“I trust ye know what yer doing. Do ye want to check the rosters before I post them?”
“Eh, I trust ye know what yer doing.” As she echoed his words back, she winked at him.
He coughed and looked away. Ever since they had fought at the festival, Garrett had treated her as his superior. By their traditions, she was. He had no idea how to feel about his superior flirting with him, though.
“Annie should have breakfast laid out by now.” He left the unspoken question hanging in the air.
Ruefully, Bette shook her head. “Clumsy shits broke two more spears. I'm gonna fix those, then get another half-dozen made up. I know they're the easiest weapon to learn, but Bitch knows I wish Marcus had taught them swords.”
“And where would those swords come from, then?" he reminded her.
“Aye, true. Still, even shovels might last longer. They might even do some damage.”
Garrett laughed and waved goodbye. “Send a runner if ye need me. I'm off ta feed me face, then I'll check on the guard stations.”
“Give them hell if ye see them sleepin’ on the job!” she called after him.
“That I will, lass,” he muttered to himself. “That I will.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Bastian collapsed at the small patio table outside the makeshift classroom. He pulled out the fresh roll Annie had sent him off with. She knew he had an early first class, and didn’t want him to miss breakfast.
“Thank you, Annie,” he muttered through a mouthful of food. “That woman is a blessing from the Bitch herself.”
“Bastian! Just the man I wanted to see.” Danil strode up, clapping Bastian on the shoulder. Behind him trailed Rhea, one of the young women from the village.
Only in her early twenties, Rhea was the closest to Bastian’s age. They had chatted at Mary’s a few times, but he didn’t really know her. She stood out amongst the townspeople—quieter than most, she was also one of the smartest. Bastian had seen Julianne beside her, both girls bent over a book or scroll, Rhea’s dark skin offsetting Julianne’s paleness.
“What can I help you with?” Bastian tried to settle a sudden feeling of foreboding. When Danil smiled that widely, chances were, it meant trouble for everyone around him.
“I have a new project for you.”
“Project?” Bastian asked. “I have my next class in a half hour, then I need to see to Francis.”
“It’s Francis that got you into this. Rhea here,” Danil gestured to the girl, who blushed. “Needs some magic training.”
Bastian frowned. What the hell is he up to? “I have room in my next session, but these students have already mastered basic shielding. We’re working on strength now.” He took a long swallow of water from his skein to wash down the suddenly dry lump of bread.
“Oh, Bastian.” Danil grinned and laid a hand on Bastian’s shoulder. “I don't mean mental magic. Young Rhea has the makings of a druid!”
Bastian choked, spitting out the water. He dabbed the wet dribble down his shirt. “What the fu—uhh. Sorry, Rhea”
Rhea giggled. “Don’t worry, Master Bastian. I’ve heard worse words outta my pa’s mouth.”
Ignoring her protest, Bastian turned back to Danil. “Seriously, what are you thinking? I don’t know the first thing about Druidry. And did you listen at all when I told you about the disaster with Francis?”
“See, Rhea, I told you he’d do it. But if you guys only have a half hour, I’d better leave you to it.” Danil waved at Bastian, whose face glowed an angry red.
“You can’t just—” Bastian threw the rest of his bread roll at Danil’s retreating back. “YOU OWE ME!" he yelled.
“Anytime!” came Danil’s fading voice.
Bastian’s shoulders dropped in defeat and he heaved a long sigh.
“Geez, I’m not that bad, am I?” Rhea plonked herself down in the chair opposite Bastian. “Look, I think this is crazy. I don’t have magic—I failed out of Danil’s shield class, and I think he feels bad. I’m not like Lilly. I just… you know, like my pets.”
As if in response to her words, a tiny mouse peeked out from her collar. “Squeak,” it said.
“Can you talk to it? Make it follow instructions?” Bastian asked wearily.
Rhea laughed. “I trained Molly with cheese, that’s all. It wasn’t magic.”
Feeling a flicker of hope, Bastian asked, “How many other pets do you have? How many are trained?”
