Spellsmith & Carver: Magicians' Trial

by H. L. Burke

  Rill’s hold on his fingers tightened. “Aurry trusts you. It’s sort of endearing how much, actually, and you deserve it, don’t get me wrong, but at the same time, you can’t really expect him to just take your word over his own instincts and experience. You’re his friend, not his father.”

  Jericho snorted. “It’s not like he listens to Hedward anyway.”

  A smile quirked Rill’s mouth. “No, he’s always had his own stubborn way of going about things, but he’s got a good heart and a good mind.”

  “I guess I would like to approach him with proof of something more than Styles being a jackass.” Jericho rubbed the back of his neck.

  An urchin ran up, sooty face beaming, fists full of flowers which he thrust at Rill. “Buy a flower, miss? Lovely flower for a lovely lady.”

  Jericho moved to ward him off, but Rill took a small bouquet and grinned. “Oh, lavender! It’s Auric’s favorite scent. How much?”

  Jericho chuckled and passed the boy a coin. Rill stopped in front of the nearest store front and tried to fasten the flowers to her bodice, using the streaked windows as a reference.

  “Here, let me.” Jericho could feel her heart beating against his fingers as he slipped the pin out from the stems and gently pushed it into the cloth of her dress.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  Stooping down, he kissed her forehead. As he straightened, he caught sight of a sign across the way.

  T. Alvin’s Magical Emporium.

  Alvin … that was the man Auric had met with the bottled magic. “Hey, Rill, would you like to do a little bit of shopping?”

  “I wouldn’t mind seeing if they have a nice bookstore or maybe a notions shop. I could use some more embroidery floss.”

  “I have something else in mind. I’ll explain later.” He stepped into the street but she grabbed his arm.

  “Explain now?” The intonation was a question, but the expression was not.

  “Auric said the woman who attacked Lotta was using ‘bottled’ Fey energy and that he’d met a man who was selling it earlier at the congressional offices.”

  “And that man is the owner of the shop we’re about to barge into?”

  “Not barge. It says magical emporium.” He nodded towards the sign. “I’m guessing that means quires and whatnot. We’ll go in claiming we’re out.”

  “Or maybe you could finally invest in one of those handy wax tablets like Auric has.” Her eyes twinkled. He laughed. The pros and cons of wax versus the more traditional quires of paper and wood had been an ongoing debate between him and Auric.

  “Well, we could also just be out-of-town country bumpkins browsing.” He winked. “Ready to snoop around with me, Mrs. Carver?” He put out his arm which she accepted with a return wink.

  “Of course, Mr. Carver.”

  After waiting as a coach-and-four rattled past, the two strode across the cobblestone street and stood in front of the large glass windows of Alvin’s storefront. Elaborate wrought-iron bars rose before the glass which looked as if it hadn’t been washed in a decade, it was so encrusted in city grime. Jericho squinted through the window revealing a dusky shop and overflowing counters and shelves. He could see neither customers nor shopkeepers. When they pushed open the door a bell rang overhead. A faint smell of burnt sugar permeated the shop.

  Rill’s shoulders relaxed, and she gave out a long sigh. “Do you feel that?”

  Jericho concentrated, but couldn’t discern what she meant.

  “It’s magic, not much of it, faint traces, but it’s the first I’ve felt since we entered the Capital.” She closed her eyes, beaming like a cat lounging in a sunbeam.

  Jericho smiled then decided to take advantage of the shop’s apparently empty state to poke around. Quires packed several shelves, both the traditional versions and wax tablets such as Auric used. A row of small jars contained metal rods, labeled as unenchanted but perfect for crafting into styluses. Jericho vaguely remembered Hedward telling him that the selling of styluses was against the law, a restriction to keep any but magicians at least trained to the second year—when stylus enchanting was taught—from practicing the art. Of course, that hadn’t stopped Rill from figuring it out on her own. The knowledge wasn’t secret, if one knew how to get a hold of the right books.

