"When she gets here," Kacey replied, less than charitably. She pulled the sheets off Reandn's bed with one efficient, practiced move that had only a hint of savagery to it.
"He said he had someone to find," Braden told her, taking a break for a swallow of milk. He left a rim of white around his upper lip and Kacey eyed it meaningfully until he gathered up the napkin and wiped it off. "I wanted him to stay and eat with me. He said you'd understand. I don't. Why'd he leave before breakfast?"
Because I'd be here, Kacey almost said, but knew she couldn't explain such an answer to the boy. So she said nothing instead, standing at the outside door with the bundle of sheets in her arms to stare at the quiet barn.
She thought about the previous evening, when she'd succumbed to the knowledge that he would be leaving soon. She'd gone out to be with him, one last time. Maybe it hadn't been fair, hiding beneath brusque old Kacey—Teayo's daughter—or concerned, apologetic Kacey—Rethia's sister. But her hopes had gotten too loud and he'd realized she was there just as Kacey herself. She grimaced at the memory of how he'd shoved her away—and without ever moving a muscle.
To think she'd earlier apologized about Rethia, who didn't truly understand what he'd been through. How much worse was she, who understood, and then still pushed?
She set her jaw against the feelings, rounded chin and all. Stupid, she chided herself. She was blunt and independent, sturdy and plain—and at thirty-four, already well past the age of marriage. Her lot would be with one of the few local farmers—probably a widower—not with some roaming, grey-eyed Wolf. Especially one that would shortly be either dead or outlawed.
She looked down at the innocent bedclothes in her arms, now twisted and kneaded into a tortured tangle. Might as well heat some water for washing, and she never had finished cleaning the windows in this room. She felt a definite bout of cleaning coming on.
Rethia's earnest voice waylaid her in the hall as she passed the main room. She left the bedclothes in a bundle by the door and leaned on the door frame, blatantly listening.
Farren nodded at her, and turned his attention back to Rethia. "What you've told me is quite incredible."
Rethia took it straight-backed and undeterred, perched on the edge of a cushioned stool. Farren, in the comfortable chair Faline had occupied the day before, seemed to tower above her. "But you believe me, don't you? Reandn did, and it upset him."
"I imagine it did," Farren murmured with a smile. His face wasn't quite as red today, and the skin on his forehead peeled like old sunburn. His watery eyes blinked more often than normal, but they were as bright and perceptive as ever.
"Why?" Rethia asked, leaning forward to look up at him from beneath her thick forelock of hair. "It's that other man he's so angry about, not me."
Farren's correction was gentle. "It's that other man's magic, Rethia. It's what anyone would be able to do with magic. If you were anyone but who you are—"
He didn't finish the statement, but when Kacey exchanged glances with him, she thought she knew the direction of his thoughts. Reandn was a driven man, and a dangerous one.
But Rethia was driven, too, battered by memories of an afternoon in her meadow. Maybe Farren didn't know her well enough to see the shadows in her eyes, but Kacey did. She came the rest of the way into the room, standing by the side of Farren's chair so she could watch her sister.
Rethia paid her no attention, focusing on Farren. "But Reandn believed me. Do you?"
Farren's smile was meager. "I've lived in the time of unicorns and chameleon shrews and great magics, and I was one of the best. I've never heard any suggestion that magic was connected with the unicorns."
"But unicorns are magic," Rethia protested.
She'd said the same to Kacey when she'd returned with Faline's patrol, and Kacey had done her best to keep Rethia from going to Reandn with it, and failed. So Reandn was gone, chased off by demands from them all—Farren, wanting things done his way, Rethia, reaching out for magic, and Kacey herself—reaching out for Reandn.
"So were the shrews, and the flying lizards," Farren told Rethia, taking the role of a teacher who didn't imagine there were answers other than his. "There were plenty of creatures who disappeared when the magic left, simply because they couldn't exist without it."
Rethia's bright and dark eyes held deep offense. "Farren," she said distinctly, "the unicorns are magic. When they left, they took the magic with them—but why did they go? You don't have to believe me, you know," she added suddenly, "as long as you help me anyway. You want your magic back, and I want the unicorns. What do you lose by pretending I'm right?"
