by Megan Derr
A secret Sorcerer for the King, a Finder trained by the Seacrist himself… All right, so he didn't mind the whole idea entirely. It was just…if he were not a tier two mage, and Shaw had found him that day…would he have even cared at all? In any way? Would he use those stupid, annoying pet names or have told him what was going on, let him go along to save Goss, or tolerated his rudeness? Or would he have simply dropped Tolan off, gone on his way, and soon forgotten all about him?
Tolan scowled. It shouldn't matter. It didn't matter.
Except that it did. Damn it. He would simply have to work to make it not matter. Eventually, Shaw would declare his duty done, and then Tolan would be on his own. The life that Shaw led—and, he realized with an ache, the life Goss would someday lead—was not the sort of life to which Tolan was suited. He was a backwater peasant, if one who happened to have powerful magic.
He really wished he could make it not matter and wondered irritably why it did matter, and when that nonsense had started. Really, it needed to go away again.
The sound of footsteps drew his attention, and he glanced way from whatever portrait he was glaring at to direct his ire at Shaw. "We'll discuss it later," Shaw said. "For now, I am required at the palace. I thought you could come along, and familiarize yourself with the palace and city, so you know your way around next week when you take your journeyman exams. The rest…we'll discuss it later, as I said."
Tolan nodded. "I should probably wash and change," he said stiffly, hiding a wince. Like he had anything fit for the bloody royal palace.
"If you want," Shaw with a shrug. "It matters not to me; you appear fine." The disappointment that rose up just made Tolan all the angrier. He just wanted his life to be normal again. He didn't want to be sad that, eventually, Goss would be out of his life. He didn't want to be sad that Shaw would as well. He didn't want to be crushed that Shaw did not care how he looked.
Whatever happened to that threatened seduction? Damn it, why did he care? He'd already been over it a thousand and one times anyway. If it had not already been clear, it was painfully obvious now that it had just been a joke. That he'd believed it for even a second proved just how much he was still a country bumpkin at heart.
Stalking off, Tolan reached his bedroom and there stripped out of his house clothes. Washing at the bowl near his wardrobe, he then dressed in his best set of clothes. They were still nothing like Shaw's, not even close, but hopefully he did not look completely outclassed.
Ha. Angrily shoving away stupid thoughts that a couple of weeks ago never would have entered his head, resenting Shaw for them, he made his way to the sunroom.
"Here," Shaw said with a grin, and thrust Goss into his arms. "Since you'd only take him anyway, on the grounds I'd just misplace him."
Tolan rolled his eyes, but could not muster a retort. If he was only here out of duty, then he really should knock it off. The rudeness wasn't like him, anyway, and duty only tolerated so much. Shaw's grin faded. "Tolan…I did not mean to upset you. I promise, I'll not force you to do anything you do not want. I simply got carried away…" He broke off and sighed. "We will speak later, all right? There is a great deal more which must be explained to you."
"As you wish," Tolan said, and focused on the way Goss was happily muttering to himself as he tugged and pushed at Tolan's bright blue tunic with the green trim he'd been so pleased with—and looked utterly pathetic next to Shaw's stylish, properly cut and fitted clothing.
"Hold on," Shaw said with another sigh, and tugged him close. His arms were heavy and firm as they wrapped around Tolan, but instead of pleasant, this time they just made Tolan more miserable. The expected cold rushed over him, and made Goss fuss, but then it was over and suddenly they were surrounded by noise.
"This is the only place within the royal palace to which mages are able to Shift," Shaw said, arms slowly sliding away as he took a step back. "When necessary, even this place can be shut off from magical access."
Tolan nodded, and looked around curiously. People bustled to and fro, some alone, others in small or large groups. He could see soldiers, dignitaries, government officials, and so many mages. There were all levels, all classes. Apprentice, journeyman, masters, specialists…Finders, Enchanters, Charmers, Elementors, Healers…it nearly made him dizzy, to see so many in one place at one time.
