Bringers of Magic (Arucadi Book 2)

by E. Rose Sabin

  Holding Jerome’s arm, she called back over her shoulder, “Come, Marta. It’s all right. Bring Ed. Hurry.”

  “We’re out of time,” Jerome muttered. “If she chooses to stay with that idiot, let her.” He moved on down the corridor, Kyla slowing his progress only a little.

  She heard the clang of a cell door, looked back with a knot of fear in her stomach. Marta stood in the hall with a bedraggled and trembling Ed. Her friend had closed the door to Ed’s cell and, as Kyla watched, stepped across to close the door to the cell assigned to them.

  Jerome did not look behind him. He quickened his pace, and Kyla was forced to match it. She heard Marta and Ed following slowly. They passed from the cell area to the offices in front. Jerome hesitated only briefly, perhaps getting his bearings in the dark. Marta had her mage light, but she stayed too far behind Jerome to let the light benefit him. He found the front door, unlocked it with a key from a large ring he carried, eased it open and peered cautiously outside.

  “We’re late,” he said. “It’s getting light. We’ll never make it. I can’t be seen with you.” He was on the verge of abandoning them to save himself.

  “Wait for Marta and Ed,” Kyla pleaded. “If we’re together, I think I can keep us hidden.”

  He gave her a curious look and waited, his gritted teeth and nervous glances back and forth revealing his impatience. Marta had extinguished the mage light and was supporting Ed. Kyla sensed the power she used to hold him up and lead him along. Seconds dragged by as Jerome grew increasingly restive.

  Marta hadn’t yet caught up when Kyla began a high-pitched hum. Her melody wove around them a cloak of dark blue wind; she had to strain to include Marta and Ed in its protection.

  Marta drew closer, no doubt understanding what Kyla was doing, though Kyla sensed her continued anger. With her attention focused on calming and caring for Ed, fortunately she did nothing to impede their tortuous progress through the streets of Carey.

  The town was beginning to stir. Window shutters creaked open. Horses moved through the streets with a sleepy clop-clop, their drivers delivering bread and milk to shops and houses. Women emptied slop buckets into gutters, creating a stench that contended with the aroma of fresh-baked bread.

  No one glanced their way. Jerome’s nervousness gradually subsided. He walked more confidently, ignoring the stiff wind that blew around them. These women were true wonder workers, and Hardwick was a fool. Jerome would find the way to milk their power. If that meant coddling Simple Eddie for a time, he’d pay that price.

  They reached his mother’s home. He unlocked the door and shepherded his charges inside. Closing the door behind them, he said, “Wait here.”

  Leaving them clustered in the hall, he climbed the stairs and knocked on the door of his mother’s bedroom. Within the hour he'd have to return to his office to replace the keys and conceal his deed before Hardwick arrived. His mother would be cross with him for waking her, and he had little time to persuade her to do what he wanted.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  THREATS AND PROMISES

  Abigail trudged through the dewy grass away from Edwin’s cottage, not caring that her skirt hem was getting soaked. Her head ached and her eyes were hot from sleeplessness and unshed tears. She had managed to convince herself that Edwin would have returned during the night and she would find him in bed asleep. Seeing bed and cottage empty left her numb. She tried to order her thoughts, decide what to do next. Would it be of any use to take the carriage out in another search? She had only a little over an hour before the school day began and she would be expected to conduct the opening devotions.

  Leah could do that for her. She tried to remember whether she'd made any appointments for the two hours she set aside for parent conferences and interviews with prospective students. She didn’t think she had but was sure of nothing. Her brain was muddled and she wondered how she would get through the classes she must teach later in the day.

  She’d cross that bridge when she came to it. If she had to, she could give the students a study period; they wouldn’t mind. A trip into town might turn up some information. She should see Councilor Hardwick to discover what had transpired between him and Edwin yesterday and whether something had happened to frighten Edwin into running away.