“Seven mice, four dogs, two cats, nine birds and a roach,” She beamed proudly and Bastian’s heart fell. “Oh. Right. That’s not really normal, is it?” Rhea looked crestfallen for a moment, then brightened as she realized the implications. “Wow. If I really have magic… Wow!”
Bastian allowed his head to drop into his hands for a moment. Then, he harnessed his mystic professionalism. “Don’t get too excited. You could just be good at what you do.”
“So… you don’t think I have magic?”
“Everyone has magic. Some people just can’t seem to tap into it like others. Here, talk to your mouse or whatever it is you do.” Bastian tucked his water away and rolled up the empty cloth that had held his lunch.
Rhea slowed her breath, held up the mouse and started whispering to it. As she did, her eyes shimmered with green, like Bastian’s did when he used magic, but weaker and a different color.
“Ahh, dammit.” He threw the wadded cloth at the ground. “Looks like I’ve got another student.”
Startled, Rhea almost dropped the mouse. It squeaked loudly as she dropped it in her sleeve, then clapped. “Bastian, that’s so exciting! What do I have to do?”
She waited patiently while Bastian racked his brain for anything he knew about nature magicians. Though Rhea was not and would never be a true druid—she would have to train with the forest people to earn that title—her magic was like theirs.
“Look, I don’t think I know enough to really get you started. Have you ever spoken to Lilly? She could run rings around what I know about animal magic.”
Rhea shook her head. “I’ve asked her help before, when one of my pets got sick. She was happy enough to assist, and fixed little Myra up no trouble, but she refused to breathe a word about her abilities.” Rhea shrugged, embarrassed. “I won’t lie. I’ve always been a little jealous of her magic.”
Bastian sighed. “Very well. Let’s start with the basics.”
He told Rhea to stand quietly, concentrating on her breath. “Now, reach inside. Feel the connection with your animals.”
“Squeak!” Milly poked her head out again.
“Did I do that?” Rhea asked.
Bastian had no idea. “Why don’t we try another animal. One you’re not close to.” He looked around and spotted a lark in a nearby tree. “What about that one? See if you can make it come here.”
“Ok.” Rhea shook out her hands, stretched her neck, then dropped into a relaxed posture.
Bastian watched as she stared at the bird, brows furrowed into a small frown of concentration. Her breath slowed. Green sparks shimmered in her eyes.
Bastian’s heart jumped when the bird cocked its head and flew closer, landing on the garden fence. It chirped, then let out a cry before jumping to the ground.
Rhea opened her eyes and gasped. “Oh… I did do that!”
A second bird fluttered into the small yard, then a third. A crow swooped at Bastian’s head, and he yelped.
“Rhea? I think we should—” His words were cut off by the screech of more birds, swooping and diving and circling overhead. He yanked Rhea’s arm, dragging her into the schoolhouse.
“What the hell was that?" she whimpered. “I take it back. Magic sucks.”
Bastian pulled back a curtain, jumping back when a nasty looking bird flapped over to it and tapped at the glass with its beak. One eye peered into the room and the bird let out a low ‘caw’. Beyond it, the yard was teeming with birds. They flapped and waddled, covering the yard and tripping over each other as they meandered past the ope
n window.
“I don’t think we should go out there,” Bastian said in a low voice.
The bird by the window tapped again, this time harder. The crack jarred Bastian’s nerves, and he let the curtain drop. “This is actually freaking me out more than when Francis tried to set me on fire,” he muttered.
“Did you say something?” Rhea was peeking through a crack in the wall panelling. She jumped back when a sharp ‘rat-tat-tat’ sounds from the other side of the wall. She rubbed her arms. “Bastian… what if they don’t go away?”
A solid knock on the front door started Bastian’s heart thumping all over again. “Who—” he cleared his throat and tried again. “Who’s there?”
“Oh, for crying out loud.” Lilly shoved the door open and strode straight to the back of the small building. Her hair frizzed out angrily and her face was stern. “What are you doing to those poor creatures?”