It also made him gawk like a first year apprentice. Scowling, Tolan jerked his gaze back to Shaw, who held out a leather purse and tried another smile. "As my apprentice, you have access to nearly the entire palace. You'll be told if you're where you shouldn't. Go into the city as well, if you like. There's money enough in the purse to buy whatever, and anything too expensive can simply be charged to my accounts." He laughed. "Don't buy anything too exotic—and watch that wicked tongue of yours, my little spark. Not everyone will find it as charming as I."
Tolan replied before he remembered he wasn't supposed to snap anymore. "You're the only one who needs yelling at—for being lazy, and difficult, and rude, and infuriating, and losing children." Something like relief, and maybe happiness, flitted across Shaw's face. He smiled, and reached out to toy briefly with Goss's hair. "If you can still yell at me, then I guess you do not hate me entirely. If this business does not take too long, I'll take you to dinner, hmm? See you in a little while. If you get tired, simply ask to be taken to my rooms here."
Then he was gone, leaving Tolan with no bloody clue where he was, or should go. Muttering about stupid Seacrist mages, he juggled Goss to one arm, managed to get the purse tucked away beneath his tunic, then settled Goss properly again and strode toward the massive doorway that seemed to be the main exit from the Shifting area.
He felt more than a little overwhelmed. There were people everywhere, and they all seemed to be staring at him, though that could have been all in his head. At least Goss seemed happy enough; then again, Goss was probably used to such crowds and wouldn't mind them unless he had been misplaced.
"Torn," Goss said, as if sensing he was being thought about. "Fow-nin." What? Tolan tried to work through that one, even as Goss continued to ask for it, stalking through yet another doorway and wishing he knew how to curse people because Shaw was asking for it today— when Goss suddenly shrieked in delight and started to make grabbing motions.
"Oh," Tolan said with sudden comprehension, and smiled. "Fountain. Should have known, the way you try to go swimming in the fishpond." He looked down into the small courtyard below, where greenery and flowers of all sort filled it to overflowing—save the very center, where a massive marble fountain stole attention. It was beautiful, impressive, made up of well-endowed women and men spilling water from pitchers and bowls and cups as they laughed and danced.
Goss chattered happily, to himself, or whoever he saw when he chattered so, and continued to motion to the fountain—but seemed content enough to watchit from afar. That was good, because Tolan could see no immediate way down.
The railing was wide, almost more like a bench, and he eased Goss partly onto the edge of it, happy to be free of the weight for a bit, though he did not let go. That was something Shaw would do, or a Seabolt.
Where should they go? Into the city? That would give him a chance to purchase some clothes, which he sorely needed. Unfortunately, he was accustomed to purchasing used clothing and adjusting them himself to fit properly—the well-tailored clothes Shaw wore were something else again. Perhaps he should ask Shaw for help.
He scowled, and immediately dismissed that notion. A million headaches worth of harassment aside, he really did not want to appear more dependent than he probably already did. If he ventured out to get clothes, though, he could get Goss things as well—gods knew he destroyed his clothing as quickly as it was put on.
Nodding, decided, he braced himself to take Goss full weight back on—but froze as a familiar figure came through one of the doorways below, accompanied by another man. Shaw and…someone who was entirely too handsome and standing entirely too close.
"Oh, is that the Se
abolt baby?" asked a woman's voice from behind him. "By golly, it is!"
Tolan turned and frowned. "I beg your pardon?" She smiled at him and came forward, reaching out to lightly touch Goss' hair. "So cute! If this is Goss Seabolt, then you must be the apprentice everyone is talking about. I'm Marla Sealore, seventh brat of that line in this generation. You're name is escaping me…"
"He's Tolan Lakeith," said another voice, and Tolan startled, and jerked his gaze to stare at a man who was the woman's total opposite—black where she was blond, bright eyes to her dark, tall where she was short, almost pretty where she was actually more boyish. Both had extremely short hair, more than enough to tell him they were Elementors, without needing to look at their badges. Only Elementors, even the women, wore their hair that short.
Tolan realized the man had just rattled off his name like he knew it well, and scowled. The man just grinned. "I'm good with names. Mine is Jakob Tidal. We're journeymen here in the palace; actually we're about to go out into the field, but that's not 'til next month. Right now, we're just avoiding lessons. You're lucky you study under Seacrist—her Uncle is a positive slave driver, I vow."