  She’d have to hitch the horse to the carriage herself again, no help for that. She had time to get to town and back before her first class. No time for breakfast; her stomach rebelled at the thought of food anyway. She’d confer with Leah, check her appointment book, and go.

  “Miss Dormer, I must talk to you.”

  The man’s voice stopped her before she reached the steps to her home. She turned. Homer Farley hurried toward her, doffing his hat as he approached.

  “Miss Dormer, I know it is irregular to disturb you at this hour, but I felt I could not wait. I’ll not be sending Nora and Beth to school today, and I must tell you why.”

  She waited with growing irritation while he fanned himself with his hat. The morning was cool; he must have run to catch her before she went into the house. At last he continued.

  “Something must be done about that boy of yours, Simple Eddie. He’s frightened and upset my girls. I’ll not have them exposed to his antics. They’re terrified of him.”

  “Nonsense!” The pounding in her head left no room for patience. “It’s the other way around, Master Farley. They’ve teased and frightened Edwin and are at least partially responsible for his having run away. I’m terribly worried about him and must go in search of him.”

  Farley slammed the hat onto his head. “If he’s run away, it’s probably because he fears the consequences of giving my daughters such a fright. I hope he never comes back, but if he does and you continue to defend him against all reason, I shall have no choice but to lodge a formal complaint with the council. Meanwhile, you may withdraw my daughters from your school. They shan’t be coming back to meet with further mistreatment and false accusations.”

  “Good riddance to them,” said Abigail recklessly.

  “I wonder, madam, how your school will fare without many of its pupils. Other parents are bound to withdraw their daughters when I inform them of what’s been happening here. Good day.” He turned on his heel and stalked away.

  What had she done? With his large landholdings, Homer Farley had the influence to cause considerable trouble. If he convinced enough parents to follow his lead, she could be forced to close the school. She should hurry after him and ask to see him and his daughters together, then pressure the little hellions into telling the truth about their treatment of Edwin.

  Her churning stomach and hammering head overruled her judgment. She would not abase herself before Homer Farley, nor would she sacrifice Edwin to appease him.

  Leah came out onto the porch. “What did Master Farley want?” she called down, rousing Abigail from her inertia.

  “My head on a stake,” Abigail said, climbing the steps and resting wearily against the porch railing. She described the confrontation to Leah, who reacted by giving her a warm embrace.

  “Never mind,” Leah said. “We’ll work through this. You take the day off and do what you need to do to find Ed. I’ll open the school, and I’ll see that your classes are covered. They can join with mine or with Dorey’s. Come on, I’ll help with the carriage.”

  “Thanks.” Abigail managed a wan smile. It took a crisis like this to remind her how much she depended on Leah and how fortunate she was to have such a good and loyal friend.

  When he arrived at his office early because of the pressing business of the day, Councilor Hardwick was pleased to find Jerome already at his desk. He did note that his secretary seemed a bit flushed and breathless. Not coming down with some illness, he hoped. That would be most inconvenient.

  “Good morning, Jerome. Come into my office for some dictation. I’ll be sending letters to the other council members to convene the council today. If you take the letters around before mid-morning, we can meet this afternoon to deal with
the so-called wonder workers. I intend— Is something wrong?”

  “Sir, Peace Officer Ben Muller was waiting when I got here. Seems he found the cells empty when he inspected them this morning. He came right here to report it to you, but I didn't think you'd be in for another hour, so I advised him to go rouse Captain Wronson and begin a search. He’s to return here to give you a full report.”

  Hardwick stared at his secretary. No wonder the lad was upset. This was devastating news. He sagged into a chair. “Gone? The prisoners gone? How could they be?”

  “According to Ben, the cell doors were closed but not locked, likewise the door between the cells and the office area. The outer door to the building was locked.”

  “You say cells, plural. Were there other prisoners?”

  “Only one, sir. Simple Eddie. Seems the peacekeepers arrested him late last night. Caught him peeping in a woman’s window, Ben said. He’s gone, too.”

