Library of Absolution

by Jennifer Derrick

  "Your father had been into dark magic since he was a very young wizard. He finally turned his knowledge on Master Hale. Poisoned him and tried to make it look like an accident. Thank heavens the school's potions master at the time had an antidote."

  Alarick couldn't take this in. His father had tried to kill Master Hale? Before he could process that, Margaret continued.

  "I don't know what evidence was eventually found, but the headmaster knew it wasn't an accident. Rather than send your father to prison where he would have lived out his days stripped of all magic, the headmaster settled on expulsion. Big believer in second chances, he was. He hoped your father would see the error of his ways and reform eventually. From what I know of your young life, I don't believe that ever happened."

  Alarick shook his head remembering how, even now, his father believed himself entitled and superior to everyone else. "No. His heart is as black as it ever was."

  Margaret grunted in response.

  "Why would my father leave me with a man he tried to kill?" Alarick asked, not really expecting her to know, simply to ask the question.

  "I think the better question is why Master Hale would take in the son of the man who tried to kill him," Margaret said. "And that, my boy, is a lesson in character. Master Hale knew that whether you followed in your father's footsteps or became a decent man hinged upon the care you received. Knowing you were genetically predisposed to be a powerful wizard, I'm sure he took you in to preserve you for the side of right."

  "Well, I can't say the experiment was a raging success," Alarick said. "Like my father, I killed someone and have been indirectly responsible for the deaths of many others."

  "The difference is one of intent, I think," she said. "Your father wanted to kill people. You didn't. Did you?"

  He shook his head. "No, of course not. But my intentions were impure just the same. I wanted to cause pain and misery, so I am far from blameless."

  "The road of life is long, boy. If we're lucky, that is. Even the best of us make mistakes along it. It's what we do afterward that matters. From what I can see, you're doing quite well."

  Alarick chuckled at that. "You must be blind," he said.

  "Well, you're sitting on the ground talking to a crazy old woman. That shows some character, at least," she said. "And you came to check on us and offered help. That counts even more."

  "Please," he said standing up and extending his hand to help her up from the stump. "Come back to the Keep, Mistress Easton. I would be honored to have a friend of Master Hale's under my roof."

  She thought for a few moments.

  "All right. I will come with you. And I'll bring any of my friends who would like to come. I'm sure they'd appreciate more room to spread out than I can offer here. It will be interesting to see what Master Hale managed to accomplish with you."

  Alarick wasn't sure he was ready to be studied like an insect under a magnifying glass, but that was a small price to pay for having this woman, with her skill and knowledge, at the Keep.

  "Can I help you with transportation?" he asked. "I can fly some of you, and I can send for more men to help."

  "Don't bother, sir. I can get them there. A peregrinator can carry passengers. We'll pack our things and come to the Keep within a day or so," she said.

  "Passengers," Alarick whispered to himself.

  "Despite my being the son of Patrick Brandon, will you teach me to peregrinate?" he asked again.

  "Why do you want to learn?" she asked, glancing at him sharply.

  "Aside from the pure usefulness of such a skill in evading the Ministry, I could help a friend in need."

  He wanted to master peregrination because a brilliant idea was forming in his mind. If he could peregrinate, he could go anywhere to seek books for Elissa. He could give her the libraries of the world.

  "Then I will teach you, Master Brandon. If you can learn," Margaret added.

  Once Margaret and her charges settled at the castle, things became much livelier. Her group was boisterous and friendly, unafraid to jump right in and help in any capacity they could. They quickly endeared themselves to everyone from the cook to the cobbler. Margaret captivated even Master Lucas, to the point where he seemed to be going out of his way to bump into her in the hallways.

  Suddenly the castle had new life. There were social gatherings in the evenings. The dining hall was often used for games, music, and dancing. People were talking in the hallways and stealing into each other’s rooms to share secrets and friendly gossip. The residents gathered on the lawns on pleasant days to play games or relax in the sunshine.

