“How do you do that?”
“Create fire?” Aran spread his hand in a shrug. “We carry the sun within us.”
Meaning that fire was easy to create at any time because they carried captured sunlight within their core? That made sense, but heavens, that must mean the Fae never got cold. How could they, with a piece of the sun riding along inside of them?
Aran moved to the boar, sinking down two feet away from it, to kneel on one knee. “I am sorry you met this end. Let your spirit go in peace. There is no need to linger here.”
This respect for the slain was expected. Sevana knelt next to him, offering quietly, “When you are done, I’ll create a grave for him. Unless you are going to burn even his bones?”
“The infection does not spread that far. Only into his blood and organs. A grave would be nice.”
Satisfied, she waited as the fire kept burning. The smell was like roasting meat, only somehow foul, but it wasn’t enough to make her gag. Fortunately. Also, to her amusement, the fire didn’t attempt to spread even one nth degree away from the boar. Fae fire was apparently very well behaved and it stayed on task.
“You move extremely well on the hunt,” Aran observed with a quick glance at her face. “Who taught you?”
“My mountain lion.”
“Ah?” Aran looked taken aback for only a moment before chuckling. “Ah, him. Yes, he is a regular visitor in our woods. He taught you? I know few humans that will let an animal teach them anything.”
“They’re fools. Animals know more than we do, sometimes. Oftentimes.”
“It’s really no wonder that you became part of us. The way you think is just like the Fae.”
Perhaps it wasn’t so strange a thing after all. He was right, in many respects; she thought and reacted like the Fae did. Not in all ways, but when it came to managing the forest and animals, she was exactly like them. “You know Baby well?”
“I do. He has helped me on some occasions, tracking down trouble that was brewing. He told me he did it for your sake, to make sure the danger did not come near you. He is a good cat.”
“He is,” Sevana agreed, strangely proud of her mischievous, four-legged friend. “Unless beds are concerned. Then he’s a terror.”
Aran snorted in amusement. “I take it something happened.”
“Oh did it ever.” Sevana related the story of the Grow for true love bed and how she couldn’t keep a certain cat off of it. Aran openly chuckled during the story, nodding as if he could completely envision this playing out.
“Sounds like him,” Aran agreed after the tale was told. “I believe he taught your prince hunting skills as well.”
“Yes, Bel was an avid student. Although those two often brought home more trouble than I could handle. I was glad Baby took him on, though, as I had my hands full trying to break his curse and didn’t have time to teach him everything he needed to know.” Looking critically at the fire, she opined, “I think it’s ready for burial.”
“I agree.” Aran blinked, and the fire winked out, leaving nothing but trace tendrils of smoke behind.
Sevana lifted her wand in a small, circular motion, saying the spell so that the ground moved up and over what was left of the corpse. It wasn’t a smooth job, it was obvious the ground had been disturbed, but it was deep enough that no other animals would think to disturb the grave. Satisfied, she rocked back on her heels and pushed herself to her feet. “Shall we go finish our dinner?”
Joining her, Aran turned and led them back the way they had come. “While we go, tell me where your wolf came from.”
“Grydon? Ah, well, that’s a tale in itself.”
Aran flashed her a small smile. “We have time.”
Sevana had never been so glad to see Big in her life. Four days on horseback (or chellomi-back, same difference) was enough to half-cripple her. Her lower back was in knots, her thighs were almost shaking from being stretched in that unnatural position, and there was a bruise on her ankle from where it had been rubbing against the girth. The only thing that had made the trip bearable was Aran. He was a truly marvelous traveling companion. Not only was the conversation intellectually stimulating, but he was a good cook, too.
Still, nothing was like being home, and she felt like hugging Big the minute he came into view on the horizon. Aran pulled up in front of the main door and slid off before offering her a hand down. She gratefully let him lift her off, as frankly, if she tried to dismount her shaking legs would send her straight to the ground.
As if sensing that her legs were not to be trusted, Aran kept an arm around her waist. There was a concerned frown gathering on his forehead. “You’re truly not used to riding at all.”
“I avoid it as much as possible.” Pointing toward the door, she directed, “Forward.”
Aran amiably became her crutch and steered her into Big. She called out a greeting as she entered, trailing a hand along the walls. “Hello, Big.”
Sevana, the mountain sighed. The warm gust of wind made it into a warm welcome.
“Is she finally here?” Master’s head popped around a doorframe, spectacles slightly askew on his nose, a long streak of black ink along his chin, and a bright smile on his weather-beaten face. “Took you long enough, sweetling.”
Sevana grimaced in return. “It’s a painfully long trip.”
Master popped out of sight again, only for a moment, before he came fully into the hallway and offered a small dark brown vial.
She took it, uncapped the cork, and got a good wiff before venturing, “Muscle relaxant potion?”
“Extra strength,” Master confirmed.
“Bless you,” she responded fervently before tossing the vial down. She’d run out two days ago, hence her current situation.
“Arandur,” Master greeted with a respectful bow of the head. “Nice to meet you in person.”
