by H. L. Burke
“Brilliant?” Auric scoffed. “He doesn’t even notice when I enter the room, and now Jericho has all the ammunition he needs to finish me off, convince Father I’m a worthless idiot.”
“Jerry wouldn’t do that.”
“Jerry?” Auric rolled his eyes. “Really, Rill? Has he gotten to you, too? Father I get. He doesn’t like change and Jericho is enabling him, letting him believe the old ways will last forever. That spells are only to be inscribed in wood, that the Academy magicians are dangerous, and women should never be allowed to practice magic.”
“Jericho isn’t like that.” She shook her head.
“From what I’ve seen, he’s exactly like that, and while I understand how Father would bask in the warmth of Jericho’s cooperation, you?” He raised his hands. “What do you see in him?”
She glanced from the house and back as if afraid someone might be listening. “When Jericho came to work with Dad, he didn’t know about me, about … about my desire to learn magic. He assumed Dad hired him because I didn’t want to learn, but we started talking and became friends. Then one day he caught me crying in the garden.” She hung her head. “I didn’t want to defy Father, but watching him teach Jericho basic spells and getting shooed out of the room like an annoying pet every time I dared to observe? It broke my heart, Aurry, and I think Dad blinded himself to how much it hurt me, but Jericho understood. The next day I found one of Jerry’s magic instruction books under my pillow. Since then, every moment we have had away from Dad’s supervision, Jericho has taught me. Little things, things we can hide, but if not for Jericho, I wouldn’t be able to do so much as a party trick, let alone real magic.”
Auric’s jaw slackened. “He taught you magic?”
She nodded. “If Father found out, he’d fire him, so please, please don’t tell.”
“No, of course not. I would never. But blast it, Rill.” He sighed. “I wanted to be the one to teach you. Not some stranger.”
“To you Jericho’s a stranger, but he’s been here for me—”
“When I wasn’t?” Auric raised an eyebrow.
She flushed. “That’s not what I meant.”
“But it’s true, isn’t it? I left you here, all alone with Father and no escape.” His throat tightened. “Some brother I turned out to be.”
“I told you to go.” She slipped her arms around his waist. “Auric, you are brilliant and kind and I couldn’t ask for a better brother, but you and Father shouting at each other over the dinner table ate away at me. Still, you’re not a child any more. You need to find a way to work with Father, even if it means pretending not to know all these fantastic new magical methods. For now, maybe, just keep the peace. For my sake?”
He stroked her downy hair. “I suppose I can do that.” A smile crept across his face. “But first, I want something from you.” He slipped his wax tablet out of his pocket. “Show me some magic, Rill. Please?”
She laughed. “Fine, but just a little. I don’t want to upset Father any more today.” She took the tablet and sniffed it. “Smells a bit like lavender and honey.”
His cheeks warmed. “Yes, I have a preference for scented wax. Adds a certain flourish.” He laughed. “Actually, the scent lingers even when I use plain wax now.”
“I understand that. It seems like styluses absorb the essence of the magician’s spells. Father likes to work with ash and alder, but Jericho prefers his quires made of cedar. Even when they aren’t using their favorite quires, I can always tell which of them inscribed the magic by the aroma.” A smile fluttered across her mouth. She freed his stylus from the groove that held it in place and tapped it against her bottom lip. “What should I do?”
“Whatever you like.” He leaned up against the tree to watch.
Her eyes lit up. “Oh, I know!” She scratched away at the wax. The breeze rose around them, but not a normal breeze. This one held a sparkling energy, like effervescent bubbles against his skin. It teased at Auric’s hair, then swirled before him, taking on a purple haze. This formed and shaped into the stalk of a lily as tall as Auric himself. A sweet, floral scent rose off it.
Auric gaped. “How did you do that?”
“I combined a basic illusion spell with a flower symbol and a strengthening symbol to increase the output of your scented wax.” She touched the ethereal flower. It shuddered slightly but remained whole. “Pretty, isn’t it?”
