Inkspice (The Mapweaver Chronicles Book 2)

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Inkspice (The Mapweaver Chronicles Book 2) Page 28

by Kaitlin Bellamy


  “How does it work?”

  “There are certain of the elements that work in harmony with one another, better than others.” Bartrum pointed to a messy chart on one page, drawn over again and again with new notes as the experimenters had apparently learned new things. “Earth depends on Wind more often than you might think, to spread seeds of growth across the land. Since this particular seed was divine in nature, it looks like it was able to harness that innate connection and use it for harm. Gilvard and Vol Tyrr hadn’t entirely figured out how to do it on purpose, but they were getting closer every day.”

  “But if it had tried this with fire?” asked Fox, and Bartrum shook his head in response.

  “The crossover is limited, I think,” he said. “They might never have discovered it at all, if a group of Shavid hadn’t stumbled into their laps.”

  “You’re welcome,” said Fox with a grin.

  “You may joke,” said Bartrum, “but I am grateful.” He tapped the papers. “This information is beyond valuable, and liberating it from the hands of would-be tyrants is exactly my job.”

  “What will you do with the notes now?” asked Fox. “Burn them?”

  “Hardly,” said Bartrum. “There’s too much here to be studied. Stories will get out soon about what happened in Calibas. In fact, they are spreading already. And when other power-hungry wizards hear about this twisted magic, I guarantee many of them will try to replicate the results.” He waved his hand, and the parchment began to sweep itself into a tidy pile once more. “There are always new enemies hiding in the shadows. The more I know about them before they are manifest, the faster I can intervene next time.”

  As Bartrum made to stow the papers away again, Fox said quickly, “Wait. Those notes. Do you mind if I copy them before you go? I think it goes without saying, I’m quite invested in figuring all this out as well.”

  The spymaster scrutinized him with a raised eyebrow. “You would show no one else?”

  Fox shifted nervously. “I thought ... well, just those who knew we had them already? Farran and Darby. And Neil.”

  There was a frown as Bartrum considered Fox’s request. For a moment, Fox wasn’t sure he’d be allowed. He understood, of course. These documents were meant to be private secrets. The information contained within had almost started a war, and Bartrum’s fear about others following in Vol Tyrr’s footsteps made far too much sense.

  But then, Bartrum waved his hand over the pages, and they began rustling, folding and un-folding themselves as he spoke. “Forric Foxglove. Farran Arthelliad. Darby Whistler. Neil Palladoran.” Each name was spoken with measured precision. The pages settled once more, and Bartrum plucked a small, bound booklet from their midst. “Those four names spoken are the only people who are allowed to read this. They will be the only people who can even see the writing within.” He offered the book to Fox, who flipped it open curiously. Every page was covered in identical notes to Bartrum’s stolen notes. “Should any of you try and copy them down elsewhere, the words will not take. No ink will remain on its pages, not even yours.” He waved his hand a final time, and the original parchment wrapped itself into a tight scroll, flew across the room, and buried itself in Bartrum’s things.

  Fox closed his new book with a solemn nod. It was small enough to tuck into an inner pocket of his vest, and he did so at once. “I won’t disappoint you,” Fox promised.

  “I never imagined you would,” said Bartrum, beaming with pride. “You’ve already done more than any young spy I’ve ever known, including myself at your age.” He clasped both of Fox’s shoulders now, and squeezed them tightly. “You truly are a wonder, Mapweaver. I wish, truly, that I could be by your side to see what you discover next.”

  “You’re leaving?” asked Fox. He knew in his heart that Bartrum had to return to his life and position in Athilior. But hearing it was much harder than he’d imagined it would be.

  “I depart tomorrow morning,” said Bartrum sadly. “I’ve reports to deliver, and a lot of work to do, I’m afraid.” He sighed, and pulled Fox into a brief embrace. “You have been the greatest student any old scholar could ever dream of.”

  As they pulled apart, Fox wiped a sudden and unexpected moisture from his eyes, and asked, “Will I see you again?”

