And Orlando was always there. Encouraging him and enjoying Solomon’s success, even as they grew older and both became scouts in the service of their House. Solomon’s rise through the ranks was noticed by all, and occasionally there was jealousy; adults unable to accept things that children easily did. For the most part, Solomon felt nothing but the love and support of those in his House.
The thought made him smile. The warm sunlight filtering through the leaves of the giant trees was perfect for walking. The Greenweald felt at peace, and he was glad to be in it.
But it seemed his destiny to leave it again, which was happening a lot lately. At least, this time it was by his own choice.
His thoughts were interrupted when he arrived at the pool. The same still water that he believed Celia drowned in, and where he finally fully recovered his memory.
He regarded it, mixed emotions roiling through him. He couldn’t stand here without rage seething in the pit of his stomach. Whatever had been done to Celia, she hadn’t deserved it. It was that, more even than the idea that she had been taken, that made his blood boil. The sheer injustice of it.
On top of the rage was simple sadness. So much time had passed, and while it was only weeks, he was proof that a lot could happen in that time. A lot could still be happening to her.
And strangely, there was a new feeling since last he stood there: gratitude. Celia missed what recently occurred in the Greenweald. If she had been here, there was every chance that she would have been one of those laid to rest beneath the trees. At least she missed that, as well as seeing what happened to her father.
He looked down at himself. Scabbard hanging from his belt, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword. Sturdy boots, pants, and shirt. Pack hung from one shoulder with a few supplies, lighter now that the lantern was no longer in it.
Would all this go through with him?
He hoped so. Much better that than waking up in rags again.
He also thought of the patch that covered his right eye, or more exactly where his eye used to be, and the scar that ran down his face. He hoped Celia liked the new rugged looking him.
The last time he summoned the spirit by swimming in the pool again. It took a while before she finally relented and came to him. Maybe he needed to do the same now? Or something different? You never knew with things like this.
He sighed at the capriciousness of beings like the water spirit and the Guardian. He suspected they did things like this for their own amusement.
Solomon took a moment to make sure everything was secure on him and stepped to the water’s edge, prepared to jump in. The pool was clear and still here where the stream that fed it slowed down until it overflowed the far end. The bottom was sandy, the water was cold, and no fish swam here, or at least not now.
“Well,” he said to himself, “might as well get on with it.”
“There is no need, Solomon,” a soft, quiet voice said from the pool. A face appeared in the water, as if it were a mirror with another’s reflection. It was the blue, pretty face of the water spirit, looking back at him.
“I remember our bargain and will keep it,” she said, “though I caution you again. The way is hard. Are you sure you wish to continue?”
“I am sure,” Solomon answered, crouching down to see her better. “But what about my clothes and stuff? Will they come with me? Or should I leave them here?”
“You will arrive on the other side exactly as you come into my pool.”
Solomon frowned at that, remembering the day he and Celia swam in this pool.
“You took her as she was and delivered her elsewhere like that?”
The water spirit looked away from him, away from the cold edge that entered his voice. “It was not my concern at the time,” she finally said, her voice grown even quieter.
Solomon took a second to compose himself and slow his breathing. “Fine,” he said, “then bring me to her.”
The water spirit looked back at him. “Solomon, you need not do this. You could stay here, by my pool, and I could come to you whenever you desire. Look at you, and what your labors in this world have done. Put it aside, rest here with me, and let the world turn about us.”
“We have a bargain, spirit. Are you living up to it, or do I need to retrieve my sword and boil this pool away to nothing?”
The water spirit sighed. “You could be so much more than what you are. But if you must do this, enter my pool and we will go.”
Solomon slid off the rock he was standing on and into the water, letting it close above his head. He didn’t try to swim, which would have been awkward encumbered as he was. Instead, he let himself sink the short distance to the bottom and waited.
From behind him, two slim blue hands appeared, moving through the water on each side of his head and then in front.
“You may breathe,” the voice of the spirit said.
Solomon took a tentative breath, not putting it past the spirit to play a cruel trick on him, but was able to breathe without difficulty. He turned and faced the her.
She approached him and put her arms around his neck. Before he could move, she pressed her lips against his.
Then she pulled back, and after one last sullen look, reached down and took his hand. He was pulled along as she began to swim in circles. The pool wasn’t large and water was her element, so it only took a moment to complete the first circuit.
The next one took a second longer, and the one after that even more. For every trip around the pool, the time increased, as did the speed of the spirit’s swimming.
Solomon clung tightly to her hand, feeling the drag of the water increase as she went faster. His arm started to feel as if it would rip from its socket, and he was starting to have a hard time breathing. He looked up, thinking to get his head above water for a moment, catch a quick breath, but there was no surface above him, just more water.
Looking down, there was no floor to the pool either, only darkness stretching away into impossible depths.
Suddenly the spirit dove, straight down into that gloom, dragging him with her.
Every fiber of his being screamed out for him to let go, kick for the surface and gulp down sweet air. He fought those feelings and held on all the more tightly.