Farren raised a thoughtful eyebrow at her. "Nothing," he said after a moment. "All right then. If I had to say—if I pretend to believe there was purpose to their departure—I'd guess they left because they were hunted for capture." He settled back in the chair and nodded. "No one ever kept a unicorn long, no matter the pen. But even so, they grew scarce. And the rarer they got, the more they were coveted." He looked at Rethia and repeated firmly, "We hunted them."
"Why?" she cried, aghast. "What pleasure could there be in looking at a penned unicorn?"
Farren shook his head. "You'll have to ask someone else that question. It was a pursuit of the Highborn. We wizards were always too busy to pay attention to such pastimes."
"Maybe if you'd paid attention, you wouldn't have lost your magic," Kacey observed.
Farren rubbed a thoughtful thumb along his lower lip, offering a glance as his only response. He stood, holding out his hand to Rethia. "Come, child. You're right; there's nothing to lose. Let's go take a look at your meadow."
~~~~~
Sky racked on in a steady gait toward Solace, his back rolling beneath Reandn's seat. Occasionally he talked to himself, snort-snort-snort under his breath, as if he'd thought of something particularly interesting. The sun heated up the day, and Reandn kept them in the thickest shadows by the side of the road; so far, they'd remained in deep woods, with only the odd cleared field and homestead here and there.
At this moderate speed, Sky was nearly tireless; he chewed up ten of the twenty miles to Solace before Reandn took him down into a walk—chafing at the delay, but knowing better than to use the horse up so quickly for no purpose.
Somehow the ten miles behind them seemed much less significant than the ten left to go.
Rethia's intentions haunted him with a sense of impending failure—for even if he dealt with Ronsin, the threat remained. He didn't believe she'd give up her quest to revive Keland's magic—and worse yet, he thought she'd probably succeed.
After all, she alone in this world had her own magic. Not stolen, like Ronsin's.
And if she brought the magic back while Ronsin lived? What then? What of the others like Farren? Farren claimed that the magic-users policed themselves, and it looked like Reandn might have the chance to find out.
Unless, of course, the return of magic killed him outright, considering his reaction to it so far.
Keep thinking like this and you'll lose before you even start. Ronsin. Adela. Concentration, that's what he needed. Plan.
With his shirt sleeves rolled up and his vest in the saddlebags, he could enter the city without drawing attention—or risking the casual comment by a gate guard to Faline. Once inside, the vest and its newly reattached patch would make his job easier. And once he had Ronsin in front of him...two knives and his hands were the only weapons he'd need.
Sky snaked his neck to the side to snatch forbidden leaves from the abundant brush along the road. Reandn twitched the reins in rebuke and the horse stuck his nose in the air, lip extended and quivering, eye rolled back to his rider.
"Oh, stop," Reandn told him, unimpressed. The horse bobbed his head down and gathered leaves in past his bit. They'd have to stop soon; the horse deserved a few minutes of browsing.
Reandn yawned, once again reminded by his body that it still fatigued far too easily... Or was it something else? He was, he realized, working his jaw, subconsc
iously hunting relief.
Magic. He stiffened, and Sky stopped in response.
The feeling strengthened, tingling down his spine in a lively dance, completely unlike the magic he'd felt from Ronsin. Rather than crawling, it tickled—and though he knew it was miles away, he couldn't help but look back down the road toward Little Wisdom.
Rethia, it seemed, was making good her words. She was trying to bring back the unicorns—and from the feel of it, she was on the right trail.
Reandn spat an oath. Unlimited magic...unlimited abuse...unlimited Ronsin. Why hadn't Farren stopped her?
Because he was just like the rest of them—besotted with the thought of getting his magic back.
Then he'd have to stop Rethia. Losing a day on Ronsin's trail was nothing compared to the trouble he'd have if he didn't. He turned the bay around and put him into a rack—faster than was wise, slower than he wanted. If only he got there before she succeeded—
Magic struck him—familiar, harsher magic, tripping his heartbeat up fast and hard with alarm.