  “I certainly hope not,” said Bartrum. When Fox looked surprised and hurt, Bartrum quickly clarified. “I realize now that the hopes of me enjoying a peaceful retirement, where I am able to travel and reunite with friends and companions whenever I wish, are foolish. Where I go, I am because there are dangerous secrets to uncover. Wars to stop. Messes I would not want you to be mixed up in, ever again. Should we meet, it would be under the most dire of circumstances.”

  “But if you need me?” said Fox. “You said it yourself, I’m the best young spy you’ve ever trained. And I’ll keep practicing. I did pledge my services to you, after all.”

  Bartrum chuckled slightly. “That you did. Well then, it would be a shame not to put your talent to good use. Some day.”

  But, as the spymaster left Fox’s tent and disappeared into the forests, off to enjoy his final night in Wanderlust, Fox could feel the truth in his words. And he knew, without a doubt, that he would never see Bartrum Bookmonger again.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Hidden Places

  “You’re getting married?” said Fox in awe. “When?”

  Neil was grinning like an idiot. “Midnight, here, in Wanderlust! Tonight!”

  “I don’t ... but ...” Fox shook himself from his shock, and said, “Congratulations! I’m so happy for both of you!”

  It had been two days since Bartrum had left. Since then, Fox had spent every moment with his friends, exploring all the wonders that the Shavid city had to offer. He no longer watched for Farran around ever corner, knowing by now that the pirate would show up when he was ready, and not a moment sooner. He had also been doing his best not to let the guilt over the fall of Calibas entirely own his heart and thoughts. It had started as a constant effort, but now each time he met a new refugee from the city, he found himself feeling grateful that they were alive, rather than dwelling on what family they might have lost.

  Wanderlust was constantly growing and stretching as new Shavid companies arrived every day. Each arriving wagon or caravan was heralded with cheers and music from everyone, and they all brought new stories with them. Today, as dusk settled around them and turned the forest into a dreamland of fading golden sunbeams, Fox found himself at the heart of a campsite still being erected. The newly arrived group made a whole show of building their stage and sleeping quarters, each piece fitting within a carefully-choreographed welcome performance. Fox had been cheering in amazement along with the rest of the crowd when Neil found him.

  “Where’s Gully?” asked Fox now, still reeling from the news.

  “Off telling her sister,” Neil said. “Listen, there’s something I’ve got to ask you.” He cleared his throat nervously, fiddling with the collar of his shirt. Finally, as a shower of colored lights from the stage filled the air with purple and orange all around them, he blurted out, “Would you do us the honor of performing the ceremony?”

  Fox’s jaw dropped, and for a moment he was absolutely speechless. Neil seized on the moment and ploughed on, as frenetic as Fox had ever seen him. “It’s just that there wouldn’t be any wedding without you. You’ve always supported us, and kept our secrets. You got Gully out when she would have surely died otherwise.” He placed a shaking hand over his heart. “You saved her life, and in so doing, saved mine.”

  “Oh for Spirit’s sake,” groaned Fox, feigning exasperation. “If you insist on being so poetic about it, I suppose I don’t have a choice!” And then, a grin of his own broke through, large enough to rival Neil’s. “All those poor broken hearts you’ve left in your wake in every town. I could never have imagined them leading you here, to this. Getting married to a noblewoman.”

  “It’s better than I ever deserved,” admitted Neil.

&nb
sp; “So long as you know it,” said Fox, grabbing the taller boy in a one-armed hug and guiding him back to Radda’s camp. “Come on, then. We’ve got a lot to do in just one night!”

  ∞∞∞

  It was astounding how many people wanted to celebrate the wedding of two strangers. Radda and his company were obviously thrilled by the arrangement, and immediately began decorating their campsite for the occasion. Spur-of-the-moment weddings seemed rather commonplace among the Shavid, with their affections and decision-making often as impulsive as the wind herself. And while Neil was only a Dervish, and wasn’t beholden to the same magical urges and emotional shifts as they were, spending so long with the Shavid had rubbed off on him. It seemed he was embracing at least one bit of their whimsical natures, and was unwilling to spend one more day unattached to his new love.

