The King's Seal

by Amy Kuivalainen

  So you made it here at last, did you, Penelope? I’m sure it’s taken you long enough. To answer the most burning question in that brain of yours—yes, they are modeled after my rooms that were once in the Citadel of Magicians. Can you blame an old woman for being homesick? I understand that part of you always longs to know more about Atlantis, so I decided to allow the rooms and magic to remain once I was dead, so you would have somewhere to go and be near it.

  Everything in here is yours, but the real gift is that you now have a peaceful place that will not admit the others if you don’t want them to enter. No doubt, you have realized that living with magicians is complicated, and you were fool enough to fall in love with the greatest of us.

  Your magic will be starting to come through by now, and you might have found the truth of its original owner, but there is something you must understand—it is your magic now. It doesn’t matter who it has been passed through. Know that it will help you if you let it. It’s a part of you as much as your kidneys are, not something to fear and hide from. No more hiding, Penelope. You are the Archivist now. I’m counting on you to watch over them and make sure they don’t do anything particularly foolish.

  The astrolabe holds the answers to all of your questions; ask it what you need, and it will guide you. There are only two things I will ask of you: light the incense for Poseidon and kiss Alexis for me. He likes to hide his grief almost as much as you do.

  –Nereus

  “Holy crap.” Penelope lowered the letter to her lap. She was never going to get used to magic messages popping out of thin air. How many more had Nereus hidden about? Penelope placed the orichalcum cuff over her wrist, unable to part with it.

  What had Nereus meant by lighting the incense for Poseidon? Penelope hung on to the letter as she strolled about the bedroom, finding a stunning bathroom made of tiny aqua and gold tiles. “Extra” didn’t even begin to cover the opulence of the design.

  Penelope peered into a wardrobe, finding what looked to be the fashions from the past ten thousand years, then came upon a pair of wooden screen doors. She thought it might have been another wardrobe but instead found a funerary stele carved from driftwood. It had been mounted on the wall, and in front of it was a low table covered in copper bowls of herbs, shells, and stones, and pyramid-shaped incense burners. Nereus’s instructions suddenly made sense as Penelope looked up into the carved likeness of Poseidon. He held a trident in one hand, like many surviving likenesses of Poseidon, but that was the only similarity. He wasn’t the typical muscle-bound god or the old man of the sea. He was tall, like all of the Atlanteans, with long, curling hair and a patrician’s nose, and from the angle she was standing, she felt like Poseidon was looking down it at her. In his other hand, he held a book, the trident-and-book symbol carved upon the cover. He had the bearing of the scholar-king that he was and would’ve been damn imposing in real life.

  “You look like a hard guy to impress, but I fear Nereus’s ghost more than yours.” Penelope reached for some matches that had been left by a bottle of wine and wooden goblet. She struck the match and held the flame to the incense. The room filled with the ancient smell of forgotten things. Penelope tried to identify what it was, but it came to her as feelings: cold ocean waves between her toes, the tingle of spring coming, a flower she’d never smelled before, the first taste of new wine, a lover’s caress in the darkness.

  “Hello, Poseidon. I’m Penelope,” she said and touched the book in the magician’s hand. She didn’t even have time to scream as the rooms dropped away. In an instant, she was standing on a beach, the night sky ablaze with stars above her.

  Poseidon stood in front of her, arms folded and looking down at her. If Penelope thought the stele had looked imposing before, nothing could’ve prepared her for the real thing.

  Tall and lean with broad shoulders and long black hair, Poseidon wore a blue tunic and a kilt of dark leather, painted with gold and buckled with a sword belt. Magic radiated off him in potent waves that made Penelope want to turn and run the other way.

  “W-What the hell is going on?” she whispered.

  “So, it will be you then,” Poseidon said in a voice as deep as the ocean they stood beside. He had the most brilliant aquamarine eyes, and Penelope found she was afraid to look away from them.

  “It will be what?”

