Shadowed by Death

by Jane Beckstead

  Still, whatever I did, it would have to be wordless magic. And I’d never done that before. Perhaps I’d have a look around the library just to see if there were any books instructing on that sort of thing.

  I spent the next several hours browsing, and checked out a few books that looked interesting. When the afternoon waned and my belly growled with hunger, I decided it was probably time to return home.

  The empty study greeted me, which I took for a good sign. If Papa had been making a nuisance of himself, there was a good chance the master would have retreated to his study for peace.

  I opened the door and stepped into the hallway.

  “I only wanted to see what it did,” Papa's voice said. It “I only wanted to see what it did,” Papa's voice said. ItBeckstead / Shadowed by Death / 146

  came from around the corner, and I moved in that direction. “Yes. Well, now there are two hundred locusts loose in the

  library.” I heard restraint in the master’s voice, but beneath

  that anger simmered. “I don't suppose you thought about that

  before you opened it?”

  “If you didn't want it opened, you shouldn't have left it

  laying around.”

  “What's going on?” I asked as I rounded the corner. They

  both stood outside the library door, Papa with arms folded and a

  haughty air about him, and Master Wendyn with a tight

  expression. They turned at the sound of my voice.

  “Mullins, about time you're back,” Master Wendyn said. “We

  need to talk.”

  “Why?” I asked lightly. “Something bad happen?” “Stay there,” the master said, pointing at Papa. He grabbed

  me by the arm and tugged me down the hall.

  “His name’s Avery,” Papa called after the master’s

  retreating back. “He's not an object, you know!”

  Master Wendyn ground his teeth together and cast a privacy

  spell. “Do you know what he's done today?” He jerked a thumb in

  Papa's direction and ticked items off on his fingers. “Enticed

  Ivan into trying a fire spell and setting the curtains ablaze,

  broken the legs off all the chairs in the dining hall—” At my

  questioning glance he shook his head. “Don’t ask—and now he's

  opened the box of locusts in the library, purely because he was opened the box of locusts in the library, purely because he wasBeckstead / Shadowed by Death / 147

  curious what would happen if he did so.” The box of locusts was one of the master’s magical contraptions, meant to let loose as some form of attack, I could only presume. A grasshopper crawled out from under the library door as we watched and made its way down the hall.

  “I have reached my limit with your father today, Mullins. He's your responsibility now.” He waved his hand to drop the privacy spell and stalked down the hall toward his study.

  I wheeled on Papa. “What is wrong with you?” I demanded.

  “Don't you think it's strange he never calls you by your given name?” He asked, undisturbed in the face of my anger.

  “I am perfectly fine with the master calling me Mullins,” I told him. “Now answer my question. Why are you so determined to cause chaos?”

  “And you call him master,” he continued. “It’s almost demeaning. He has a first name too, you know. He's not some god.”

  I clenched my hands into fists. “Explain yourself. Why are you being such a nuisance?”

  He heaved a sigh and put on a pouting expression. “There's nothing to do around here.”

  “What are you, a child? Come up with something.”

  “I tried. And what did I get for my trouble? Yelled at by you and bossed at by that master of yours.”

  “You need a hobby,” I said. “There are dozens of things you “You need a hobby,” I said. “There are dozens of things youBeckstead / Shadowed by Death / 148

  could take up that would fill your time. You could…grow a garden. Or draw pictures, like Ivan. You could learn the pianoforte or collect insects or take up baking." Cat would probably kill him if he did that last one and save me the trouble.

  He glared at me now. “I used to have an occupation that suited me just fine,” he said. “I know you frown on drunkenness, but at least I never had to think about unpleasant things like how I lost my family.”

  “You haven’t lost your family, you buffoon, at least not entirely,” I said, dropping all pretense of being civil. “What am I? You know, this is why I loathe you. You are the worst father in the world.”

