Teya rose from her bed and moved over to the window, trailing her fingers down the thick, wavy glass.
Reandn made her angry on a daily basis. He kept a strict hand on her magic, and he usually did things his own way no matter what anyone else said. That was all still true. But she had the uncomfortable feeling in the pit of her stomach — like she’d swallowed a cold, raw potato whole — that she’d been just as quick to judge Reandn as she’d thought he’d been to judge her. And of the two of them, she thought he’d been closer to the mark.
That’s what had been simmering since Rethia’s visit — the thing that had been behind Rethia’s last, veiled look, all its words unspoken. It was the impulse that had come to mind — the choice she could now make — when she’d understood the truth of her situation here.
The need to make it right between them. To do as well by him as he’d done by her, even when she’d had no idea.
She would find Reandn, and join him, and protect him from the magic as no other wizard could. She would give him back some of the loyalty he’d shown her all this time, and her unaware of it. And she’d be just as stubborn as he was about doing it.
~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter 5
Reandn balanced a small battered shaving mirror in the crook of a tree and thought again about letting his beard grow. In the past, he’d stayed clean-shaven for Adela; she said he looked too dangerous when he went scruffy. Now he couldn’t quite seem to break the habit of pleasing her.
Well. Maybe next winter.
Carefully, he set blade to skin and went to work on the stubble looking back at him from the mirror, falling into the careful rhythm of shaving on the trail — but only until the unexpected blast of magic shattered his concentration. He yelped, slicing a fine line next to the whitened scar along his jaw. What the hells?
Another wave of magic hit and he grabbed the tree for support, wondering if he’d missed something in his morning scout through the area. Then he saw Elstan, his fingers twisting away in a quick spell, his own shaving kit propped up on the sideboards of the supply wagon. The magic faded away, replaced by the hum of an active spell; Elstan hummed along with it, setting his blade against his throat. Reandn scrubbed what was left of the shaving oil from his face and stalked up behind the wizard.
“What,” he said darkly, waiting until Elstan started the next stroke of the razor, “is going on?”
Elstan jerked in surprise, and then hissed as a spot of blood spread out on top of the oil on his neck. “Are you trying to kill me?”
“I might ask you the same.” Reandn came around to drape an elbow over the sideboard, the other hand hooked into his belt, his expression more intense than his body language would imply. Damen and Nican looked over from the breakfast fire they’d built, watchful but silent. “You were told about using magic around me. If you’re going to use it, shield me. If you can’t shield me, don’t use it.”
“That little spell? Don’t try to tell me you felt that,” Elstan snorted. He looked at the razor, but set it aside. By then, Damen was on his way over. “I really don’t know why they couldn’t have found a wrangler without so-called allergies to magic.”
Damen stopped by the corner of the wagon. “I hate to put my nose in your business, but this sounds like it’s about to become my business.”
Reandn squelched a flash of annoyance — appropriate from a Wolf Patrol Leader but not from a wrangler. “I think we’ve handled it.”
“We most certainly have not!” Elstan said. “I’m not here to be menaced by our wrangler. How am I supposed to deal with outside threats if I’m worried about the one right beside me?”
“Don’t recall that we’ve run into any outside threats,” Damen said, but his eyes went to Reandn, who said nothing. “What kind of a spell were you using, Elstan?”
The wizard looked a little sheepish. “One I’ve been working on. To keep me from getting nicked when I shave.”
Damen nodded. “Fine. If you’re going to use incidental magic, then shield the rest of us from it. You agreed to that when you took on this assignment.” He eyed Reandn again. “Don’t let things get out of hand. Hear?”
Reandn hesitated, assessing Elstan’s resistance to be on a level with his own. Nothing had had been resolved here. He gave a short nod anyway.
Damen looked at Elstan’s throat, humor drifting across his face. “I wouldn’t bother with that particular spell again. It doesn’t seem to do you much good.”
Elstan waiting until the Hound had returned to the fire before shooting Reandn a dark look, though his words were a mere mutter. “It works just fine, when I’m given a respectful distance.”
