“Ah yes, but then they have no magical power still, do they?” Mrs. Potter countered.
“No. It was not until recently that I understood that…well, that men could also have magical gifts. The men on Nar lack them entirely,” Deliverance answered.
“Yes and this is because…?” Stevens led her.
“Well, I don’t know. They’ve never had them, as far as I know. Just the women,” Deliverance replied.
“And has your gift shifted since you’ve left the island?” Stevens interrogated her.
“I…well yes, I suppose. I did not have a gift before. Ours are bestowed at birth by our mothers. My mother…well, she is an independent sort and selected a rather odd name for me. Deliverance. It does not have any logical meaning I can think of, and it has never manifested itself into any magic sparking gift I could see.” After a pause, she added, “Although once I was aboard the ship with Jack, he showed me…oh.”
The reality of it hit her like a hammer. He’d showed her she could shift her gift to match anyone’s. But why would that matter? It only lasted a couple hours anyway. It was not as if she were actually stealing their powers.
“Oh indeed,” Mrs. Potter finished. Deliverance was starting to get the impression Stevens and Mrs. Potter were quite the team. In fact, Jack had referred to them as family in stating he was calling a family meeting. Deliverance wondered if they were related by blood distantly or if Jack simply had an affinity for them.
She studied their faces and builds. Mrs. Potter had watery grey eyes, large, although sagging with age. There were pink pockets just visible above the rim of her lower eyelid. She must have been at one time a beautiful woman, plainly, Deliverance determined. Years had thickened her waist, giving her a matronly air. She was decidedly shorter than Jack and of even height with Eleanor. Her high collared dress, though impeccably clean somehow reminded Deliverance of dusty, old curtains, though why, she was not certain. She was neat as a pin. Her steely grey hair was gathered into a succinct bun and her leather shoes were carefully spit shined.
Stevens, who had only a few wispy salt and pepper strands of hair combed evenly across his scalp, was of a lanky build. He was the kind of man who seemed as though someone had stretched him and through sheer lean muscle had snapped back into the shape of a man. He had kindly cerulean blue eyes beneath generous brows, which hung lower when the man sunk into deep contemplation. They did not seem to be of close relation to Jack, but one could never really know. The seamstress and the shoemaker back on Nar were both brunettes and yet had a brood of churlish redheaded boys, each of them more flame-touched than the last.
Eleanor’s relation to Jack, however, was evident. The curve of their high cheekbones, the darker, olive tone of their skin, and their intelligent coffee-colored eyes framed in thick lashes were almost identical. Eleanor’s chin was more delicate, her figure much slighter than Jack’s solid frame, but the resemblance was uncanny. Had she had any hair, Deliverance would have guessed it would be the same shiny raven as Jack’s.
The girl seemed to have revived from her bout of disappointment. She sat up straighter on the embroidered chaise she had plopped down on earlier.
“Does that mean I…?” Eleanor began, but Jack cut her off with a gesture of his hand.
“No,” he replied curtly.
“But…” she protested.
“No. Not yet anyway.”
“Not yet? So that means I can then? Eventually?” Eleanor pleaded. Deliverance was lost as to what they were discussing, her eyes bouncing around the debating figures in the room. Obviously, it had perked the girl up though.
“Miss Eleanor, you know the doctors said…” Mrs. Potter began, reaching to fuss over the girl. Eleanor shrugged her off.
“But that was months ago! I am getting better!” she retorted in an exasperated tone.
“Better is not fully recovered, young lady,” Mrs. Potter countered sternly, withdrawing from her efforts to fuss over the girl. Jack cast her a reproving stare, and Eleanor relented.
“Yes, Mrs. Potter. I know you only want what is best,” the girl grumbled reluctantly. Deliverance was starting to see the family dynamic at play here, with Stevens and Mrs. Potter taking pseudo guardian roles, especially over Eleanor.
Jack, in the meantime, had snapped his fingers and lit the hearth, bringing some warmth into the room.
“Central heat is still a bit drafty in these old houses, I’m afraid,” he said by way of explanation to no one in particular.
Deliverance did not know where exactly the center of this palatial house was, but she was certain they were not anywhere close to it, and yet it was still quite cozy in the drawing room. She supposed it was named a drawing room after the easels and pots of paints and charcoals strewn about one corner of the room. But it also contained a rolling bar stand and luxurious seating around the fireplace. Paintings displaying a dizzying array of styles and tastes adorned the walls, including some portraits Deliverance could only assume were of family members. Sweeping drapes in rich fabrics matched the tasteful, elaborate furnishings. Even the flooring was ornate, with patterns worked into the wood. Ornate was exactly the word Deliverance would use to describe the whole ambiance. Imagine decorating even the floor one walked on! What opulence they had here.