  “You’re the one that is meant to stop Thevetat.” His tone revealed his skepticism. “The heir. My heir. I thought I would get some kind of warrior, at least. You look like a scared little girl.”

  “You would too if you were ripped back through time and space to a doomed island to talk with a god.” Penelope scanned the empty beach; this had to be some kind of illusion or a trick to mess with her. “You’ve had your fun, Nereus. Let me wake up now!”

  “Who is Nereus? What are you raving about, woman?”

  “Nereus. Your heir, Nereus,” Penelope explained.

  Poseidon frowned, and the air crackled around him. “If what you say is true, I haven’t met her yet.”

  “What do you mean? She’s the one who told me to light incense and now I’ve apparently time traveled!” Penelope said, her frustration overriding her fear.

  “Explain,” he demanded, and his power sizzled in the air. Penelope opened her mouth and the story of how Nereus found Poseidon and he taught her his magic came tumbling out. Poseidon’s frown deepened with every word.

  “In case you’re wondering, I’m her heir. Or I’m meant to be,” Penelope finished explaining. “I lit incense and here I am.”

  “You are a magician?”

  Penelope laughed. “Um, not exactly, though people keep telling me I am.”

  Poseidon grabbed her arm. “I can feel…” He closed his eyes for a moment. “You have some of my magic.” He twisted the cuff on her wrist. “And you wear my insignia to show your allegiance. What you’re raving about is the truth.”

  Oh boy, did she need to snap out of whatever this magic was. “Why am I here? Why would Nereus send me here?”

  “I don’t know. This magic that binds you must belong to your master, but you have a link that is tied to another magician. How did such a binding occur?”

  “No idea, but his name is Alexis. Nereus said my fate is tied to his.”

  Poseidon rubbed his chin and muttered something under his breath that Penelope didn’t catch. “You are going to stop the demon and the priests of darkness I keep seeing in my visions, aren’t you?”

  “His name is Thevetat, and I’m certainly going to try.”

  “How many warriors do you have in your army?”

  “Eight,” Penelope said, raising her chin. “So far anyway.”

  “Eight! Surely you jest.”

  “Seven magicians, including myself. And a human.”

  To Penelope’s surprise, Poseidon laughed. “You must be quite a capable eight.”

  “We are.”

  Poseidon raised an eyebrow at the confidence in her voice. It was confidence she didn’t always feel, but she wasn’t going to let some dead magician king mock her either.

  “There’s a fire in you, woman. I like that. Tonight, I did a ritual to see the one who would save us all from Thevetat, and here you are. I’m not going to question it. The magic in you says you are my heir, so I will believe what you say. Well met, Penelope.” He offered her his hand, and Penelope took it. He kissed the back of her wrist, and strange magic filled the air, along with the scent of horses, the sea, and a hint of something floral Penelope couldn’t identify. When Poseidon stepped back, his insignia was left glowing on her skin, and then it faded to a dark blue tattoo. It pulsed with his power as Penelope pulled her hand away.

  “What did you just do to me?” she demanded.

  “I gave you my blessing, magician, and because you’re untrained, I’m going to send you a protector—someone whose devotion to me will be the key to finding you. I see the magic that is connecting us through time is fraying. Go now, my heir. Make me proud.”

  Poseido
n kissed her forehead, and Penelope was thrown off the beach and back into Nereus’s bedchamber. She slumped to the floor, fear and adrenaline pumping through her veins as a panic attack swept over her. The moíra desmós inside of her throbbed, and the silvery black sand of a portal shimmered in the air.

  “Penelope!” Alexis’s voice roared from the other side. He forced his hand through, but whatever magic Nereus had over her rooms would not let him any farther. Penelope grabbed his hand and pulled with all of her might.

  “Let him in! I give permission!” she shouted at the room. Penelope jerked backward as Alexis hurtled through the portal and caught her as they both crashed to the floor.

  “Are you hurt?” Alexis checked her over, his eyes wild.

  Penelope trembled as the panic attack dragged her down.

