Shadowed by Death

by Jane Beckstead

  Again I couldn’t stop myself from speaking. “I hate you!” I screamed up the hill at him.

  The room spun around me, and I blinked and closed my eyes, trying not to get dizzy. The Bramford town square sprang up around me, the stone structure of the round fountain prominent in the middle of the square.

  A small figure crouched on the ground. Ivan. Boys rained projectiles on him.

  I ran closer, standing in front of him in an attempt to protect him.

  “Stop it!” I yelled. “Stop what you’re doing!” But nobody listened.

  A rock made contact with his head, and Ivan collapsed, dead.

  My eyes followed the direction of the rock, and I discovered the person who had thrown the rock—Papa.

  “I hate you!” I yelled. “All you ever do is ruin the things “I hate you!” I yelled. “All you ever do is ruin the thingsBeckstead / Shadowed by Death / 225

  I love!”

  The people faded away, until Papa and I stood alone in the

  town square.

  He held out a yellow flag to me. “All you have to do to get

  this flag is to forgive me.”

  I snatched at the flag, but my hand slid right through it. Without the proper emotions to accompany it, I couldn’t put

  fingers on the flag.

  “I can’t. I won’t. You don’t deserve it. You have no

  remorse.”

  He spoke with far more wisdom than my father actually had.

  “Doesn’t matter, does it? Forgiveness says nothing about whether

  the other person deserves it. It only says something about you.

  Can you forgive me, Avery?”

  “No. I can’t.”

  His smile seemed disappointed, and he waved the flag at me.

  “Then I keep this.”

  I’d become lost in the dream again. Somewhere in the back

  of my head something told me that I had to get that flag. It

  meant something. Something important to me. Something magical… In a flash I remembered. The trial. This wasn’t real. I had

  to get that flag. I had to do whatever it took.

  “Wait! I do forgive you. Give me the flag.”

  He held it out to me, but my fingers continued to pass

  through it.

  “That’s not fair! I did what you asked!” I shouted at the

  sky. Turning in a circle, I saw that we weren’t alone any

  longer. We were surrounded by corpses: Mama, Gavin, Ivan, Master

  Wendyn, and dozens of other people I didn’t know. I walked

  through the bodies to the fountain in the middle of the town

  square and looked down at my own reflection.

  Funny. I was a corpse too. Papa really had taken everything

  from me.

  He stepped to my side and looked at himself in the water

  too. “Your mother always told me forgiveness is good for the

  soul.”

  I wanted to snap at him to leave Mama out of it, but I was

  too tired, and I suddenly remembered I wasn’t supposed to be

  saying things out loud.

  His face screwed up in thought. “Or maybe it was beef stew

  that was good for the soul.” He turned to face me. “Either way,

  Avery, you can’t live your life dependent on the behavior of

  other people. Take charge of your destiny. Find peace. Your

  grudge might be well-deserved, but why waste another day letting

  a person you dislike have any power over you? Let go.” I sensed, somehow, that this person was not Papa speaking,

  or the representation of Papa. It was something else, the spell,

  speaking to her, teaching her what I needed to know. And somehow

  I knew that if I didn’t learn it, I would fail.

  “You are nothing like Papa,” I informed “Papa.” And then “You are nothing like Papa,” I informed “Papa.” And thenBeckstead / Shadowed by Death / 227

  sighed. I must be running out of time. Papa seemed to be fading before my eyes. The flag in his hand grew dim. I had to retrieve that flag or it would all be over and I’d have to do this trial again. But it was no use grabbing for that flag if I didn’t mean it.

  I had to mean it. One more look at Papa, but this time I really looked at him. I saw the lines on his face, worn there by sorrow, grief, and poor choices. I recognized the flaws in him—though I’d seen those plenty of times before. But I saw the good in him at the same time, something I’d never allowed myself to see simultaneously before. He was just a man. A flawed, messed up man. He’d made more mistakes than most, less than some, and he was doing the best he could with what he knew.