And yet Jack, despite his regal features, seemed somewhat out of place here. It made no sense considering he must own the property. And yet he seemed more suited to the pirate ship than this decadent setting. Perhaps it was the fire in him.
Eleanor piped up again, zeroing in on Deliverance with an assessing gaze. “So when—?” she began but was cut off. The poor girl seemed to be forever interrupted.
“It has to be controlled…scientific. We cannot simply go about it here in the privacy of the manor without documentation,” said Jack, turning to gaze at the fire, as if the dancing flames in the hearth would aid in his machinations.
“But would that not mean exposing her, milord?” Stevens asked hesitantly.
“It will all have to be aired out eventually, Stevens, but we must do so with the utmost care so that we get the outcome we seek. That is paramount. We cannot go about this business willy nilly,” Jack said in a calculating manner, eyes moving as he seemed to be cataloging variables in his mind.
“Ok, excuse me. Pardon my ignorance, but what in the Fades are we talking about?” Deliverance burst out, finally not being able to withhold her curiosity and apprehension any longer. They all turned and stared at her as if they had forgotten she was in the room.
They all began talking at once.
CHAPTER 11
Deliverance
“Fades? Oh wow, she has the customs and everything!” Eleanor exclaimed gleefully while Stevens began a discourse on something to do with their parliament. Mrs. Potter seemed more concerned with maintaining Jack’s reputability in society due to his duties. Jack simply apologized for leaving her behind in the conversation. It came out in a jumble of words Deliverance could not quite sort through.
It was Eleanor who broke through the cacophony and silenced everyone. “Why, they mean to use my gift to help you!” she said. “I am a healer, but not of the physical. My magical gift is quite a bit more rare. I did not have a chance to use it more than a half doze
n times before…before my treatments began, and it became too dangerous for me to use magic.”
Treatments? Ah, so the little girl must have been stricken with an illness. Perhaps that was why she lacked hair—an illness, Deliverance thought with clarity.
“Anyway,” Eleanor continued. “My gift is to fix other people’s gifts.”
“What she means is that she heals magical maladies. Magic is a part of us. It sits in our blood, working through our circulatory system. So, like anything physical, it can get sick or be injured. Eleanor is able to sense that which is ill in someone’s magic system and heal it,” Jack explained with greater clarity.
“They literally did not know what was wrong with my gift. Like, I never manifested any spark for the longest time. They thought my growth was stunted or something,” Eleanor chattered. “But then one day I shook hands with a man at the hospital and boom! There it was!”
Jack cleared his throat. “Yes, it was rather unexpected. It is a little unsettling to see her gift in action.”
Eleanor stuck her tongue out at her older brother. “Whatever. They didn’t know what was wrong with the man. They thought he had some rare form of Parkinson’s but in reality his magic was short-circuiting. I figured it out!” she declared proudly.
Deliverance nodded. She did not know who Parkinson was or why he was diseased, but she assumed it was grave. It made sense magic, being tied with the corporeal body, could also become ill. It was fascinating there was such an array of magical gifts that a brother may breath fire and a sister could heal the intangible.
“Yes and you did a fine job, Miss Eleanor, but you know what the doctors said,” Mrs. Potter interjected.
The girl rolled her eyes. “Yes…that I am not supposed to use my gift until I am fully recovered. But I should be off restriction soon! I’ve finished the courses of treatments and they say the cancer is gone!” she protested.
“Just because it is in remission does not mean your body is fully recovered!” Mrs. Potter replied. It was evident the elderly woman was used to caring for the brash young woman. She took the girl’s protests in stride.
“Agreed,” Jack interrupted, and clearly his word was final. He sidled over to his sister and put an arm around her thin shoulders and plopped a kiss upon her crown. “I cannot have any risk to my best girl, can I?” She smiled up at him begrudgingly, although Deliverance could see the adoration shining behind her façade of indignation.
“Could I at least just check to see if I can detect anything? Please? It won’t mess anything up and I can do it again later under other circumstances. I promise I won’t mess with anything!” Eleanor pleaded with her brother. Jack met Deliverance’s questioning eyes.
“I suppose…I admit I am curious myself. But in the end, it is all entirely up to Deliverance what she wants to be done,” Jack answered levelly.
Deliverance returned their abated glances with a quizzical one. “I am not sure I entirely understand what you mean,” she admitted.
“She wants to see if she can detect your magical malady,” Jack explained.
“Magical malady?”
“I…have a magical malady?”
“Yes, or illness…a genetic condition if you will.”
“Oh…so I’m sick?” Deliverance finally asked with trepidation.
“In a sense, yes,” Jack said gently. “All the people of Nar are.”
“Everyone on the entire island!?”