"I vow," Marla muttered in agreement. "Oh," she said, voice taking on the tone of what Tolan had long ago marked as 'gossip mode'. "It's Seacrist and Lord Moonrise."
"What?" Jakob demanded. "Never say so." He strode to the balcony himself and looked over the edge. "I'll be damned—it is. Maybe those rumors are trueafter all." He looked at Tolan. "Are they?"
Tolan just stared at him. "Right, right," Jakob said apologetically. "Apprentices are always the last to know, slaves that we are. Or were, in our case. Whatever." He motioned to the two men, now seated alongside the fountain and speaking quietly together, completely unaware of their audience. "They used to be lovers, back in their training days. Everyone says it was a mutual, but reluctant parting. Driven apart by duty and the like."
Marla sighed. "Looks to me like it could be true. Moonrise never comes out of that stuffy old house of his if he can help it, but he looks chummy enough with Seacrist." Tolan felt like he was going to be sick. He squeezed Goss tight, ceasing only when Goss fussed at him, and looked more closely at the man sitting next to Shaw. Even at a distance, he was handsome. His was neither blonde nor brown, but somewhere between the two. It was cut short, the feathery ends falling against his cheeks and just barely reaching his neck. He was skinny, and well-dressed in pale blue and dove gray.
Even as Tolan stared, Moonrise laughed and shook his head, causing Shaw to reach out and pull him into a loose embrace. Turning away, ignoring Goss' protests, Tolan stalked off to find his way out of the stupid palace and into the city. He'd barely left the balcony behind, however, when he found Jakob and Marla once more on either side of him. Damn it, couldn't he be left alone to wallow in misery?
"So, where to, apprentice?" Jakob asked cheerfully.
"Shopping," Tolan said, force of habit alone makingit come out politely, "for clothes." "Ugh," Marla said. "I hate shopping for clothes; the clerks are always so hoity—" She broke off, groaning in dismay. "Evil Overlord coming from the east."
"Confirmed," Jakob said with a matching groan. "Soldiers, to arms!" They slowed to a stop and Tolan, trapped between them, had no choice but to do the same. They all three waited in silence as a tall man who looked like a grimmer, older, more masculine version of Marla approached them.
"Uncle," Marla said politely.
"Lord Sealore," Jakob greeted with even more formality.
"What?" Sealore asked, "are the two of you doing away from your lessons?" Marla beamed and looped her arm through Tolan's, somehow managing to negotiate around Goss to do it. "We're taking our new friend out shopping; he's not yet familiar with the city. Lord Uncle, may I present to you Tolan Lakeith, apprentice of Lord Shaw Seacrist. Tolan, Lord Velari Sealore, Master Enchanter and Seneschal of Castle Sealore."
Tolan gulped as fiery green eyes glared at him, and managed to get out a proper formal greeting, if only just. This man was an Enchanter? He was so somberlooking, so grim. His voice had not been terribly remarkable, either…Enchanting was perhaps the only field where physical attributes mattered, at least to some small degree. Enchanters trained their voices even more ruthlessly than the most dedicated performers.
"Where is your master?" Sealore asked, voice smooth, even, and utterly without emotion.
Jakob replied before Tolan could. "We just saw him in the fountain garden, sitting with Lord Moonrise. Probably still there, if you needed to speak with him." Something remarkably akin to what Tolan was feeling at that moment flashed in Sealore's eyes—at least, Tolan thought it did, but he could simply be imagining things. What reason would Sealore have to feel miserabe and jealous?
"I see," Sealore said. "Well, I can hardly take issue with your being so courteous as to take around Seacrist's apprentice. See that you are back before dark, and I expect you to make up the lessons you are skipping." With that, he stalked off.
"Phew," Jakob said when Sealore was out of sight. "I'm glad I'm not Moonrise or Seacrist right now."
Marla glared at him as they resumed walking. "You didn't have to goad him like that."
Jakob grinned. "Now, now, how else does one get revenge on the Evil Overlord?"
Tolan had a headache. "What am I missing here?" he asked irritably.