  “Hah! We finally get grounds for locking him up or sending him away, and he escapes! Someone’s head will roll for this.” Hardwick mopped his brow. “Jerome, those prisoners must be found.”

  “Quite so, sir. That’s why I advised Ben to get onto it right away.”

  “You did well. I hope Ben gets back soon. I want his report before I summon the council.”

  “I believe I hear someone coming now, sir.”

  Jerome had keen hearing; Hardwick had noted that before. He hadn't heard the approaching footsteps, the opening of the outer door. But the loud knock on the office door that confirmed his secretary’s forecast was not Ben Muller’s. The door burst open as Jerome reached it and Homer Farley stormed in.

  “Hardwick,” he shouted, shaking his fist. “I want you to convene the council. That Simple Eddie has scared and hurt my girls, and I want action. I want him out of that school and locked up where he can’t hurt anybody else.”

  Hardwick jumped to his feet. “Come into my office and have a seat, Master Farley. I must hear about this.” He led Farley into his inner office and installed him in a chair.

  He was moving to his own chair behind his desk when Jerome announced, “Ben’s back, sir.”

  Everything was happening at once. He needed to see Ben, but he’d have to hear Farley out first. If Farley discovered that Eddie had been in custody and escaped, there’d be hell to pay. “Jerome, I’ll want to talk to Ben myself, but meanwhile, have him give you a complete statement. Get it all down in writing for the council.”

  To Farley, who had followed the exchange with eager interest, he said, “A bit of trouble at the guardhouse this morning. We have it under control.”

  Hardwick closed his office door on Ben and Jerome and settled into his desk chair. “Now, I want to hear exactly what Simple Eddie’s done.”

  Things were working far better than Jerome had dared hope. When he arrived at the office to find Ben waiting, he’d known brief panic: how was he to get into the inner office and return the keys? Had he left any evidence of his presence in the guardhouse? He heard Ben’s story briefly, enough to assure himself that he was not under suspicion. Satisfied on that score, he sent Ben off on the errand to Captain Wronson and, when he had gone, took the precaution of locking the outer door before entering the inner office to replace the borrowed keys.

  He had scarcely completed that task when he heard Hardwick fumbling with the outer door. Hurriedly he relocked the inner office and slipped behind his desk in time to appear to be studying some papers when Hardwick entered. Master Farley’s unexpected arrival gave him a chance to catch his breath. Now Hardwick’s command to take down Ben’s statement provided the opportunity to question Ben and plant suggestions in his mind.

  By the time Farley left wearing a satisfied smirk, Jerome had a neatly written transcript of Ben’s testimony that included a sulfurous odor and mysterious symbols traced in the dust on the cell floor, sure signs that the prisoners had escaped via witchcraft.

  It had been ridiculously easy to convince Ben of those details. Ben was probably embellishing them right now in his conference with Hardwick. The councilor would not easily subscribe to the theory that the women had escaped by supernatural means, spiriting Eddie away with them for some arcane purpose. No matter what he believed, Hardwick would spare no effort to find the women. Jerome would have to be very careful, but so long as he could keep them hidden, they'd be dependent on him and therefore obliged to share their power with him.

  Simple Eddie was the major obstacle in his path. He could not trust the fool to stay hidden nor to keep his mouth shut. He’d had difficulty persuading his mother to give temporary shelter to the simpleton. He’d promised her it would be for no more than a single day. He would have to dispose of Eddie. Jerome disliked the thought of killing but mistrusted any less permanent solution. Since Eddie was already considered missing, he had only to hide the body along with false clues that would cast blame on the women if the body was discovered. Jerome leaned back in his chair and spun his pen in his hand as he considered the possibilities. He would have to make the women think he'd conducted Eddie to a place of safety. If they learned later that Eddie had met with a tragic accident, the blame would not fall on him.

  Unless … could they read minds.? He didn’t think they could, but he’d have to be certain. He’d find a way to test the limits of their power so that he could be careful to work outside those limits. Jerome smiled and rolled the pen back and forth between his palms. He’d needed a good challenge. He’d been bored. Now, life was exciting again.

