Mage Evolution (Book 3)

by Virginia G. McMorrow

  Ignoring Rosanna’s tsk-tsk of indignation at my offhanded dismissal of responsibility, I joined Maylen and Gwynn on the floor, lounging on a bunch of soft pillows, and took mental headcount of the others present. Jules sat beside Anders on a small velvet couch near Rosanna. My father and Corey, seemingly comfortable with each other, sat in tapestried armchairs on the other side of the fireplace. And Kerrie, the duke’s steward and brother-in-law, perched on a window ledge overlooking his mother-in-law’s gardens, which supposedly harbored a slimy slug or two. And my father’s scouts, so Jules had reassured me the night before, were settled and working with the Duchy troops in the Port Alain barracks. There were, however, a few missing faces.

  “Where’s Lauryn? I thought she’d be here.”

  “Along with Khrista and your gracious stepmother,” Jules informed me, smothering a yawn when his mother shot a chiding look his way, “my wife is keeping the girls and the twins out of harm’s way.”

  “You mean, out of our way.” Eying the teapot and mound of fresh cranberry scones on the nearby tray with interest, since I missed breakfast, I snatched a scone and lifted an eyebrow at Rosanna.

  “I gather that’s a request for tea,” she said dryly.

  “Yes, please. If I were to pour a cup of tea for myself, I’d have to get up from the floor again, and I’m far too comfortable. Thanks,” I added sweetly, as she practically thrust a delicate china cup and saucer into my outstretched hand.

  “Don’t get crumbs on the rug.”

  “Then what will the mice eat?”

  “Thank the lords of the sea the children, and your stepmother, aren’t here to witness your disrespectful behavior toward the feeble elderly.” When I snorted at that unlikely description, Rosanna looked with disdain at my father, who only smiled. “I expected better of you.”

  “If you could not control my willful daughter during her first twenty-five years,” he said in self-defense, not a bit perturbed by words that would have had me leap at him with a knife at his throat five years earlier, “then surely I cannot. And even more important for my peace of mind, I will not even try.”

  “Excellent decision. Now that that’s settled,” I cut in, before they ripped my reputation to shreds, “any news of the Spreebridge vessel?”

  “The Stoutheart will arrive in Port Alain in four days,” Gwynn volunteered this information, snatching half of my cranberry scone while I was doing a quick calculation in my head.

  “Sneaky thief. Four days? If we backtrack—”

  “You’re planning something,” Anders accused, seagray eyes narrowed with suspicion that was, well, justified. “I knew it.”

  “Of course, I’m planning something. Someone has to,” I added, uncomfortably reminded of Rosanna’s earlier description of me as a leader. “All right, hush, don’t look so insulted. If the Stoutheart arrives in the harbor in four days, that means it would take roughly two days to get from the mouth of the river, across Shad’s Bay, then to the port, right?” My rambling question was directed to Jules, who nodded. “In roughly two days’ time, we can catch sight of the ship as she passes by and maybe identify some of the passengers on board, if the weather holds and they’re tired of being cooped up below deck.”

  That last comment brought Anders and Jules and Rosanna to complete rapt attention, all of them knowing the best spot possible for that opportunity to happen was the worst possible spot for me. The look on Jules’s face told me in no uncertain terms he was thinking back on how I’d traveled that road in the dark to find him and Elena when the twins went missing.

  “Alex—” It was my father, however, knowing nothing of the local terrain, who broke the awkward silence. “Is something wrong?”

  “Not at all,” I lied through gritted teeth, disbelieving I was actually going to propose out loud what occurred to me during the night. “There’s only one perfect spot along the Jendlan River where the shore and the ship come close enough to see clearly with a spyglass.”

  “By Jendlan Falls,” Maylen said, her eyes widening as she caught the implication, too, knowing all about my personal nightmares.

  “You must be a scout,” I teased, trying to erase the disbelief on her pretty face. “It’s where the river splits, half going west toward the falls, the other half east toward open water,” I explained to my father, as though I hadn’t a care in the world. “There’s a stone bridge across the falls, and the far side is the optimal spot for us to take a look at the ship without being seen.”

