Rough Magic

by Jenny Schwartz

  We ate ginger spice cookies as we defrosted from the air outside. At least it hadn’t been raining or snowing. A thought struck me. “Would Daud like some cookies?”

  “Yes,” he boomed.

  Nils laughed and stood. “I have pemmican left over. You’ll enjoy that even more.” Nils opened the door a crack and passed Daud the treat.

  “You are all so easily distracted,” Chad fretted.

  Rory sat down beside me, his back against Istvan’s shoulder, one arm encircling me.

  I dozed against him.

  The sudden tension that jolted through him and Istvan shook me awake.

  “The slate switched on,” Rory said.

  Harold’s voice came through clearly. “The moratorium on magic is lifted. The rough magic flows have been temporarily eased, sufficient for everyone to use minimal magic. Don’t go crazy. Full restoration of Earth’s stable pattern of magic will take another day. We will answer questions after that. I repeat, the moratorium on magic is lifted, but please, do not attempt major magic without approval from the magistrate of your territory.”

  “Devils damn,” Istvan uncharacteristically swore.

  In Istvan’s defense, Fae King Harold had just landed a time and resource intensive new responsibility on us without warning.

  “But in good news, the magic is back,” I said.

  Chad interrupted. “That’s a misstatement, a fundamental—”

  “Hush.” Quossa had his voice back. “Chad, you have responsibilities back at the bunker. Go.”

  “The orb,” Chad began.

  “Stays with us,” Thane rumbled.

  I didn’t want the responsibility of it. I did want the spindle, but I doubted the Faerene would be willing to part with it, and I definitely didn’t want a fight over it. Not now when my muscles ached and the crisis of rough magic wasn’t resolved, merely temporarily patched.

  “Quite,” Quossa agreed with Thane. “The Fae Council mandate is clear. Thane and Daud may do whatever is necessary for the security of the orb and spindle. No one is to touch either without Fae Council approval. Amy, if you could wrap both, please? The orb in its blue cloth and the spindle in the scarves the ancient mages wound around it.”

  I did so, under Chad’s close scrutiny, and without feeling a flicker of magic. I slid them across the table to Thane.

  “Thank you,” he said solemnly. So solemnly that it became a fleeting but hallowed moment. He was accepting the honor of being entrusted with humanity’s magical treasures.

  Quossa spoilt the mood with more orders. “Istvan and Rory have a duty to their territory. So does Nils. It will take hard work and powerful magical ability to restore the balance in Earth’s most magically volatile regions, and that includes the Pacific Northwest. Amy is required in Civitas. The Fae Council will host an open forum on the feral magic disaster once the latticework is restored. Harold put her on the council for a reason. She must be there and be visible.”

  Rory stood beside me, but with his shoulder in front of mine. The shield-like position mirrored his attitude. “That’s over twenty four hours away. Are the other councilors being recalled so early?”

  “The other councilors have responsibilities,” Quossa returned. “Amy’s responsibility is to be visible.”

  “And if Yngvar has questions, Amy will be physically there.” Istvan’s tone was the judicial one he employed as a magistrate; balanced and unemotional. “If the plan to restore the latticework fails and they need to get her to the orb and spindle, then Crete is a lot closer to here than North America is.” And before Rory could protest. “Daud explained that the orb and spindle aren’t going to be risked through a portal until the latticework is in place.”

  “I could stay here?” I clasped Rory’s hand.

  My suggestion didn’t please him. “No.”

  “No,” Istvan agreed. “You can’t stay here alone and the bunker is no place for you.”

  The subtext there was that he couldn’t guarantee my safety in a place under Nora’s command. That was concerning. What tests might someone like Chad desire to run? I glanced at Thane.

  The orc guard shook his head, sympathetically. “Daud and I have other plans for protecting the orb and spindle. We won’t remain at the cookhouse.”

  “Civitas, then.” I wanted to travel home. The desire to return to Justice was almost a physical ache. Otherwise, if magic failed again, I’d be a long way from the people I loved.