  Alarick found it all extremely unsettling and spent as much time in his office as he could. Not because he wanted to stop the fun, but because he was afraid that the fun would stop in his presence. He didn't want to be responsible for making anyone uncomfortable and that's exactly what would happen if he showed up at a musical gathering or took part in a dance.

  Instead, he stayed away and let his charges enjoy themselves without the dark cloud of his presence looming over them. They'd earned it. Alarick was simply glad for whatever joy and light Margaret's friends could bring to the Keep.

  He noted that Elissa never attended any of the gatherings, either. Surely, she was well enough to attend if she wanted to, but she never showed up. Not even for a few minutes. It wasn't lost on Alarick that the only two people in the castle who didn't attend the gatherings were the two most miserable. However, instead of feeling a bond with Elissa, Alarick felt frustration. He wanted so much more for her.

  His misery was one thing. It was comfortable, like an old blanket. He didn't want her swallowed up by bitterness and pain, though. She should never know the comfort of misery. The knowledge that if it hadn't been for her injuries she would have been right in the middle of the gatherings, telling stories and laughing, burned him.

  As promised, Margaret was trying to teach him to peregrinate, but so far with limited success. He'd finally managed to make it from the library to the dining hall and back, but the effort left him panting and exhausted. Margaret thought this was fine progress, however.

  "It's more than Master Hale could ever do," Margaret cheered. "If you can do that much, more is within reach. It will just take time."

  Peregrinating wasn't physically painful, but it was unsettling. All it required was for him to flick his wand at his feet and think of his destination. When the process began, it felt like he was being gently stretched on a rack, not to the point of breaking, just to the brink of discomfort. At that moment between discomfort and pain, the imaginary rack broke and he felt as though he was hurtling through space. The acceleration was both exhilarating and terrifying. And just when Alarick thought he would crash painfully into something solid or sharp, he would slow, stretch again, and land gently on his feet.

  Alarick knew that even small progress should be encouraging, but he wanted to peregrinate now. Especially since Elissa was out of the infirmary.

  By the time he'd worked up his courage to visit her again, the healers informed him that she'd been released. He checked her room, the library, and the great hall but could not find her. A dark part of his mind told him to leave it alone, that this was a sign he should just abandon the budding friendship. The kinder side of his mind told him he was being crazy and to keep looking.

  He finally found her in Master Hale's gardens, walking up and down the stone pathways with Candace. She wore a new green gown and her hair was neatly combed and pulled away from her face with jeweled barrettes. The gown couldn't hide how much weight she'd lost, but otherwise she looked much better.

  She was moving much easier, as well. She was still slow and careful, but she stood straight and balanced without the cane. Only Candace's hand under her elbow supported her, now. If he didn't know the hell she'd been through, he'd have simply assumed she was out for a stroll on a lovely autumn afternoon, not enduring rehabilitation.

  As he approached them, they turned for another lap and came to face him. He was di
smayed to notice that Elissa's face was pale and dark circles still lined her eyes. Whether they were the result of pain or sleepless nights, he couldn't say. But he hated either circumstance for her.

  "Hello," he said.

  Elissa smiled and nodded at him, but it wasn't her full, welcoming smile. It was tightlipped and cautious. Guarded.

  "I wondered if you were ever going to speak to me again," she said.

  Candace turned to Elissa and whispered in her ear. Elissa nodded, and Candace excused herself.

  "Take her elbow," she told Alarick as she left. "She shouldn't stand on her own for long. Another two laps around the garden should do it for the day."

  "Thank you," Alarick said as Candace walked away.

  He moved forward and took Elissa's elbow, grateful she didn't jerk it out of his grip. They walked in silence for a while. He intently studied the path in front of them, careful to steer her around any obstacles. He didn't know how to begin to excuse his long absence. He decided to ignore it.

  "Have you met Margaret Easton, yet?" he asked.