  He blinked, and for a moment I almost thought I’d hurt him. Then he made a face. “Oh, certainly. I’m the worst father ever. Then what would you call Ollaides from folklore? He ate all his children. At least I never did that.”

  I shook my head. “This conversation is over. I can’t wait until you’re gone.”

  “Oh really? Well, the feeling’s mutual. I’ve never seen such an ungrateful child.”

  “Just stay out of trouble.”

  “Fine. And you’d better go take care of those locusts. They're probably eating through all the books." He turned and flounced up the stairs. I stared after him, gave a sigh of flounced up the stairs. I stared after him, gave a sigh ofBeckstead / Shadowed by Death / 149

  frustration, and opened the library door.

  ***

  The next morning I arrived at the breakfast room to find it

  empty—or so I thought until I looked past the table to the fireplace. A body slumped on the hearth. “Papa?” I hurried closer, than stopped to look him over as I recognized the state he was in. After regarding him for a moment, I bent closer to sniff. The stench was unmistakable.

  “Wake up, old man.” I nudged him in the side with my foot and he snorted and sniffed, clearly drunk. Disgust filled me.

  Still, he’d lasted a full week without losing himself to drink. Perhaps that was the bigger surprise here.

  “Friar's bones,” I muttered to myself as I grabbed his arm and attempted to pull him up. “I can't let Master Wendyn see you like this. How humiliating. For me, not for you. You’re used to this sort of thing.”

  “Ssssno matter,” Papa slurred, half aware. “No matter what happens to me. Nobody cares.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself,” I muttered. “Where did you find drink, anyway?”

  “Nice maid.” Papa smiled with his eyes closed. “Told her her days here were numbered if she didn't bring me some beer from town.”

  I grabbed his arm and heaved upward, trying to get him to his feet. “You have no authority to let anyone go.”

  He hiccuped. “He didn't snow that.” After another moment he giggled. “Hear me? Snow that? You'd think I was drunk!”

  I yanked him to his feet, and he wavered there back and forth. For a moment I thought he would fall again, so I slid under his arm and braced him. “Come on, stay on your feet. Let's get you to your room.” I'd supported his drunken self enough times in the past to know how it was done. Out of the breakfast room, down the main hallway, and we started up the stairs, Papa staggering while I tried to use the banister to stop myself from collapsing under his weight.

  Right about then I realized I didn’t have to do this the hard way any longer, and levitated him off the ground, floating him the rest of the way up the stairs.

  Ah. So much easier.

  “Haven’t you been drinking the potion Master Wendyn made you?” I asked, walking alongside. “You shouldn’t be craving drink any longer. Why now?”

  “Did you know? My daughter hates me,” Papa said. “Told me so. Yesterday.”

  I blinked in surprise and stopped where I stood. I was certain Papa already knew I loathed him. It shouldn’t have been any big surprise. “Of course she hates you. Because you do things like this.”

  His head lolled sideways and he hiccuped.

  Did his drinking today—and last night, apparently—have Di
d his drinking today—and last night, apparently—haveBeckstead / Shadowed by Death / 151

  anything to do with my cutting words to him yesterday? Was it possible he had a heart after all? “You're not to become drunk anymore, do you hear me?” I told him as I ended the levitation spell and pushed him into his bedroom. He staggered toward the bed. “Never again in this house. Master Wendyn could kick me out if you misbehave, do you understand?” Not that it mattered, since we’d both have to leave if I couldn’t come up with a solution to the Conclave’s physical examination.

  “Matser Mindern is nice. Good shap. But Avery, she's hard. Won't listen to me, not at all. Wash a father to do?”

  Something pricked at my conscience, but I hardened my heart against it. “You're no father,” I informed him, and pulled the door closed behind me.

  ***

  The one nice thing about Papa’s drinking binge was that he stayed in his room for the whole day. Rather than wasting time ensuring he was situated somewhere comfortably and that he wasn’t snooping through the house like he usually did, I had time to take care of my own needs.