Bastian eyed her warily, wondering how such a small child could look so intimidating.
She flung the back door wide and carefully stepped out, making sure she didn’t disturb any of the birds. “I’m so sorry, little ones. They didn’t mean any harm, and they won’t do it again. Go on… fly away.”
One, then two birds flapped their wings and took off, followed by two more. Then, in a mess of caws and loud flapping, they rose like a writhing blanket and took off into the sky.
Lilly stormed back in. “Really, Bastian, for a grown up you don’t have a lot of sense. I’d expected more from you.”
Too stunned by the tiny girl’s wrath to respond, Bastian just stared. By the time he found his tongue, Lilly had stomped away, slamming the door behind her muttering something that sounded like “stupid boys”.
“Well,” Bastian said, sitting down with a thump. “I guess that means your first lesson is done.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Julianne smoothed the fabric of her wrinkled dress against the bedspread. “Marcus, this looks awful! I can’t turn up to a theatrical performance like this.” She flopped back on the bed. “I’ll just have to fake it.”
“Or,” Marcus said as he whipped the dress away from her. “You can do what normal people do at an inn, and ask for what you need.” He walked out, the door swinging hut behind him.
Julianne rolled herself off the bed and pulled out her bag. She had packed expecting to take audience with a lord, so at least she had enough to make herself presentable. When Marcus returned, she was perched on the edge of the bed with a small mirror in one hand, and a powder-dipped brush in the other.
“Oh. Uh, sorry.” He blushed, averting his eyes.
“Marcus, I’m not naked. It’s just a shift.” She rolled her eyes as swept the brush along her cheekbones.
“You’re in your underclothes!”
“You wouldn’t even know that if I threw on a belt and did my hair.”
She had a point. The linen shift was edged with lace and came down past her calves. It certainly didn’t show enough flesh to warrant beetroot cheeks and a sudden stammer.
“Besides,” she added. “I’ve stood next to you in the middle of a brothel full of bare assed women. I know you’ve seen worse.”
“Yeah, but they weren’t—” He stopped, swallowed, and turned away. He hung the dress on a hook before kicking through a pile of clothes to find his scabbard.
“Oh, good,” Julianne remarked. “A sword will be less conspicuous than magitech.”
“Who says I’m not taking both?" he asked, strapping the leather belt around his waist then sliding a gleaming sword into its home. “We have no idea what we’re up against. I’m not taking any chances.”
Julianne touched the powder to her lips and smudged it. Checking her face in the little mirror, she smiled. “That’ll have to do. I miss Zoe—that girl could work a masterpiece with a little powder and gloss.”
Marcus passed the dress to her. “You don’t need Zoe. You look stunning.”
It was Julianne’s turn to blush. “Thank you, Marcus.” The dress slid over her head with a quiet swish, and she yanked the laces tight. Throwing a gold belt around her waist to finish the outfit, she let her eyes mist over as she reached out to connect with her surroundings.
The meditation allowed her to focus inward, and she realized her shoulders were tight and her stomach bubbling with nerves.
Don’t be a fool, she admonished herself. There’s nothing these charlatans can throw at you that you can’t handle.
“Are you ready?” Marcus asked.
She nodded, then kissed his cheek when he swept the door open for her.
The innkeeper had given them directions to the theatre tent, but Julianne soon realized she shouldn’t have bothered asking. People meandered along the street in the falling light, all headed north towards a warm glow that reflected off the low-slung clouds.
A little way up the street the road turned, revealing a giant billowing tent, made of daffodil silk that rippled in the stiff breeze that raced through Muir. It plucked at hats and flapped at coats, flinging leaves across their path and whipping Julianne’s carefully combed hair into her face.
Julianne grinned as a shiver ran down her back. The bright lanterns drew her closer to the tent as the noise of excited chatter swelled.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been to the theatre,” Marcus remarked. His eyes were dark against the twilight backdrop and sparkled with joy.
“Just make sure you remember why we’re here,” she reminded him.