“The same, Master Joles.” Aran tentatively let go of her, and when she stayed standing, straightened into his usual posture. “I will need to tend to a few things.”
“After that, stay here,” Sevana half-requested, half-ordered.
Aran’s mouth parted in surprise but he was obviously delighted by the invitation. “You want me here?”
“You know far more about Fae magic than you inclined me to believe, you know these woods like the back of your hand so you can help me track down materials as I need them, and I’ll need your help in both regards if my plans don’t work.” As an afterthought, she added, “And Master can’t cook, so I need someone to switch out with that won’t poison us all.”
Master gave an affronted huff.
Aran out and out grinned, not at all buying her list of excuses. Sevana was trying not to make it obvious that she just liked having him nearby, but from that expression on his face, he’d seen right through her facade. “I’ll stay, of course. I’ll dart home, though, give a report to Aranhil first. He’ll want to know what’s going on.”
Good point. “Do I need to report as well?”
“Not now,” Aran denied with a single shake of the head. “Later, when you have succeeded, he’ll want the full report. For now, I know enough to catch him up to date.”
“Fetch Baby and Grydon back when you do?” Master requested. “They’re still in Fae territory.”
“Still?” Sevana demanded, flabbergasted.
“The kids are apparently irresistible.” Master gave a shrug and she could see he found this situation more amusing than anything. “I haven’t seen hide nor hair of them since I came here.”
Those scamps. They were supposed to be guarding Master while she was gone, not playing hooky with the kids.
“I’ll collect them,” Aran promised. He slung her two bags off his shoulder and set them outside the door to her workroom. “I’ll be back before dark.”
It was barely noon now. Concerned, she asked, “Don’t you want to eat before you go?”
“I’m fine,” he assured her. “There’s a certain place I can always find food, and you’d
have to cook something for me. It’s easier this way. I’ll be back.” With that, he turned on his heel and left again. She didn’t see him, but she heard the clattering of hooves as he went around the bend in the trail, heading for the back of the mountain.
Master cleared his throat in a pointed way. “Seems like a nice young man.”
“Get that parental look off your face,” she ordered, already slipping past him. Clothes that didn’t smell like horse were her first order of business. That and a quick bath.
“It was an innocent observation,” he called after her.
“With you, there’s no such thing!” she retorted, not turning around. Master had been teasing her or pestering her into courting someone, but she had shut him down every time. For one thing, she didn’t know any men that she would care to think of in that fashion. For another, it was hard to find someone that could live with her without them eventually losing their sanity. Even she knew that she wasn’t easy to get along with, some days. Alright, most days.
After a quick wash at her washstand, she pulled on her usual white shirt, vest, and tan pants. Feeling more human, she left her room and travelled down to the kitchen for a quick snack. Master, as expected, had gathered a lot of readily made foods that let her cobble a sandwich together. Wolfing that down, she grabbed a hot kettle of tea off the stove, filled two mugs, then wandered off in the direction of her workroom. The bags Aran had brought in were gone, and she assumed Master had brought them in, which was proved once she stepped through the door.
Her workroom had definitely seen a few changes since she’d last been here. Art easels of every type and height were scattered around the room, lining the walls like some sort of eerie imitation of a museum. Master had every diagnostic tool known to man on the table, four thick journals that seemed filled to the brim with notes, and six abandoned mugs. The mugs didn’t in the least surprise her.
Master had her bag open on the workbench, and was setting things out in a line on the only clear space of the table. “Sweetling, you brought back amazing things.”
“I know it.” She came around the table to make sure that everything had survived the journey intact. She’d layered them with so many cushioning spells, she could have hurled one off a volcano and it would have been fine—but sometimes all the safeguards in the world failed. “It’s why I insisted on gathering our supplies up there, if I could. Their levels of purity and power are unrivaled down here.”
“Truly.” Master lifted the bottle of kraken ink and examined it with an admiring eye. “Any chance I can have some of this?”
“If there’s any left over.” Reminded, she snapped her fingers. “Master, they told me something astounding while I was up there. Did you know that now that I’m considered part of the Fae nation, that I can trade with any of the Fae communities?”
Master lowered his spectacles to the edge of his nose so he could stare at her incredulously. “They told you that?”
“It’s mind-blowing, isn’t it? But the Fae up there not only told me this, but insisted on it. They said it wasn’t fair that I was taking all of the children to Noppers, and they were interested in some of my devices as well, so they wanted me to start doing business with them too.”
A gleam of childlike wonder crossed over his face. “I have a list of things I’d like to have…?”
“This stays between me, you, and Sarsen. I won’t trade for anyone else,” she warned. Sevana was afraid that this was a relationship that others would quickly take advantage of. She didn’t want to abuse the incredible privilege that she had been handed.
“That’s wise, sweetling, I wouldn’t tell anyone else about this. People tend to be selfish and you don’t want to upset the relationship you have with the Fae.”
“Truly.” Gesturing toward the journals open on the table, she prompted, “So? I take it you ran the numbers about my theory?”