  Behind a long wooden counter stood a shelf of magical books. However, what interested Jericho more than the traditional magicians’ tools were the other items strewn about the shop. Glass bottles of various colors, shapes, and sizes filled a rack. Weak sunlight filtering in through the dirty windows cast colored light through these vessels, creating a rainbow on the floor. At a glance, he read labels of “love potion,” “healing balm,” and “potion of pure luck.” Jericho shook his head. That wasn’t how real magic worked.

  “There are an awful lot of herbs here.” Rill motioned towards a wall where bundles of dried plants and jars of powders were displayed. “Hedge magic?”

  Hedge magic, the study of the beneficial properties of plants and minerals, was an accepted branch of traditional medicine. Not exactly the same thing as magic, but indiscernible enough from it to earn the label from the general populace. However, this seemed off. The claims written on paper cards beneath the various jars were well-beyond the potential of hedge magic.

  “More like quackery.” Jericho shook his head. “I’ve seen this sort of thing before. It’s a mix of folk medicine and outright lies used to prey upon the superstitious. My—” He cleared his throat. “My mom once bought a tincture off a traveling medicine man who claimed it would cure my father’s alcoholism and improve his temper. False hope.”

  Rill rested her hand on his arm, her eyes sad.

  Something whirred to life, and Jericho spun about. A copper raven perched on an iron stand before the counter, a quill pen clutched in one of its claws. It cawed, onyx eyes glinting.

  Rill tilted her head at it. “A familiar? Like Jaspyr?”

  It cawed again.

  “I don’t think so. Not nearly animated enough.” A plaque hung from the bottom of its perch. Alvin’s Magical Omen Generator. Jericho chuckled. “Oh, I know what this is. Saw one in a traveling show once. You give it a scrap of paper and it writes a prediction on it, usually something simple like a yes or no answer to your question.”

  “Magic doesn’t work that way.” Rill shook her head. “I may not have studied as much as you or Aurry, but I know that much.”

  “Oh, it’s a trick. The bird has been enchanted to write a certain number of responses. Harmless fun mostly. I think even the tradesmen who gave their pennies to the one in the show I attended knew it was simply for laughs.” Jericho stroked the metal bird’s beak. “Decent craftsmanship on this one, though.”

  “Yes. It would drive Jaspyr batty. I’m glad we didn’t bring him.”

  Jericho slipped his arm about her shoulder. “Sometimes I like to have you all to myself.”

  “Well, we came in here for a reason, didn’t we? No sign of the shopkeeper, but the door was unlocked and the sign says open.” She did a slow turn, sweeping the space with her gaze. “Strange, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, but let’s use that to our advantage.” With a quick glance out the window to make sure no one was gazing in, he vaulted over the counter.

  “Careful!” Rill whispered. “What if he’s just in the back?” She pointed to a door in the rear corner.

  “I’ll be quick.” A box caught his eye, shoved beneath the counter with “fragile” stamped on all visible surfaces. He pried open the lid, revealing a line of glass vials nestled in straw, only a half dozen, filled with golden vapor and sealed with wax. His fingers tingled as he reached for them. Taking one out, he held it up to Rill. “Bottled magic.”

  She took it. “So that’s why this shop feels different. There is magic here.”

  “Yes, but these are sealed.” A thin leather book rested beside the crate. He took it out and flipped it open. Ivory paper bore a short list of names in spidery handwriting. L. Magison, D. Ho
vawart, K. Carroll, and C. Styles.

  “Gotcha,” he whispered.

  A high-pitched chatter penetrated the wall behind him. Ripping the page out of the ledger, he stuffed it into his pocket with his spare quires and put his finger over his lips.

  Rill nodded. Jericho eased the door to the back open a crack. Candles lit the space beyond. In the middle of the floor rested a body, curled up in the fetal position. Was he even breathing?

  A hard knot formed in the pit of Jericho’s stomach. Some impulse shouted at him to run, but what if the man were merely unconscious? In need of medical help?

  “Hello?” he called. “Are you all right?”

  A flash of silver streaked towards his head. Instinctively, he thrust the door closed. Something clanked against the far side, shaking the knob in his hand.

