“As I understand it.”
“And the others? Kett and Kandy?”
“I do not know, mistress.”
“But …” I hesitated, afraid to voice the question I’d been holding back even from myself. A question of time. I’d been badly wounded, both by the removal of Reggie’s gemstone and by the brawl with the treasure keeper. Badly enough that I was still scarred, still weakened even after Qiuniu had healed me. So it was an easy guess that more than a day had passed — but how much more was a detail I’d been avoiding thinking about.
“I missed the wedding, didn’t I?”
“The wedding was canceled, yes.”
“How long … how long was I held by the elves? And how long have I been here?”
“Judging the passing of time from your territory, it is the morning of December 29.”
I nodded, fighting back tears over the thought of missing my own wedding. I’d lost almost two weeks. To Reggie and to healing.
“They need you now, mistress.” Blossom touched the edge of the folded paper in her pocket, but she didn’t pull it out. “The witches. The oracle. They have done what they can, but they need you now.”
I surged to my feet, then crouched to retrieve my katana and satchel. “Are you … can you take me to Vancouver?”
“No. That, I am not capable of doing. But the oracle has found you a path.”
I nodded, spinning on my heel and racing back to my father’s chambers. If saving the others meant following orders, then that I could do. Rochelle hadn’t steered me wrong yet.
A fourth set of armor had joined the three sets already hanging in my father’s chambers. The newest set wasn’t as bulky, though, and appeared to have been constructed out of supple black leather. It glistened with grassy witch magic, likely layering it with defensive spells to repel magical assault. It would fit me like a glove — so much so that I was likely to have trouble lacing it up on my own.
“I’ll do your hair, mistress.” Blossom spoke up from behind me. She’d followed me into the bedroom.
I set my weapons on the table at the base of the bed, then settled on the floor, cross-legged before the armor. Blossom stepped up, gently teasing her fingers — along with her magic — through my curls.
“The armor was to be a wedding gift from Warner?”
“No, mistress. The armor is from your father.”
I laughed. Of course it was. Because what baker didn’t need a full set of armor as a wedding gift?
Blossom dressed me. I couldn’t actually remember the last time anyone had done so, and the process was awkward but ultimately necessary. The leather was lined with silk, so it slipped on easily enough, but there definitely wouldn’t have been any way to get every piece cinched into place and laced up without help. The armor went on in overlapping sections, likely so that a single piece could be removed or replaced without having to remove the entire suit.
Skintight pants that ended at my lower calves were tucked into knee-high laced boots. A vest was layered over top of a long-sleeved shirt. An invisible sheath was built into my right thigh for my jade knife. Another invisible sheath was set across my back for my katana. Twined around my neck three times, my necklace sat within a collar that could be left unbuttoned, or closed over the artifact and laced up to protect my neck.
Since nasty creatures had a habit of trying to gouge out my throat, I could see the practical appeal. Still, I had Blossom leave it unlaced for the time being, because it was a trifle tight and rather choky.
I glanced into the full-length mirror on the inside of the door to my father’s wardrobe, not recognizing the fierce visage that stared back at me. Blossom had twisted my hair into short rows held tightly against my head, then coiled each separate twist into a series of almost flat spirals at the back. Between the hair and the armor, I looked … imposing. Deadly. Especially with a large circular crimson scar in the center of my forehead.
“I can’t really walk the streets of Vancouver looking like this,” I said.
“No, mistress. But the sentinel had this made for you. It might help.”
She was holding a swath of fabric in her hands. It glistened with witch magic, shifting from a beige to a dark gold in color when it caught the light. I kneeled down, running my fingers across it. It felt like and appeared to be chain mail, but when Blossom settled it over my head, it turned out to be a sleeveless sweater. In form, at least.
The delicate chain mail hung off my shoulders all the way down to the middle of my thighs, covering enough of the black leather armor that I looked as though I might have just stepped off the pages of some slightly edgy fashion magazine. The mail’s wide neckline didn’t interfere with my katana or my necklace. And slits up to my lower waist on either side meant I could access my knife and move without being hindered.
