Lightfoot

by Joe Kuster

  “Wanna see something neat?” TJ asked.

  The man nodded with a glazed expression, already well onto his way to blotto level of drunk.

  “So… I’ve got a bit of magic,” TJ said. He then used his kinetic force spell to stack one of the shot glasses on top of the other.

  “Susan’s blonde beard! Ha, now that’s a neat trick,” he chortled.

  TJ tried, “So… I’m not done drinking yet. If I could help you sober up a touch with some healing, we could keep drinking. All I’d have to do is touch you.”

  “You… want me to be less drunk… so we can drink more? Lad, there’s something wrong with you,” Yoddeat complained.

  TJ complained. “Come on, just put your hand on the table. Just let me see if I can do it.”

  The dwarf frowned, then his expression shifted into a shit-eating grin. “Sure. In exchange for that rock.”

  TJ rolled his eyes. “Fine. I’ll give you the rock.”

  The man plopped his meaty mitt on the table, messing up his previous card game. TJ slid the rock his way, then extended a finger. Connecting with his magic, he touched the other man. Instantly, things felt off. His magic cringed, and it felt like he was raking a sharp needle across the inside of his skull.

  Yoddeat grimaced and gave a low growl as TJ’s magic absorbed some of the alcohol. “Blast it! The hell are you doing? It’s like my arm is on fire!”

  Pulling back, TJ winced as a massive headache settled into place. His face was soaked in sweat.

  Shaking his head, he quickly poured two shots, then slammed both back. He then prepared another round for the dwarf who was scowling at him.

  “Sorry, my magic usually doesn’t react that way,” TJ said. He then gestured to the cards. “How about we play a hand or two while we drink?”

  The dwarf was still frowning but nodded. He swept his cards together and began shuffling. It was readily apparent that TJ’s magic had killed the man’s buzz, and that wasn’t exactly appreciated.

  TJ pondered the depth of that problem. He could heal Rachel with ease and suspected the same for Abby. However, the moment his magic had touched Yoddeat, he’d had to bear down just to keep from screaming in pain. The man’s body actively resisted his magic’s touch, or perhaps it was the other way around.

  TJ thought back to Gerald and how he’d been soaked in sweat when he’d found him. He wondered if his touching up Rachel’s wounds had caused something similar. It certainly seemed possible.

  He grumbled to himself, “So much for hiring a bunch of mercenaries and just being the healer. Other than Rachel, I haven’t even seen a woman with a weapon since I got here.”

  “Sirens is the game,” the dwarf said, then began passing out seven cards. “Ante is ten copper, twenty copper pot limit.”

  “Pretty sure one shot of that booze is more than twenty copper.” TJ snorted.

  The man chuckled. “Aye, but I’ve got a shiny new rock. If I come home with it and my silver still in my pocket, my woman will probably blow me like a bellows.”

  Chapter 23

  Anticipating their needs, TJ had been left in a receiving area with a writing desk. The room was lavishly furnished with every surface polished to a shine. Overhead, magical chandeliers cast the room in a soft glow. The dark wood walls were elaborately decorated with purple heraldry and a few preserved monster skulls. Over the fireplace in the corner was what appeared to be an ice drake’s head, complete with blue-white scales and arm-sized teeth that radiated long-dormant magic.

  On prominent display was a glass-enclosed map of Ardsville. It showed the river to the east that flowed through the kingdom before it met up with the sea. The city itself was centered around the port and had concentric circles of development around it. The main areas were marked for reference, but the labels became more jumbled as it went further from the keep. It looked like Ardsville had started off as a carefully planned project, then lost any sort of cohesion as it grew organically over time.

  His trip through the city suggested that the map grossly overestimated the presence of the city walls. On the drawings, there were six rings of protections with sectioned off bits between key districts. In reality, the citizens had creatively repurposed the stones to build their houses bit by bit over the years. In many areas, it was hard to tell the walls had ever been there. Only the outer wall was still intact, but even it had been weakened by the light-fingered populace on the hunt for cut stone.

