Magic's Design

by Cat Adams

  It had an effect. Shock and fear played across his face for a brief moment, but then he let out a small laugh. “Very good, young crafter. You nearly had me believing you for a moment. But you apparently don’t realize it was the king’s guards who let me out. They’re not likely to put me back. And as for what I’ve done with Sela … why, nothing at all.” He waved his hand backward and another figure stepped past the rubble that had been one wall. Her face was calm, unafraid. When Vegre touched her shoulder, she didn’t cringe or pull back.

  “Sela!” Mila leaned forward, nearly touching the water with her knee. “Are you okay? What’s he done to you?”

  Sela chuckled lightly, without a trace of nervousness and laid her hand over his on her shoulder. “He hasn’t done anything to me, Mila. You’ve got Vegre all wrong. He was released from prison by the kings. It was a case of false imprisonment. They finally realized he didn’t do what they accused him of all those years ago. It happens all the time. Like that guy we saw on the news special last week. You remember?”

  It was true that new techniques for examining evidence had freed more than one prisoner, even from death row. But she knew better in this case. “Uh, I don’t think so. He didn’t exactly walk out the front gate of the prison with a new suit and twenty bucks, and you know it.” Her absolute assuredness about the fact took both of them by surprise. But Sela tried to keep up the game.

  “You’re believing the lies my old partners told you. But it’s they who are the criminals. They accepted bribes to break out prisoners, Mila. I was there. I saw it, and I turned them in.”

  There was no point in telling them that she’d been there, too. Plus, it wasn’t something she wanted them to know. It would be far safer to play along at this point … appear to give in slightly.

  “So why would you have to break in to Viktor’s house, then? Free, honest men don’t have to blast open walls.”

  Vegre actually managed to school his features enough to look contrite and embarrassed. “I admit it does look bad. I’m afraid I’m out of practice with modern society. Disputes in prison are handled in a less … civilized manner. But I bought some lovely pysanky from Viktor—beautiful art objects that I’ve long missed. Unfortunately, he never delivered them. In fact, he kept both money and goods. I was angry, and … well, overreacted. You’re correct, though, that there are better ways to handle the dispute. I’ll contact the authorities straight away and have them go collect Viktor to stand before his peers. That’s the American method, correct?”

  It was only through sheer willpower that she managed not to laugh sardonically and roll her eyes at the line of bull. But then she realized that until Viktor had explained the value of the eggs, she might have believed what they were telling her. It sobered her and made her realize just how serious this matter was and why it was critical that Vegre be kept from any possible duszats—because she had no doubt that was exactly what he was looking for.

  “Then you won’t mind releasing my foot so I can go on my merry way, right? I mean, if Viktor is the one who wronged you and you’re sending for the police—” She left the statement hanging, seeing what he would make of it. I’m no match for his magic. But if I could get Tal here—where the heck is he, anyway? It shouldn’t take this long to get to the house and back. Could he have run into trouble?

  Vegre smiled, and even his teeth looked better. They were straight and nearly white, with no hint of the rotted stumps that she’d seen earlier. “Actually, I was hoping to convince you to make some eggs for me.” His voice sounded soothing, but far too eager for her taste. “Sela tells me you’re very skilled. I could pay you well—better than you’d make anywhere else.”

  Of that she had no doubt. While she still didn’t know where the money was coming from, it was apparent from his clothes, and the designer outfit draped on Sela, that cash was no problem. “Well, see, that could be a problem. It’s really … busy at work right now. I couldn’t possibly find time.”

  He sighed, as though he knew her response was inevitable. “I was afraid you’d say that. Sela also told me that you value honor more than money. But you will craft for me nonetheless.” He shrugged and then flicked one finger toward her former roommate. “Sela?”

  Sela likewise shrugged, then gave her blond hair a little flip. Reaching her hand out as though to grasp something, she suddenly twisted it and clenched the fingers into a fist. “Pusta!”

  Mila’s foot was pulled downward so hard that she splashed into the pool. Water filled her mouth before she was able to reach up and grab onto one of the flagstones. “Tal!” She screamed his name just as the water surged again, filling her mouth with more water that tasted just like it smelled, of fish and musty algae. She heard footsteps and brush breaking a distance away, but they weren’t going to reach her in time. This was going to be up to her. She kicked at the seemingly solid mass of water that surrounded her, and pulled on the rocks, grateful that Viktor had thought to cement them together.

  The water turned abruptly icy, nearly taking her breath away. She felt her movements slow in reaction to the bone-chilling temperature. Warm. I need to be warm. Her toes started to tingle, then burn, with white-hot intensity. She screamed in pain and another mouthful of water made her choke and sputter. Gritting her teeth, she called on every muscle in her shoulders and arms. While she hadn’t made it to the gym much lately, typing and running up and down stairs with boxes of files had kept her arms toned. “I … am … sick of this!”

  She pulled against the siphon of water, strained with every muscle until her head pounded. But she was winning. She was slowly, but surely, climbing out of the pond, wondering how her feet could be burning so hot while surrounded with frigid water.

  She got high enough that she was able to flop her chest over the edge for better leverage to drag up her legs.