  “How is that possible?” My father asked, perplexed. “If you are on the bridge, then surely you must be visible?”

  “Ah, well, not exactly. When we were children,” Jules admitted, flushing bright scarlet at the memory, “Elena and I would occasionally race onto the bridge and lie flat along the low wall so Alex couldn’t find us. We weren’t being cruel, or so we didn’t think at the time. But now, well—” He dared a glance at me, reassured when I grinned. “Anyway, there are slits all along the wall for decorative purposes, but Elena and I learned to avoid them.”

  “Ah.” My father’s single word answer told me he realized the truth as well, along with Gwynn. Poor Corey was the only one lost at sea.

  “I’m terrified of bridges,” I admitted to my new brother, “so I would never think to look for my friends on the bridge, even though I suspected that’s where they were hiding.”

  “Well, then, you will not be one of the party who spies on the ship,” Corey said so matter-of-factly it seemed he’d been part of the family for years. “There are enough of us who know the people involved and—”

  “And I intend to go along, anyway, but thanks.” I smiled, catching my husband and Jules off guard, but not Rosanna.

  “Is this a personal test?”

  “Yes and no. No,” I explained, taking a sip of tea and setting the delicate cup aside, “because I was in Spreebridge recently, so I know some of the players who might make an appearance. Besides, an extra pair of eyes can’t hurt. What several pairs of eyes might miss, the last pair might catch.”

  “Assuming they stay open.”

  Knowing full well there was the very real temptation to crawl on the bridge with my eyes shut tight and keep them closed, I bit back the curse when I saw Corey’s wide-eyed expression. “They will certainly remain open. And yes, thanks to my father, who didn’t warn me about Lunatics’ Crossing into and out of Spreebridge,” I said dryly, enjoying his flush of shame, “the bridge by Jendlan Falls represents practically no threat to me,” I said confidently, more to convince myself than anyone else.

  And they all knew it.

  “Alex, wait. Wait—” Corey was so flustered he waved both hands in the air. “You are terrified of bridges, yes?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yet you went into and out of Spreebridge by way of Lunatics’ Crossing?”

  “Yes, to both questions. Not happily or willingly,” I added, “but yes.” When my new brother said nothing, trying, I assumed, to digest the implication of my answers, I was intrigued. “You have such a perplexed look on your face. Why?”

  Corey glanced at my father, and then at me. “You make light of many things, Alex. I know that about you because Gwynn and father, and even you, have told me so. But that feat alone, for I know that crossing,” he said, looking no happier at the thought than I did, making me think I wasn’t foolish for being so frightened, “proves how very brave you are. I cannot imagine the terror you must have felt.”

  “I don’t ever wish that terror on anyone,” I said, “but believe me other people have done far braver things.”

  “Modesty, Mage Protector?” This quip from Rosanna earned a scowl.

  “Honesty, Lady Barlow.”

  “Good, then I did manage to get a few noble thoughts into your head when you were a little pest,” she replied, sipping daintily at her tea.

  “One or two, so don’t be smug. All right, that’s settled. We can spy on the ship in a few days, but here’s the next problem. We need to get on board the
Stoutheart two times when she docks in Port Alain. One to find the crates and measure them, though how we’ll do that, I’ve not the slightest clue,” I admitted. “The second time to switch them with our own crates.”

  “You might need some sneaky, underhanded Glynnswood folk,” my father said, tongue in cheek.

  “I didn’t say a word.”

  “You were thinking so loud, Alex, my head hurt,” —he grinned— “so I said it aloud for you.” Unfazed by my snarl, Sernyn leaned over and helped himself to a scone from the tray. Whenever my father openly mocked me, I couldn’t help thinking how far we’d come. Something in my eyes must have warned him, because his grin transformed into a sweet smile.

  “I doubt you will have to measure the crates,” Maylen said, catching the silent exchange and sidestepping it. She did, however, follow my father’s example and broke a scone into neat pieces. “When we were in Derbarry, I took a good look at the dock before you made Anders set that fire to test Jackson. All the crates were the same size, regardless of the ship. No offense,” —she grinned at Corey— “but Spreebridge shipmasters have no individuality.”