Pressure started to build, causing his ears to pop, then ring with a sharp stabbing pain. His chest was tight and when he took a tentative sip of air, he got water instead, causing him to choke and spit out whatever air he had left in his lungs.
The water spirit lied after all. She was going to drown him.
He tried to let go, to at least have a chance to get out of the pool, but her fingers were around his wrist now and he couldn’t tug free. She was moving too fast for him to reach her nor could he pull her to him. He had no leverage and for the first time realized how incredibly stupid it was to put himself at her mercy, here in her element.
His last thought before the darkness crashed in on him was of Celia. Perhaps the spirit lied about that as well.
Chapter 9
Thaddeus tried to keep his nerves under control as he sat across the desk from Malachi, the Head of House Subtle Hemlock. It was the first time he had seen the man since his arrival here, when he was still half in shock and almost gibbering with relief at having been yanked away from Solomon at the last minute. Then, Malachi had looked at him in what Thaddeus thought might be pity and told the one who had grabbed him to get him cleaned up and settled in.
There was a lot less pity in Malachi’s gaze now. His gray eyes were icy as he regarded Thaddeus, who tried not to fidget in his chair. The silence was getting more than uncomfortable.
Finally, when he couldn’t take it anymore, Thaddeus cleared his throat and started to open his mouth.
“Do you think you belong here, Thaddeus?” Malachi asked him, cutting his own fumbling opening off before he could start.
“Do I? Well, yes, I think so … I mean … that is … I. Yes.”
Thaddeus hated hearing himself stutter and stam
mer. What happened to him? At one time, his cousin used to call for his services whenever he had a delicate meeting to attend, even with Glittering Birch and the famously touchy Jamshir. Now Thaddeus couldn’t string two words together without sounding like a fool.
“Then why do you make a mockery of our training methods?” Malachi asked.
Thaddeus was taken aback.
“Mockery? I don’t understand. How have I done that?”
“For days on end you sit and stare and produce only a wisp of smoke from a candle wick. Then you burn a valuable asset to ash. What am I to make of this ‘sudden breakthrough’?”
“I admit that I was having a hard time—"
“Why? It’s not what I was expecting when against my better judgment I allowed you to be brought here.”
“Why was I having a hard time, you mean?”
Malachi nodded once, a sharp short jerk of his head.
“It was a Soul Gaunt. I assumed you designed the task as something that would bother me on purpose.”
“Yes,” Malachi said. “It was a Soul Gaunt. It was only a Soul Gaunt. And only one of them at that. A creature that any novice spellcaster should have the measure of. But you? They terrify you that much?”
Thaddeus haltingly held up his hand to show Malachi his missing fingers. At first, he was ashamed, both by his injury and his difficulties in the dark room. Then, as he looked at his own disfigurement, a heat started to grow in his gut.
“This,” he said, his voice firmer than at any time since entering the room. “This is why I had a hard time. They bit them off, without warning or provocation. And there was no treatment after, either. All this, under the watchful eyes of a member of this House, I might add. Then, I watched and listened as they tortured and finally killed my cousin. So, yes, I had a hard time concentrating with one of them in the room with me.”
Malachi sat back in his chair, a slight smile playing about his lips.
“Until you got angry,” he said.
“Yes, until I got angry!”
“As you are right now.”
Thaddeus suddenly realized the tone and volume of his voice and remembered who he was speaking to. His hand fell back into his lap and he dropped his gaze to the desktop.
“Forgive me,” he said. His voice was quieter, but still firm, no longer wavering.
“There is nothing to forgive,” Malachi replied. “Look at me, Thaddeus.”
Thaddeus looked back into Malachi’s eyes.
“You can be a great asset to this House,” Malachi said. “But you need to learn to control your emotions. You were known to us before we ever helped put Jamshir’s plans into place, but we weren’t sure of your temperament. Besides, your loyalty to Florian seemed beyond question. At that time, we made the decision not to approach you.”
“What changed?”
“Opportunity. When you arrived at the Rustling Elm compound, we saw our chance. Since we still weren’t sure, Nathanial, the one you knew as the Advocate, thought to put you to the trial and see what you were truly made of.”
“All of that was a test?” Thaddeus hissed.
He was starting to feel the same burning that he had in front of the Soul Gaunt’s cage. That almost overwhelming desire to let what was inside of him go and burn everything down.
“No, not all. And don’t feel that you were alone in this. Oh, I don’t mean your particular trial. You were most definitely alone in that. I mean in our methods. All of us, for years uncounted, have been tested in the most extreme ways. Ask your friend Melanie what she went through.”
“And Florian?”
Thaddeus was holding on to his temper by the slightest edge. If Malachi told him that Florian’s death was just another test…a game…he would….
“No. Florian and Jediah both were part of a greater plan. Remove the Heads of the Houses that were the biggest threats to Jamshir, and the rest should have been easy. But then Solomon returned, and threw all our plans into disarray.”
Thaddeus took a deep breath, forcing himself to relax, remembering that he was speaking to his new Head of House.
“And now?”
“Now? Our goals are still the same. Play behind the scenes, stay hidden, allow Jamshir to think he’s in charge.”
