by Lucia Ashta
I could barely hear his next question: “My father killed my mother? Not my uncle?”
I looked into those bright blue eyes that were so much like the ones I longed to stare into again. I reached for one of the hands that fidgeted and clasped it. “I’m so very sorry, Brave. I know this must be terribly difficult for you.”
I witnessed his struggle as he courageously fought back tears. His father had attempted to break him. He wasn’t about to add to what he considered his humiliation, although I would have seen his tears as a sign of his humanity.
“If it makes you feel any better, my parents lied to me too.”
“It doesn’t.”
I nodded. I understood. We were the children of liars. There was nothing that felt good about that. I squeezed his hand. “I guess it makes it pretty easy for us to do a better job than our parents.”
He chortled without mirth. “Given what I know of my father, my job is incredibly easy.”
“It also gives us the opportunity to make up for our parents’ misdeeds.”
“What do you mean?”
“Maybe there’s some balance, or score card or something like that, kept in this big world of ours, and maybe what our parents do affects us. Maybe we have the chance to even the score, or even win.” I smiled again, and the corners of his mouth inched upward, just barely. “Or something like that. I really don’t know. But I do know that you can be good—you are good—even if your father isn’t. I still don’t know all that much about magic, but the one thing I know for certain is that what matters is what’s in your heart. That’s the one thing that makes all the difference. Everything else is just minor details—in the end.”
“Thank you, Clara,” he whispered.
“We’ll be happy to have you as part of our little mismatched family, Brave. Your uncle and Mordecai essentially took me in when everyone else I knew believed me dead. Most of them still do. I was alone, but I’m alone no longer. You don’t need to be alone either.”
Like me earlier, he just nodded. It was a lot to take in. I appreciated the emotions that accompanied life upheaval more than he realized.
I left my hand clasping his until we heard the door open and close again, followed by the sounds of two sets of ascending footsteps.
Chapter 11
The person that accompanied Grand-mère was unusually petite for a man, yet he carried himself with confidence, making the most of his limited height. As soon as he topped the stairs, his eyes quickly scanned the room, and landed on me. It was as if he’d come there for me, not to transform Gertrude back into her body, and his steady gaze unnerved me.
Grand-mère walked over to Mordecai and shook him gently. He came awake with a jerk of the head and a rough snorting sound; the beads in his beards jingled out of tune. My need to suppress a giggle temporarily distracted me from the presence of this stranger that Grand-mère was so enthusiastic that I meet.
“Mordecai,” Grand-mère said gently. “It’s time for you to wake.”
“I wasn’t sleeping,” Mordecai grumbled, his words slurred with the remnants of slumber. I bit my lip to keep the laugh from escaping, and Brave put a hand over his mouth.
“We have company,” Grand-mère said.
Mordecai came to alertness. “He’s arrived?”
In reply, Grand-mère shifted to the side so that Mordecai could see the visitor, and the man moved in front of Mordecai with efficient paces.
“I see that he has not,” Mordecai said while adjusting his cloak. He stood slowly to allow his old body to unravel from its sleeping position. The man, who was apparently not the one that Grand-mère and Mordecai had been expecting, waited respectfully while Mordecai, in turn, waited for his back to straighten. As soon as Mordecai was composed, the man explained.
“Lord Mordecai, I’m Gregore, attendant to Lord Gustave of the House of Acquaine. He’s sent me in his stead with his deepest regrets that he won’t be able to join you until later. His delay is unavoidable, and he begs his pardon.”
“I understand. Did Lord Gustave indicate when he would be able to meet us?”
“Yes, Milord. He anticipates that it will be several days at the earliest, although Lord Gustave will do everything he can to disentangle himself from the current situation sooner if he can.”
“I understand. Thank you, Gregore.” Mordecai turned to address my grandmother. “We should leave then, right away. There’s no point to staying here if Gustave can’t meet up with us. I would be more at ease as well if we were to put more distance between us and Washur.”