Leaden, uncompromising, the magic dragged against him and then past him. Not at him. Ronsin, working his own magic somewhere—powerful magic, for Reandn to have felt it this far out. I'll come back for you, Reandn promised him, pushing through the dizziness.
After all, if there was forever to be magic around him, he'd have to learn to live with it.
The very thought made his stomach feel cold. Beneath him, Sky moved with mincing steps, too sensitive to ignore his rider's distress. Ronsin's oppressive wizardry built and then crescendoed, exploding around Reandn; he gritted his teeth and closed his eyes and patted his horse. Then, as abruptly as it had started, it faltered, fading to a mere whisper.
A whisper that now came from Little Wisdom.
He'd followed Rethia's magic.
Reandn closed his legs against Sky's sides, turning the horse's speed loose. The miles that had seemed so few only moments before now loomed between him and Rethia's meadow.
~~~~~
Kacey stood in the doorway of the sickroom, waving as Braden shouted good-bye to her again. He was propped on a throne of blankets in the back of his mother's cart, moving away at a steady trot. Another shout; he seemed determined to see just how far away he could get before she could no longer hear him. She dutifully waved.
When the cart rounded the curve in their lane, moving behind the trees, she turned back to the sickroom. Empty. The entire house was empty.
Well, she had plenty to do. She didn't need anyone else around to keep her company.
She pulled the sheets from Braden's bed and started a mental harvest list of medicinal plants. That was Rethia's job, the gathering; it always had been. But instead of occupying her mind, the thought made Kacey's mouth twitch in irritation.
Rethia and Farren should have waited for Teayo before charging off to the clearing; he was due home at midday and the delay could hardly have made a difference. Kacey had no idea what the two thought they could accomplish, but she'd really expected them back by now. She didn't know whether to take their absence as good or bad.
At the least, they should have waited for Braden's departure. Just because she was Kacey—practical and dependable and always the one to make sure there was food on the table—didn't mean she wouldn't have tried whimsy on for size if it meant a chance to see a few unicorns.
She took the sheets back through the kitchen to the washing area and dumped them on top of the bedclothes from Reandn's bed. At the sight of those, she scowled again—and gave them a good kick. "Ha," she said loudly to the sheets. So there.
He'd left her behind too, without even so much as a good-bye. When she'd checked the barn, the bay's stall was cleaned and ready for the next visitor; Farren's mule had given her a baleful eye and she'd stuck it out into the paddock with her mare. Didn't seem fair to leave it in there alone.
The house seemed too quiet. Where were the damn chickens, anyway? She left the laundry where it was and went back out to the barn, out to sit with the black pony mare, who had always been a good companion in her own right.
After several moments, the mare pricked her ears forward and lifted her head. She flared her nostrils to take in the wind, inspecting the area—sensing something, curious, but finding nothing to focus her gaze on. Behind her, up against the barn, the mule snorted.
And then Kacey felt what the mare must have sensed—an odd bobble in the breeze, like a heat wave coming off the road. The mule kicked at nothing and the mare rushed him, chasing him away from the barn; she came trotting back to Kacey, her ears swiveling tight circles. Searching.
It happened again, a series of stutters in the breeze, and something tickled her nose so she and the mare both sneezed at the same time. Kacey gave the horse an astonished look. "You don't suppose..." But she didn't finish, because suddenly she did suppose. Rethia.
Ardrith's Graces, she wasn't playing this waiting game any longer. Braden was gone, and Teayo could read a note chalked on their slate—Tanager, who was with him, would be livid to learn what he was missing, but that was no fault of hers, and no reason she should sit here at home, missing it too.
Suddenly she found she couldn't move fast enough. She ran back to the house and scribbled her note, then returned to bridle the mare. The sturdy little creature was an easy bareback ride and Kacey didn't bother with the saddle. She wanted to be part of this, now—before it was too late. Before it had already happened.
The mare caught her feeling of excitement and jigged down the road until Kacey let her canter. They both knew the way to the clearing, though a larger horse wouldn't have managed the path through the woods. On the mare she merely lay herself across black withers and ducked her head, watching the ground move quickly beneath flashing dark hooves.