  “None taken.” Corey matched her smile. “In fact, that is the problem we are trying to fight. The old order is trying to preserve the traditional way of doing everything, even down to the ridiculous matter of storage crates. My mother and some of the other elders wish to loosen some of the restrictions and narrow-mindedness that pervades our society. I confess,” —he smiled at his own admission— “when I first came to Ardenna, and then here, I was nearly overwhelmed by the diversity I saw in all things, no matter where I looked.”

  “And here I thought it was just the Keltie lunacy that bowled you over,” I teased, before turning to Maylen. “You really noticed that?”

  “Yes. Is there something wrong?” she asked, as though I were seeking to trap her by my question.

  “No. It’s just impressive, that’s all.”

  “That—” Gwynn elbowed me, grabbing the forgotten half of scone from my fingers, “is what scouts are trained to do. Watch and remember and report.”

  “Hey—” Sighing as he popped the scone into his mouth, I thumped his knee. “You’re a terrible model for Corey.”

  “Yes, I am, and shall continue to be,” Gwynn said with smug pride, though he quickly returned to the matter at hand. “Still, we need to know where the crates are stashed on board the ship and how many there are. I wish your mother had sent word,” he said to Corey, no accusation in his voice, simply regret. “If she could have gotten a closer look at the Stoutheart before the ship sailed from Derbarry, it would have been helpful.”

  “To be honest, it troubles me that there has been no word at all.”

  “Do you wish to return north?” Sernyn asked, seeing the worry on Corey’s face. “We would all surely understand and—”

  “No, but thank you. Mother is quite capable of taking care of herself. My fear,” Corey’s anxiety transformed into a mischievous smile, “is that she is too busy nosing around where she should not.”

  “Well, then, she’s no different than any of us, is she? We still have some time before the ship arrives. If we’re lucky,” I added, snatching another scone from the tray and guarding it from my brother, “Kimmer will send word. Until then, the only other thing I can think to do is to figure out how to create a diversion so we can search the ship while the sailors are busy doing something else. Since they’re not military vessels but merchant traders,” — I shrugged, thinking aloud— “seems to me they’d be less inclined to strict behavior, unless the captain is afraid of reprisal from Elder Frontish. But how we’ll get their attention, I’m at a loss.”

  “Maybe the Crown will pay for whores to keep the sailors occupied.” When we all turned at the unexpected female voice, rich with sarcasm, that drifted through the open doorway, Elena rolled her eyes. “Well? Isn’t that a good idea?” She tossed her light wool cloak onto an armchair, as Jackson did the same, both of them coming into the room. “You know how easily men are distracted, no offense to the gentlemen present. A bare leg here, a bare arm there—” She shrugged, quite pleased with herself.

  “Why are you here?” I demanded, rescuing my scone barely in time from my brother’s imminent sneak attack.

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “Answer mine first.”

  “Because,” —dark blue eyes laughed at me, and then glanced at Sernyn, an impish smile on Elena’s face that reminded me of a thousand summer days when we were children— “I couldn’t resist joining in the fun any more than your father could. I left a very disappointed and pouting heir back in Ardenna, burdened with boring administrative tasks. And here’s another reason, Mage Protector,” she added, accepting a chair Kerrie graciously pulled closer to the fire for her, while Jackson joined the steward on the window ledge. “Elder Frontish won’t be expecting me in Port Alain. And you know how I like to keep my enemies, and my friends, on their toes. Particularly my Mage Protector, who doesn’t always tell me her plans either.” Sliding a glance at the senior Lady Barlow, whose face remained neutral, Elena purred sweetly, “Does that satisfy you, Alex?”

  “So, your majesty,” —I bit into a piece of scone and chewed for a moment— “how many prostitutes are you willing to pay for?”

  * * * *

  “Why are you really going on that bridge?”