“I agree,” Grand-mère said. “Where shall we go?”
“I think it would be best if we retreated to one of our estates. There we would be safest, and we could regroup and plan our next steps. We could go either to Bundry Castle or Irele Castle. Both are fortified against invasion.”
I grimaced, but no one other than Brave noticed, and he wouldn’t want to call attention to my reaction. After all, he was part of its cause. I remembered all too well how “fortified against invasion” Irele Castle was. I was surprised that Mordecai would even suggest it as a safe place when Count Washur might still potentially be in pursuit. It was Count Washur who’d invaded Irele Castle, and found it shockingly easy to do so.
“We could also go to Acquaine. It too is a fortress, and it’s farther from Washur than Bundry, and even Irele.”
“I hadn’t thought of that. Acquaine would put greater distance between us and Washur. Besides, there may another tactical advantage in addition to the distance. If we’re careful to use discretion in our travels, we could manage to conceal our location from Count Washur. You arrived after I bound his magic upon the rooftop. You approached covertly and from the side. We can safely assume he watched as we retreated, but it’s possible that he didn’t recognize you from afar. At that point, he wouldn’t have been able to use magic to glean more about you than what his two eyes could see.”
Grand-mère cocked an eyebrow at him. “My dear Mordecai, it’s true that not everyone in the magical world knows who I am. It’s also true that the secular world thinks me dead. However, how many witches do you know that look like me and can ride dragons?”
“None,” Mordecai said in defeat.
“Precisely. Although I may not be the most powerful of witches, it’s likely that someone as concerned as Count Washur is about maintaining his power and draining it from others knows about most magicians with unusual powers such as my own.”
“He does,” Brave spoke up, and all heads swiveled in his direction. It was the first time he contributed productively to a conversation. “He has a book that contains the bloodlines of all the important magical families. He’s been working on it for centuries.” Brave looked toward Grand-mère. “You’re right. You’re probably in it.”
Mordecai and Grand-mère exchanged a pregnant look but said nothing about it then. “Then Acquaine provides us with no distinct advantage other than distance. While distance alone is important, Count Washur will travel whatever distance he has to in order to reach us. Distance alone can’t be the deciding factor.”
“Excuse me, Mordecai?” I said. “Is Count Washur really that big of a threat to us if his magic is bound?”
“Yes,” Mordecai, Grand-mère, and Brave said simultaneously.
“But why? If he can no longer use his magic, why is he such a great threat to us?”
Mordecai and Grand-mère looked to each other, then Mordecai nodded. “Ma chérie, it’s important not to underestimate a man like Count Washur. Once a wizard reaches a certain level of power, there’s much he can do, even when his magic is bound. A man like him may have prepared for something like this. He may have set up magic beforehand that he could now point to us.”
“Oh, I see,” I said, though I didn’t really. There was so much more depth to the art of magic than I realized. I’d assumed that once a magician’s power was bound, he could no longer harm anyone other than by ordinary means: his two hands and a weapon.
�
�Besides, darling, you must remember that there are many dark magicians out there. Count Washur is, no doubt, one of the worst. But he isn’t the only one.”
Nausea appeared out of nowhere to inch up my esophagus. I was tired of being given reasons to be afraid.
“I don’t know the Count well enough to know if he would, but he could recruit others to help them attack us. If he wanted.”
“Besides what Ariadne says, which is all true, the wise course is never to underestimate your opponent. There are some areas in which you want to avoid surprise at all costs. In regards to someone of the caliber of Count Washur, caution is wisdom,” Mordecai said.
I was left thinking how I hadn’t even known that Grand-mère’s name was Ariadne. To me, she’d always been, simply, Grand-mère. Since I first arrived in Irele, it seemed that the things I learned I didn’t know consistently outweighed the things I discovered I did know.
I snuck a glance toward Sir Lancelot, thinking that it was time for a prolonged conversation with the pygmy bird that remembered everything about everyone, and who’d learned most things there were to learn from books if he didn’t have the opportunity to ascertain them first hand.