  “Look at me, Penelope. Focus on me. You’re okay. You’re safe. Tell me what you need.”

  “Hold me as tight as you can,” she managed.

  Alexis pulled her to him, resting her back against his chest and wrapping his arms around her. “Breathe with me, cara.”

  Penelope held his hand over the pressure in her chest and focused on matching her breath to his until the pain eased. Alexis’s heat and scent surrounded her, and the feeling of safety slowly returned.

  “Thank you,” Penelope said finally. She blinked back tears.

  Alexis rested his face in the groove of her shoulder and froze. “What happened, Penelope? You smell like—” He inhaled, burying his nose in her hair. “By the gods, you smell like Atlantis. The flowers that used to grow there…the scent is caught in your hair. What happened?”

  Penelope took a deep breath, then told Alexis everything that had happened since breakfast. He stared around the rooms like he was lost in time, his eyes filling with tears that he refused to let fall.

  “I’ve never been in here,” he admitted. His eyes lingered on the murals before he went to the window. “It looks so much like home. This magic is like nothing I’ve ever seen. The letter is right. This is exactly how her rooms were at the citadel.”

  Penelope followed him to the carved stele of Poseidon. He sniffed the incense and shook his head.

  “This is definitely Nereus’s magic. She used to make this incense to make magicians’ visions clearer. She clearly wanted you to meet Poseidon. I can’t imagine the complexity of magic she used to make it happen.” Alexis turned Penelope’s wrist and ran a thumb over the book and trident. “There is magic bound up in this mark. Protections that I don’t understand—powerful protections.”

  “Great. Something else for me to stress about.”

  “It used to be the symbol for the Citadel-trained magicians. Poseidon founded us, and this was his personal mark. It’s like past and present are colliding.” Alexis kissed her fingers before releasing her hand. “Gods, you scared me. I couldn’t reach you. The connection between us completely disappeared. It wasn’t like when you astral-travel. According to the wards, you were gone entirely.”

  Penelope wrapped her arms around him, resting her face in the groove of his chest that seemed to be made just for her. “I’m sorry I scared you.”

  “Don’t apologize for something you had no control over. No wonder you had a panic attack.” Alexis went to kiss her forehead but paused. “I can feel his power here too. He’s done something to your third eye.”

  “Just what I need. He said he was going to send me a protector. Do you think he meant you?”

  “I honestly don’t know. If he did, I’m sure I would’ve received a letter from Nereus too. I suppose we’ll have to wait and find out.”

  “Sometimes I wish magic was less complicated and unpredictable.”

  Alexis pulled her close. “I’d like to say you’ll get used to it, but I never have. Take comfort in the fact that Poseidon’s blessing will help you in some way, even if we don’t know how yet.”

  And it’s going to be a mixed blessing, no doubt. Penelope took Alexis’s hand. “I can’t do anything about metaphysical discussions with dead magicians, but I can get back to work searching for the ring. Let’s go back to the Archives.”

  ONCE BACK IN the secure and familiar surroundings of her office, Penelope visibly relaxed, and the frightened wariness in her eyes eased ever so slightly.

  You could have broken her in a little more gently, Nereus. Alexis couldn’t understand why his mentor would be so reckless. There was an urgency with Thevetat’s priests on the move, but traumatizing a new magician was callous, even for her. He tried to consider the implications that Nereus, and now Penelope, had been heirs to Poseidon. Had Poseidon told Nereus of Penelope’s visit, and that’s the reason she had chosen her?

  The feeling of being adrift in a river of time came over him again, and Alexis forced himself to focus on the wall of information in front of him, lest he drown in memory and possibilities and the sheer frustration at other magicians messing with his beloved.

  “Tell me what you found in the letters,” said Penelope. She was studying the patterns of paper he’d made on the floor.

  “As we figured out last night, there have been exactly four letters every year since 1455.” Alexis stepped in between the piles.

  “And that was when the third falling-out happened?”