When they hit the open space of the clearing, the mare stopped of her own accord. Kacey slid to the ground, pulling the bridle off, knowing the mare would wander home. Then, taking a deep breath, she stood at the edge of the woods and looked into Rethia's world.
The clearing danced with ripples and glints of light, visible bobbles of breeze and errant gusts that tugged at Kacey's brown curls and loose shirt. At the center, where Rethia sat, things were calmer—though it seemed to Kacey that her sister and Farren, who was standing behind her, were less than distinct around the edges.
She took another deep breath and thought for the first time about the possibility of danger, then stepped into the clearing to let the ripples wash around her. Nothing. She felt nothing other than the tiny tickle inside her head that she had already grown used to. But something drew her closer; another step and Farren saw her. He held up his hand to stay her where she was, but the blue spark of his eyes held a smile; he gave the slightest of nods.
She's doing it. Kacey stopped as directed and watched Rethia; even though they were half the clearing apart, with ripples in reality between them, there was no mistaking the quiet exultation on her sister's face. She's doing it! Rethia had tapped into her magic, pure and clean and light, and she was about to change Kacey's world. Kacey sank down to her knees to watch.
The mare came up to stand behind her, and eventually wandered away to nibble at the grasses; Kacey barely noticed her. Ants found her ankle and crawled circles on it; Kacey brushed them away and then forgot them. The direct sunlight burned against her face, beading sweat on her upper lip; Kacey tilted her head to put her eyes in shade. And she watched. Kacey-Of-No-Patience sat entranced, all her brusque practicality forgotten, watching the magic grow over time she didn't notice passing.
Rethia's eyes remained closed; a slight smile curved her lips. While sweat dripped down the side of Kacey's face, her sister's remained dry, her paler skin unflushed by the sun. Her hair stirred in the currents of magic, floating as though she was underwater.
Farren was the one who started the world moving again. In a sudden movement that startled Kacey out of her wonder-filled stasis, he whirled, his expression alarmed. Kacey felt nothing, saw nothing—until there, ju
st to the left of her—a sudden flash of darkness surrounded a blazingly bright silhouette of a man.
Kacey fell backwards with a gasp of pure astonishment, but he didn't even notice her. As the darkness oozed away, as the bright light faded, his features resolved into that of an ordinary, aging man.
He looked at Farren and Rethia, and his expression blazed triumph and death.
~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter 20
Sky's stentorian breathing and his slightly off-rhythm hoofbeats were the only sounds in Reandn's world; the blurred passage of the roadside trees his only anchor. The strong odor of overheated horse steamed up at him from the foam on Sky's shoulders. Reandn rubbed his rolled-up sleeve across his stinging eyes, futilely trying to blot up salty sweat. If you don't rest this horse, you'll kill him.
But he couldn't. For though the feel of Ronsin's magic had faded after his translocation, it had then grown again—brooding, waiting, already bolstered by what Rethia was offering. Reandn's imagination and fears rode beside him, and allowed no leeway, no rest for the laboring bay.
The magic thickened, floating at the edge of his eyes, rushing through his ears, tightening his chest. He'd never actually made it to Rethia's meadow, but he didn't need landmarks to guide him there now. When he came to a clear footpath branching into the woods, the weight of magic marked it.
Sky plunged into the woods, brutally exhausted—breaking aside branches with his head and chest until he ran blindly into a tree too big to yield to him. Reandn flung himself to the ground and ran on—breathing as hard as Sky, moving on wobbly legs and not sure if the roar in his ears was pounding blood or magic.
Be careful!
Reandn stumbled, blinked. Dela? Here, where the magic was strong, had he heard Dela?
You're a Wolf. Act like one.
Maybe it had been Dela. And maybe it was just his own common sense, stopping him from charging out into the clearing. Reandn threw himself down to the cool ground, forcing himself to assess what lay ahead. His breath came hard; as he rubbed his brow against his upper arm, blinking painfully to clear the stinging sweat, he began to understand it was from far more than physical exertion. It was the magic, playing around him, disrupting all the rhythms of his body.
Touched By Magic (The King's Wolf Saga) Page 25