Sir Lancelot continued to watch the alleyway below. I realized immediately what should have been obvious before, and was probably apparent to everyone else in the room. The owl was acting as a sentry. He knew how much danger we really were in, even when I felt safe in what I realized in that moment was truly a “safe house.” Naïve as I was, I knew that safe houses were usually not as safe as the person hiding within them hoped them to be, and they were only used when the threat to one’s life was significant.
“If there’s no real difference between Irele, Bundry, or Acquaine as far as safety, then let’s allow practicality to dictate our choice,” Mordecai said, and I understood that it was he, and not practicality, that would make the final decision. He was the highest ranking, conscious man in the worn little house, and so the decision would ultimately be his. After all, no matter what had taken place since I left Norland Manor, this remained a man’s world. I was a woman within it.
“We left some unfinished business at Bundry. If it’s all the same, it would be good to resolve it,” Mordecai said.
“Does this unfinished business take the form of a merwoman?”
“Yes,” Mordecai said, surprised. “How did you know?”
“Clara told me while you were sl—resting. And I told her that I’d love to observe the ways of the merpeople,” Grand-mère said.
“Is that so? Well, we could use your help, I’m sure. Bundry it is then,” Mordecai said, sounding buoyant when he hadn’t just moments before. “I imagine it will please Marcelo to be back in Bundry as well, once he recovers. There’s also the unsettled issue of his butler’s disappearance just before we left for Washur. No doubt he’ll also be pleased to have the opportunity to—how shall I say it?—lighten the house after his father’s death.”
“I understand,” Grand-mère said. “Gregore, will you remain with us, or return to my brother?”
“I’m sorry, Milady, but I cannot stay. Lord Acquaine is in need of my assistance and asked that I return at once. But I can send someone else to assist you if you need. Perhaps your lady’s maid, Milady?”
“No, thank you, Gregore. That won’t yet be necessary. Once we arrive in Bundry, we’ll figure all that out, as obviously I’ll need attendants, as will my granddaughters. If my brother is in need of you, prepare to leave right away.”
“Yes, Milady.”
“You’ll tell my brother to meet us at Bundry Castle as soon as he’s able.”
“Yes, Milady. Is that all?”
“Yes, you can be on your way, Gregore. Safe travels.”
“Thank you, Milady.” Gregore bowed his head to Mordecai. “Milord.” He bowed to me. “Milady. Sir,” he said to Brave, as he was yet unknown to him. Then Gregore was gone.
Grand-mère went to the window next to Sir Lancelot, but she looked up this time. “There’s still enough sun in the sky to make it worthwhile to leave today, Mordecai. How far is it to Bundry?”
“We can probably make the journey in a couple of hours. Of course, this excludes the speed of travel atop a dragon.”
“Marcelo and Sylvia are stable to travel, oui?”
“Yes. They can leave immediately.”
“Then let us. Clara, Brave, Sir Lancelot, ready yourselves,” Grand-mère said, leaving me speechless to witness a woman commanding when there was a ranking man to do it in her place.
“Mordecai, prepare your patients. You can cloak them in invisibility again, oui? It will be a challenge to get all of us through town without drawing scrutiny.”
“Yes, I can float them behind me invisibly. But we must be careful that no one be able to run into their bodies behind me, or the ruse will be exposed.”
“All right. Perhaps it will be best if we split up to leave town, just as we did when we entered it. I don’t think that going down side streets will lend us much advantage. We’ll be noticed however we go, and side streets are always such a messy affair.”
I remembered the foul waste that ran in the main street and was glad to avoid side streets, which could only be worse.
“Brave, will you go with Mordecai to retrieve the horses?”
Brave nodded, stood, and moved to join Mordecai. I couldn’t believe it. Perhaps the magical world was not a man’s world after all. How refreshing that would be, although I had no idea what it might look like.