  And yet, I couldn’t deny my duty to the Fae Council and Earth’s future any more than Rory could deny his oath to protect the North American Territory.

  If I had to go to Civitas, then I had to go.

  Rory huffed in unwilling resignation.

  Digger flicked a throwing knife in the air. “I’ll go with Amy.”

  “Without magic?” Jarod, the only other human in the room, broke off. After an instant, he grinned. “You know, yeah. I could go, but you’re scarier. Even without magic.”

  “I don’t think we need to scare anyone.” I looked around for support for my pacifist position, and found it sadly lacking.

  Nils raised a skeptical eyebrow.

  Rory scowled.

  I sighed. “Maybe we do. I hope you’re wrong. No Faerene should attack a human just for being human. And if they recognize me and attack, then that’s worse. They’d be attacking a Fae Council member. That can’t be permitted in the Migration.”

  “It’s not.” Quossa tossed his head. “A fact that has annoyed some of the stallions who dislike me.”

  Unicorns could be volatile.

  I folded my arms. “So, from my perspective, my safety is a Faerene problem. I’m going to wander through Civitas, as is my right, and I will bring Digger with me because I can and because you won’t be happy if I’m alone, and if someone attacks me, that’s on them.”

  Rory growled. “And if you’re injured or killed?”

  I held his gaze. “I don’t want to be brave. I wish I could run home to Justice with you. But if I have to be in Civitas, if I have to sit on the Fae Council, then no one is going to undermine me by saying I’m afraid. I represent humanity, Rory. I must do so from a position of strength, even if it’s half bravado and half political calculation. It’s certainly not for my magical ability.”

  He hauled me into a crushing hug, one where I barely managed to wriggle my arms free to hug him back. His breath was warm against my ear. “Do what you have to do to come home safe. I’ll back you.”

  Meant as trust and reassurance, his comment was nonetheless terrifying. The magic flows might have steadied, but the crisis wasn’t done with us yet.

  Chapter 11

  Quossa opened the portal to the front steps of Governing House in Civitas. The portal stayed steady. I walked through, turned and raised a hand to Rory. As I did so, Digger joined me. Within seconds Quossa was with us and the portal closed.

  I wouldn’t be able to witness Rory opening a portal for the rest of them, but he’d send me a message to confirm their safe return to Justice. I needed a slate.

  I needed a few things.

  A tall, skinny elf ran down the ramp to meet Quossa, who’d started up it. Ramps were easier than stairs for unicorns. “Quossa, it’s good to have you back. How may I assist you?”

  “Liam.” Quossa confined himself to a one word greeting. “Amy Hope Fang, our newest Fae Council member, requires a guest suite for herself and her companion Di—” Quossa turned to stare at us, suddenly appalled.

  “Alston Graves,” Digger supplied his real name rather than the nickname everyone knew him by, and which Quossa had just realized was insufficient for courteous introductions. “I’m fine with being called Digger. Just not Mr. Digger.”

  The elf looked down his nose. “That won’t be a problem.” The navy blue tunic Liam wore was a match for that worn by a second elf who hurried forward. It was a uniform. They were clerks, or the people-greeting equivalent, at Governing House.

  I was too fatigued to think of their actual job tit
les or to endure their snobbery. “Liam, Digger and I also require a change of clothes. We’ll expect them in four hours, after we’ve slept.” I could mend fences later, if I had to. For now, I was willing to treat Liam-who-disdained-humans as a hotel concierge. One lesson my wealthy childhood had taught me was how to handle snooty hospitality staff: you outsnooted them. If you didn’t they’d bully you passive aggressively at every contact.

  Liam bowed briefly and unhappily. “Osana will serve you. Osana, the gray suite for Councilor Amy Hope Fang and her companion.”

  “Guard,” Digger said. He wasn’t taking any guff, either.

  Quossa swished his tail and wandered off.

  I called to him before he vanished down a long corridor, headed in the opposite direction to Osana. “Quossa?”

  He turned his head. His horn shone silver in the dawn light that filtered in the windows.