  That’s when the entire pond wall gave way.

  CHAPTER 10

  Mila’s scream had spurred him forward, nearly making him drop the heavy scroll. It was as long as his torso and the platens were either solid copper or plated over an equally weighty metal. Birds took flight in a chirping whir of wings as he forced his way through the tangle of grass—foregoing the slowly winding path for a more direct route to the pond. He could hear her grunts of effort and the distinctive sound of splashing water.

  He burst through the last flowering hedge into the orderly little space, just as the stones Mila had been sitting on tumbled into the pool and her head disappeared into a whirlpool that was sucking her down. As he approached the last few feet, a wave of bitter cold hit him in the face and he knew that the water had been magically chilled as a method to hamper her escape.

  This was obvious water crafting. Either Viktor had betrayed her or someone had interfered and was using the message pool to attack her.

  He dove face first and hit the ground, knocking the air from his chest. He reached down into the water to grab her, but she was in too deep, far past where the bottom of the pool should have been. Even when he ducked his head under, he could barely touch her fingertips. Thankfully, she’d managed to do a counterspell, so the water touching her had warmed to nearly skin temperature. With sufficient time, she could probably get the water to evaporate, but time was one thing they didn’t have. Without help she was going to drown or be sucked directly to the caster’s location. He had only seconds to act.

  He looked around the garden, searching for something he could use to free her. But all the trees in this particular garden were stunted—barely as tall as his knees. It was obvious the stunting was intentional because of the careful trimming. He’d heard of this sort of decorative living art, but had never seen an example. The trees were pretty, but useless for his purposes. Still, one was close enough to the edge of the pond to serve as an anchor point—if it would hold his weight. One of the roots had been exposed when the soil gave way, and it was as thick around as his calf. When he shook it firmly, other than dislodging some tiny bird nests, the gnarled trunk didn’t even budg
e. It must be very old, and deep into the soil to be so sturdy. But how to use it? He had no rope and no time to craft one from the surrounding materials.

  Then he threw his hands in the air and rolled his eyes at his own stupidity. He’d brought along the perfect tool and had nearly forgotten about it in the panic. He smiled and reached for the solid metal scroll and quickly unwound one end of the lettered parchment, since he didn’t know whether the ink would withstand being immersed in water. When he reached the end, he yanked the paper free of the narrow slot in the metal.

  Taking a deep breath, he plunged face first into the pool, taking care to wrap his thighs around the sturdy old tree. He prayed that Mila would know what to do when she felt the scroll above her. Grasping firmly around the metal, just beneath the wide guard that kept the parchment even, he pressed it downward until he felt the tip of the other end hit something solid. He hoped it was her hand or head.

  He couldn’t speak under the swirling column of icy water to utter a spell. All he could do was to concentrate and throw energy into the deep hole and try to force it to his will. Unfortunately, fire magic didn’t work well under water. He could turn the water to steam, but the resulting burns would make it difficult to hold onto the scroll end.

  A surge of pride and hope swept through him when weight on the end of the scroll pulled him suddenly downward. He compensated by tightening his legs around the tree and pulling up. The weight remained and when he felt the scroll handle move from side to side, he realized she was using it to climb up out of the water. He pulled backward again, doing his best to aid her escape. His stomach muscles started to cramp as he struggled to draw his arms to his chest. Definitely time for more attention to keeping fit if they made it through this.

  He was yanked suddenly backward and the scroll started to turn in a wide circle. Apparently the caster wasn’t willing to give up the prize yet. But neither was Mila, because he felt the touch of skin against the bottom of his fist as she continued to climb, even though she was only moving inches at a time. He was impressed by her tenacity … and the power of her grip. Most people wouldn’t have the hand strength to keep hold of the thick bar. He’d assumed she would just keep weight on the side guard and let him pull her up. He was surprised how pleased he was that she was trying to do it herself—including countering the caster’s spell to bubble air into the water to push her upward. He could feel the bubbles popping against his face as she rose. Her claim that she knew no magic was quickly becoming a lie … even if she was only lying to herself.

  He was almost out of air though so he lifted his head and drew in a great breath. But it was one he didn’t need as he felt her hand grasp his wrist just before her head emerged from the water.

  She gulped in great mouthfuls of air and then gasped. “Just don’t move or lose your balance. I can do this.”

  He felt a smile pull at his lips from the fierce determination on her face. “Yes, ma’am. Not moving.”

  She let out what he could only describe as a primal yell and kicked one last time, then literally used his arms as a rope to scale the side of the pool before throwing herself sideways to collapse next to him on the disturbed dirt.

  Once the prey had escaped, the pool stilled, returned to its former quiet state. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t careful to pull the scroll platen out of the pool and shimmy sideways away from the edge.

  After a moment of both of them catching their breath, she turned her still dripping face to where she could see him. She smiled and motioned to his legs. “Always knew that tree was next to the pond for a reason.”

