Bound Magic

by Jenny Schwartz

  He nodded. “After the official opening of the hall on Thursday I will make time. No. No, tomorrow is not possible. Guests will be arriving and my staff will be in uproar. I hired good people, but in the beginning they need access to me and supervision.”

  “Very well.” She extended a wing to brush his. “But after the hall is open, you must prioritize exercising your magical bond with your familiar. I’m sorry, Istvan. I know you are juggling competing demands, but this is vital.”

  “I’ll channel Amy’s magic into a spell Thursday afternoon or evening.”

  “Thank you.”

  They stared at the stars and at the slow-moving river glimmering in the moonlight.

  “This world is beautiful,” Nora said softly. “I am glad we could save it from the Kstvm.”

  It was a stark reminder of what more humanity could have lost if the Faerene hadn’t arrived. Perhaps the stripping of magic from the few humans who’d mysteriously gained it was a small price for them to pay in the overall balance.

  Istvan disagreed. Stripping an innocent person of part of their personhood was not a neutral or forgivable act. But then, his passion for justice was why he was neither a politician nor a scientist.

  Nora continued in the same low voice. “How is Amy?”

  “Amy appears determined to achieve independence, at least within Justice. She’s dragging her guards to every corner of the town, meeting people and demonstrating, sometimes in gauche fashion, her adherence to Faerene customs.”

  Nora picked up on the wrong point. “Her guards?”

  “Someone from the magisterial guard unit accompanies her whenever she leaves the hall.”

  A sharp beak clack. “They are your guards, Istvan, and they have official duties. However. Perhaps Amy should have her own guards?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  He lashed his tail. Was Nora asking for research purposes or out of feminine curiosity as to the workings of his mind? He was aware that his concern for Amy’s well-being and personal development was the antithesis of his attitude toward junior magistrates, and indeed, to the offspring of his Arani Clan on Elysium. “Her independence is important to Amy. Assigning her personal bodyguards would wound her self-perception and goal of equality with us.”

  “Hmm. And this ‘us’ you refer to, is it all Faerene, the Faerene in Justice, or the Faerene of your household?”

  The question confounded Istvan for a minute. He had used “us” unthinkingly. “I believe I referred to those Amy considers her friends. Those whom she has made free of the family room. The family room is a common room Amy requested for relaxation and socialization purposes. I added it to the rear of the hall and keyed it so that she has the power to decide who may enter it or not.”

  “Interesting. Whom has she welcomed to it?”

  “Myself, Rory and his pack, Tineke, Lajos and my chief night clerk, the vampire Emil.”

  Nora preened her feathers whilst thinking. “That is an elite group. If Amy aims to match them, she may have set the bar too high.”

  “We will see,” was all he’d say.

  It was enough to enlighten Nora. “You’re proud of her!”

  “I am. This is a difficult period of adjustment and she has actively engaged with the challenges and is attempting to forge her own path.” He coughed. “The guards report informally to me after their excursions with her. The townsfolk are growing accustomed to her presence, and there are indications of their willingness to adopt her as one of us.”

  “That she’s their magistrate’s familiar would help,” Nora muttered, but not cynically. She was evidently processing the information.

  Istvan was analyzing the problem from a different angle. “In town, I believe Amy is safe. She’s far from naïve. When confronted by people seeking to use her to curry favor with me or with Rory—”

  Nora interrupted. “And that is a challenging situation in itself.”

  “Rory is managing it.”

  Her tailed flicked Istvan’s hind leg hard. “Probably better than you.”

  As a confirmed bachelor griffin, he naturally ignored the temptation she offered to stray into a discussion of romantic affairs. “Rory will not hurt Amy. Nor will anyone in town. Even if they offend her or exclude her, she has the maturity to accept that such is the nature of community life.”

  He paused. “No, what concerns me—the vulnerability that could diminish her trust in me—is if someone hurt those she considers family in Apfall Hill.” When Nora didn’t immediately respond, he added. “They are important to her.”

