Dreadmarrow Thief (The Conjurer Fellstone Book 1)

by Kaptanoglu, Marjory

  TESSA

  I will never forget the moment I saw my mother again. Ash and I were watching as Ratcher flew away and disappeared from our view, when I noticed the two figures emerging from the castle. My gaze shifted and locked on Mama, who looked exactly as I remembered her, although it was possible my memory was influenced by the portrait in the gallery. For a moment I stood frozen in place, and then abruptly I felt my legs move underneath me with a will of their own. But as I ran toward her, I received the first inkling that all was not as it should be. Instead of opening her arms, she clutched them around herself, and bobbed her head.

  I slowed as I reached her, and Calder, touching my hand, said, “Give her time.”

  She looked at me curiously, and sniffed the air around me. I felt certain she recognized me, but the bird instincts which had taken over kept her skittish and afraid of contact. She let me rub her arm.

  “Dear Mama,” I said. “It’s me, Tessa. You’re safe now. Lord Fellstone is dead.”

  She seemed to brighten, and she whistled a few notes. I would need to have patience, no doubt, but I felt confident she would recall how to be a person soon enough, and her time as a bird would fade into distant memory.

  #

  It was a clear blue-sky day with a gentle breeze when we buried Papa. Mama and I wore black, naturally, and stood together with our arms linked. She still could not speak, and the level of her understanding was equal to that of a young child. She trusted no one but Calder and me. We’d managed to coax her out of the house for the funeral, but she clung closely to us, and would not make eye contact with anyone else. As I gazed at her anxious face, it seemed to me that although I’d wanted to get back my mother… someone who would protect and cherish and advise me… I had returned with a daughter instead.

  Papa’s coffin lay beside the freshly dug grave. The chaplain muttered something over it, but I wasn’t listening; my thoughts were elsewhere. Papa’s death, and my role in it, continued to haunt me. I could not change the choice I’d made, and I knew inside that if I had it to do over, I would choose the same again. Yet I wished with all my heart the choice had never fallen on me.

  Mr. Oliver stood apart on the other side of Papa’s grave. He blew his nose into his handkerchief several times during the service. I thought he must be the only one whose loss was nearly as great as my own. Perhaps I would be able to entice him into a game of backgammon from time to time. If anyone’s company could bring me closer to my absent father, it was his.

  Calder and Ash were just behind Mama and me. Ash’s parents had also come, along with many other townsfolk. I didn’t even recognize some of them, but I was grateful for their presence. It made me proud to know Papa had earned the respect and friendship of so many.

  Today was the first time I had seen Ash since our return. We’d been busy preparing for Papa’s burial, but I thought he would come by the house, at least in the evening after his work was done. He should have known he would always be welcome in my home, but if he believed he needed an invitation, I would give him one now. I turned his way after the chaplain finished speaking, and workers began to lower the casket into the grave.

  “Will you come see us this afternoon?” I said.

  He stiffened. “I… I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

  “Don’t be silly. I’d like you to be there.” What is wrong with him? He was acting as if we were strangers.

  “Okay. Sure. I’ll come by later,” he said.

  I was about to rebuke him and insist he come right now, because, after all, we’d faced slitherbatts together, and nothing could be more intimate than that, but I was interrupted by Ryland, of all people. He called out my name and hurried over to us, stepping directly between Ash and me.

  “I’m really sorry about your father,” he said.

  “Thank you,” I said coldly.

  He looked at Mama, who was now leaning on Calder’s arm.

  “Is that your mother?” he said. “Hello, Mrs. Skye.” He held out his hand.

  She chirped.

  Ryland, looking confused, dropped his hand and turned back to me. “I’m sorry I didn’t go with you, Tessa. I hope you understand. You could’ve been killed. I only wanted to protect you.”

  “Sure. I understand,” I said.

  He grasped my arm and lowered his voice into my ear. “My feelings haven’t changed.”