  Examining the details, he didn’t see any districts labeled for non-humans. Nor did he locate any embassies. He’d spotted a grand total of two dwarves, and one elf that was trying to obscure who they were with a cloak on their travel through the city. Aside from Yoddeat, the others he’d run across hadn’t seemed very well respected. The locals had intentionally walked in a way that forced the non-humans to move aside, signaling that they were considered second-class citizens. Everyone else he’d seen was disappointingly human.

  Given what he’d read on the subject so far, that wasn’t because the other races were rare. They just weren’t particularly welcome in the kingdom and especially not the cities.

  He’d not been able to spread his wings on the journey because he wanted to keep pace with Rachel and Abby. Now that TJ was here, he couldn’t enjoy the skies because it would cause a ruckus with the locals. He’d never gone so long without being able to spend a few hours relaxing in the air currents and was starting to feel cooped up. Grumbling to himself, he dipped his quill in the provided inkpot and turned back to his parchment.

  TJ had been sitting at the heavily lacquered table, engrossed in writing out sheet music, for the better part of three hours. He was perhaps only a quarter complete on one that would help Abby blend into the terrain and move stealthily. He’d botched the flourishes twice after his hand had begun cramping and had to start over.

  Meanwhile, Abby sat in the corner, familiarizing herself with some of the more challenging songs while Faith was curled in her lap. In the stack, she had one for a basic healing and a general-purpose assistance spell.

  “I’ll kill him. I’m going to actually kill him when I see him!” Rachel yelled as she barged through the door and slammed it shut. “Here, sign this,” Rachel demanded as she slapped a parchment in front of him.

  TJ sputtered, “Uh… huh?”

  “It’s our marriage contract,” she seethed.

  Seeing that she wasn’t to be trifled with, TJ took his father’s advice on matters of angry women. Sometimes, it’s best to shut up, nod along, and not ask questions.

  Deciding that this was one of those times, TJ didn’t even read it and quickly scrawled his signature at the short document’s bottom. He then poured a measure of ponce on the parchment to set the ink. As he did so, he clearly made out the blank line reserved for the Knight Blackstone.

  Rachel hissed, “He made me look like a fucking fool in front of the Duchess. There never was going to be a truthseer. She just smirked and said those were just rumors all fathers tell daughters. She received my letters and had a good long laugh at my expense. That, and she informed me that I’d been invited to court each season for the last six years, and he never told me.”

  She clenched her knuckles so tightly they started glowing gold as she inadvertently pulled on her power. “Since he never let me go, I never learned everything he told me was utter bullshit. Absolute bullshit.”

  TJ exchanged concerned glances with Abby, but ultimately neither wanted to poke the bear.

  Rachel stared at the parchment that had her name next to TJ’s then sucked in a long deep breath. The golden shimmer slowly disappeared.

  She seemed to regain a modicum of control, then her face twisted into a malevolent smile. “You know what? If he protests, I’m going to challenge him to a sparring match in front of his men. Then I’m going to put my entire pool into beating the ever-loving shit out of that man with a wooden stick. They’ll have to fetch a blacksmith to carve him out of his armor.”

  There was a knock at the door, a
nd Abby let in one of the Duchess’s aids. Seeing the semi-completed parchment, the man retrieved it and then set another down in its place. “Sir, if you wouldn’t mind signing this as well? I’ll make an official copy and then prepare them for traveling. I’ll also ready your identification paperwork now that you and your servant are official citizens.”

  “Of course,” TJ replied as he quickly read the contents. The land grant was plainly written and didn’t specify anything more detailed than the area’s general location and the fact it included mining rights. As he’d expected, there was no mention of the prior deal with the now-deceased goblin tribe. Not seeing anything to be concerned about, he quickly inked his name.

  “And this one, sir?” the man quickly swapped it out for another.

  TJ browsed the contract, and his jaw dropped. “Huh? I just got here. Is this normal?”

  The aide bowed. “It isn’t my place to say, sir.”

  “I think I want my… betrothed to review this,” TJ hedged.