“Rill, what are you doing?” An angry voice shouted. Auric whirled about and found Father, red faced and scowling. He barreled down the path towards them. Rill shoved the tablet back into Auric’s hands.
Instinctively, Auric stepped between his sister and father.
Father froze, his hands shaking. “Get inside, Rill. I need to speak to your brother privately.”
“Father, it isn’t his fault.” Rill peeked around Auric.
“No, it is.” Auric crossed his arms. Rill might want him to keep the peace, but he wouldn’t back down from this particular fight. “Rill, Father is right, this is between me and him.”
She gazed up at him, mouthed, “please,” and fled to the house.
Father’s chest rose and fell. “Jericho is fixing the wards, but the house is extremely vulnerable right now. You shouldn’t tempt fate by having your sister play with Fey energies.”
“Vulnerable? To what?” Auric scoffed. “You’re acting like the manor is a fortress, not an out-of-the-way family estate.”
Hedward dropped his gaze. “The energy spikes are growing. We need to be prepared.”
“For what?” Auric tilted his head.
“I’m not sure, but something.” Father cleared his throat. “Son, I know things are done differently in the Capital, but I’m still Rill’s father, and I need to do what is best for her, not what is fashionable.”
“Rill has a gift, sir.” Auric frowned. “Not letting her use it is flat out wrong. She was pretending to map out spells before she could write. I’m not asking you to send her away to the Academy, but let her enchant herself a stylus and do some simple magic. She could’ve easily done the tasks you’ve assigned to Jericho.”
“I won’t have you planting such ideas in her head!” Father’s brow furrowed.
Auric laughed. “I don’t have to plant them. They’ve already sprouted and are about to produce a bumper crop.” Due in part to Father’s trusted apprentice, but Auric respected Rill’s wish and didn’t mention that.
Father rubbed his forehead then pinched the bridge of his nose. “I wish I could make you understand. Don’t you remember what it was like when your mother left? How she grew so strange and distant, staring off into space for hours at a time, keeping so many secrets.”
A cloud fell over Auric. His mother’s face, forced out of his mind for so many years, returned unbidden, fair-haired and blue-eyed, so much like his sister, but so sad, so distant, as if a mile separated her from any joy.
“The Fey energy seeped into her from the magic, but I was so caught up in my work that I didn’t notice until it was too late,” Father continued.
Auric closed his eyes and saw her, sitting alone in the library, staring out at the sunshine like a caged bird.
“Then one day it overwhelmed her: it took her from us. Son, you must remember and understand why we can’t let that happen to Rill.”
“We remember the past very differently, sir.” Again Auric’s collar constricted about his throat. He opened his eyes and forced his voice steady. “I remember her alone because you were always working. I remember you snapping at her because she went for walks without telling you where she’d been, questioning who she’d spoken to. I remember you treating her like a lovely ornament, some sort of fragile treasure you feared would be stolen or broken … and I remember it stifling her, just like it is now stifling Rill.”
“That’s not true,” Father whispered. “It … it was the magic.”
“Magic didn’t make Mother leave. You did.” Auric’s heart pounded in his throat, all promises to keep the peace forgotten. “
Maybe Rill is resigned to the way you treat her, but I’m not.”
Father grasped Auric’s shoulder, but Auric jerked away. His own breath unbearably hot.
“You’re wrong about your mother. I’ll prove it.” Father shrank into himself, his voice high and weak. “She would never willingly leave us.”
“She didn’t leave us,” Auric said. “She left you.” He brushed past Father and stomped down the gravel path, pushing low-hanging alder branches out of his way.
“You’re wrong!” Father called after him. “You’re wrong, Auric, and I’ll prove it!”
Chapter Six
Jericho let out a long breath as he finished the activation symbol on a complex protection spell. The white lines etched into the stone glowed orange then sent a burst of Fey energy like a shower of mist through the workshop. Jericho stepped back and wiped his brow. Though his stylus had been enchanted to work with most materials, it was best suited for wood. He shook his hand to relieve a swiftly-forming writer’s cramp. Hopefully he wouldn’t have to redo the wards again for some time.