“And how are we doing that?”
Malachi leaned forward, his eyes growing cold again. “We aren’t doing anything. You are still here on sufferance.”
“I see,” Thaddeus said, trying to keep the ice out of his own voice. “Is that all?”
“For now,” Malachi said. “Continue your training and learn to let out that power within you without letting your rage control you. Continue your dalliance with Melanie, if you’d like. When the time is right, we’ll assign a task to you.”
“A task?”
“Yes. Perhaps something here, perhaps on another world. We’ll see where your talents are. Assuming that is, you actually have any.”
Malachi smiled, pretending that his words were a joke, but Thaddeus knew better. He just needed to look in the man’s eyes.
♦ ♦ ♦
“Was it bad?”
Melanie lay with her head on Thaddeus’s chest. He had enjoyed their lovemaking but was now sinking into a malaise as he replayed the meeting with Malachi in his mind. His hesitation, the lack of any true answers and the abrupt dismissal at the end all ate at him, and all he wanted to do was slip off, sleep for a long time and forget about everything.
“It was fine,” he said.
“Liar.” She snuggled in closer to him. “I can hear it in your voice.”
“You think you know me that well already?” For some reason, the thought that she could read him that easily bothered him.
She laughed. “Anyone could hear it. Don’t be ashamed. There are very few of us who meet with Malachi and come away feeling good about ourselves. I think he enjoys it.”
“Mmm. He said that what happened to me was all part of a test. Not my cousin, but the rest of it.”
“It could have been,” Melanie said.
“He also said I should ask you about yours.”
“Really? What a bastard.”
Silence reigned in the room. Thaddeus was happy to let it go, to simply lie there in her bed, letting the shadows lengthen and his eyes grow heavier. Then Melanie pushed herself upright and sat against the headboard.
“Why do you want to know?” she asked.
“I didn’t say I did. I said that Malachi said I should ask you about it.”
Melanie turned away from him.
“Look,” Thaddeus said, “you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. It doesn’t matter to me.”
“It might.”
Thaddeus shrugged. “It’s possible, I guess. It’s your choice to tell me or not.”
Melanie was quiet for a moment, then, “My former house was Flourishing Maple. Do you know it?”
“Of course.” Thaddeus had made it a point in his earlier life to know all the Houses of the Greenweald, great or small. Flourishing Maple was a midsized house, located near the edge of the Greenweald where it was more open, consisting of a bunch of farmers. Yes, he understood the importance and necessity of that type of work, but it wasn’t for him. Still, their Head of House was accorded due respect.
But there was some minor scandal involving that House, if he remembered right.
“Yeah, well, I was the oldest daughter of Titus, the Head of House,” Melanie said.
“That’s something. Not quite like being family in one of the great Houses, but something.”
“You don’t have to be so condescending. I know where Flourishing Maple stands, and what some of the other Houses think of what they do. Just remember who is training who here.”
There was true hurt in Melanie’s voice and Thaddeus glanced at her. He was letting his emotions get the better of him, exactly what Malachi warned him against. Plus, he was doing a good job of pissing off the one person in this whole place who was kind to him.
“Sorry,” he said, pushing himself up to sit next to her. “You’re right, I was being rude. Please, continue.”
Her hand found his and grasped it. “I didn’t get along with my parents very well. Especially as I got older. I had … I don’t know what you’d call them … appetites, maybe? Regardless, they didn’t sit well with my father or mother. They were undignified for the daughter of the Head of House.”
“Appetites? You’ve lost me.”
Melanie shrugged. “You know. Same as a lot of kids. I was curious about things. Magic didn’t run in our family and they didn’t trust it, so when I started to develop a talent for it, they squashed it. I found little ways of practicing, like making one plant in the field grow faster, or wither and die. I have to admit, I did the wither and die routine more often. It was easier.
“And also…I liked boys. I mean really liked them, but they all steered clear of me, since I was Titus’s daughter.”
“Cowards.” Thaddeus said it as a joke, but Melanie didn’t crack a smile.
“My parents were hypocrites. Both of them had plenty of partners on the side that they thought the other didn’t know about. Or anyone else. I knew, though, and it made me so angry that they’d lecture me about my behavior when they were acting like that.”
Thaddeus thought back to Florian, the only person he was ever close to who had a long-term relationship. His cousin was fiercely loyal to his wife, and he couldn’t imagine him ever having strayed on her.
Melanie continued. “I found out that part of my gift for magic was being able to influence people. Not a lot, at least not at first. I’ve developed that a lot more here, but enough to get one of the common boys to follow me to my bedroom.”
The idea of Melanie doing that made Thaddeus squirm. Perhaps that was how he ended up here as well.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Melanie said, “and the answer is no, I haven’t used it on you.”
“Would I know if you did?”
Suddenly compelled, he turned and kissed her, and there was a buzzing, vibrating feeling inside his head. It hurt slightly and left him dizzy. The buzzing went away after a moment, and he could have pulled back. Instead, he kissed her again.
Solomon's Journey Page 5