough time reconciling the image of the calm, polite man who came to give me lessons with the feral beast who had lifted Roor off his feet and thrown him into a wall at the other end of the room.

  Not that I was complaining. The bastard was cooped up in bed with broken ribs and a concussion, where hopefully he would remain for weeks.

  “What are you smiling about?” Fenris asked as a grin tugged at the corners of my mouth.

  I turned back to the window, hiding my expression from him. “It’s nice to know I have a gallant gentleman as my neighbor, one who is willing to break bones to defend my honor.”

  Fenris made a rumbling sound that might have been a laugh. “It was my pleasure. Though you might have bestowed a favor upon me in return.”

  I was glad he couldn’t see my grin. “Perhaps I will, once we return from our little a
dventure.”

  The air between us seemed to heat several degrees, and a blush stole across my cheeks as I realized what I was doing. It was a good thing Fenris was in his wolf form. When he shifted in his seat, his massive shoulder brushing up against my arm again, I realized I didn’t know if I would be able to keep my composure if the bare skin of his arm were touching my skin, if the heady masculine scent of him were filling my head. My cheeks warmed at the thought, and I forced myself to think about other things, mundane things, lest Fenris scent my sudden change in mood.

  We spent the rest of the three-hour ride in silence, and I was relieved when we finally stepped off the bus in the town’s modest depot. Standing on the street corner, I took a moment to soak in the sights and sounds of the city. The air was hotter here in Willowdale, lacking the fresh scents of the open country, and somewhat stifled by the clouds of billowing steam from the various vehicles that rumbled up and down the white streets. But the buildings were quaint, made of glittering pale stone covered with red roofs, and the scent of sizzling meat and fresh bread wafted up the street from the open doors of restaurants and various food carts.

  My grumbling stomach overtaking all other priorities, I grabbed two hot brisket sandwiches from a street vendor and fed one to Fenris. After wolfing down my own meal, I found a quiet, open-ended alley to duck into, then rubbed the ring on my finger.

  By the time I emerged onto the other street, I was once more Tuala Harmon, straight-backed and regal, in a set of flowing gray robes shot through with silvery thread. They rippled and caught the light, and passersby turned to stare as I marched up the street. We were in the human section of town, and the sight of a gray-haired mage was likely just as exotic as the enormous wolf-like dog that strolled by my side as both companion and protector. I hailed the first steamcab I saw, and though the driver seemed nervous about letting Fenris climb in with me, he was even more frightened of what a mage might do to him if he refused to obey.

 

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