I gazed at myself in the mirror, desperately wishing that Warner had been the one to give me this beautiful, intricate piece of magic. Wishing that Blossom hadn’t felt it necessary to bring the armor to me. Wishing that whatever I was about to face hadn’t demanded that action from the brownie in the first place.
Then I cleared my throat, shoving the wishes and the trepidation down as deeply as I could. I kneeled solemnly before Blossom. “I think you have delayed as long as you can,” I said, knowing that whatever the brownie had to tell me, whatever path the oracle was about to open for me, placed Blossom in an uncomfortable position with the treasure keeper.
She nodded. Then she carefully pulled the folded piece of paper from the pocket of her apron dress.
For the first time since I’d met the oracle, I reached for the sketch eagerly. Rochelle had rescued me from the elves. She’d known what I needed to see. So I would follow wherever else she needed to lead me.
Before I opened the drawing, I met Blossom’s eye. “Thank you. For bringing me the sketch in the stadium. And for this … the armor, taking care of me. You are a good friend. A blessing. For me and my family.”
Blossom nodded. When she spoke, her voice was husky. “It is an honor to serve you, Jade Godfrey.”
Then she disappeared without another word.
Or perhaps to avoid further interrogation.
I opened the sketch. Darkly smudged charcoal delivered the path the oracle had found for me in one simple image — the head and shoulders of a smiling Buddha statue wearing a necklace. An amulet, to be more specific. An amulet bearing a single large stone.
Rendered in black and white, at least, it looked identical to the magical artifact that Blackwell wore. An artifact that gave the dark sorcerer the power of teleportation.
“I know you,” I whispered to the Buddha captured grinning on the paper. “Sneaky, sneaky oracle.”
I grabbed my satchel, double-checking that I still had Kandy’s cuffs and Warner’s knife tucked within its magical depths.
Then I headed out to plunder the treasure keeper’s stash.
Breaking into the treasure keeper’s chamber was as easy as opening a door, walking through the portal magic, then appearing between mountains of haphazardly piled magical artifacts — furniture, jewels, gold coins, and actual treasure chests.
You know, loot. A pirate’s hoard times infinity.
Seriously, Pulou needed to invest in some shelving units.
Granted, I had experienced a split second of doubt in the in-between — the moment during which I was suspended in the portal magic until my foot made contact with the marble floor on the other side. The last time I’d walked through a portal without permission, I hadn’t made it all the way through. Warner had been the only person capable of retrieving me then. Though that might have been because the treasure keeper had just had his brain scrambled by one of the three silver centipedes currently clipped to the thick gold chain dangling around my neck.
Anyway.
Treasure. A trove. More than a trove. Dozens upon dozens of troves, hidden somewhere in Antarctica.
Right. Now was seriously not the time to wonder how many feet of ice
Pulou’s chamber was buried underneath. I had a Buddha statue to find and a teleportation amulet to steal — assuming I was reading the oracle’s sketch correctly.
It wasn’t the value of the precious metals or gems that dictated what artifacts were collected and housed by the treasure keeper. It was their magical significance. Specifically, Pulou collected magical items that could be used in nefarious ways — which, honestly, was anything of a certain power level. In many cases, it was the user, the owner, of a particular item that was the real issue. And as such, a lot of so-called owners didn’t survive Pulou’s retrieval of the object in question.
The point was, I was surrounded by so much magic that I had to shut down my dowsing ability as tightly as I could. As I did, I used the magic in my necklace and my knife to form an extra layer, an extra buffer between me and everything else.
But as a result, even if I hazarded a guess that the amulet had been created by the same alchemist who made the artifact Blackwell wore, and that this new amulet might also share the taste of baked potato, sour cream, and chives, I couldn’t use that taste to narrow my focus. I wouldn’t be able to sense it through the magical sensory assault that was the treasure keeper’s chamber. I was going to have to search for the ivory Buddha by sight.