Reandn ignored him. It looked like he was going to need the practice.
~~~~~
Kacey stood with Rethia in the darkness of the front yard, watching Sophi’s family leave by dint of the cart lantern’s progress down the lane; Rethia wrapped her arm around Kacey’s waist and leaned her head on Kacey’s shoulder. The chill around both of them had nothing to do with the weather, for the fine, clear night hinted strongly of the summer to come.
“We did our best,” she told Rethia, but her voice came out tight and unconvincing.
“I should have been able to do something for her.” Rethia shook her head gently against Kacey’s shoulder. “That’s what I’m best at, poisons and infections.”
Kacey’s response was sharper than she intended. “Sophi fell on a whole farm’s worth of newly sharpened tools. Goddess knows what filth we couldn’t get out of those wounds.”
Rethia knew her too well to take hurt; she merely held her sister more tightly for a moment.
The child had seemed well on her way to recovery when Rethia and Reandn left for Solace, but by the time Rethia had come back, Kacey was battling for Sophi’s life. Three of the deepest cuts had taken infection, and none of their healing, magic or otherwise, made a difference. Looking back on it, Kacey felt like they had merely prolonged the girl’s suffering.
“We did do our best,” Rethia said, though she, too, sounded like she was only trying to convince herself. “I just keep thinking, what if I hadn’t been in Solace? What if I’d caught the infection when it first started?”
Kacey scowled at the pain in her sister’s voice. “What if,” she said. “What if Reandn hadn’t gotten her calmed in the first place? Might as well start there if you’re going to play that game.”
Rethia just nodded. “I hate the thought of telling him we lost her.”
Kacey said, “I hate worse thinking we might not get the chance.”
“He’ll be all right.” Rethia used her most determined voice. “And if he’s not, I can help him. Anyway, he’s all right, now.”
Kacey couldn’t quite keep the accusing note from her voice. “How can you tell?”
“Just a feeling.”
“You can still... what did you call it, feel his magical aura? From here?”
“No.” Rethia lifted her head and withdrew to tuck her arm around her own waist, distracted and fragile in the moonlight. “Just a feeling.” After a moment she added, “Anyone can do it, you know.”
“Do what?”
“Recognize magical scents.” Rethia glanced over at her sister, and the moonlight glanced off her eyes. “Farren says it’s not using magic at all, just... well, listening to it. Most people just do it with those that they care about most.”
“I’ve never felt anything like that,” Kacey said, not surprised. She had little if any feel of magic.
“Maybe you will,” Rethia said. “Now that you know it’s possible.” She glanced back at the house. “I’m going for a walk, I think.”
“Wait.” Kacey hastily peeled her off her top layer, a wool shirt. “Take this.” Not that it was all that cool, but she’d feel better about it anyway.
Rethia absently pushed her arms through the sleeves and wandered off toward the barn — no doubt heading for the well-worn trail that led to the very meadow where she’d brought the unicorns ba
ck. Kacey watched her go, lost in her own thoughts, until she heard her father’s faint wheeze of breath behind her.
“Come, my girl,” Teayo said, putting his hand on her shoulder. “Come inside.” He took her hand, and Kacey let herself be led back inside, wishing for a whole host of reasons that she was truly a girl again, and still believed in her father’s ability to make everything all right.
~~~~~
Close to the first of the pass roads, the escort party stopped in the small foothills town. Damen read aloud the overwrought signs for the various small shops, all of which claimed to be the last chance to buy this or that utterly crucial item With many grins, the team bypassed them all for the quietly signed essential services.
In the livery, Nican stored the wagon and rented a smaller, more maneuverable cart for the pass roads. Reandn tightened all the nail clenches on the horses’ shoes and left Elstan’s bridle for repair; Elstan and Damen went off to resupply their consumables. By the time they’d run their respective errands and gathered by the livery, dusk was turning dark and stomachs were grumbling. Elstan kept muttering something about a bath.