  The other man replied quickly, “Of course, sir.”

  Still red-faced, Rachel took the paper and read the details. As she got further into the document, her look became progressively more perplexed. She mouthed the last few words, just as confused as TJ was.

  “I… I don’t know what to say, TJ. This…” She gave an upset huff. “I mean, go ahead and sign. With this, you can force my father to sign our marriage contract when we see him. I have to ask why she’s doing this.”

  Leaning in to whisper, he asked, “Could this be because of the magical test earlier? Or maybe because I’m tied to you? I doubt it’s a coincidence they dropped this off after I signed our contract.”

  “That would be my best guess, but I have no idea what she’s playing at. However, I suspect that saying no here wouldn’t go over well. It feels off. Something is wrong here. The nobility doesn’t just do this,” Rachel whispered.

  TJ nodded, then quickly jotted his name into place. Rachel had told him that any magician of note warranted a magus title and treatment similar to nobility in many aspects. Once summoned to the castle, he’d been asked to demonstrate a minor spell in front of an archmage. Since no wounded were handy, and there was only so much cleaning to be done in a well-kept castle, he selected the next most innocent of his spells.

  He’d picked up a wine glass with his telekinetic magic and held it perfectly still in mid-air. The tester had asked him to keep it there for as long as possible, which wasn’t much of a request since it was a relatively efficient spell if TJ didn’t move it, and the glass wasn’t particularly heavy.

  The old man’s eyebrows had twitched and progressively gone higher the longer he’d held it there. The man’s breathing had become excited by the ten-minute mark, and he had to sit down at the half-hour mark.

  He’d yelled for a second evaluator to come out shortly after to verify the results. About that time, TJ’s pool had slowly depleted, so he’d given a tiny tug against Rachel’s and Abby’s pool. An hour or so later, he’d let it glide to the floor. With that, the pair of very stunned-looking mages had given him an application to join the Guild of Mages. He’d asked if that meant he could learn new spells, but the two mages had shaken their heads, claiming they couldn’t comment on mercantile matters.

  From what he was guessing, the evaluator’s notes had then been passed along to the Duchess. However, rather than grant a lower-tier unlanded title like esquire-magus or knight-magus, the Duchess had thrown TJ into the deep end of the pool.

  He was now officially known as the Count of Skyridge. Named so after the Skyridge Mountains that shaped the county’s western border. His domain encompassed Rachel’s home, and in a move that could absolutely never end up being awkward, her father now reported to him.

  The move meant that even if Knight Blackstone made a fuss about it, TJ could legally coerce the man to allow Rachel and him to marry. That seemed oddly convenient. To the point that he expected rather significant, and unpleasant, strings to be attached.

  He repeated the process of preparing the inked document, then handed it over to the aide.

  The man in livery bowed deeply, then replied, “I’ll have copies drawn up with the official seals for your keeping. My congratulations, Count Skyridge.”

  TJ rubbed at his forehead, feeling more than a bit overwhelmed. Much of the scene had played out as Rachel had foretold, albeit with the title’s addition. However, now that he was here, he felt this was all far over his head.

  He’d been drafted into ruling a chunk of a kingdom that he knew nothing about. He was soon to be married into nobility he didn’t understand. Even worse, he had already angered two deities, one of which had an extraordinary level of support among the local populace. His populace.

  Sensing his turmoil, Rachel eased behind him and began kneading her thumbs into his shoulders. The move forced him to relax and focus on her fingers. She ran her hands under the neck of his robes and caressed the white down, smoothing it down. She’d noticed how his feathers were perpetually ruffled by his robes and got caught in the texture. It was only one of life’s mild annoyances, but it was a compassionate gesture on Rachel’s part.

  The aide returned a few moments later with four tubes of rolled documents in a box along with TJ’s and Abby’s identification and traveling papers.

  Rachel already had hers and had to have it stamped when entering the city along with a notation that she was traveling with two undocumented people seeking their registration. Underlying the kingdom’s obsession with order, the man at the gate had gone so far as to write up physical descriptions of TJ and Abby to be distributed among the guard with notes that they weren’t to leave the city until they had adequate paperwork.