  “Well, that’s one of us,” I said. I pulled my arm back and went to my mother’s side. Ryland stared at me a moment longer before turning away. I looked around for Ash, but he was gone.

  ASH

  He circled the town twice before resolving to go to Tessa’s house and get it over with. Enough time had passed that his hair and coat were soaked, though the rain had only fallen in a light drizzle. It didn’t matter; he would not be staying long. There was nothing between them and there never could be. Best if they both moved on as soon as possible.

  He’d made up his mind during the sleepless nights since they returned from the castle. She was a noblewoman now, which made her as inaccessible to him as if he were the earth and she, a star. Despite that, he knew if he were to offer her his hand right away, she might accept, but it wouldn’t be long before she came to regret it. When he married, it must be that he had something of value to offer his wife, but in this case, he could never hope to compete with the rich and powerful suitors that were sure to arrive any day now.

  He should have made an excuse when she spoke to him at the funeral and asked him to her house, but he had not been quick-witted enough to come up with one. Now he was stuck having to go, but he would prepare a reason in advance why he could not stay.

  As he dragged his feet ’round the corner, he spied an official carriage in front of her house, bearing the Fellstone coat of arms. He thought about turning around immediately, but curiosity got the better of him and he continued to the door.

  Calder answered Ash’s knock and ushered him inside. “Lord Fellstone’s steward, Sir Geoffrey, is here,” he said.

  Mrs. Skye sat on a pile of straw in the corner, making her birdlike movements. Tessa was seated at the table across from the steward, a thin, balding man with a white beard. Calder led Ash to the fireplace, where they both sat down and listened to Tessa’s conversation with the steward, though they pretended not to.

  Sir Geoffrey explained that Tessa would inherit all her father’s wealth—the castle and everything inside it, his treasury, and his many other land holdings. He went over with tremendous glee just how wealthy Tessa would be, beyond anything she could possibly imagine. He spoke of the suitors who would come from far and wide, and how she must be careful as many would seek to deceive her. Ash thought she purposely avoided looking at him when the word “suitor” came up. The steward told her there were official documents to be drawn up, and later to be signed, before she could move into the castle, and that all this would take some time. They would also need to confirm her identity and that of her mother, and this too would cause a delay in the proceedings. He said her mother’s mental incapacity created some difficulty, since she could not speak for herself, but in the end it wouldn’t matter because she clearly was Lady Fellstone, as evidenced by the portrait hanging on Lord Fellstone’s wall. Sir Geoffrey explained that performing these services was a part of his job as steward of Fellstone Castle, and that he hoped Tessa would do him the honor of keeping him on in that capacity once the transfer of property was complete.

  Ash couldn’t help but see the pleasure in Tessa’s face as the steward spoke to her. He did not begrudge her that. Few could resist the offer of a castle at their disposal, and the riches that came with it. She would have all the gowns and jewelry she could desire, though when he thought about it, she had not shown any real affinity for those things. Like it or not, she’d have to dress for her new role, spending her days mingling with others of the ruling class, and nights dancing until dawn with young lords and counts and marquis and whatever else they liked to call themselves. There was no place for him there.
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  Ash waited until Sir Geoffrey presented a document for Tessa’s signature, and while she was bent over that task, he slipped away.

  TESSA

  Who would’ve thought I would set out for Fellstone Castle as the locksmith’s daughter, and return as the heir to the conjurer lord and his massive fortune? I was stunned when Sir Geoffrey came to tell me all that I would inherit. Was it wrong to feel some happiness over this stunning reversal? I couldn’t help but love the thought that my family would never want for anything, and that it would be within my power to help the people of Sorrenwood become prosperous again.

  It annoyed me when Ash left without a word. He could’ve waited a little longer; the steward left soon after he did. All of this… craziness… had nothing to do with the way I felt about him. He ought to know the money meant nothing to me, except in the power it gave me to perform good works and help others.