  "Oh, yes. She and a few of her friends stopped to speak when Candace and I were out here yesterday. She explained how you convinced her to come from Fensworth. That was kind of you," Elissa said.

  "She refused me at first," Alarick said. "She's more than capable of taking care of herself. Still, her group seems to have added some much needed light to the Keep, so it's good she came. I think she took pity on me," he added with a rueful chuckle.

  He wasn't ready to tell Elissa that Margaret had known his father. Or what his father had tried to do to Master Hale. That was information he was still processing, especially since it explained much about Alarick's own behavior. He needed to separate how much of his life had been dictated by his ancestry and how much was the result of his own actions and desires. It was confusing, and he wasn't any closer to the answer.

  He didn't tell her about peregrination, either. He wanted that to be a surprise. Besides, if he failed utterly, he didn't want to have promised her books only to have to go back on his word.

  He should have known that Elissa wouldn't tolerate his evasions, however. She was far too direct for that.

  "Where have you been these past days?" she asked him. "Did my words drive you away? Have you come to tell me to leave the Keep now that I'm nearly well?"

  "I had to attend to Margaret and check for survivors in other villages. While I was away, I stopped in some surviving villages to ask if anyone wanted to come to the Keep before it is too late. Busy time," he added weakly.

  She said nothing, merely kept walking doggedly forward, dragging him along. Alarick was beginning to get the impression that she wanted to finish the day's therapy and get away from him. And he couldn't blame her.

  He took a deep breath and tried again. "The truth is, I didn't know what to say or what to do. Your assessment of me was quite accurate. And you were correct that I likely would have cast you out of my life rather than get too close. I don't risk friendship easily."

  "Or at all," Elissa muttered.

  "You're right. Other than Marius and John, who both came into my life when I was much younger and stood by me even at the height of my troubles, I do not allow anyone into my life. For what I previously believed to be good reasons."

  "And are your reasons still valid?" Elissa asked as they reached the end of the path. He tugged on her elbow to stop her before she turned to begin their second lap.

  "Instead of answering, may I show you something?" he asked.

  "As long as I don't have to actually see it," she said in a weak attempt at humor.

  "I think we can manage. Will you allow me?"

  "Of course," she said. "I'm actually a bit cool, so I don't mind stopping our walk. I can't see it, but I can tell the sun is setting and the days are growing shorter. Winter will be here before long."

  "Here," he said, removing his cloak and draping it over her shoulders. It was far too big for her, but he managed to drape it so she wouldn't trip over the hem. He took her elbow again and guided her toward the castle, ever watchful for anything that might trip her.

  "Winter makes you sad," he continued, responding to the tone of her voice. "Why?"

  She shrugged. "I don't like the short days, the bare trees, or the cold. Snow is fun, but the whole season just reminds me of death."

  "Don't think of it that way. Think of the rebirth that comes after and look toward that."

  "An optimistic thought from you, Master Brandon. I'm shocked," she chided him with a small smile.

  Once inside the entrance hall, she removed his cloak and handed it back to him.

  "Thank you," she said.

  Alarick looped the cloak over one arm and intertwined the other with hers. He nudged her over to the side of the stairs. "The handrail is on your right," he told her.

  He guided her up the stairs but let her do much of the work. He didn't think she would appreciate him repeating, "Lift your foot," thirty times. Instead, he let her use the handrail and her own knowledge of the steps to mount them. He was only there to catch her if she stumbled. Alarick had a plan to help her regain her independence and it began now.

  When they reached the top of the steps, he turned them toward the library. The doors unlocked at a wave from his wand and he guided Elissa inside.

  "It smells like the library," she said.

  "Yes," he said turning her toward the scriptorium. He stopped her when they reached her desk.

  "Reach out," he instructed, letting go of her arm.

  Tentatively, she groped forward. She made contact with the desk and ran her hands over the edges, orienting herself. Alarick watched as her hands slid over the desk's surface, finally finding her new wand.