  I took a breath and swallowed hard. With a hand that trembled I reached for Papa and rested my fingers on the fading Papa’s arm. “I forgive you,” I said softly, looking him in the eye. He continued to fade before my eyes, and I reached a hand for the flag. It plucked out of the air, solid and buzzing against my hand with its magic.

  The spell fell away. I stood on the dais, flag clutched in my trembling hand. The other two were stuffed up my sleeve.

  I couldn’t look at my master. I couldn’t look at the proctor or the audience either. It was too much, and I was spent, and all I wanted to do was to be alone and process spent, and all I wanted to do was to be alone and processBeckstead / Shadowed by Death / 228

  everything that had happened. My fingers shook as I retrieved the flags up my sleeve and handed them to the proctor.

  “The underwizard has done well,” he observed. “Has he learned something?”

  “That I never want to take this trial again.” I hardly knew what I was saying, but when the words I’d said hit me, I was too tired to take them back. It had been a very Papa-like thing to say. Perhaps there was more of him in me than I’d previously thought.

  The master and I descended from the dais and awaited the pronouncement. It finally came: pass. I still hadn’t looked at the master. But all at once I felt a hand squeeze my shoulder. Still I didn’t look at him.

  Papa and Ivan met us at the back of the room.

  “Was that it? Fill me in on what was happening up there. It just looked like Avery was yelling things out every now and then. Not very exciting or interesting. Unless, of course, you were yelling out insults at the judges.”

  Did you do good? Ivan gestured.

  “He did very well,” Master Wendyn said.

  “You sure?” Papa asked skeptically. “He doesn’t look so good.” He leaned closer. “Are you all right?”

  I blinked and looked at him, focusing on someone’s face for the first time. Papa’s face.

  Beckstead / Shadowed by Death / 229 “I’m just fine,” I said, and took a deep breath. I looked around at all of them. “Really, I’m just fine.”

  Master Wendyn met my gaze and nodded, seeming satisfied. We walked back to the wizard door and home to Ryker Hall. #

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  One morning a few days later, I discovered the note from Ingerman in the pocket of my trousers.

  Bones. I’d completely forgotten about replying to this. It had been almost a week now since I received it. I hurriedly pulled out a piece of parchment, dipped my pen in ink, and sat down to compose my reply.

  Miss Ingerman—? First I have to thank you for your help passing the Conclave’s physical examination decree. Your spell worked perfectly.

  Now, if you truly are Keturrah Ingerman, I find myself with an endless list of questions. How did you escape the Punishment? Why have you dared to return to Faronna now? Did you kill those men in Waltney? I’ve heard terrible things about Belanok, not the least of which is their love of blood magic, so how can you praise it? How did you find out about me?

  Based on the information I have now, I’m sorry but I have Based on the information I have now, I’m sorry but I haveBeckstead / Shadowed by Death / 230

  to turn down your offer. I know enough of Belanok th
at visiting there doesn’t interest me, not even a little bit. As far as I’ve seen, nothing but bad things come out of that place. So thank you all the same and I appreciate any help you’ve given me, but I’m afraid I must turn you down.

  -Avery Several days passed before I received another note from “Ingerman.” It tapped into the library window as I practiced healing spells in preparation for my next trial: fixing broken bones, bruises, fevers, pain, fainting, sickness, swelling, breathing. I had no one to practice upon in the library, and so I ran through the wording of each spell, until the tapping drew my attention. I opened the window once the tapping persisted, and the folded parchment sailed through and landed the table beneath the warped glass. I unfolded the parchment to read:

  Avery, Words can’t express my disappointment at your reply. The majority of your questions must be answered in person, as they will take up too much parchment to write, but as to the subject of Belanok, you’ve been lied to. They took me in when no one else would and showed me infinitely more compassion than Faronna ever did. Please take a few days to reconsider my offer, because I don’t think you’ve given it the full consideration it I don’t think you’ve given it the full consideration itBeckstead / Shadowed by Death / 231

  deserves. K The reply confused me more than ever. I tucked the note into my pocket with plans to think about it further before I replied—as Ingerman herself had requested.