  The real question should have been, why was I so surprised Lauryn would corner me after my history lesson with the children? “In response to that insulting innuendo—”

  “Why insulting?”

  “Because you implied I wasn’t telling the truth.”

  “Not at all,” Lauryn countered, brushing an annoying strand of light brown hair from eyes that watched me like a seahawk. “However, I implied you weren’t telling the whole truth. That’s a different matter.”

  “Hmmm. So, I could say in response to that busybody question,” I drawled, stretching my legs across the wooden floor, scraped by tiny boots over the past twelve years, “I’m doing it because the bridge is there, but that would be snide. All right, two reasons.” I grinned, once I’d earned a well-deserved scowl. “One, Rosanna is partially right. It is a personal test of sorts. For the lords’ sake, Lauryn,” —I crossed my legs at the ankle and waved her onto a stool beside me—“I did manage to make my way across the bridge and back at Edgecliff when we were searching for, and then pursuing, those renegades, and even worse, I—”

  “Made it through Lunatics’ Crossing into Spreebridge, yes, I know,” she finished. “But you had to go that way or risk being recognized. The difference now is you don’t have to go to Jendlan Falls. There are plenty of others who can go in your stead.”

  “Because they’re braver than me.”

  “It has nothing to do with bravery. Everyone has fears. There’s nothing wrong with that. You face them now and again, and manage to get past them, and even if you can’t,” —Lauryn shrugged in dismissal, as though it didn’t matter one whit— “No one will think any less of you. So—” Staring me down, she shot me a pretty decent rendition of her mother-in-law’s expression of maternal disdain, one I hadn’t quite mastered with my own daughter and probably never would. “Tell me the real reason why you’re going on that bridge.”

  I sighed, knowing Lauryn was merciless when it came to interrogation, particularly when she sensed the person she was hounding was holding back something essential. “It’s like this—” Which is as far as I got because my tongue decided to tie itself into knots.

  “I’m listening.”

  “You’re a pain in my butt.”

  “Now, Alex— Sweet names have no effect.”

  “You’ve been living in the same house as your mother-in-law for far too long. You sound just like her,” I grumbled, “and I resent it.”

  “Stop trying to get me off the track. I know you, Alexandra Keltie. Now be honest and answer the question.”

  I found it difficult to lie to Lauryn, though I had once or
twice, for the sake of decency and, more important, to avoid heartache for my friend. I got to my feet in slow motion, as though I were sixty years old instead of thirty, and toyed with the pile of crude maps on the far end of the table while I thought about my answer.

  “If this ridiculous notion of bravado has anything to do with your loss of magic and the fact you feel you have to do something, or have a hand in everything, just so you can do something so ridiculous because you feel you have to prove your worth—”

  My fingers tensed on the maps at her all-too-relevant words.

  “Alex—” Lauryn got to her feet and turned me around forcibly by the shoulders to face her. “You don’t have to prove anything to anyone. Not now, not ever. You do more than enough even when you do very little.”

  “When do I do very little?” I demanded, prompting a relieved grin from my friend. “All right, Lauryn, lords of the sea, but you’re a pest sometimes. You’ve made your point. But what if I just said I want to be on that bridge because I’ve lived here all my life, and maybe it’s time? Visitors always go up there to look at the scenery.”

  “True, but I wouldn’t believe that was the reason. Not for you. But tell me,” —blue eyes were curious— “have you never really gone on that bridge? Not even as a child? Didn’t you ever feel tempted?”

  “No. Not once. Not in the least.”

  My voice was firm, my expression natural, while inside me, a whirlwind raged. I wasn’t the best liar in the world, but there were some things Lauryn didn’t need to know. And one of those ugly truths was that I had made the passage across the bridge, alone, in the dark, twice, to find her husband when Jules accompanied his queen, the woman he’d always loved before Lauryn ever entered his life, into mourning for her treacherous lover.

  “Pity,” Lauryn broke into my dangerous thoughts. “The sight’s quite impressive. Just make sure you keep your eyes open.” Chuckling at my indignant pout, she turned to leave, saw Elena hesitantly standing in the doorway, and waved her inside.