“Sounds good to me, too,” Damen said, as Nican joined them. “Remember, we’re stopping here on the way back. Keep your eyes open for potential problem spots.” One red eyebrow askew, he looked at Reandn. “We’ll need all the help we can get to carry this trip off without a hitch, so that goes for you, too, Dan.”
That goes double for me, Reandn thought, but only nodded. Besides, the Hounds specialized in personal security; Reandn’s strengths lay in the ways of forest and path, in tracking and apprehension. So far he’d done little more than play the part of the wrangler he was supposed to be — keeping quiet, dodging Elstan, closing his mouth while the Hounds discussed the assignment. Once they hit the pass rendezvous, once they had Kalena — then his job would start in earnest.
Nican tapped his foot with impatience. “Let’s eat, then talk. Did you hear my stomach just then?”
Damen just grinned, but held out his hand in a grand, darkness-obscured gesture for Nican to lead them on. Off the group marched, heading for the Silver & Silk. It was the town’s finest inn and their destination on the way back through; Nican had early suggested that they assess it by staying there on the way out.
In the darkness they passed their turn, giving Damen plenty of opportunity to make much of Nican’s inability to think over his stomach’s noises. Reandn trailed behind them as they backtracked, shifting his saddlebags on his shoulder, thinking of days when he’d been able to joke with Saxe.
Magic washed over him, a weak stirring from the side of the narrow street; Reandn stumbled, turning on Elstan — but the wizard looked just as surprised. Someone else —
Reandn dropped his saddlebags, freeing his hands and planting his feet — hunting the threat.
Behind us. The figure was almost indiscernible in the darkness; pale glimpses hinted at his finger-twisting. Magic pressed in on Reandn; he growled deeply and headed for the figure.
“Dan!” Damen snapped from behind Elstan — but the street was narrow and clogged with barrels and baskets; Damen couldn’t move quickly enough to put himself between Reandn and the hidden figure.
But Elstan could respond — and did, his magic filtering through incomplete shields to splash off Reandn. He cursed, a low and heartfelt sound, one hand to the side of his head as if he could press the magic right out of it. Whatever Elstan had done, the anonymous wizard barely faltered. He demanded, “What pass road will you use upon return?”
And Reandn felt perfectly comfortable with telling him, with saying the long road even though it hadn’t been discussed, simply because it was the logical choice. The words turned into a grunt of surprise; behind him, he heard Nican choke off his own reply.
“Compulsion,” Elstan said in a strangled voice, his hands faltering.
Compulsion... It pressed in on them all, dazing them. Reandn bit down the words in his throat, fighting the magic to take a step toward the wizard.
The figure took a step back, and sounding strained, demanded, “Which road? Which shortcuts?”
“Elstan!” Nican made the name into an order; Elstan’s muttered reply meant nothing to Reandn’s ears, fast filling with magic as they were — despite the growing pressure to speak, he no longer had anything to say. With numb focus, he moved for the wizard — who lost the threads of the spell and snapped an indecipherable command to an unseen party.
He’s got backup —
The quiet scrape of boot leather against rough wooden barrel staves, the flurry of dark movement, Damen’s cry of warning — Reandn absorbed them all, whirling to face the new threat. A thick weighted cudgel slashed down at his head — he bounced away from it, rushing back in to grab that arm and drive the man up against the nearest building. Hells, he’s huge —
New magic surged up around him, blinding him to anything else — the man twisted out of his grip, pummeling him with a few quick blows from a fist that might as well have been the cudgel itself.
He might have been lost, then, if the magic hadn’t ebbed just long enough for him to block the next blow, responding with defenses drilled into instinct. End this now or die —
Wolf training, Reandn’s ferocity, a flurry of blows and a cracking sound... Reandn fought in a hazy fugue of instinct until quite suddenly the magic cleared. Reandn found himself gasping, stumbling backward — the cudgel falling from one hand as a building came up behind him, smacking him between the shoulder blades.
“Sweet Tenaebra!” Elstan cursed, unwisely close. “You killed him!”