  *** The business of healing spells occupied me for a good week. The master took me to Bramford whenever he heard of an ill person there, so that I could practice healing them. It was easier than spelling healthy people with injuries or illnesses so that I could practice healing them, which struck me as cruel anyway. So far I had healed a man’s broken finger, a child with a fever, an old woman with a breathing problem, and an infant with coryza. I also tried to heal a rash caused by a stinging weed of some sort, but that got worse with my ministrations, and eventually the master had to step in and fix it.

  After a week or so of this, everyone in Bramford seemed to be pretty healthy, and so I took to hunting down anyone at the Hall who had the slightest sign of illness. One particular morning from my bedroom window that Bettina, the cow, might have developed a slight limp. I hurried down to examine the situation further, and found myself lost for several hours in the business of diagnosing and healing anything possibly wrong with her, from a drippy nose to a small cut on her flank.

  “Avery, come on inside and leave the cow alone,” Master Wendyn called from the front steps of the Hall.

  He’d been calling me by my first name ever since that night in his bedroom. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. Try as I might, I didn’t think I’d ever be able to call him Garrick.

  Since I was already on my hands and knees at Bettina’s side, I crouched down further to look at the master from between her legs. “I’ll be in in a minute. I’m just healing a cut.”

  “I know what you’re doing, and it’s time to find another occupation for a few days. You’re starting to annoy people.”

  I blinked. “Me? But I haven’t done anything.”

  He waved a hand. “Just give healing a rest. There’s nobody left to heal. Come inside and study something else for a while.” He turned and headed back inside as if the topic was closed.

  I sat back, confused. At least, until I looked around and saw the milkboy standing near the stables watching. He definitely looked annoyed. When he caught my glance he straightened hastily and went back to the stables.

  “Well, Bettina,” I said with a rueful sigh as I patted her side, “I apologize if I’ve annoyed you with my ministrations.”

  Bettina mooed, and I pushed myself to my feet and went back inside.

  ***

  The day turned boring in a hurry. Master Wendyn left shortly after I went inside to run an errand, he said. “Can I come?” I asked hopefully, and he avoided my gaze.

  “This isn’t the kind of an errand you can help me with,” he said.

  Oh. He was probably just going somewhere to have a romantic interlude with Valerie.

  Once he was gone, I tried to force myself to focus on the next trial, but it didn’t interest me. I wanted to work on healing spells.

  “Stop pacing,” Papa complained after a while, as I made laps around the library.He put down the book he’d been flipping through on the table before him. “You’re starting to make me feel bad, and I’m more bored than you are.”

  “How could you be?” I asked. “There are a hundred things around here you could occupy yourself with. And what are you doing with the master’s books, anyway?”

  “I know, I know,” he said. “I can’t read. I like to look at the pictures, though.” Suddenly he sat bolt upright in his chair. “Holy milk buckets. I think I’ve got it.”

  “Got what?” I asked, peering out the window at Bettina. She still looked to be limping the slightest bit.

  “Why don’t we go to Waltney? There’re loads of people there who need healing. Mrs. Huggard with the withered hand—remember her?”

  “Is she still around?” I asked, turning.

  “Yes, and her hand’s gotten worse.”

  I considered for a moment. “What about Mr. Olderson with his frequent episodes of gout?”

  Papa shook his head. “He passed away. But there’s Madame Quambeck with her chronic back issues and Mrs. Sandefurd with her weak lungs and the Lendrow boy who’s got just about everything wrong with him. There are rivers of sick people in Waltney.”

  I brightened for a moment at the thought, then frowned. “We couldn’t go anyway. Master Wendyn doesn’t have any jurisdiction there. That’s Master Norwood’s area of authority.”