  It wasn’t until they were safely back in Viktor’s house that he asked what happened. He was more concerned with checking her for injuries. He would have supported her as she limped back to Viktor’s house, but she insisted he dry the platen and reroll the scroll. He had to agree, it was far too important to simply leave lying in the open. Still, it bothered him to see her moving with such obvious pain. While she found some towels to dry herself, he started a fire in the small iron stove that sat in the corner of the kitchen. The fire had been amazingly easy to start, despite the lack of fuel. He hadn’t been able to find any wood or coal piled near the house, and all the wood outside was very much alive and green. He’d managed to gather some dried grasses, but that wouldn’t have been enough to last long. Yet, the focus stone in his pocket seemed to be brimming with magic. When he pointed the opal at the grasses and uttered the word iska the flames leapt high and hot—as though he’d filled the opal at a fueling station.

  Soon the house was warm enough to dry them both before they returned to the frozen overworld. He found Mila in one of the many libraries in the house—which was far larger than he’d expected from the outside design because it covered three floors. “You can see why I had a difficult time finding the den. There are a dozen rooms fitting that description.”

  She chuckled. “Yeah, Viktor really likes to read. Books are what Baba always got him for Christmas.” She looked up at the massive tree in the corner, decorated in a traditional manner—candles, glittering garland, and small glass ornaments.

  “He seems to be rather fond of Christmas, too.” There was a tree in every room—the kitchen included. Some had bows, while others were themed. “I’ve never seen a tree decorated with shells before.”

  She laughed lightly while running a comb through her thick damp curls. “You should see the place when he’s gearing up for the holiday. About half the decorations have already been put away. We never minded climbing up to the cave when I was a kid, because it was like a Norman Rockwell painting when we got inside. Snowy hills for sledding, hot chocolate in front of the fire, sleigh rides, and Christmas music everywhere.” Her mood sobered suddenly. “I hope he’s okay. I don’t even know where he was talking from. He could be anywhere.”

  Damn. He should have been there to see what happened. Once again Vegre slipped through his grasp. But his anger dissolved at the look on her face. The pain and fear made him want to comfort her, and he had to hold himself back from walking over and pulling her into his arms. It would be too easy to get involved with this one, and an emotional entanglement with an overworlder, especially one from the conjurer guild, could be disastrous. But the information she had could be vital, so he couldn’t simply keep silent, either. “Why don’t you tell me about it.” He sat down on the puffy leather couch and patted the seat next to him.

  She sat, turned toward him with one leg on the cushion, and began to spin a tale that left him stunned. “Eggs? Our entire way of life is based on pretty colored eggs?” He didn’t want to believe. The Tree of Life was everything to them … and especially to Sybil, his foster mother. Yet everything Mila said made perfect sense. This place, how she was able to energize him, the vibration of the egg on her mantel, how the opal focus stone brimmed with magic, and why Vegre would be gathering them up—even risking attacking Viktor to get the eggs. He shook his head, trying to wrap his head around the flurry of ideas. “It’s just such a hard concept to accept.”

  So don’t. The tiny voice in the back of his mind grew louder in his head with each passing second. Circumstantial evidence and hearsay. That’s all you’re hearing. When Mila spoke, she seemed to echo his sentiments.

  She rolled her eyes and then shrugged. “For you and me both. To find out that eggs are the source of magic for the whole world is like telling me aliens have landed from Alpha Centauri. Yes, it’s possible. But I want some solid evidence. Heck, I’m still trying to get a handle on the fact that my foot apparently has magical powers.” She shook her head, tiny little movements that looked very much like a shudder. “I mean, I’m not completely oblivious to the fact that when I was cold, so numb I couldn’t even move, and thought of heat, my foot got hot. Then, when I swallowed water and started to choke, thinking of breathing made air bubbles pop out of my toe. It tickled, so I looked.” He remained silent, not really sure what to say. She didn’t appear to want to be consoled, or taught. She just wanted to say the word
s. How he knew that still mystified him, but his mind and heart knew it was fact. “But,” she continued. “We have to accept that Vegre believes it, and deal with it. And I promised Viktor I’d try to replace the eggs. It might well be the last thing he asked of me, so I can’t dismiss it easily.” She paused and then uttered a near snarl. “Traitorous bitch.”

  Had he missed part of the story? He didn’t remember a woman being mentioned. All of Vegre’s minions had been men. But perhaps popular slang had changed in the past few years. “Who is?”

  “Sela.” The flat statement caught him unaware and his face must have showed it. “Oh yeah. She was there. Sorry, forgot to mention that. She’s the one who threw out that nifty spell to suck me under the water. At first, she tried to convince me that Vegre had been released from prison, not that he escaped. They both swore up and down that the king’s guards let him out, so they wouldn’t be in a hurry to put him back. But I wasn’t buying that, so they decided to suck me under the water. I don’t know whether they were trying to kill me, or—”

  He wanted to defend his former partner, but the news simply bore out his and Alexy’s earlier suspicions. “Most likely, they were trying to bring you to their location. And as much as I hate that my intuition was correct, Sela has enough water witch abilities to make the pond a temporary portal—like I could see the hospital in the fire. With enough magic, I might have been able to walk into the fireplace and appear where the image showed.” He paused, not really certain if he could manage it. “At least, that’s the theory. Whether I would have the skill to manage it is a question.”