  She picked it up and slid her fingers up and down the length, getting a feel for the unfamiliar object.

  "A wand?" she asked.

  "Yours," he said. "Well, not your original wand. I had my wand maker craft you a new one."

  "Why?" she asked.

  "Because you need it," he said.

  "Master Brandon, in case you haven't noticed, my magic days are over."

  "Actually, I hadn't noticed," he said.

  "What am I supposed to do? Cast spells at things I cannot see? That isn't bound to end well. I'll probably turn Master Lucas into a cockroach. Or, worse, kill somebody." She quickly placed a hand over her mouth at the insensitive remark.

  "I'm so sorry," she said. "I didn't mean—"

  "That's okay," Alarick said. "At least if you did kill someone it would be a complete accident. Unlike what I did, which was not entirely an accident."

  "Still, we both know it isn't safe for a blind person to practice magic."

  "Admittedly, your days of casting anything requiring range might be over. We'll see because I'm still not giving up the idea that your sight may yet return. But I believe you can work your magic on books, as long as you have someone to help you."

  "Oh, and who is going to do that?" she asked. "Who wants to sit with the blind girl all day and hold books for her."

  "I do," he whispered.

  "Oh," she said.

  "You asked if my reasons for shutting people out were still valid. I've given it much thought over the past few days. I've also had my eyes opened to a few things by Margaret."

  "Margaret?" Elissa asked. "What did she say?"

  "She knew Master Hale. And my father." Alarick suppressed his reservations and quickly told her what Margaret knew of his father.

  "I always believed I wasn't like him," Alarick said. "That I was a better man. But the way I treat people isn't any different."

  "At least you have very different motivations. You are unpleasant because you want to avoid pain. It sounds like your father is simply cruel. There is something black in his soul. I don't see that in you. I don't think Master Hale did, either, which is why he took you in, even though you were the son of his enemy. And it's why he kept you, even when you did wrong."

  "Still, I don't want to b
e like Patrick Brandon. I'm going to try to be… Better."

  "And you're taking me on as your charity case to improve yourself?" she asked.

  "No. You are not a charity case!" He rubbed his hands over his face, grateful she couldn't see the riot of emotion he was certain danced all over his face. "I don't mean it that way at all. I want to help you because I—"

  She waited while he stumbled through his own head, looking for the words.

  "Care about you," he finally blurted. "I care about what happens to you. I want you to have everything you had before. I want you to be a Book Mesmer. But more, I want you to live life, not cloak yourself in bitterness as I have. I've wasted so many years. So many damn years. So much regret. I don't want that for you."

  She set the wand down deliberately on the desk and braced her hands on the tabletop. She bowed her head in defeat, but there were no tears in her voice when she spoke.

  "That's kind of you, Master Brandon, and I appreciate your desire to change. I do," she said. "But I don't think I can be the person to change you. Magic is the least of my problems. I can no longer draw and while that means I can no longer be a Book Mesmer, it also means I've lost a talent that meant a great deal to me. I can't read, either.

  "The two things I most enjoyed in this life are gone. And there are wounds you cannot see that will likely never heal. Yes, I can walk and may see again someday, but something inside me is broken. If you think you can somehow keep me from bitterness, I'm afraid you're sadly mistaken, sir."

  "But I can help you," Alarick said. "I've done research. Blind people can be artists. It requires a new way of working, but it is possible. There are things here that can help you. I've stocked your desk with tools and materials we can try. I believe you can still be a Book Mesmer. And you may not be able to read, but others will read to you."

  Elissa laughed, but it was a humorless bark.

  "Wonderful. So, someone will sit with me at night and read me to sleep, will they? Or read to me when they have to work and I do not? Someone who wants to read comedy will read me my beloved Greek tragedies? I appreciate your intent, but there is no one so saintly. A reader wants to read on her schedule, sir, not when it's convenient for someone else.