  But it wasn’t just Radda’s players who wanted to attend. News of a surprise wedding spread all through Wanderlust as fast as the storytellers could spread it, and soon the crowds were pressing in on all sides of the camp. More hammocks were hung overhead rapidly for viewing, and the aerialists strung up whole pallets covered in cushions, where they lay on their stomachs and gazed down on the proceedings below. Lanterns were borrowed from everywhere that could spare them, and soon the whole campsite clearing was aglow with both natural and magical flames.

  The central stage of Radda’s operation was dressed for the occasion. The finest set and curtains were all brought out, transforming the wood structure into a fairyland dream. Ropes of flowers and beaded chains were hung from each nearby branch, and every exposed hook or chink in the wagons and stage. Gully was immediately whisked away to be dressed by the dancers, and Neil was taken aside for a chat about “husbandly duties” by a group of the men.

  As for Fox, he sat on the fence of their makeshift paddock with Darby, watching the camp transform as the horses and ponies nosed at them affectionately.

  “If you’d asked me before Calibas if that man would ever be wed,” said the dwarf, jutting his chin in Neil’s direction, “I’d have laughed so hard it might have killed me. Courtships in every city, he had. And Savine had left such a hole in his heart, we all assumed he’d spend the rest of his life trying to fill it with meaningless trysts and nameless pretty faces.”

  “That’s the one who left?” said Fox, and Darby nodded. Fox remembered Neil’s story from long ago, when they’d first met. She’d heard a different call than the rest of the company, according to Neil. She’d left him heartbroken, with no explanation and barely a farewell. Fox had known how much Neil cared for her, and that he’d often regretted not trying to follow after her. He swallowed his own discomfort at the thought as he imagined Lai, left at home in Thicca Valley. Had she felt as betrayed as Neil? Or had Fox always imagined their unspoken connection? Not for the first time since he’d recalled her existence, Fox found himself dwelling on her parting words to him, and regretting that he had never asked if she meant them.

  He pulled himself back to the moment. Tonight was about Neil and Gully, not Fox’s own troubles. “Do you think they’ve made the right choice?” asked Fox, voicing a concern he never would have dared mention to his friend. “That they’re actually in love, and not just ... comfortable with each other?”

  “Only time will truly tell,” said Darby. “But, I’d be willing to put almost any amount of money on betting that they’ll end up just fine. I mean, have you ever seen him this happy?”

  “I didn’t know he was capable of smiling so large,” said Fox. “It’s unnerving being able to finally see that many of his teeth.”

  At this, Darby laughed so loudly it spooked the animals, and they retreated away from him to the far end of the paddock. It was several minutes before the dwarf could speak again, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. “Gods I needed that, boy. Find a way to work that humor into the ceremony.”

  “Well, it’s more than I’ve got,” admitted Fox. “I’ve never had to do this before, what am I even supposed to say?”

  “What do they do in your little corner of the world?”

  Fox shrugged. “It’s simple, but beautiful. Often the arbiter will discuss the individual courtships of the couples getting married. Sometimes there’s a story or two. But at the end, there’s the moment when everyone promises to live out their lives in partnership.” He smiled slightly as he remembered how excited Rose and Picck had gotten when they spoke their promise. “It’s always been my favorite part.”

  “Then keep all that,” said Darby. “Everything else,” he waved a hand around at the decorated camp, “the festival, the pomp and circumstance, all the pageantry ... the Shavid will take care of that. You say whatever you believe matters to them.”

  The energy was starting to shift around them, and Fox realized Radda had taken the stage. There were cheers and whistles, and the cacophonous rattling and twanging of musicians making nonsense sounds with their instruments. Not a song, just the ambient noise of tambourines and pipe whistles and plucked harp strings. “Guess that’s my cue!” shouted Fox over the swelling of noise.

  “Give them a good show, lad!” said Darby, clapping him on the back as Fox jumped off the barricade and started making his way to the wagon stage.

  As he approached, Radda raised his hands and silence fell. Fox waited respectfully off to the side until he was summoned, letting Radda make his own pronouncements to the crowd.