"Oh, everything," Marla said with a laugh. "It cantake a lifetime to learn all the layers of court gossip. We can fill you in on the most crucial bits as we go, and while we're picking out your clothes." "You said you hated shopping for clothes," Tolan replied. Marla laughed. "Yes, but I hate studying more, and it's different when someone else is suffering. Anyway, Uncle caught us. That means he will know if I do not go shopping, and I do not relish that punishment, no sir. So, shopping. What do you think, Jak? The shop on Alada Street?"
"Sure," Jakob said with a shrug. "Anyway, Tolan, Seacrist is right in the thick of the gossip. He's at war with the First Minister over little Goss here, might possibly be back with Moonrise, so everyone of course wonders if Moonrise will be the Seacrist sacrifice after all—and Evil Overlord is stomping about in a murderous snit because he wants to be the one to bend Moonrise over an altar and—"
Marla cut him off with a derisive noise as they dragged Tolan through the mazelike palace. Just how had he wound up with them? Why were they being so…so…friendly? Were all city people this instantly familiar for no good reason? Maybe it was just a noble thing.
Before he could even figure out which way was up, and where they were going, they were out of the palace and right in the thick of the crowded city. It was really only insult to injury that while he was trying not to panic, Goss was loudly declaring his enthusiasm.
The weather, at least, as obliging. It was cold and snowy, but the snow was slow and lazy, adding to rather than detracting from the day, and a cold, bright sun slipped here and there between the clouds. A hint of the sea was in the air, adding a saltiness to the sharp winter bite.
"Here, your arms must be tired hauling Goss around like that," Jakob said, and before Tolan could form a reply, had taken Goss from him and swung Goss up so he sat on Jakob's shoulders. "My baby cousins love this."
Goss frowned and fussed for a bit as the new situation overwhelmed him, digging his tiny hands into Jakob's hair and tugging hard—then abruptly he got his bearings, beamed, and laughed in approval. "Torn see? Torn see?" he demanded eagerly.
"Yes, Torn see," Tolan said with a smile, and reached up to squeeze one of Goss' hands briefly. "Goss high."
"Goz high! Goz high!" Goss repeated gleefully, and continued to recite his new mantra as they traveled along the city streets.
"He's really cute," Marla said, a touch of envy in her voice. "None of my nieces or nephews or cousins are that pleasant to be around."
Jakob grinned. "No, your relatives are all perfectly wretched. Mine are all right. My baby sister used to be this cute; then she got older."
Tolan could not help smiling again. "If h
e stays this pleasant as he gets older, I can only imagine the trouble he'll cause. He's already shaken up my lifequite thoroughly." "Oh!" Marla exclaimed, clapping her hands togethersharply in her eagerness. "Uncle told me all about that, and he heard it straight from the Second Minister, who heard it from Lord Seacrist himself. Did Goss really try to hire you to find Seacrist, after they got separated?"
Tolan laughed. "He just wandered in crying and shouting that I find Seacrist...come to think of it, I guess that is how most of my clients hired me."
Jakob and Marla laughed. "I would have liked to go into Finding," Marla said with a sigh. "Sealore, though, have always been amongst the best Enchanters and Elementors, and mama would have screamed if I had gone into Finding."
"That reminds me," Tolan said cautiously, not certain he was permitted to ask but curiosity getting the better of him. "If you're both Elementors, why are you studying beneath an Enchanter?" "Oh, that," Marla said, rolling her eyes. "Uncle is the most powerful mage in the family, and he dabbled in everything before settling on Enchanting full time. We have a few tutors, really—Uncle just overseas them."
"Hence why we call him the Evil Overlord," Jakob explained cheerfully. "Let me tell you, I never want to be on the wrong end of his Enchantments. He doesn't look or sound like much, but if he wanted you to run through the city naked singing about the King fornicating with pigs, you'd do it—and he'd probably make you love it, too, just because he's a bastard that way."
Marla grimaced, and did not argue.
"Oh, here's the shop," Jakob said, and swung Goss down from his shoulders.
Goss promptly pouted, and demanded, "Goz high!"
"Later," Tolan said firmly, and wondered how many times a day now he would be required to carry 'Goz High' through Seacrist Tower.
Inside, the shop smelled like expensive fabrics and too many roses.
"Bleh," Marla said, making a face. "I always forget the way this place smells."