  The Duchess’s aide handed off the parcel to Abigail, who played the part of their attendant for the day. She gave a brief curtsy as part of the exchange. Her newly-purchased maroon dress with gold trim looked regal as she performed the acknowledgment.

  Of course, Rachel’s dress was even more elaborate. She’d brought a green silk number with frilly dark lace. It had been tailored to perfection, accentuating her slim waist. The pattern over her neckline was just sheer enough that it hinted at, but didn’t reveal, the assets she’d been blessed with.

  “If you would, Count, the Duchess wishes to speak with you privately,” the aide informed him.

  Rachel looked nervous but nodded. This would be where he found out how deep in the cow splat he’d just landed.

  He was led down a side corridor and to a sitting room. On the table were fruits, cheeses, and a selection of sliced meats. Next to that were refreshments ranging from water to hard liquor.

  Following the etiquette guide he’d read on the trip, he remained standing with hands folded in front of him as the aide left the room and shut the door with the soft clack of a lock being engaged.

  Only a moment later, the door at the other side of the room opened and in marched a woman that appeared to be in her late thirties. She was tall and pretty, with brown hair. However, her brown eyes looked much older, and he briefly wondered if some sort of glamour was at work.

  As the doors shut behind her, she took one look at him, waving her finger in the air as though she were reading something he couldn’t see.

  Before he could even manage a proper bow, she said in an airy voice, “You’re not human.”

  TJ suppressed a cough. That hadn’t been a question. He really needed to know how people kept doing that.

  He looked inward, and his magic was busy running in circles in a mild anxiety attack. He tried to examine the woman using his talents and found her an absolute blank slate. It was as if she weren’t there. Instead, he found an intense cold feeling coming from her ring. He assumed it was blocking any sort of magical perception.

  “What, pray tell, is a Breeze Dancer?” the Duchess asked.

  She didn’t look angry, only curious.

  Trying very hard not to panic, TJ was immediately reminded of what it was like to live among the Devas.
They always radiated danger and seemed to know far too much.

  TJ cleared his throat and bowed. “A Breeze Dancer is much like a human, but we have wings capable of flight, Duchess.”

  She flicked a finger his way. “Very well, let’s see them.”

  TJ moved further from the wall, relaxed the compressive magic, and unfurled his wings. Given the room’s height, they brushed the ceiling and filled the entirety of the space available.

  “Oh, my, yes. Those are certainly wings. Here I was afraid you’d look like a bat.” She paused, taking in the view, and cocked her head to one side, then the other. “Very well, you may put them away.”

  Giving a small bow, he let them slide back into the green and black robes with gold trim that Bethany had made for him in Larton. His outfit wasn’t nearly as showy as Rachel’s dress, but it at least complimented her color choice.

  “And you can interbreed with humans?” she inquired with an eyebrow slightly raised.

  TJ nodded. While conception wasn’t as probable between a Breeze Dancer and another species, it happened. It usually took years or even decades of trying, or more likely, just not trying to prevent it happening. It was one of the reasons he hadn’t felt particularly concerned about birth control.

  Still, his cousin Cybil was born from such a union, so he felt comfortable stating it was possible. She had ended up with human eyes and smaller wings, but she could still fly. Of course, with his magic, he could probably increase or decrease the odds of conception, or even the physical manifestations of his lineage if he felt so inclined.

  The duchess poked in the air in front of him and broke into laughter. “My, oh my, you do get around. You’re practically a zookeeper. I have no idea what half of these races or accolades are.”

  “Uh, Duchess?” TJ began, confused.

  She seemed to be suppressing a grin as though she were silently laughing at an inside joke. “Oh, nothing to concern yourself with, my dear Count. I’m glad that I don’t have to pardon you at the outset. Most mages seem to think they can kill my guards with impunity, and that I won’t know. Is there anything I need to put into paperwork? No fines or outstanding crimes?”