  “The actual argument occurred in 1452. It took him nearly three years to bother writing, and by then, I’d accepted that reconciliation wasn’t worth the trauma of arguing it out with him.”

  “You say that, but a third falling-out means there were two before that you managed to overcome. Perhaps Constantine was hoping it would happen again. These letters make it clear that he was adamant the friendship could be fixed.”

  Penelope crouched down amongst the letters, touching the dates but not reading anything more than that. He had to admire her restraint; as a historian with such information literally at her fingertips, it must have been difficult for her. Her respect of his privacy seemed to trump any of her curiosity. It made love for her surge up so quickly he fought not to kiss her.

  “Most of the letters are a one-sided argument, Penelope. He was trying to wear me down to see his point of view.”

  “I suppose when you’re immortal, you have plenty of time to try to get someone to change their mind. If it comes to it, can I trust you to put aside your grievances with Constantine to get the information we need?”

  Alexis was taken aback that she felt she had to ask such a thing. “Of course I will, cara. Never doubt that I will put finding Solomon’s ring above all. It’s more important than any disagreement. If Constantine has information that can help us, I’ll do anything to get it out of him. I might even beat it out of him if he wants to be a prick about it.”

  Penelope laughed, though they both knew he meant it. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

  “It won’t. Hunting a weapon to kill a demon prince is exactly the kind of thing Constantine loves. He’ll annoy us until he knows all the details.”

  Penelope raised an eyebrow. “Each one of you seems to have a complicated love-hate thing with Constantine. Why did you fall out?”

  Alexis sat down on the floor beside her. “Which time?”

  “Whichever one is easiest to talk about.”

  “The last time, I refused to get involved—or let Constantine get involved—in the war with Mehmed II and the siege of Constantinople.”

  Penelope paused in her shuffling. “Seriously? Why would anyone choose to go into a siege?”

  “He couldn’t handle the idea of his city falling to the Ottomans. It didn’t matter that the Roman Empire was no more and that the siege was on its last gasp. Constantine thought he could save it—with my help and magic, of course. I tried to explain to him that all empires must fall in order for something new to grow, but he wasn’t in the right frame of mind to listen to anything I had to say. He wasn’t able to live with the idea of losing the dream of Constantinople, but I couldn’t live with losing him in some suicidal mission. So I locked him up until it was over.” />
  “That seems a little extreme.”

  “It was the only way to stop him.”

  “Was it a high tide?” Penelope asked, a teasing gleam in her eye.

  “I suppose, now that I think about it, it was.” He didn’t like what that connection said about him. Or what it boded for the upcoming months.

  “Okay, so you locked Constantine up, and he was pissed about it. I can understand that. What about the time before that?”

  “That was when he became…whatever he is now.”

  Penelope frowned at the letters in her hands. “I have many follow-up questions, but I think I just found something.”

  “What?” Alexis leaned over her shoulder.

  “Look at the top of the letters. They all list a date and a place.” Penelope rearranged the piles. “They form a pattern. See? Niš, Dubrovnik, Istanbul, and Badija, then back again.”

  “He’s moving about with the seasons,” said Alexis, catching on.

  “Exactly. If we’re right, Constantine should be in Badija this time of year—or about to head there.” Penelope wriggled to pull her phone out of her pocket and started tapping away. “It’s a tiny island in Croatia. It doesn’t look like there’s much there, just a monastery and some tourist places for day snorkeling.”

  “He could be staying at the monastery. He’s always liked going for contemplation a few times a year.”

  “It’s worth checking out. If Constantine’s not there, maybe the priests will be able to tell us where he went or have a number for him.”

  “Constantine is clever, perhaps one of the most cunning men I’ve ever known. He wouldn’t have written the locations on his letters if he didn’t want us to find him.” Alexis sighed in resignation. “When would you like us to go?”

  Penelope smiled. “You’re not going to argue about it or try to talk me out of involving him?”

  “You say that like I have the slightest chance of convincing you.”