Unfortunately, the last time I’d been in the chamber, I had inadvertently collapsed a few piles of treasure — and sort of caused an avalanche throughout the entire place. As such, the jovial Buddha that had once worn my mangled and blood-crusted katana as a crown might well have been buried.
Nonetheless, I followed my instincts — because my sense of direction seriously sucked. I strolled forward as if I knew where I was going, clasping my hands behind my back so I didn’t linger, caressing treasure after treasure —
Ooh, that burnished-gold high-backed chair was awfully pretty. And that low, square-edged chest would make a perfect coffee table —
Focus, Jade. Focus.
Buddha. Buddha. Buddha.
I wondered if praying would work. I mean, I wasn’t a Buddhist, but it might be worth a try.
I was supremely hilarious.
In my head, anyway.
I skirted a large chest containing golden goblets, gem-crusted bowls, and piles of leather-bound books. And as I did, I spotted the smooth, ivory-carved head of the Buddha in the next pile over.
Yes!
Jade 1, treasure keeper 0.
Seriously, though. Organizational skills were not to be treated this lightly.
I rounded the treasure pile, seeing the three-foot-tall Buddha half buried in coins of various sizes and metals. A steel broadsword large enough to be wielded by a giant was angled across the ivory statue’s lap, which seemed disrespectful. Granted, my understanding of Buddhism was a little thin.
A golden chain adorned with a large teardrop-shaped sapphire was hanging around the statue’s neck. Blackwell’s amulet held a ruby, similarly sized but differently shaped. But otherwise, the artifact adorning the Buddha’s neck appeared to be a match to the sorcerer’s amulet, including the runes etched onto the links of the chain and the setting that housed the gem.
“Bingo,” I whispered. Reaching for the artifact with my dowser senses, I immediately got a hint of buttery, creamy potato lightly sprinkled with chives.
I was on my way to Vancouver.
You know, once I figured out how to teleport. The artifact didn’t appear to come with a user manual.
But when I tried to remove the amulet from the Buddha’s neck, I couldn’t budge it.
I couldn’t curl my fingers around it. I couldn’t even wiggle it. It was stuck to the ivory statue.
That was odd.
I tried to lift the gigantic sword off the Buddha’s lap. Again, I couldn’t even wiggle it.
I’d never stopped to think about what place the Buddha held as a permanent fixture in the treasure keeper’s collection. Maybe it attracted other magical items? Then held on to them? Which was maybe why my katana had adorned its head? But Shailaja had easily retrieved the mangled sword, right before she’d used it to slit my father’s throat. So that didn’t add up.
Dropping some of the defensive shielding I’d gathered around me, I reached out with a trickle of my dowser senses. I tasted the Buddha’s magic, then the magic of the sword, then the coins scattered all around …
And overwhelming the taste of the magic of the artifacts themselves was the taste of the treasure keeper’s magic. Black tea topped with a large slosh of thick cream.
I crouched down, reaching for a coin sitting on the marble floor. It was off by itself, separated from the nearest magical objects.
I couldn’t pick it up.
I grabbed for a different coin. Then a goblet, then a small dagger.
I couldn’t move a single thing.
I jogged over to the neighboring pile of treasure. Once there, I tried to pick up a gold-framed mirror, an emerald-crusted bowl, and another handful of coins in turn.
Everything was magically glued in place.
The freaking treasure keeper had warded everything in the chamber against pilfering. Or, I suspected, specifically against me.
Apparently, I only got to rip Pulou off once.
Jade 1, treasure keeper 1.
Panic welled up in my heart.
I was trapped, either in Pulou’s chamber or in the nexus — assuming I could even make my way back. Elves were invading Vancouver. And I was helpless.
Losing the tight grip with which I’d been holding my shit at bay, I repeatedly kicked the pile of treasure nearest to me in silent but fierce frustration. Because it was either that or burst into tears. My only reward was a seriously bruised toe, but the pain provided some much-needed focus.