He examined the workshop. The force of Auric’s accident had scattered papers to all corners of the room. Well, at least Jericho didn’t have to worry about Auric taking his place. Nope, Auric would drive a wedge between himself and his father all on his own. Jericho could just sit back and wait.
The door slammed and footsteps echoed from the foyer. Quick, pitter-patter steps. Not Auric or Master Spellsmith. Rill?
Jericho stuck his head out of the workshop. No sign of the men, but a faint gasping and sniffling sound rose to meet him. His heart twisted.
“Rill?” he called.
No one answered, but he followed the sound of weeping to the parlor. Rill sat on the sofa, her face in her hands and her shoulders shaking.
“Hey,” he whispered, easing himself next to her.
She angled away from him, her cheeks reddening, and gulped several breaths.
Hesitantly he touched her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
“Everything!” She threw herself against his chest.
Jericho stiffened then relaxed into it. He allowed his arms to circle her. She felt light and fragile, like a frightened bird. She trembled, her tears soaking through his shirt.
“Oh, Jerry, Dad and Auric are fighting again, and it’s all my fault.”
“Rill, from what you’ve told me, they’ve been fighting their entire lives.” He stroked her hair, soft and cool and very much like feathers against his calloused hands. “You can’t blame yourself for it.”
“This time I can.” She gazed up at him. “Auric convinced me to do magic.”
Jericho’s hold on her tightened. “Your dad caught you?”
She nodded, tears welling from her eyes. “I’ve never seen him so angry.”
He rubbed his hand up and down her back, his stomach churning. Yes, he wanted to be rid of Auric, but for the right reasons, because he was the better magician, not because Auric had done something kind, something Jericho had gotten away with at least a hundred times. Jericho’s sense of fair play balked at that sort of victory. He exhaled.
“I could tell your father that I was the one who taught you, not Auric. That might appease him.” Towards Auric, but Jericho might as well hand in his resignation letter at the same time.
Rill’s fingers tightened on his shirt. “He’d fire you.”
“It’s not like there’s a place for both me and Auric in the shop.” Jericho averted his gaze from hers. “One of us has to go, Rill.”
She shook her head. “There has to be a way for you two to work together.”
There was. Jericho could stay on as an assistant, a glorified servant … a status that would allow him to continue practicing magic and might be considered a comfortable living if not for one small detail: he’d never be of the proper social standing to court Rill.
It had always been a far-fetched dream, one he’d tried to push out of his head for over two years, but seeing her across the table at meals, smiling over her embroidery, or concentrating on the spells during their stolen lessons, had seeped into his heart until it changed the very substance of his being. Now he couldn’t imagine life without her. Worse, however, was the thought of life watching her from a distance, never able to declare his affection, never able to touch her, unable to protest when another came to claim her as his own.
The grandfather clock ticked loud in the silence. Jericho breathed in her familiar scent: lilacs. He had never figured out how she could smell of lilacs when there weren’t any in the garden. Her father had included them on his long list of “forbidden plants.” Apparently Fey powers liked lilacs and bluebells but disliked primroses and morning glories. The master ensured the proper flowers were growing about the garden and proper herbs present in the house, something to do with dispelling harmful Fey energies. Jericho’s mother would’ve called it hedge magic, the sort done by old women in ramshackle cottages rather than fine gentlemen in shops. For a respectable magician, Master Spellsmith knew a lot about hedge magic.
A door slammed, and Rill sprang to her feet, leaving Jericho’s arms empty and hungry. She ran out of the parlor calling, “Auric?”
Jericho sidled up to the door and started to close it but stopped with his hand on the knob to listen.
“Please settle down,” Rill begged, in a voice that would’ve made Jericho move heaven and earth at her request, had it been directed at him.
“I can’t do this anymore, Rill, even for you. I’m sorry, but when he tries to rewrite the past, it boils my blood!” Auric’s tone could’ve fried bacon. “He hasn’t changed, and I can’t … I’ll take the train back to the Capital tomorrow.”