  Nora’s feathers rippled as she shook. “I apologize. I underestimated your emotional insight, Istvan. You are right. I failed to consider that irrationally or not, Amy would consider that her powerful magician partner should keep her human family safe.”

  “Especially since it is by Faerene demand that she is separated from them.”

  A whistling sigh from the golden griffin expressed her agreement. The human familiars had been forced into significant sacrifice: losing their magic to their Faerene magician partner’s control and, in Amy’s case, being relocated into a foreign society. Even if they hadn’t consciously known how to use their magic, it had been theirs.

  Istvan sighed himself. “I’ll have to look into whether anyone might be willing to relocate to Pennsylvania. A close watch isn’t necessary, but having a Faerene with a moderate level of magical ability nearby might be helpful.”

  “Someone instinctively inclined to manage a territory,” she advised.

  “A dragon. I’ll ask Piros.”

  She shook her head. “He won’t settle—”

  Istvan burst out laughing. “No, not for him to settle there. Piros will go where the action is. He won’t leave the vicinity of Civitas. But he’ll know who might be willing to move and keep a distant eye on Apfall Hill.”

  “You’ll have to introduce the humans to the dragon, so that they know his or her presence in the region is friendly.”

  “Amy can do that. And I need to think of what spells to channel her magic into.”

  Chapter 10

  The night before the official opening of the North American Magistrate Hall I sat squashed between the new mayor of Justice, a handsome middle-aged centaur, and the owner of the apothecary shop and head of the Apothecary Guild of North America, a wispy nymph with a dry sense of humor. The table was crowded, various adjustments having been made so that the very different types of Faerene could eat congenially together.

  In a large space to himself, Istvan’s friend, the dragon Piros, tore into a haunch of lightly seared venison while chatting to Rory.

  The formal dining room hosted a mix of the new town’s notables and visitors who’d arrived early for tomorrow’s opening. Fae King Harold would portal in a few minutes before the midday ceremony. Understandably, his schedule was too full to allow him to dally.

  It was odd to see Piros, the Red Drake whom I’d watched on television eat the failed Fukushima nuclear power plant at the beginning of the apocalypse, now crouch beside Rory laughing at something the guard master said. I wished I was with them. Piros scared me a bit. He was so big and his scales so crimson, but Rory made me feel safe.

  Which was reason enough, here and now, to focus instead on my table companions. My goal had to be to make my own position and my own security in Faerene society and not become dependent on anyone else. Not Rory. Not even Istvan.

  Istvan sat at the head of the table eating cheese and listening attentively to the boisterous comments of a taller than average goblin.

  Concentrate, I commanded myself fiercely, and asked Sabinka about plans I’d overhead for developing a health spa downriver.

  My attention wandered despite the attentive expression I pinned to my face. Peggy and her kitchen crew had outdone themselves. The remnants of a memorable feast lay before us. I could have resented it, how well the Faerene lived while many humans struggled and fought to survive the apocalypse, but the conversation aro
und the table had been disarming.

  The people Istvan had invited to share a meal on the eve of the hall’s opening were VIPs. Each was powerful in some way. And yet, what bubbled through the conversation and brought a pitch of excitement was an overwhelming feeling of relief.

  The Faerene who’d migrated to Earth hadn’t been sure they’d survive. However, now the Rift was sealed and a magistrate had assumed control of the territory. Life could settle into a rhythm of hard work, celebration and community.

  People discussed plans for the future.

  I caught a whisper about a university. Two centaurs spoke casually of “news from Elysium”. An elf drank too much wine and talked about “snobbish bunker folk”.

  My own wine glass was a third full and I’d declined a top up. I refused to be drunk or even tipsy at a semi-official function hosted by Istvan. I meditatively swirled the deep red wine in the glass.

  Sabinka had ceased talking, her attention demanded by the vampire to her right who was Emil’s seethe master from Memphis.