  “What a glorious gathering this is!” shouted the player, his booming voice carried to all corners of the gathered crowd by a midnight wind. “It’s no secret we love to celebrate here. After all, we Shavid are collectors of grand tales, and songs of revelry! We feast on the magic of an eager crowd and a listening ear!” The crowd had begun to whoop and cheer in agreement now, and every statement was punctuated with a “hurrah!” from those gathered. “We believe in heroism!”

  “Hurrah!”

  “And true love!”

  “Hurrah!”

  “And triumph over loss and evil!”

  “Hurrah!”

  Radda grinned at his audience, arms wide in a welcoming gesture. “And so, from my family to all of yours, we thank you for being a part of our company’s story. We have gathered here in celebration of one of our own finding his ultimate happiness. Now, if the groom would join me on stage, please.”

  Neil’s darker skin did not show any flush, but Fox could tell that it was there. He could feel his friend’s emotions when he reached out with the wind. The heat in his cheeks, the rapid thrumming of his heart. The excitement buzzing on his skin. The sensations were only increased by the presence of every eye on him at this moment. He had been dressed in an elaborate costume provided by the Shavid, all in peacock shades of brightest blue and purple and gold. The outfit was crafted in finest silk, with long flowing pants that cuffed in embroidered gold at the ankle. The matching tunic fell all the way to his knees, and it was encrusted in a waterfall of gemstones that started at his shoulders and spread down along the garment, thinning out as they neared the hem. Each one caught the light and sparkled like a candle. Neil’s head was bare, and freshly shaved, as was tradition in his homeland.

  He was a sight to behold, and it was nearly impossible to tear your eyes away from him. Until Radda called for Gully to be brought forth, and even Fox’s throat tightened uncomfortably.

  She was brought through the stage curtains, escorted by the dancers who had prepared her. They carried her long veil at each corner, and when they released it to scurry back off the stage, the wind caught it up and kept it flowing in the air behind her. Her ensemble had been chosen to match his, with the deep blue of the dress wrapped around her in folds and waves of jeweled silk. She wore a hooded veil that covered her head and fastened across her mouth, leaving only her eyes visible. But she didn’t need anything more. Each time the veil was lifted by the breeze, flashes of her vibrant red hair shone in the firelight, and stray curls framed her face. Her arms were left bare, the sleeves trimmed in a beaded gold fringe that ended just past h
er shoulders. A complex, swirling pattern of gems had been attached directly to her exposed skin, tracing their way up her arms. More of the same surrounded her eyes, all in shades of gold and purple. And the red of her flushed face was evident. Still, her eyes betrayed the grin beneath her veil, and the whole audience caught its breath when she emerged.

  It took Fox a moment to gather himself when he was called up on stage. As he ascended the small staircase, he worried for a moment that he’d freeze up in front of all of these strangers, and not know what to say. He stood with his back to the curtains, facing the crowd, with Neil and Gully before him. And then, as he looked at the couple, the fear vanished. They were so certain in each other, that Fox realized he didn’t need anything more. He knew just what to say.

  “I’ve never been a storyteller,” announced Fox. His own voice, though not as thunderous, was carried just as well as Radda’s. “But you don’t have to be, in order to make the tale of Gully and Neil sound heroic and inspiring. They do that all on their own.” He glanced over at Neil, and smiled warmly at his friend. “There was nothing they were not willing to risk to be with each other. How many of us can say, truthfully, that we have found such passion for ourselves?” He turned to Gully now, and found the shimmer of tears bright in her eyes. “Stations didn’t matter to them. Propriety and etiquette were simply those silly things that got in the way. Just like every story of princesses who fall for knights, and scullery maids who enchant lonely kings. Neil Palladoran and Gwendolyn Gilvard have brought those epic tales to life without even trying. May their true love live on as long as any of those stories we hold dear.”

  Fox didn’t need to reach out and sense Neil’s feelings to know, he’d said exactly the right thing. Trying and failing to stifle his own grin, he pulled the long ribbon he’d been instructed to use from his pocket, and held it out straight. At the same time, Neil and Gully faced each other and clasped hands. As he began to bind their hands and wrists together in a complex knot, Fox asked, “Do you promise to keep your partnership true and honorable?”

 

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