  After supper I walked to Ash’s house. His father came to the door and told me he’d gone out to Krieg’s Tavern. I went there next, though I’d never been inside it before in my life. The sounds of music and raucous celebration spilled out from the windows onto the street. I supposed they must be drinking to the death of the tyrant.

  Inside, people were closely packed and the floors were sticky with ale. I forced my way through to the counter and looked around as best I could. I spied Ash at a table in the back, and began to make my way toward him, until I saw who his companions were. Anna sat beside him, and her twin Margaret was across the table next to Ryland.

  As I stood for a moment staring at them, Ash glanced my way. A strange look flashed in his face… some combination of guilt and shame… but he stubbornly forced away all feeling until his features were blank again. He averted his gaze as if he hadn’t seen me.

  Later, I couldn’t remember how I got out of the tavern. I had a vague recollection of a drunken man stumbling into me and taking the opportunity to grope me as I passed. I gave him a brisk shove that toppled him. The tears began as soon as I reached open air. They mingled well with the hard rain that started to fall as I crossed Higgins Bridge. When I reached home, I found Mama asleep on her nest, but Calder, who was staying in Papa’s room, sat by the fire reading “The Trials of Kallos.” He gave me a curious look when I told him the wetness on my face was due to the downpour. I closed myself in my room, tore off my clothes, pulled on my nightgown, and got into bed. I wouldn’t allow myself to weep anymore, but I could not keep the image of Ash’s arms wrapped around me from seeping into my dreams.

  #

  A week later, Calder and I sat together by the fire in the late afternoon, while Mama swept the floor by the table. She liked to keep busy but could not yet read or go out by herself, and so I’d taught her some simple chores to do inside the house. She particularly liked the broom and would sweep for hours on end.

  “How were you able to force the dreadmarrow from Fellstone?” Calder said. We were speaking of events that had taken place at the castle for the first time since returning home.

  “Perhaps Ratcher helped me,” I said.

  “She wanted him to die?”

  I nodded. “She was supposed to provide my blood for his elixir… but she told me it came from someone else.”

  Calder stood and poured himself some whiskey. “At the castle morgue, I learned Ratcher stole blood from a dead man. I suppose if you drank that in a potion, you might feel quite dead yourself.”

  “Between that and not having his dreadmarrow… it was enough to weaken him.”

  Mama paused abruptly by the window to look out at a bird that was singing. I couldn’t see it from where I sat, but I thought it sounded like a sparrow. She whistled back at it.

  I turned to Calder. “It must be very hard for you to see her like this.”

  “Hard for both of us.”

  Why did he compare my feelings to his own? Anger rose up inside me, at Calder and others like him—self-righteous men who made decisions based on their stodgy notions of what was honorable.

  “You love her, don’t you?” I blurted. Without waiting for an answer, I barreled on. “Then why did you let her go to Lord Fellstone? Why didn’t you run off and marry her yourself? Did you think she would never love you because you were cook’s son? Or because of some other imaginary shortcoming you perceived in yourself?” Perhaps, given his height limitations, it was not the best choice of words. But still I went on. “Why not tell her how you felt?”

  “I was going to,” he said quietly. “Until she said she was madly in love with somebody else.”

  His words stopped me short. “Not Fellstone…?”

  He shook his head. “A handsome young man of her acquaintance… a fortune-hunter, as it turned out. He disappeared as quickly as Faline’s parents could threaten to disinherit her.”

  My heart went out to Calder. “I’m sorry,” was all I could think of to say. Rejected so many years ago, and yet here he was, her loyal servant still, though she could no longer even say his name. We glanced her way as she settled into her nest, arranging some bits of cloth around the center.

  “Do you remember I promised to tell your fortune?” Calder said.

  “I think I would rather not know it,” I said.

  “Let me have a look.”

  I held out my right hand to humor him. “Does it matter which one?”