“There’s no need to speak with the inn keeper, Durgeon, again. I’ve settled everything with him.”
“Very well,” Mordecai said. “We’ll return shortly. We can leave directly after. I have nothing more to do to ready my patients. I must cast the invisibility spell when we are leaving, but it won’t take long.”
Grand-mère nodded her assent, and the men left, one set of footsteps quick and excited on the stairs, the other sure and steady; it was how you made it through a life of several hundred years.
Grand-mère moved her gaze across the room to see if anything else needed to be done before we left. When it landed on me, she threw her head back in a swift laugh. I smiled; I thought I’d never hear that laugh again.
“What is it, ma chérie?”
“You, Grand-mère.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, a mischievous smile lighting up her already bright face.
“First, I’ve never seen a woman order a man around before. Not a man equal to her in station.”
“My darling, you have much to learn about your own power and the power of a woman. I’ll help you learn, as I should have been able to do from the time of your birth. There’s a second thing?”
“Yes.” My smile grew wider and more mischievous than her own. “Now I know that the mystery magician is your brother.”
“Ah, merde.” Grand-mère rolled her eyes expressively. I laughed. “I’ve never been very good at keeping secrets. I thought I could keep this one though. Ah. I wanted so much to surprise you.”
“It will be a big surprise either way. As you know, I had no idea you had a brother. It appears that what I don’t know vastly outweighs what I do know.”
“Yes, ma chérie. I’m sorry for that. Your mother wouldn’t allow it. To her, it was bad enough to have me seeing you girls. She certainly didn’t want Gustave there.”
I looked at her, without expression. “You’ll understand once you meet him,” Grand-mère said.
There was something inside me that had begun to feel hollow since my reunion with Grand-mère, notwithstanding my joy at knowing she was alive. Deception by a loved one could do that.
“Are you prepared to leave, darling?”
I nodded. I had little left that I could claim as my own since leaving Norland. Father would no longer be obligated to provide my dowry when I married Marcelo either. In many ways, I was an orphan, even though both my parents lived.
“Sir Lancelot?” Grand-mère said.
“I’m r
eady too, Milady,” he said. “Here they come.”
Grand-mère tightened the fastenings of her cloak and began down the stairs. I scooped up Gertrude, and Sir Lancelot settled upon my shoulder in his usual spot.
“It’s a good thing we have several hours of travel, Sir Lancelot. There’s much I want to discuss with you.”
“I thought you might, Milady. Now we finally understand why your magic is so powerful. You do have magic in your blood, and from the sound of it, you have quite a lot of it.”
I stopped in mid-stride.
“You hadn’t thought of that yet, Milady?” Sir Lancelot asked, as amused as an Irish pygmy owl could be.
I shook my head, my hair tickling Sir Lancelot’s feathers. “No. I hadn’t thought about it.”
“Now it all begins to make sense. Doesn’t it, Milady?”
“I don’t know if I would say that, Sir Lancelot. But it does show me that I have one more thing to add to our topics of discussion.”
It was a good thing our little valiant owl friend liked to talk. I planned to make the very most of his loquaciousness.
I passed Mordecai on the stairs. He was already mumbling his invisibility spell.
Chapter 12
Despite my determined intentions to use our travel time efficiently, I didn’t. Mordecai and Grand-mère rode the two spare horses out of town up ahead of Brave and me. It was wise to separate, they said, so as not to draw undo attention to ourselves. I didn’t think it was working. We were only separated by a few hundred yards, and everyone we passed stopped what they were doing to turn to look at us.
It was difficult not to meet the townspeople’s gazes—some curious, others spiteful—even though I wanted nothing more than to stare ahead and avoid them. Raised within the privilege of the nobility, I rarely encountered the struggles of the less fortunate classes. In Dillbasin, misfortune was rampant, evident on sweat and grime-streaked faces and clothing, and in the downtrodden expressions that accompanied them. Only the children appeared to possess any sort of carefree joy, and even that in limited quantity.