  “Let’s get out of here!” He pulled the nearest shelf over, blocking the door.

  Rill, now standing over the crate of bottled magic, a vial in each hand, gasped. “Look out.” She dropped one of the vials which shattered on the wooden floor releasing a tangible burst of Fey energy. The magic prickled against Jericho’s skin like tiny spider’s feet. The door shivered behind him. Rill whipped a stylus from her hair and scribbled several symbols directly into the wood of the counter. With a burst of lilac fragrance, a net of golden energy spread across the door, reinforcing it.

  “We need to get the authorities. I think there’s a body in there.” Jericho grabbed her by the hand and yanked her towards the front of the store.

  The bell over the door rang. He froze, his grip on his wife’s fingers tightening. His hand strayed towards the stylus and paper quires in his pocket.

  “Can I have one, too?” Rill whispered.

  He passed her a blank quire and a homing spell he’d brought with him. “Don’t be afraid to use it.”

  “Only if I can take you with me.”

  The door behind them shook, and something gave out a metallic scream.

  “You’ve upset Baltazar,” a feminine voice purred.

  A shadow moved through the shelves. Jericho scratched out the first few symbols to a shielding spell. He had no idea how much Fey energy those vials contained.

  “And you’ve been playing with magic.” A tall woman all in black stepped around the shelf of colored potion bottles, clicking her tongue. “How wasteful of you. Don’t you know there’s an energy crisis? I’ll have to report you to the authorities … especially because I believe there’s a still warm corpse in the back room.”

  “We had nothing to do with that, but the fact that you’re aware of it suggests you did.” Rill backed up a step.

  The woman laughed. “Hearsay. Your word against mine that I said any such thing.” She drew a stylus and wax tablet from inside her dark coat. “No, I simply will have to restrain you until the peace officers can arrive.”

  Jericho changed tactics. His stylus dashed through the symbols of the shield spell but instead of casting it around them, he added a proximity symbol for two yards in front. A golden bubble sprang up around the woman just as her own tablet flashed to light with magical energy. Unable to escape the shield around her, her spell exploded in her face, knocking her backwards into the shelf. Potion bottles rained down and shattered in bursts of yellow, green, and purple smoke. She coughed and shouted, “Baltazar!”

  With a splintering crack, the door behind them gave. Shrieking in primal anger, a pewter monkey sprang through the breach, straight at Jericho and Rill.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Hold on!” Rill yelped.

  Jericho had barely enough time to take her by the sleeve before the world spun around them and they fell in a heap on the carpet of their guestroom. Jaspyr leaped off the bed into Rill’s arms, yipping happily.

  “Down, boy.” Rill released the ashes of the consumed quire. “Thank God for your homing spells, Jerry.”

  “Well, at least we now have proof Styles is involved in this.” Jericho reached into his pocket and withdrew two blank quires and a spare homing spell. He swallowed. “Where did it ...oh, blast it!” Counting quires, he realized he must’ve used the paper with Alvin’s buyers listed on it for one of his spells. After all, a quire was just a piece of paper.

  “You don’t need proof to tell Auric what’s going on.” Rill frowned, rising and straightening her skirts. “Besides, Styles being a customer of Alvin doesn’t prove anything. Now, you said there was a body. Do we need to tell someone?”

  Jericho shook his head. “It’s our word against … whoever that woman was, and our fleeing the scene looks suspicious. I’m already under investigation for the rifts. I doubt the justice system here will be inclined to treat me kindly.”

  “It also probably doesn’t look good that I slipped these into my purse.” Rill opened the bag revealing two more magical vials.

  Jericho raised his eyebrows. “You just robbed a dead man?”

  She flushed. “Well, it wasn’t as if he was going to use them.”

  The door opened, and Auric peered through. His eyebrows shot towards his hairline. “How in the world did you two get in here? I thought you were out.”

  “We were. Long story.” Jericho strode out of the room.

  As he entered the parlor, Ezra emerged from the other bed chamber, rubbing his eyes. Lotta sat on the chaise, book in hand.

  “What is all the fuss about, eh?” He frowned.