“I did, and I believe it will work.” Master sat the last ingredient on the table. “At least, according to the numbers that you gave me, it’ll work. There’s two points that are still in question.”
Sevana stopped skimming through his notes and looked up. “Which are?”
“First, I’m not sure if the ink wash alone will suffice in activating the portal magic. Holding up the canvas in front of the mirror certainly lets them speak to us, but it’s a reflection only, and there’s no direct magical link. I don’t think activating the magic in the ink will change that.”
That was a point she had not properly considered. But then, Sevana had been focused on understanding all of the properties of the ink, not on the spells’ interactions. “What’s your proposal?”
“I think we need a work-around solution. After the wash is applied, I think we’ll have to apply another spell on top of it so that they are transported from the drawing and into the mirror.”
She saw where he was going with this and continued, “And once they are in the mirror, activate a portal spell on it, letting them step out?”
“We do know how to put a portal spell on a mirror,” Master pointed out. “It’s not a common practice, but people travel through them consistently.”
Yes, so they did. The spell was similar in nature to the one she used for her clocks. “This sounds like the safest method to use, certainly the most guaranteed, but are you sure about layering yet another spell on those portraits? It’s rather powerful and complicated enough as it is.”
“The portal spell is not complex and nothing about it clashes with the elements in the other spell. Rather, I think we can tap into the portal spell already in place and just extend it so that people can step directly into the mirror.”
Sevana couldn’t see one reason why it wouldn’t work. And it was certainly a more viable plan than anything else she had come up with so far. She just had this nagging feeling that they were missing something. “Trying this will either work or fail but it shouldn’t cause any harm to the people in the portraits.”
“None at all, I wouldn’t think,” Master agreed. “So, sweetling, let’s start making that wash. How long will that take?”
“Roughly three days. The first step is to mix the pine tree resin and dragon ash together. It needs to be a mud-like consistency.”
“Right.” Master rubbed his hands together in excited anticipation as he reached for the two bottles.
Sevana went rummaging for the only container she had that was big enough to make the wash. It was more of a ceramic bucket than anything else, but it was perfect for this job. Kraken ink spoiled unless it was contained by either glass or ceramic. It was part of the reason why it was so hard to attain without it losing some of its potency. Everyone always wanted to put it into wooden tubs or kegs and that was exactly the wrong thing to use.
She finally found what she was looking for, crammed under a table and in the far corner. Of course it was dusty beyond belief, so she carted it to the washroom for a quick scrub before bringing it back. Master had found a long ceramic spoon from her drawers and was waiting impatiently for her return.
Setting the bucket down with a plop, she waited while he poured half the contents of the vials into the bucket. “Let’s start with this amount first,” he suggested as he poured.
It was wise of him, to hold some back, as there was no guarantee that they could mix up the right consistency on the first try.
With the ingredients in there, Master started stirring with slow and steady strokes. Sevana bent just enough to peer inside the bucket, watching. They wanted something that would look much like molasses.
“What next, after this?”
“We mix in the dragon ash. Then we let that set for twenty-four hours. It needs to chemically mix and react. While we’re waiting on that, we mix the Fae blood and spring water together and let that react as well. The amount of spring water is what’s going to be hard to judge,” this last part she said as much to herself as to him. “For this to be a wash, we’ll need to dilute the recipe of the ink quite a bit.”
�
��How much does the original recipe call for?”
“Equal parts with all of the other ingredients. The exception to that is the Fae blood. That requires six drops.”
Master ruminated on that for a moment. “Doubling the water won’t throw off the magical balance?”
“I asked that very question of them. Apparently their mixture has as much to do with the texture and volume as it does of the power level. To make a good, thick ink, it requires equal parts of all ingredients. But the main source of power is from their blood.”
“Hence it’s safe to double the water, diluting the thickness and color of the ink, without disrupting the power level,” Master concluded aloud.
“In essence. We can apply it to regular parchment first, and if that’s too thick, then we can add more water in and let it sit overnight before trying again.”
“You sure that will work?” Master asked doubtfully.
“I specifically asked before I left, on how important it was to get the order of the ingredients mixed together. Their master ink maker assured me it wasn’t the order so much as the timing. They do the order like this to get the consistency right, more than the power level. If we need to add water after everything’s mixed, we can, but it has to sit for twenty-four hours to let it blend in with everything else.” Sevana hoped it didn’t come to that, as she didn’t want to be adding in water and waiting a day for days on end before knowing that she finally had the right mixture.
“I’m assuming you’ll get the blood you need from Arandur?”
“You assume correctly.”
Master gave her that annoyingly paternal look again. “You two seem quite companionable.”
“He’s an easy man to get along with. Unlike certain old goats I know.”
He grinned at that, as she knew he would, as he was a perverse old man and liked it when his former students insulted him. “Nothing wrong with being friends with the Fae.”
“That’s nice,” she said sarcastically. Heavens, but it was like she was eight years old and asking for permission to play with the kid next door. “If I promise to be home by dark, can I go out and play?”
The Scofflaw Magician (The Artifactor Book 3) Page 18