  “When you have a moment, can we discuss the djinn?”

  Busy though he was, Quossa paused to consider my request.

  Liam’s mouth tucked down in thin-lipped disapproval. He stood rigidly by, hands clasped behind his back.

  I appreciated, rather than resented, Quossa’s hesitation. It meant that if he said yes, he’d keep his promise.

  “Settle into your quarters. I’ll send a messenger when I know what time I can free up.”

  With the chaotic, destructive consequences of the rough magic all around us, his answer was generous. “Thank you.”

  The gray suite proved to be human-sized with two bedrooms, each with its own bathroom, and a shared sitting room. Digger checked my room as a bodyguard would, found no monsters lurking under the four poster bed or in the armoire, and departed for his room and sleep.

  I stripped off, showered, and slept with my hair turbaned in a towel. I woke to dry, tangled hair and a huge appetite.

  Digger’s hair was too short to tangle, but he grunted agreement to my exaggeration that I could eat a horse. Filling our stomachs would be an easy first step into the day.

  Osana intercepted us as we headed down the corridor, dressed in the clothes she’d provided. She’d chosen office clothing for us: black jackets and trousers, a white shirt for Digger, and a subdued blue one for me. She hadn’t tried to find shoes to fit us, but our boots had been cleaned of their desert and mountain dirt, and polished. We were presentable, although not impressive. That suited me. I had my backpack slung over one shoulder.

  “Councilor Amy, Mr. Graves.” Osana inclined her head in polite greeting. “Breakfast? Or would you prefer lunch? The kitchen begins serving the midday meal in an hour, but if you’d like to request something, I’ll make arrangements?”

  “Bread and cheese is fine. And coffee.” I looked at Digger.

  He nodded.

  “I’ll have your meal brought to your suite.”

  No. Being corralled in our rooms was not on my agenda. I had to stay in or near Governing House so that a messenger could find us for our meeting with Quossa, but staying inside didn’t appeal.

  “We’ll be in the portside courtyard.” I smiled tightly at the elf, who smiled back with matching insincerity.

  Frustration flashed in her eyes that I refused to be guided by her.

  Had Liam or someone higher up the chain told her to foster my sequestration?

  As we strolled on Digger observed that I knew where I was going.

  “I memorized a map after my first visit to Civitas. Someone taught me that knowledge of the terrain is advantageous.”

  Since he’d been the one to teach me to learn my surroundings, he grinned.

  The portside courtyard gave us a fine view of sparkling blue water under sunny winter skies. A long jetty was busy with people. The small boats moored at it bobbed with the gentle waves. A couple of goblin children fished from the jetty, supervised by a pelican on the lookout for a handout.

  A waiter brought us breakfast within a couple of minutes. He put the tray on the wide stone railing that I leaned against.

  Digger didn’t lean. He was on guard, alert to the movements of people from boat to dock, and walking briskly along the street.

  “One moment, please. I’ll have a table brought out.”

  “Please, don’t,” I interrupted the waiter. His uniform matched what Osana had supplied for Digger. “We’re fine as we are. We’ll leave the tray here when we’re done.”

  The gnome waiter bowed and trotted back inside.

  I shuffled around to eat comfortably while keeping my backpack on the ground between my feet.

  “It’s a lot more formal here, and people more conscious of their status, than in Justice,” Digger observed.

  “Centre of government. Oh gosh. This is good.” The flat bread was still warm, and the soft, white cheese and honey that I’d spread on my portion squished in oozy, gooey goodness. The bread itself smelled richly of wheat.

  “Coffee’s bitter.” Digger gulped one small cup and poured a second. He wasn’t complaining about the bitterness. The comment was idly made, his attention for the scene around us.

  We were attracting some subtle glances, but no outright stares.

  “The two elves lurking in the doorway are likely to approach,” he murmured.

  I ate a little faster.

  Unfortunately, the elves watched us closely, and timed their approach perfectly to my final sip of coffee.

  “Councilor Amy Hope Fang?”

