Tethered by Blood

by Jane Beckstead

  “Here,” said the beautiful woman, Marelda, the one holding the baby. I straightened and turned to her. “This is Maud. Be a dear and hold her, will you?” She deposited the baby in my arms before I could protest. “I’m going back for Carrington. Don’t tell Garrick we’re here till we all come through, all right? He loves a good surprise.” She slipped back through the doorway while I was caught so unawares by, well, everything, that all I could do was stare after her.

  The baby looked up at me, blinking large blue eyes. “Blrrba,” she said.

  I was holding a baby.

  But I hardly had time to wonder over this because people were traipsing through the doorway two at a time, toddlers, children, adults. Several carried parcels, and two of the women had pots of something that smelled like sweet toffee.

  “Who has Chauntel?”

  “Stop wriggling, Phil! If you make a ruckus, won’t Uncle Garrick be disappointed in you?”

  “He’s gotten more books since the last time we were here.”

  “Don’t break anything!”

  There must have been fifteen or twenty people milling about the library. Children were running races across the room. Unfamiliar men and women examined magical artifacts and chatted over them. A toddler pulled books from the shelves and tossed them every which way until she was stopped by an adult.

  “Hullo! Who’re you?” bellowed a portly gentleman in my direction. At least a dozen eyes swiveled my way, pinning me in place. I looked around, hopeful he was addressing someone other than me.

  “Erm,” I said, returning his gaze as I hefted the baby. “Hello. I’m the apprentice.”

  “Pleased to make your acquaintance. Be a good fellow and go get your master, would you? Tell him his family has come to visit.”

  “Sure.” I edged toward the door. “I’ll get him directly.” Two more steps and I turned and fled the library.

  In the hallway, I came upon Mrs. Pitts, who frowned upon sight of me. “The master doesn’t allow babies, underwizard. Is this the result of some spell? Send it back.” She limped closer.

  I filled her in on the visitors in the library, and her eyebrows headed toward the ceiling. “Great Hepzibah’s fiddle! Master Wendyn hates when his family drops in unannounced. I’d better let Cook know. Don’t you do anything stupid.” She headed off toward the kitchens.

  The day had taken an unexpected turn, but it was more interesting than combing through every book in the library. I bounced the baby on my hip, reached up, and knocked on the study door.

  “Enter,” the master said.

  I took a deep breath and looked down at the baby.

  “Grrrb,” she said.

  ***

  “What?” Master Wendyn exploded at me in his study when I announced the news. “My family? And you just—you just let them in?” He looked from me to the baby and back again. “It’s not as though they asked my permission. Would you have preferred that I shoved them back through the wizard door?”

  He pushed a hand through his hair, surged to his feet, and paced back and forth. “I had that door closed. Permanently. How in the three kingdoms did they get it restored?” He paced more and then stopped dead in the middle of the room and said a rather bad word. I had a ridiculous urge to cover the baby’s ears. “It must have been Grandfather. Who else could have done it but him? But what are they—why are they here? What day is it? Can it be—” He rifled through papers on his desk and came up with one he stared at in concentration. Resignation colored his expression, and he sank back into the chair. “Oh no. It’s my natalis.”

  “What?” I didn’t mean to say anything, but it popped out on its own.

  His shoulders slumped forward. “I suppose there’s nothing for it.”

  “Really? Your natalis?” I digested that information for a moment or two. Today was the anniversary of the master’s birth, his natal day. I didn’t know why it surprised me. Having a natalis like any other person made him seem so...ordinary.

  He heaved a sigh and stood. “Whose baby is that? Give her here. You look ridiculous.” He took Maud out of my arms, and to my surprise, he seemed to know what he was about. At least, he didn’t throw her over his shoulder like a sack of apples, as I expected him to. Instead he held her against his chest and looked down into her face, bouncing her.

  “Her name is Maud. I think she’s your niece,” I said, hovering close because I was still a little concerned at what he might do with her. Knowing him as I did, I expected him to undo her existence if the fancy took him. “Shouldn’t you know who she is?”

  He stared at the baby in concentration for a moment and then gave up with a shake of his head. “I haven’t been in contact with those people in some time, underwizard. In fact, I would have preferred it to stay that way.” He looked at the baby again. “Maud, you say? Perhaps Wallace and Essie’s child. She has the Fowler chin.” After a minute of furrowed-brow thinking, he looked to the door. I could feel his hesitation. The man seemed afraid to leave the safety of his study.

  “What are you frightened of? They’re just your family.” The crack in his armor disconcerted me. I couldn’t help but poke at it a little more and see if I could widen it. “They have gifts. I’m certain I saw some. And maybe pudding. Oh! Do you think they will sing?”

  Stiffness moved through him. “How would you feel if your drunk father showed up here unannounced, underwizard? My family arriving like this is not much different. Don’t make light.”

  “If Papa showed up, he wouldn’t bring gifts or pudding. He’d want money. I doubt that’s why your family is here.”

  “Oh, believe me, they want something. Perhaps not money, but they want something. The question is what.”

  “Probably to eat pudding,” I said. “The fiends.”

  His jaw worked, and his brows pushed downward. “Never mind. Not one word unless you’re spoken to, and otherwise, I want you on your best behavior. Where’s Ivan?”

  “Hiding.”

  “Good.” He ran a hand over his face. I’d never seen him at such a loss of composure. “Come along. They’ll want to meet you. And then you are to return to your room and study until they leave.” He stepped toward the door and hefted Maud higher.

  I couldn’t help but feel, as I followed him out of the study, that whatever was about to happen would be very entertaining.

  ***

  The first thing that became clear was that some of the master’s family were under the mistaken impression he was a friendly person.