Distantly, someone shouted alarm; Reandn raised his head with effort and discovered someone else running toward them, lantern in hand. He discovered, too, that his ribs ached, that one shoulder must have taken a glancing hit from the cudgel.
Bruises, nothing more.
“No, he’s not dead,” Damen said, crouching beside the man, “but give him a moment.” The faint gurgling noise of the man’s impending death confirmed Damen’s words. “Damn these barrels, Dan, I just couldn’t get through to you in time — are you all right?”
“Why did you kill him?” Elstan demanded; his face caught the light of the newly arrived lantern, revealing the accusation there. Nican went out to calm the lantern-bearer, a shopkeeper who babbled alarm and outrage. “We could have questioned him!”
“Why’d I kill him?” Reandn repeated, so incredulous at the words he had to repeat them to make sure that’s what he’d heard. “Because you didn’t do your job, that’s why! You left me wide open to all that magic!” Unthinking, he took a step toward Elstan, who flinched.
“Dan.” Damen’s voice came unruffled and full of true authority — enough so that he knew to give Reandn a moment to pull himself back in and step back. “He’s right about that much — we definitely needed to question this man. The magic-user got clean away, and we have no idea if this attack came from the Shining Knife, or some other faction entirely.”
As if he’d had any choice, out in the front of the group and on his own, under attack from all sides. “I know we needed to — I didn’t mean to —” he started, and then stopped, because it sounded so absurd. I didn’t mean to kill him. In fact, he wasn’t entirely sure how he’d done it, only that training and muscle had taken over when his mind had succumbed to magic.
Damen looked sharply at him, having latched on to those aborted words. “You accidentally disarmed him and laid that cudgel up against his throat?”
“Call it luck,” Reandn said shortly. “Because with Elstan’s magic in my head and none of you within reach, I’m lucky I came out of it alive.”
“Luck,” Damen said darkly, his skepticism loud. Reandn didn’t blame him. Luck like that generally had endless hours of training and experience behind it.
Elstan drew himself up into a tenor snarl. “If it weren’t for my magic, we’d have spilled our plans to that wizard, and then where would we be?”
“Right about where we are,” Dam
en said, standing with an expressive grunt. “Considering we haven’t decided which of the roads we want to take. Except that if you’d left Dan some space from the magic, we might very well have a prisoner left to question.” He glanced down the street where Nican spoke to someone in a Local’s uniform, and moved in on Elstan so they could talk in a semblance of privacy. Reandn listened anyway.
Elstan still had the snarl in his voice. “It’s absurd that we have to work with a wrangler who needs that sort of pro —”
“Shut up,” Damen said, but kept his voice low. “The Keep chose him, and they did it for their own reasons. Don’t forget that you’re only playing the role of guide — he’s the only one who’s actually traveled the pass area. When you signed on for this little trip, you agreed to protect him. Won’t you, or can’t you?”
Elstan gave Reandn a furious look, but Damen waited with a patience that meant he’d stand there for as long as it took, and the wizard finally muttered, “The protection is a new spell — I’m working on it. I didn’t honestly imagine he could be so sensitive. And I can find our path — using my magic.”
Lonely Hells, the man doesn’t know how to keep his magic away from me.
“There’s a lot more to getting through this area than keeping the path,” he told the wizard, and ignored the man’s irritation that he’d rejoined the conversation — ignored, too, the revelations he’d just heard, simply because he knew better than to trust his temper. He was tired, his mind whirled from the magic, and his body ached; the wizard could wait. “Damen, I didn’t realize that you had no strategy for our route. I thought you just weren’t ready to tell me.”
“Nope,” Damen said, moving back from Elstan. “We left it open — for just this sort of reason.” He nodded at the dead man. “But here’s not the place to talk about it. Nican will handle the Local; let’s get us away from curious eyes, and over to that hotel.” He put action to words, leading the way down the street.
Elstan stood where Damen had left him, his expression that of a man who harbored scathing remarks. Reandn hesitated as he passed the wizard, a glance assuring him that they were as good as alone. “If you can’t keep your magic to yourself, then shut it down — or I’ll see that you do.”
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