  All of the hints in the conversation ebbing and flowing across the dining room added up to a society far more technologically sophisticated than their daily life suggested. Somewhere, hidden well away from humans, technology suited to a people who could cross worlds was in operation. People were in contact with the Faerene home world of Elysium and, perhaps, with other worlds they’d migrated to. They had to be. They’d admitted at the familiar candidate trials that they’d monitored Earth for centuries, if not for millennia. They wouldn’t have migrated here and left behind the technology to communicate with home.

  For some reason they were living a simple life, without those technologies. Perhaps it was in solidarity with humanity’s return to Renaissance level living. More likely, the Earth’s shield was as fragile as I’d been told, and the Faerene were refraining from stressing it with anything more than limited use of the planet’s resources. We really had come that close to annihilation via the jaws of a Kstvm invasion.

  This was a party to celebrate that we’d survived—minus six sevenths of humanity and two hundred and forty Faerene who’d died defending and sealing the Rift.

  Thursday began with rain, which fortunately—or magically—cleared by ten o’clock. That meant the opening ceremony could go ahead in sunshine.

  From my position five steps down and to the side, I watched as Fae King Harold officially opened the Magistrate Hall. Nora, a golden griffin, stood with me. We must have made a striking sight. Her golden coloring was shot through with crimson, while my dress was unrelievedly black.

  Pavel had dictated my appearance for the occasion. The front-buttoned dress had a fitted bodice with a gored skirt that flared out around my new knee-high boots. My hair was wound in a low knot that wouldn’t dislodge my narrow-brimmed hat. The fall air was just warm enough that I didn’t need a jacket over the wool dress.

  The guard unit had increased by four, and all of them stood at the edge of the front portico looking out and looking splendid in their navy-blue uniforms.

  A band struck up the Freedom Anthem, and I joined in.

  Tineke had instigated a singing lesson two evenings’ ago in the family room, insisting that I needed to know the popular tune. Now, I sang along with the crowd and was peripherally aware of the surprised and approving looks my joining in gained me. Tineke’s advice on fitting me into Faerene society was astute.

  The singing of the Freedom Anthem concluded the opening ceremony. People relaxed into conversation. Everyone in Justice seemed to be there. Most had turned up in their work clothes, and about a third vanished quickly to return to their labors. But everyone else wanted to party, and street food vendors and the town’s two saloons were ready for them.

  The magisterial guard unit remained on duty as they mingled with those who stayed for a chance to talk to Harold and the other high profile guests.

  Istvan had people talking at him.

  I had a number of curious people from among the visitors who wanted to meet and question Istvan’s familiar. I no longer grimaced when I heard my title, “Istvan’s familiar”. But it didn’t endear to me the people using it.

  “And what was it like to use magic before we,” the grand and glorious “we” that meant the Faerene, “found you and brought your magic under control?” My inquisitor was a snub-nosed goblin with purple blotches, like freckles, across his blue face. He wore a fine, orange wool jacket and burnt-orange-colored trousers with pointy-toed brown boots.

  “Until Dorotta the messenger dragon told me that I had magic I was unaware that I used any. My magic pushed into the healing I did for my town. We had a bad fever epidemic through summer.” I’d answered this question before. “My town survived better than most.”

  “Do you miss your magic?”

  That was a less common question. I studied the female nymph who’d asked it. “No. It’s not easy to miss something you didn’t know you had. I miss not being able to help people. Or at least, not being able to help people directly. I trust Istvan to use my magic beneficially.”

  My diplomatic and truthful answer drew a contemplative nod from the nymph.

  “Well said.”

  I spun around. I hadn’t seen Nora return from her conversation with Nils. I wasn’t sure why she had returned. When I’d met her at the familiar trials, I’d been distractedly amused by her interaction with Istvan. She was such a pretty, feminine griffin and he was so resolutely uninterested. Or was he? But on the steps of the magistrate hall my amusement had evaporated. There was something off about the manner in which Nora scrutinized my every action and word.