  “If this hand is gloomy, we’ll try the other.” He traced a line on my palm. “Where it forks,” he said, “the line that veers off is stronger than the other. It means you will leave Sorrenwood.”

  “Will I?”

  He concentrated on my hand. “I see you settling far from here. It’s a lovely place, with rolling green hillsides and a clear river running through the valley. You live in a beautiful house, full of love and warmth. Your mother is there with you. And your husband.” He threw me a sly glance at that.

  “And who might that be?” I asked in a nonchalant voice.

  “Seeing into the future is not like reading a book. There are no names, only vague images of what is to come. You must figure out for yourself who he might be.”

  I drew back my hand. “Well, it all sounds very idyllic. But I can’t leave here.”

  “I beg you to consider it.” His manner grew somber. “You understand the death of Fellstone will attract other conjurers to our land?”

  “The thought has occurred,” I said.

  “Leave while you can. It’s the safest path.”

  “I have something to ask you.” I went to my room and returned with “The Conjurer’s Book of Incantations,” which Ratcher had been so anxious to take away with her. “What do you think I should do with this?” I said.

  “Have you looked inside it?”

  I shook my head. “Not for lack of trying,” I said, demonstrating the book’s refusal to open when I pulled on its cover. “Lord Fellstone must have set a spell to keep it closed.”

  “Burn it,” Calder said. “Conjuring brings nothing but wickedness.”

  “Is magic wicked, or the conjurers who bend it to their evil purpose?”

  “You cannot separate one from the other.”

  “How will Sorrenwood defend against the conjurers that will come?”

  “The town has Fellstone’s battalions. It isn’t up to you or me. Soldiers are needed.” He nodded his head toward the fire. “The book?”

  I brought it to the hearth and stood for a moment gazing down.

  “A bit closer, I think,” said Calder.

  I dropped the book into the blaze and watched as the flames rose up around it.

  TESSA

  Mama was asleep in her nest when I slipped from my bed and tiptoed into the main room. Calder snored with a rumble and a wheeze inside Papa’s room. The fire had gone out. I took Papa’s heavy garden gloves and approached the hearth. I reached into the embers, and drew out the book from underneath them, blowing away the ashes on top of it.

  The book was undamaged, as I knew it would be, since I had tested it with a candle flame the day
before. It had to be protected by a spell. I wondered again why the dreadmarrow had no such defense. I could only speculate that either Ratcher had somehow removed it, or I myself did it without understanding how, when my mind seized control of it out from the lord.

  I felt a twinge of guilt for deceiving Calder. I was testing him when I asked what I should do with the book. If he’d encouraged me to keep it, I would’ve opened up to him about my plans. But since he chose the opposite… I knew it would be best not to confide in him. In any case, no one should know that I would be teaching myself magic. The element of surprise could not be overestimated. Naturally Calder wished to protect me. No doubt he saw me as a child. It would take time for him to get to know the person I’d become during our quest, following the dangers I’d faced, and the knowledge I’d gained about my own origins. I didn’t feel anything like a child anymore.

  My thoughts flashed to the cave where I was helplessly bound, bleeding from the first cut to my face, and filled with terror as the demon returned with his knife to slice me again. I nearly cried out, though I knew now it wasn’t me in that vision, but Ratcher. Somehow I’d read her memories. Whether because she’d purposely forced them on me, or due to some bond we had as half-sisters, I had no idea. The one thing I knew was that it was no mere nightmare, but the true image of how Ratcher’s face came to be as it was.

  Is Lord Slayert that demon? I didn’t know, and I prayed never to find out. At the same time, I knew I must be prepared should he march on Sorrenwood. Only a conjurer could beat another conjurer. He would sense me and seek me out, whether or not I had the power to defend against him. And thus I knew, I must develop my skills before it was too late. My father—Lord Fellstone—had told me conjuring was in my blood. I lacked only the knowledge to direct its purpose.