Jack took her hand and pulled her onto a seat with him on one of the numerous lovely sofas in the room. He kept a hold of her hand and clasped his other on top in a comforting gesture.
“Yes, I am afraid that may be the case. It has been that way for hundreds of years.”
“I still don’t understand. How could you possibly know?” Deliverance stammered, trying to wrap her mind around it all. Her entire island was…sick? Was it dangerous? It could not be if they had thrived for hundreds of years without noticing it.
“It’s rather a large source of academic study and political debate here, actually,” Jack began, but Eleanor cut him off.
“Jack’s main platform as a Senator is Narisi rights,” she informed Deliverance proudly, as if Deliverance would be impressed by this knowledge. She might be if she had any idea what it meant.
“Eleanor, that’s not important right now.” Jack scolded his younger sister. He turned to Deliverance and continued, “A little over seven hundred years ago, the people of Nar were stricken by a magic plague. This was before their pilgrimage to the island—the Exodus, I believe you call it.” Deliverance nodded for him to go on. “The plague rendered men’s magical abilities completely inert. We are not entirely sure if they are dormant or if the plague completely eradicated the magic from their bloodstreams. The women, however, were affected a little bit differently. Their abilities began to shift…to change. Not much was understood at the time about the plague other than the women’s abilities became erratic and it seemed they could steal or mimic others’ powers. You have to understand—adults grow into being able to control their abilities, and when adult women suddenly had their gifts shift and change, it caused mass chaos. Women who had previously been healers accidently burned down whole villages when they touched a fire breather. Thoughts were unknowingly stolen from people by women who were unaware their gift had shifted to a memory-eating. A lot of people died. And many more feared what they did not comprehend or know how to control.
“And so the King of Nar at the time was confronted by the other world rulers and threatened with exile to the island of Nar, in order to save everyone else and to keep the plague from spreading. The king agreed to go without a fight only if the other rulers could find a way to rein in the destruction the Narisi women were waging. He did not want to exile his people to an island and have them consume themselves in magic death. His queen, Queen Arwen the III, had not yet been stricken by the plague, and provided an avenue to help contain the plague on the island. She was a powerful sorceress and some say the king himself, powerful in his own right as a lightning-bringer, was jealous of her craft. Queen Arwen agreed to contain the women’s abilities by bringing down the naming curse onto the women of Nar once they reached the island. It was Arwen’s last act as a sorceress, as the naming curse blighted her own power at the same time it took all the other women’s. She is considered a heroine in Arcanton historical texts. And so the women of Nar have been rendered almost magic-less, save for the gift of their name at birth. It was not until modern day, in recent studies done by the University at Oxdale, that they learned the women on Nar still retained the genetic markers of the plague. We knew from crafted interaction with the male leadership of Nar that they remained magically inert. But it was not until Oxdale undertook controversial research that we understood the women would…well, do what you do, once they left the confines of the island.”
“You mean, mimic and change gifts?” Deliverance asked, after pausing to take it all in. Jack nodded grimly.
“I could probably fix her,” Eleanor broke in pertly.
“That we do not know,” Jack replied with a warning look in his eyes.
Deliverance’s mind was racing. She was sick? They were all sick? But people had lived full lives on Nar for hundreds of years…it was not life threatening
, at least. The more she pondered it though, the more she realized it did not matter if they lived full lives—they did not live the lives they were born to live. The unfairness of it hit her like a branch to the forehead.
She stood up with a shot, ignoring the looks she garnered from the others in the room, and went to pace by the windows. Seeing the outdoors, she reasoned, might help to calm her turbulent mind. But the folds of opulent fabric in the curtains and all the curious straight lines of the groomed garden outside only served to frustrate her more…to inundate her more in the foreign. Until she saw the stars. The same stars Effie and Cat would be seeing on Nar…if they were not relegated to the mines. The God of Horizons was still at work, turning the world slowly, and so she must turn along with it.
“Master Jack, you must realize what a shock this whole ordeal must be for the young woman!” Mrs. Potter was saying to Jack when Deliverance brought her attention back to the room before her.
“Pish posh. She’s been handling everything up until now with the constitution of a soldier!” Jack replied. He didn’t seem to be dismissing Mrs. Potter’s sentiment, but rather boasting about her bearing.
“Still, it will be best to introduce her slowly to what the world is now…or what it is outside, rather,” Mrs. Potter cautioned.
“Yes, I suppose,” Jack relented. “So, you and Eleanor will have your hands full for the next few days while I try to track down the elusive Lord Asher.”
“He is elusive?” Deliverance interjected curiously.
“Erm…he is…eccentric. His proclivities include ranting and disappearing into his world of study and research like a hermit. Oh, and also drowning himself in Scotch,” Jack said dryly.
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