  I had the disturbing notion that I was more an alien research subject than a person to her. She was a scientist and I was the bug she was studying.

  I much preferred Tineke’s campaign to turn me into a pseudo-Faerene. At least to the elf, I was a person.

  Human history abounded in instances in which removing person status opened the door for atrocities. The Faerene weren’t human, but I was coming to believe that sentience, regardless of species, brought many of the same sins and virtues.

  “Excuse me,” I said to Nora. Just this once I was going to allow myself to flee.

  I did so at a moderate pace, pausing to speak with Istvan’s guests when they hailed me, but heading purposefully through the public rooms of the hall and up the stairs to my room. I closed the doors and slid the bolt across, barring anyone from entering.

  The band of tension that had been compressing my chest eased. I sat on the divan and took off my boots, padding across to the window in my socks to look down at the town’s streets and the people celebrating. Even those who’d returned to work were celebrating in their own way. Earth had survived the opening of the Rift and now there was a future to be built.

  With so many strangers in the hall I wasn’t about to venture down to the bathing pool, but I stripped off and floated in my private bath for half an hour, inhaling the scent of lavender and thyme. I dressed once more in my new black clothes from Pavel, but I chose practical trousers and a loose jacket over a black silk shirt rather than a dress and heels. As I laced the low-heeled, rubber-soled boots, I recognized that I’d chosen clothes that I could run or fight in. Despite my retreat and relaxing bath, on some level, I still felt threatened.

  I waited another half an hour, trying to occupy myself with one of the classic Faerene novels Tineke had given me, but restlessness had me looking up and out the window every couple of pages. Finally, I put the book on my desk and unbarred the doors. I closed them behind me, but didn’t lock them. No one was venturing up the stairs to Istvan’s and my rooms, and I suspected that it was a spell rather than their good manners that kept them away.

  The kitchen was relatively quiet. After the feast last night and an excellent breakfast, for lunch people were expected to join the street party in town. I should.

  Peggy greeted me enthusiastically. “Amy, you looked beautiful in your new dress, but changing clothes was sensible. A town party get
s rowdy. Yana, you should have her home at sunset.”

  I hadn’t heard Yana enter behind me. Turning to give her a smile, I saw that Nora had also entered the kitchen.

  Peggy’s voice cooled a fraction, marking the distinction between friend and guest. “Mistress Nora, aren’t you out enjoying the party? Justice is a neighborly town.”

  “I decided to wait for Amy.” The golden griffin addressed me. “I thought you might like company for your first experience of a Faerene town party.”

  Yana stood between Nora and me, although not blocking my line of sight.

  It seemed that I wasn’t the only person to notice Nora’s preoccupation with me.

  Peggy’s constant chatter hid how shrewdly she observed the world. However, once you saw through that smokescreen, the real woman was a matriarch who would do anything for her extended family, and who’d given her secondary allegiance to the magistrate hall. She’d use her position here to advance her family, but she’d also help us.

  Her wary attitude toward Nora could have been designed to repulse a female who was interested in the head of our household, Istvan, but that was a far-fetched assumption. By the way Peggy handed Yana and me hot savory pastries—Peggy’s solution to problems always began with feeding people—she too found something off in Nora’s stalking of me.

  “You should visit my family’s house,” Peggy advised me. Her gaze flickered to include Yana. Peggy’s multi-occupant home was next door to the Hope Fang pack house. It was a location where I’d be surrounded by allies, and the walk to it was sufficient for people to see me participating in the street party. “We’re hosting an open house. People can walk through, view the quality of our construction, and talk about possibilities for their own permanent houses and other buildings. There’ll be hot spiced cider and chestnut cakes.”

  “Yum,” Yana said immediately.

  “I can’t resist your chestnut cakes, Peggy,” I added.

  “I know.” The cook grinned, dimples appearing in her round face.