  “Surely he’d let us come and heal people. After all, it’s for the good of the community.”

  My gaze swung to Papa at the word “us.”

  “I mean you,” Papa said. “You and Master Wendyn. And maybe I could come along too?”

  A frown tugged at my mouth. “You just want to come along so you can go to your favorite drinking holes.”

  “Yes,” Papa had the grace to admit. “But not to drink! I want to see my old friends again.”

  I huffed out a sigh and turned away. “It was a stupid idea anyway.”

  “It is too bad you couldn’t help Mrs. Zimmer, though,” Papa said after a brief pause. “You might remember her husband. We took that trip to Bergmondale for scouting purposes.”

  I stiffened. That was the trip we’d taken to sign my gender I stiffened. That was the trip we’d taken to sign my genderBeckstead / Shadowed by Death / 235

  affidavits, after which I’d forgetful-spelled all the participants.I supposed it was a good sign that Papa still didn’t remember the real purpose of the trip. But anyway, why had he had to bring the Zimmers up? I already felt guilty enough that the person who claimed to be Ingerman had killed Quinn.

  “Her health has been terrible since Quinn died. The shock of it, you know. And three of her sons caught the fever the summer after he died and have been poorly ever since. If anyone could use healing, that family could.”

  “Master Norwood can heal them,” I said woodenly. “You remember Norwood. He only heals people if they’re near death. Won’t bother with them if they’re just not feeling up to snuff. If he did that, he’d probably never leave his front porch, the line for healing would be so long. Leastwise, that’s what he says.”

  I remembered that about Norwood. Still, he was probably right. It had been a wise rule to put in place. “Just forget about it, all right? We’re not going.”

  The bookshelf presented a possible distraction; I grabbed a random tome without looking at the cover and settled into a chair.

  My boredom grew. I couldn’t focus on the book, thinking about all the people in Waltney in need of help.

  After a while I excused myself to go see if Master Wendyn had returned yet.

  “Won’t be back till suppertime, he said,” Mrs. Pitts informed me, looking up from her dusting. “Did say that he wanted supper
to be a little bit special tonight, though.” She leaned closer and whispered, “I think he’s bringing that woman back here again.”

  So I was right—he was with Valerie. At least Mrs. Pitts and I were united in our dislike of her.

  Annoyed, I went in search of Papa.

  “We’re going to Waltney,” I announced.

  “We are?” He bounced up in excitement. “You and me?”

  “Yes. But we’re not going anywhere near your drinking places. We’re going to help a few sick people. That’s all. And then we’re coming home.”

  This was a good idea. I was certain of it. It was my chance to help those people I’d wronged in the past with my thieving— and other things. And Master Wendyn didn’t seem to care enough to stick around home these days, so what did it matter if he had any objections?

  ***

  I’d always been a little afraid of Master Norwood, if I was honest with myself. It was well known in Waltney that the man was more than a little bit eccentric. He was rumored to have thirteen locks on his front door to stop thieves, not to mention a half dozen spells that protected the door as well. It was one reason Papa and I had given his house a wide berth in our reason Papa and I had given his house a wide berth in ourBeckstead / Shadowed by Death / 237

  thieving days—that and the fact that he might have turned us into charred toast if the whim had taken hold of him. I’d heard that he had a fear of being poisoned and had hired a food taster to ensure it never happened. Besides that, the man was single because, according to rumor, he didn’t trust any woman to remain faithful.

  He wasn’t a man I wanted to be on the wrong side of. But as absorbed as he was in his own life, he’d never be any the wiser that I’d been here.

  Papa and I stepped through the wizard door to the Waltney cottage. I waved a hand and the door disappeared, leaving me staring at the kitchen table, which still bore the signs of the last breakfast Papa had eaten here. It was by now quite stale and moldy.

  “You need to clean up,” I said, staring down at the food.

  “Sorry, I haven’t been home much.” Papa stepped nearer the front door.