  Jericho launched into his tale about their visit to Alvin’s shop. Lotta blanched at the mention of the woman in black and her metal monkey.

  “Why would they kill Alvin, though?” Auric frowned. “He was supplying their magic.”

  “Maybe because he found out they were using that magic to try and kill people.” Rill touched her brother’s shoulder. “Aurry, we saw his client list. Only four names and one of them was Styles.”

  Auric’s mouth fell open, but then his expression hardened. “What were the other names?”

  Jericho drew a deep breath. “Auric, I know he’s your friend—”

  “It doesn’t prove anything. Any magician would be happy to get his hands on Alvin’s bottled magic, and Styles is interested in restarting the factories.” Auric crossed his arms. “Just because he bought bottled magic doesn’t mean he sent the assassin after Lotta. Now, what were the other names?”

  Jericho sighed and closed his eyes, trying to remember. “Carrol, Magnus—maybe—and Hova-something.”

  Auric stood straighter. “Hovawart? Jericho, you idiot! That’s the inspector who is prosecuting us.”

  “But what would he want with bottled magic? Or with attacking Lotta? He’s after us for—” Jericho stopped himself and glanced at Lotta and Ezra, both of whom blinked at him. He cleared his throat. “I don’t see how his investigation and Lotta are connected.”

  “I don’t know, but Hovawart and Alvin know each other. Alvin acted very familiar towards him at the congressional offices.”

  “Could Styles and Hovawart be working together?” Rill asked, voicing Jericho’s next thought.

  Auric shook his head. “No, I trust Cordon. Besides, he’s helping us. While you were gone, I went to him and asked for access to one of his factories. He’s letting Lotta in tomorrow to see if she can set up her generator there. Whatever you might think of him, he wants the same thing we do: to get the factories up and running and end the energy crisis. He’s on our side, Jericho.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Jericho said. But somehow he doubted it.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Do you have everything you need?” Auric asked as he watched Lotta poke through her toolbox in the courtyard.

  “For the last time, yes!” Lotta snapped. “I’m not a child.”

  Auric opened and closed his mouth. It was merely the second time he’d asked, and he’d only repeated the question because of the way she kept going over to count the items in the wagon, wiping her brow, and looking about to explode like one of those boilers she loved to talk about so much. Part of him longed to snap this
at her, but in the two days since their initial meeting, he’d learned her first reaction wasn’t usually the one to go by. Instead he stepped back and waited.

  She let out a long breath and glanced around the courtyard. “I don’t like being in the open right now.”

  “We’re perfectly safe here,” he assured her, daring to place his hand on her shoulder. “Styles gave all the servants a false name for you and Ezra, and he promised not to tell anyone you were staying here. There’s no way the people after you could’ve tracked you down.”

  Cordon had hired the wagon as well as purchasing the components Lotta needed. Now it was parked in front of Cordon’s house, loaded with their supplies. Of course, Cordon had spent all of breakfast in one last attempt to argue Auric out of the whole thing, even with all the parts purchased. Auric almost feared he would withdraw his support, but instead he provided them with a map of the tunnels in that area, marking out the best place to install the generator.

  Jericho and Rill exited the house, Ezra and Jaspyr close behind.

  “I brought both sides of the homing spell this time,” Rill said. “If something goes wrong, I think we’ll want to transport out of the tunnels to the factory, not back here. We can place the static half of the spell when we get there. Also, I have one of the vials, though I hid the other under our mattress for safekeeping. Do you want to carry the homing spell, or should I?”

  “You go ahead,” Jericho answered.

  Rill swept Jaspyr up and deposited him in the back of the wagon. He bounced up, his paws on the edge, and wagged his tail.

  “You don’t need to come, Rill,” Auric said as Ezra swung his bulky frame into the driver’s seat.

  “I’d rather not stay here.” She glanced back at the house. Cordon stood in the doorway.

  “I’ll be right back.” Auric hurried to speak with his friend.

  At Auric’s approach, Cordon’s gaze snapped from Rill, and he smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Still time to change your mind,” he said.