  “I have something to show you,” I told the master, after peeking my head into his study.

  He sighed. “Very well. Come in.”

  I closed the door behind me and then showed him Orly’s note.

  “This Orly of yours is playing a dangerous game,” he said after reading it through. “The Council likes people breaking into their vault even less than they like female underwizards. Still, I’m not complaining.”

  “Then you think it will work?”

  “I have no idea. Frankly I’ve never tried to fool the boundary spell before. But I think it’s worth trying. Let’s get you practicing wordless magic.”

  ***

  Later that evening, we sat in the library, the master, Ivan, and I. Master Wendyn read a book near the fireplace, I had curled into a chair under the window as I worked at casting wordless magic—I’d been successful twice now—and Ivan flipped idly through his weather spells book and created minor weather events over his head every few minutes.

  The library door pushed open. “So this is where you all are.” Papa straggled in, hair askew, clothes rumpled, eyes bloodshot. He ran hands over his face. “I feel terrible. I've had quite the ordeal.” He slumped into a chair at the table opposite Ivan.

  Master Wendyn glanced over at me, apparently assuming that this was something I would take care of.

  I sighed. “Nobody wants to hear your sad story here. You know it's your fault you feel so terrible, right? I told you there would be no drunkenness tolerated at Ryker Hall.”

  “Yes, and then you left me alone with no occupation. What else did you expect me to do?”

  Ivan created a wind that nudged at Papa’s messy hair.

  I folded my arms. “For your information, most people don’t get drunk every time they’re bored. Find something useful to do.”

  Papa snorted. “What do you want me to do, learn magic?”

  Master Wendyn looked up from his book. “Please don’t,” he said politely. “Out of curiosity, do you drink to forget, sir, or merely for the fun of it?”

  For a long, silent moment Papa looked at Master Wendyn, and I didn’t think he would reply. But finally he rubbed the side of his head and said, “Impertinent question. When I know you better, perhaps I’ll answer it.”

  “Papa’s drinking began long before Mama or Gavin died,” I said to Master Wendyn. “Perhaps now he drinks to forget, but then he drank for the pleasure of it.” I turned to Papa. “Maybe now you drink to forget that you once drank for pleasure?”

  The corners of his mouth turned down, and the merest sprinkle of rain splattered across the table before him. “You see how my own offspring disrespects me?” he said to Ivan. “Kindly send your rainstorm to hover over that underwizard’s ungrateful head.” He leaned forward across the table and pointed a finger at me. “I lost just as much as you did, Avery. More, even. Your mother was my one true love.”

  “One true love? There’s no such thing,” I said. “Don’t worry. You'll find another who means as much to you as Mama did. Shouldn’t take too long.”

  Papa blinked as though he’d been struck. “Mock if you must, but don't presume to tell me how I felt about your mother. She was everything to me.”

  “Yes,” I said acidly. “And you pushed her into an early grave.”

  He stared at me, his eyes two pinpricks of stricken blue. His hands shook and fluttered on the table top as though he didn’t know what to do with them.

  Ivan’s storm ceased and, after a moment, he closed his book and gestured, I go to bed, before pushing his chair back and leaving the room.

  Master Wendyn cleared his throat in the silence. “Mullins,” he said, “can I speak to you—”

  “He did,” I said loudly, because I could see the master was about to tell me not to say what I knew was true, simply because it might hurt Papa. But Papa needed to hear it. Perhaps if he had, he would have changed long ago. “And then Gavin died, no thanks to anything you could have done to save him. He despised you, you know. Mama too, though she never would have said so. But I saw the way she looked at you. Sadly, with regret.”

  For a long moment Papa stared at his shaking hands. I waited for his ridiculous comeback, but it never came. Had I waited for his ridiculous comeback, but it never came. Had IBeckstead / Shadowed by Death / 155

  gone too far? At last he pushed himself to his feet. “I'm not feeling well. I think I'll go lay down.”