  Both elves were taller than me, matching Digger’s six feet in height. They were slender, and their bronze-toned, multi-hued jackets both flattered their green skin tone and nipped in at the waist, presumably in a fashion statement. Drainpipe trousers and pointy-toed brown boots completed their mod look.

  “Excuse us for intruding. I am Henri. This is Raul.” Both elves executed elaborate bows.

  I nodded. Bowing hadn’t been part of my etiquette lessons at boarding school. “Good morning. Henri and Raul, this is Digger.”

  Digger thrust out his hand.

  The elves shook hands as gracefully as they’d bowed. “Well met.”

  Henri seemed to be the spokesperson. He focused on me. “We are clan siblings with Jakov. He requested that we offer you our assistance.”

  “Oh.” I’d known that visiting Governing House meant diving into politics. I just hadn’t been here long enough to work out in which direction to swim. “That is kind of him, and you.”

  Henri smiled. “You are uncertain. Jakov is a scientist. His bunker in Australia was much affected by the rough magic. He told us that an artifact you retrieved and activated saved vital magical equipment and supplies. He asked that we introduce ourselves. These are our abodes.” Henri passed me two cards. “Both our shared office, Jakov’s office, here at Governing House, and our private homes. You are welcome in our homes.”

  “Most welcome,” Raul confirmed.

  “If you require information or anything else, please contact us.”

  The two cards I held were off-white rectangles with the elves’ names, clan and office details on the front, and handwritten home addresses for here in Civitas on the back. “Thank you. And please thank Jakov.”

  They responded with slight bows. “It is our honor.”

  I slipped the cards into a pocket. “Henri, are other councilors likely to offer me similar support?”

  “No,” Raul said.

  Henri frowned at him.

  Raul gave a one-shouldered shrug. “You are not important.” He dodged a sharp elbow jab from his colleague.

  Digger’s eyebrows.

  “Raul misspoke,” Henri began.

  “I did not. Speaking clearly is what Jakov asked of us. She is Magistrate Istvan’s familiar and the new pack leader’s mate. She won’t be accustomed to circumlocution.”

  She was standing right in front of them, fascinated. I grinned. I’d mistaken the fashionable pair of elves for courtiers. Their bickering made them far more interesting than that. I glanced at Digger to share my amusement, and found him scowling. “What?”


  “They are adjusting their presentation to your response,” he said.

  Henri and Raul’s affectations fell away, and they were suddenly soldiers in fancy dress, eyeing him and me shrewdly.

  “Apparently, I’m more naïve than I thought,” I told Digger. I struggled to hide how it unsettled me that I couldn’t trust my judgment. “I’m glad you’re here.” I hadn’t considered that he would guard me against my own fallible instincts.

  “Our offer of assistance is genuine,” Henri said. “Nor will we lie to you. The Fae Council isn’t a ruling political body. Lying to its members to manipulate them to advance a personal cause is against the ethics of the Migration.”

  There was a lot of wriggle room in that statement. I pretended to accept it at face value. “Thank you. I’m curious. Why is Jakov interested in me?”

  “As I said, he feels we—all Faerene—owe you a debt. Leaving you lost and alone here would be poor repayment for your courage.”

  “A diplomatic non-answer,” I observed.

  Henri smiled. It was a charming smile that revealed dimples in his lean cheeks. It also showed off his sharp incisors. “Jakov is a scientist. Quossa has oversight of scientific matters pertaining to magic for the Fae Council. Jakov is responsible for the environment, generally. He has command of the reclamation teams. Their focus is changing from emergency measures to long term, sustainable, systems development. Magic flows are part of Earth’s environment, depending on definitions and boundaries drawn.”

  Translation: Jakov and Quossa clashed about who was responsible for what.

  “The reclamation teams will be repairing damage from the rough magic,” Henri concluded.

  He almost distracted me into thinking of how Tineke might be affected by her new duties as a reclamation team member. However, I maintained focus, waiting for him to answer my actual question.

  Raul did. “Jakov is a scientist. To him you’re an interesting mutation.”

  My mouth dropped open.