  Someone was coming. He straightened his chair, dipped his pen into the inkwell, and was busily writing when the office door opened and Abigail Dormer entered.

  “Is Councilor Hardwick in? I must see him.” Her tone was imperious as always, but she looked tired and drawn.

  Jerome rose to his feet and bowed. “The Council Master is in conference at present. I can’t interrupt him, but if you’d care to wait, I don’t believe he’ll be much longer.” He indicated the straight chair near his desk.

  “I don’t have much time,” she said, casting a troubled glance at Hardwick’s closed door.

  Afraid she meant to march in, Jerome asked hurriedly, “Could I be of any help?”

  She measured him with a long look and sank wearily onto the chair. “No, I’ll wait,” she said.

  Jerome concealed a smile. She must have come about Simple Eddie. Probably she’d heard of his arrest and was here to plead for his release. She couldn’t yet know of the “escape.”

  Jerome went back to his writing, but his mind was busy. It would be amusing to involve Abigail Dormer in the disappearance he planned for Eddie. Amusing and not terribly difficult for a man of his talents.

  Kyla thought they were being guided to a washroom where they could get Ed cleaned up. Instead, Mother Esterville, silver hair piled high in feathery curls, arms flapping like wings in the wide sleeves of a brocade robe, herded them up two flights of stairs, her long skirt rustling against the risers. Ed moaned as Marta helped him climb the steps. The woman ushered them into an attic room converted into a shrine.

  She turned to face them, eyes aglow with the light of fanaticism. “Before we do anything else, you’ll want to thank the gods for bringing you to this refuge. I have an icon for each undergod, and there in the center are the symbols of the Great Gods Dor and Dora.” She pointed to the stylized sun of thin metal, either gold or some gold-hued alloy, carefully hung so that it overlapped the full silver moon. Kyla recognized the symbols as identical to those engraved on the gold coins of Arucadi—the dorins. Beneath those hanging tokens, a small round rug graced the rough wooden floor.

  “I give a prayer of greeting to Dor and Dora every morning,” Mother Esterville said. “I think it’s shameful how most people fail to include them in their devotions. Now, though, you’ll want to honor your own patron. You’re from North Woods, so that’s Nisil. I’ll join you in prayer.”

  Opposite the stair, beyond the hanging sun and moon, was a large shrine with a kneeling be
nch in front of it. Wilting flowers that had probably been fresh the day before were woven into the metal lacework around its border. Those and other flowers in baskets before less elaborate shrines dispersed a funereal perfume into the stale attic air. Kyla counted eleven of the other shrines, spaced at close intervals around the room.

  Mother Esterville drove them to one of those. “Here we are!” she announced brightly. “You see, here’s Nisil.” She indicated the embossed painting of a tree with a human face peering through its branches.

  “Oh, but you, young man, you’ll want to ask Harin for healing and strength. You come with me.” She caught Ed by the arm and dragged him to the large shrine. He stood before it uncertainly. “Go ahead,” she urged.

  “What do we do?” Marta whispered to Kyla.

  Kyla didn’t answer; her attention focused on Ed.

  “I only know the school prayer,” he mumbled. “We say it every day in Miss Abigail’s school.”

  “If that’s all you know, that will have to do.” Mother Esterville gazed expectantly at Kyla and Marta. Kyla bowed her head and mumbled a few words—not a prayer to Nisil but a plea to the Power-Giver for patience. She heard Marta follow her example.

  Ed’s childish intonation of the school prayer halted Kyla’s communion with the Power-Giver. She listened.

  “Father Harin, bless us, please—

  Our crops, our herds, our trees,

  Our homes, our friends, our families.

  Keep us from harm and make us good.

  Help us to learn the things we should.

  We thank you for our fertile land,

  For all the bounties from your hand.

  We praise you for your daily care

  Of all within this province fair.”