Pacing and limping, I tried to wrap my head around the puzzle I’d been presented. I pulled the oracle’s sketch out of my satchel, stepping back to contemplate the Buddha and the amulet, then comparing Rochelle’s charcoal rendering to the actual statue and artifact.
Rochelle wouldn’t have sent the sketch to me if I hadn’t been meant to retrieve the artifact. I obviously needed it for some reason. My supposition had been that it would help me break out of the nexus, but whatever the case …
Wait. Not ‘it.’
I didn’t need the actual amulet.
I needed the magic it held. I needed the teleportation spell.
I wasn’t just a thief. I was a freaking alchemist.
“Jesus, Jade,” I muttered to myself. “You seriously are a moron sometimes.”
Stepping forward, I untwined my necklace from my neck, then carefully looped it over the Buddha’s head. Doubling it to shorten the chain, I aligned the golden chain with the sapphire artifact as closely as possible, making certain to never lose contact with it — just in case Pulou’s warding spell tried to collect and keep my magical artifact as well.
Then I threaded my fingertips through the necklace’s wedding rings, touching the amulet underneath but not the Buddha. I reached for the artifact’s baked-potato-imbued magic with my alchemy. I teased the power housed within the gold and sapphire of the amulet forward, gathering it underneath my fingers.
As delicately as I could, I pulled the power from the amulet, feeding it into the golden links of my necklace as I did.
Carefully.
I didn’t want to absorb the power that the amulet held. I just wanted to house it, as I housed the instruments of assassination. Draining the teleportation spell, then subsuming it with my own power, might have actually nullified it.
Pulou might have been able to lock down every last magical artifact in his chamber, but apparently he couldn’t stop me from stealing the magic that powered those hoarded items.
Jade 2, treasure keeper 1.
I twined my necklace around my neck three times, making sure it rested tidily within the folded collar of my new armor. Then I stepped back, moving well away from the piles of treasure all around me in the hopes of avoiding any magical interference. Not that I knew what the hell I was doing,
of course.
I called my jade knife into my right hand, weaving the fingers of my left hand through the wedding rings adhered to my necklace. Power churned eagerly underneath my touch — the siren call of the instruments paired with the almost-bubbly magic I’d just stolen from the sapphire amulet. Could something be effervescent and creamy at the same time? Apparently, yes.
If I could pop back into the hall in the elves’ maze that Pulou had snatched me from, I could appear right beside Warner’s cell. Then I could free him before the elves even knew I was in the stadium. Together, we would free the others, then kick some elf ass. If we were lucky, the element of surprise would help guarantee that the brawl didn’t spill out onto the streets.
Vancouver — and everyone I loved — would be safe again.
I coaxed out the taste of the teleportation spell that had been embedded in the amulet, bringing it forward from the other power held in my necklace. The taste of buttery, fluffy, perfectly salted potato and its accoutrements rolled across my tongue as I visualized the white-walled hallway, as I remembered the feel of the elf magic coating the door that Warner had been moments away from breaking through.
My stomach grumbled.
Seriously? I’d just eaten.
Though time did run oddly in the nexus, so I had no real idea how many hours might have passed since then. Hours in which those I loved could have been consumed to fuel Reggie’s gateway. A gateway that only existed because I’d managed to rebuild it.
Another wave of panic gripped me. I had to stop thinking about everything so much. Taking action was much easier than continually fretting about every last little thing.
Focus. Focus on the hallway. Focus on the door that had stood between Warner and me. The tenor of the magic that the elves had wielded to erect the walls of the maze.
I envisioned myself standing before the door, in the hall, my knife held ready …
Ready … ready.
Nothing happened.
Okay. Fine. Refocus.
I took a deep breath, stirring the teleportation spell simmering in the golden links of my necklace underneath my fingers. Maybe I couldn’t travel directly into the stadium because of the exterior wards. Pulou had mentioned not being able to hold the portal open because the wards had been repaired after I’d torn a hole in them. So the same probably went for any type of transportation-based magic.
Gemstones, Elves, and Other Insidious Magic (Dowser 9) Page 7