Together they climbed the small hill that led to the small pavilion at the tent’s entry. A woman with fine whiskers protruding from her nose and furry, pointed ears greeted them. She turned to show her tightly-clad silhouette and purred at Marcus.
“Two tickets, please,” Julianne told the attendant.
The cat woman leaned forwards, her generous chest tightly bound in the clinging costume, and licked her lips at Marcus.
“Refreshments are in the small tent on the side there. You’re early, but it fills up quick, so get yourself a good seat, love!” A fluffy striped tail rose as she waved them away, attached to her wrist by a fine string.
Julianne jabbed Marcus in the ribs. “Stop ogling. You look like you’ve never seen a woman before.”
“Oh, I’ve seen women,” he said, voice hoarse. “Just not women like… that.”
Raising her eyes to the stars beginning to dot the sky, Julianne shook her head. “Can’t take you anywhere, can I? First the brothel, now this!”
“Hey, I met you in a brothel,” he protested.
“I’d been working with you for weeks before that!” Julianne tugged his arm and led him through the wide tent-flaps.
“You were Stellan, then,” he pointed out.
Julianne spotted a section of seating down in the front that had been lined with thick cushions, and a table set up nearby held a bottle of wine and a plate of cheeses.
Julianne pointed it out to Marcus. “That’s where our George will be.”
“Yes. The perfect spot for his bodyguards to keep an eye on him.” Marcus motioned to the doors that overlooked the seats, then showed her a small door directly across that led to the area behind the large stage. “That’s probably for the performers, but I bet it’s no coincidence that the lord’s seat is so close to it.”
They went to sit nearby, taking the row behind the padded seats. Being a level higher meant Julianne would be able to look over George’s shoulder and, with any luck, speak to him.
The arena quickly filled, and Julianne and Marcus were soon sandwiched between well-dressed people chattering about the upcoming show.
“Did you hear they’ve added a water display?" the woman beside Julianne asked her. “My neighbor’s daughter saw them practicing, hanging about from wires and swimming like fish. How clever! I simply don’t see how they could outdo the last variation, though.”
“I’ve never been,” Julianne told her. “Are they really that good?”
“Oh, yes, dear. So good that Lord George himsel
f is their patron. That’s why they don’t travel anymore, he simply insists they stay. Very good for the economy, you know. Oh, here he comes now! I do hope he sits nearby.”
Julianne turned to where she pointed. Sure enough, a resplendently dressed man strode into the tent. Milling spectators quickly moved out of his way, encouraged by two stern-faced guardsmen that waved shiny cudgels at anyone slow to jump.
“Interesting choice of weapon for a bodyguard,” Marcus murmured.
Julianne frowned. She quickly dipped into the minds of the guards, who were occupied with keeping an eye out for anyone who might mean their liege harm. Both of them carried a feeling of unsettled wariness that they couldn’t quite finger.
Julianne guessed it was the beginning of a mind trick, meant to make them quick to anger and retaliate against citizens who put a foot wrong. That would make the populace afraid of the guards, and more compliant… well, in theory.
Arcadia had shown that people crushed by an unfair rule would revolt. She would have to keep an eye on those two.
When she brushed against George’s mind, she was surprised to find it solidly blocked. Instead of pushing against it, she drew back, thinking.
The woman packed in next to Julianne gasped as the lights dimmed. “They’re starting. I can’t wait!” She gave an excited little clap, then settled back to watch the show.
“Ladies and gentleman, take your seats and sit back. You’re about to embark on the journey of a lifetime!” The whispering voice hissed through the room, quelling the last of the conversation.
A rustling sound made Julianne turn. Behind her, slowly coming down an aisle between the long bench seats, a dark-hooded figure approached the front of the tent. Julianne’s heart lurched, but as the figure came closer, she saw the costume lacked the signature gold trim and insignia of the New Dawn’s robes.
Instead, this person wore heavy black robes that obscured the face. The only clue to the person beneath was a slender hand peeking from a sleeve to hold up a canister of smoking incense.
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