  He moved toward the door, but Master Wendyn's voice stopped him. “That's not completely correct, is it Mullins? Your mother said something quite different in that dream you had, or so you said.”

  I frowned at him, annoyed that he’d brought that up.

  “Dream?” Papa asked, facing the door. “I dream of her too, sometimes.”

  “It wasn't exactly a dream,” the master went on, apparently impervious to the dirty look I had shot at him. “More like seeing her in person, wasn't it?”

  Papa did turn now, his head tilted curiously. “Avery?”

  “Fine. I'll tell you, although it's none of your business,” I said, with another frown at the master. “I almost died last winter. And when I did, I dreamed of Mama and Gavin. Master Wendyn thinks it was real.”

  “And what did they say about your father?” Master Wendyn prompted.

  Whose side was he on, anyway? “They told me I should find you,” I told Papa grudgingly.

  “Your mother was quite insistent about it, as I recall,” the master continued.

  “And you never told me about this?” Papa asked. “Why “And you never told me about this?” Papa asked. “WhyBeckstead / Shadowed by Death / 156

  wouldn’t you tell me?”

  “It's not as though you really care about any of us,” I

  muttered. “Besides, it wasn’t real.”

  Papa's brows rose. “Of course I cared about my own family.

  I do care.”

  “Oh. Forgive me. You've shown through your actions just how

  much you care. My mistake.”

  Papa stormed nearer. “It almost killed me when your mother

  died. She was everything to me. When Gavin sickened too, I

  couldn't face it. I knew it was cowardly and still I couldn't.

  Perhaps you've never made a mistake in your life, Avery, but I

  have, and at least I own it. I couldn't face seeing Gavin go

  too.” He held his finger out. It trembled beneath my nose. “Do

  you know where I went that night Gavin died? I wandered the

  Midnight Wood for half the night, lucky not to be eaten by a

  wild animal. When I realized what I was doing, that Gavin could

  very well be dead when I returned, I started for home. By the

  time I got there, you were both gone.”

  “Tragic story,” I said shortly. “How very theatrical you

  are. You should write books.
Oh, wait. You can’t read.” It was a

  childish insult and I knew it, but I couldn’t seem to stop the

  vitriol flowing out of me.

  Papa dropped his hand and took a step back. “Never mind. I

  don't know why I bother with you. You never did listen to me.”

  He gave me a pained look, then turned and left the room.

  Beckstead / Shadowed by Death / 157 “Mullins.” Thick annoyance filled the master’s voice. “Did you have to be so cruel?”

  I held up a hand. “Don't lecture me. How could you tell him my own private business? That was my secret. My information to tell him.”

  He came to his feet. “I did it because your father deserves to know. I don’t know what happened between the two of you yesterday, although I’m sure he deserved it, but if we're going to live with him and keep him alive, we need to reach an accord, the three of us. Can you just try to get along? That’s all I'm asking.”

  I shook my head and stared at the floor. “I don't know,” I said at last. Silence flooded the room. Finally I stood and left.

  #

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  At last the appointed day arrived. I awoke early and spent the morning practicing wordless magic, stepping through an imaginary boundary and casting my gilded tongue spell. It worked wordlessly about half the time, which, while better than I had done at the beginning, was still not as good as I would like it to be, considering what I would shortly face.

  I dressed slowly, dreading the day. Finally I stood in front of the mirror, wondering if this would be the last time front of the mirror, wondering if this would be the last time

  Beckstead / Shadowed by Death / 158 I’d do so.

  Just at that moment, something flew in my open window and

  landed on the bed. I glanced over, expecting to see a bird or

  large insect, but I was greeted by the sight of a parchment,

  folded over and sealed with a wax seal upon which the image of a

  letter B had been impressed.

  Friar’s bones. Another letter with a B on it.

  “How in the three kingdoms…” I muttered to myself, before

  carefully picking it up, examining the magic sparking along its