“No, you just got back!”
“You could come with me.”
Ice shot through Jericho’s chest. He bit his tongue to keep from protesting.
“I can’t just leave Dad.”
“He’ll never let you learn magic, and you deserve to. It’s as much your birthright as mine.” Their voices grew fainter, and footsteps sounded overhead as they climbed the stairs towards the family quarters.
Jericho rested his head against the doorframe. The possibility of Rill leaving Spellsmith Manor had somehow never occurred to him. She wouldn’t, of course. No, her father was everything to her … but perhaps it would be better for her if she did.
No. He shook the idea out of his head. Rill could learn magic here, behind her father’s back, for now, but when Hedward retired and Jericho claimed the shop, more openly. He stepped out of the parlor into the empty foyer. What now? Return to the mundane task of frost wards? Well, someone had to keep things on track. He crossed to the stairs.
The front door swung open again. A frazzled Hedward burst in, his eyes wide and his clothing rumpled. Jaspyr trotted at his feet, nose in the air, a scrap of gray cloth clutched between his iron-toothed jaws.
“Where are my children?” Hedward asked.
Jericho nodded towards the other stair. “Upstairs, I believe. I overheard Auric saying he intends to leave tomorrow.”
Hedward blanched.
Jericho cleared his throat. Telling Master Spellsmith about his own violations of the “women shall not practice magic” commandment probably wouldn’t help Auric, but still, he needed to even the playing field in some way. “Sir, what happened with Rill, is it really worth all this fuss? She’s a grown woman now, and the daughter of a magician.”
Master Spellsmith stomped his foot. “Jericho, I’d have thought you’d understand the importance of this.”
“I understand that it is important to you, sir.” Jericho chose his words carefully. “However, no one was hurt. Perhaps, for the sake of domestic peace, you could forgive Auric, just this once?”
“I have to make him see. He doesn’t believe me.” Hedward rubbed his forehead. “I’m so close. If I can finish this project, perhaps it will fix things. Are you able to finish the frost wards by yourself, Jericho?”
“Of course, sir.”
�
�And the light illusions the mayor requested for the midsummer event? We need to get started on those.”
Jericho held up his hand. “I already have the orders mapped out. It’s simply a matter of transferring them onto quires for the event.”
“Good, good. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Hedward squeezed Jericho’s shoulder then continued up the stairs. “I’ll be in my study. No need to have dinner sent up. I shan’t have time for that. If I can finish … well, then he’ll have to believe me. Auric will see. Auric will have to see.”
Master Spellsmith slumped up the stairs. Jericho lingered at the foot. The master’s mood disturbed him. Not that it was unusual for the man to be flighty and distracted, or to speak in unfinished thoughts leaving Jericho to fill in the blanks. No, that was another day at work around Spellsmith Manor. Still, something in his tone, a desperation, caused the hair on the back of Jericho’s neck to prickle.
Something cold and hard rubbed up against Jericho’s ankle, and he looked down to find Jaspyr nuzzling him. The fox still held a piece of gray cloth in his jaws.
“What have you got there, boy?” Jericho knelt and reached for the scrap. It melted like mist at his touch.
Jaspyr sneezed and bounded up the stairs in search of his mistress. Jericho swallowed. Yes, something strange was definitely going on.
Chapter Seven
Auric shoved the last of his toiletries into his carpet bag. Outside, gold tinted the gray of the morning haze. The train wouldn’t reach Mountain’s Foot for another two hours at least, but he couldn’t linger here any longer.
It had been a mistake from the beginning. Hopefully the commission his professor had promised him with the Republic’s Magician Corps would still be available. That was where he should’ve been all along. His talents were wasted here.
He looked over the few books he’d brought with him. Replacing them in the city would be easy enough, and it would be nice to leave Rill with something to study. As illogical and reactionary as Father could be, he wouldn’t deny Rill a gift of books.