I pulled a footstool next to the sofa, and sat on it facing him. We studied each other in silence for a moment. He looked happy but wan; his once form-fitting clothes bagged. Lines of tension in his face deepened as he studied me, and there was a reserve in his eyes that I didn’t understand. A vast gulf still lay between us. My stomach lurched.
He stroked my cheek with a light touch. “I sent you to the Earth Mother for safe-keeping. You were not supposed to be in harm’s way once, much less twice. I will have to have a talk with that woman.” In a more serious tone, he said, “You look exhausted, my love. You saved my life. Why were you afraid to see me?”
I disobeyed orders, but let’s not mention that. I studied his hand. It looked odd without the Token of Office. I took a deep breath, and said, “I thought you would feel crippled by the loss of power, when you’ve been used to it for so long.”
“What loss?”
I looked up. His lips twitched; his eyes danced. My heart stopped. “What?”
He smiled. “My dear, you should see your expression. The Token of Office serves as a conduit that an untrained warlock can use for tapping into Storm King, but I have done it for so long that it is second nature to me. You have freed me from the dreadful burden of the Office. Without that authority, I am now merely the second most powerful warlock in the known world. Feeling better now?”
I nodded, too overcome to speak. But as my spirits lightened, he turned sombre. “But this means that I am still a serious danger to you. I…”
My heart sang. I said, “I do not fear you,” and kissed him.
He made no move to hold me, and I had nothing to support myself on without leaning on either his bad arm or his sore chest. I drew back, or I would have fallen on him.
His eyes smouldered. “Fool girl. I cannot risk burning you again. You—”
I silenced him with a finger on his lips. “We can put a lock on you so that you can’t draw on Storm King without intending to.”
His eyes widened, then blazed. “Teach me.” He followed the barked order with an abashed, “Please?”
When he was satisfied it had worked, I kissed him again. He pulled me tight against him so I had to lean on him. I pulled back after a bit because I was hurting him. Even then, he didn’t want to let me go.
He still looked tired, but happier than I’d ever seen him, and years younger. His eyes sparkled, unshadowed; the lines of tension had disappeared from his face.
He said, “Too bad you did not think of that a few weeks ago.”
“It’s a good thing I didn’t. If I had, I most certainly would be dead.”
He stiffened. “Why?”
“What did Mother Celeste tell you?”
“She told me what you had done to the Water Office, but she could not explain what you did yesterday. I want to hear it all from you, anyway. Start from the beginning.”
I told him the whole story, ending with my speculations about what the Locksmith had done to the Fire Office. “I think the burning is a defence mechanism she built into the Office, so that someone who was only interested in the Warlock for his power and position couldn’t seduce and manipulate him. So using a lock to avoid the flames wouldn’t have done any good. The Office would have overridden it, but we would have been alone when it happened. Without Beorn there…”
He shuddered, and was silent for a moment. He had relaxed, but kept a tight grip on my hand. “How could the Locksmith have done such a cruel thing? Such a terrible fate for those women who did love their Warlocks.”
I said, “But if a fire witch loves the man instead of the Office, she can wish him out of it. Like the wife of the seventeenth Warlock. That story may be literally true.”
“As easy as that?”
“As easy—and as hard—as that. Maybe both people have to express the wish. And I presume it only works for level four or five fire witches. But that’s why the Office summoned me to come yesterday, and why it held off on killing you even when you weren’t fit anymore. It was giving me a chance to rescue you. But even knowing what I knew, it took me a painfully long time to figure out what it was expecting me to do.
“I don’t know if the escape clause was forgotten, or if the Locksmith never told anyone. Maybe she intended to keep it a secret until Warlock Fortunatus tired of the Office and asked for her help, but then he never did. Maybe it was something even she didn’t understand. Since we now know more about the Locksmith and her relationship with Fortunatus we should be able to figure that out.”
He said, “Even if it had not been a secret, it would have been an incredible burden. Obviously one of the things you will need to fix.”
“That I need to fix?” My voice quavered. I didn’t relish another experience like the one I’d had with the lock on the Water Office. “You’re going to help, aren’t you?”
“Of course. Now free from the constraints of the Fire Office, I can pursue my real life’s work of fixing it. Our life’s work, I should say; you and I will form the core of the second Great Coven. With the two of us, and help from the other guilds, I have no doubt we can. I never allowed myself to conjure up false hopes by dreaming about a day when I was not the Warlock, but now…”
His voice trailed away, and he lay on the pillows with his eyes half closed. When he resumed, he seemed to be talking to himself. “It is not urgent, we have time to plan. It will take time, anyway, for the witches and wizards from the other guilds to become familiar with the spells involved…
“In the meantime, we should learn more about the experiments in governance going on in other countries. We have become too parochial here. We need to see what is and is not working elsewhere. Could we do without a king? It will be good for Beorn if I travel for a bit—he can establish his authority and his own ways of doing things. Yes, a good long vacation is in order.”
Had he been alone for so long that he couldn’t imagine life otherwise? Would he go away without me? No. “Honeymoon,” I said.
My momentary panic melted away in the warmth of his gaze. “I cannot promise you happily ever after,” he said. “Such is not often the fate of a marriage involving even one warlock.”
“For better or for worse.” I shrugged. “For you, Jean, I’ll risk it.”
“For better or for worse,” he said, and smiled.
End of The Locksmith
The story continues in
Engine of Lies, Reforging: Book 2.
The Locksmith Page 28