  “Uncle Garrick!” several voices shouted as we walked into the library, and boys crowded him. Even more surprising than the children’s reaction was the master’s. He ruffled the hair of several and didn’t grimace or snarl once.

  “There’s Maud,” a blond-haired woman with a rather pointy chin said, and she scurried to the master’s side to lift the child from his arms. “Hello, Garrick. Lovely to see you again. Happy natalis.”

  “Essie.” The master’s guarded gaze swept the library, taking in the many bodies crowded there. He scooped the smallest boy at his knee up into his arms. It almost seemed that he did it for protection, now he’d lost the baby. I couldn’t fathom what he was so afraid of.

  The portly man came to his side and clapped him on the back with a bellow of “Happy natalis, boy!” Mother Wendyn was there, too, and kissed him on both cheeks.

  Master Wendyn frowned and pulled away. “You shouldn’t have come.”

  “Nonsense. Of course we should have,” said his father.

  “And you had to bring the whole—” Master Wendyn’s voice became too quiet to hear. For a moment, the master and his parents whispered back and forth, and I only caught snatches of what was being said.

  “...family...not fair...” Master Wendyn said.

  “...being ridiculous,” his mother said.

  “...childish...Bastian...” his father said.

  But the conversation culminated when Father Wendyn said loud enough for everyone in the library to hear, “I have
a right to visit my own SON!”

  An uncomfortable silence dampened the room. Even I wasn’t sure where to look. But then the room exploded into a flurry of movement as Edie and Mrs. Pitts bustled into the room carrying trays of tea and dispensing them at random. Oscar arrived, eliciting several cries of “Grandpapa!” Last and worst of all, a final figure emerged from the wizard door: Master Matthias Kurke.

  My stomach dropped to my toes.

  Vaguely, I became aware of children clustering around Oscar, but my gaze fixed on Kurke. I felt shaky, my face hot with pumping blood. He stood just inside the door, chatting with a woman who must be the master’s sister, judging by the shape of her mouth. Three children played at his feet, and he smiled at them. One of them was the little boy I met earlier. He tugged at Matthias’s hand and tried to get him involved in whatever game he was playing.

  Kurke’s blue eyes and strong white smile remained as attractive as ever. Edie handed him a cup of tea as I watched, and I forced myself to turn away, hands clenched into fists.

  Why was he here? Was this it? The revenge? Was he here to kill Oscar already?

  I thought I had more time. I hadn’t come up with any defense against him yet. It might as well be two weeks ago because I was still just as helpless.

  What could I do?

  Oscar was delighting the children by pulling candy out of the air and depositing it into each of their little hands, most likely another sweets spell he’d been working on. I glanced at the master and his parents. They were conversing in somewhat quieter tones now.

  I needed help, but where was I going to get it?

  “Er...Master Wendyn?” I edged as close as I dared to the master and his parents, not wanting to overhear a conversation they might consider private.

  The master didn’t even glance up. “Well, if Grandfather didn’t open the wizard door, then who did?”

  “Matthias, of course,” said Father Wendyn.

  “Yes,” Mother Wendyn said, dabbing at her eyes. “At least he cares about our family enough to make contact once in a while.”

  “I suggest making Matt an official member of the family, then,” the master said, his face serious. “He can take my place. Don’t worry; I’ll bow out gracefully.”

  “Don’t say things like that.” Mother Wendyn gestured at me. “The underwizard will think you’re serious.”

  “I am serious—” The master broke off and looked at me. “Do you mind, Mullins? I won’t abide eavesdropping.”

  “But I need to talk—”

  “Go.” He turned me about and gave me a push in the opposite direction. I took four steps before my momentum ran out, and I darted a resentful look back at him. He’d continued his conversation with his parents as though my interruption never happened.

  But wait. I wasn’t just as helpless as two weeks ago. I had a hundred or more spells under my belt now, thanks to the master’s mandate. Could I put those to use?

  After a few moments of deliberation, I decided that whatever happened, I’d be more useful closer to Oscar. I sidled nearer to where he had begun a conversation with an older and portlier version of the master about Faronnan literature. I didn’t want to attract their attention, so I stood next to a bookshelf nearby and hoped it looked as though I was perusing the shelves.

  I cataloged the spells I knew that might be of use in this situation. There was the armor spell, although it was only useful against actual weapons, not magic. A deflection spell could toss any magic sent Oscar’s way back at the caster, although that one wasn’t very precise and more often than not sent the spell careening off toward innocent parties, I’d heard. Then there was the freezing spell, a version of which Kurke used on me the day he forced me to swear the oath.

  I loathed that spell.

  Yes, it was the perfect irony. I would defeat Kurke using the same spell he used on me.

  Then again, the master hadn’t allowed me to cast any of these spells yet. I’d memorized them, sure, but the trammel had only just been removed. I had no actual practice at these spells, so whatever I cast, it would be for the first time.

  All at once I realized I had an audience. The little boy I had met earlier stood at the corner of the bookshelf peeping at me, one eye visible, as though he believed he might be invisible. From what I could see of his face, it bore the same adoring expression it had carried earlier.

  Perhaps if I ignored him, he’d go away. Right now I had a grandfather to save.

  “Hello, underwizard. I can’t help but notice you’ve been looking at that shelf of books for ten minutes.”

  I started and glanced up at Master Kurke. He had been across the room talking to the sister last I checked. I wasn’t paying close enough attention, which wasn’t a good sign right before I may have to incapacitate the man. A nervous shudder passed through me, though I tried to hide it. “Master Wendyn asked me to stay out of the way.”

  “Yes, well, I can see you’re taking that job quite seriously. This is a party, or hadn’t you noticed?” His voice dropped to a murmur as he stepped closer. I had to force myself not to move away from him. “I hope you plan to obey my commands as thoroughly.” His eyes flicked to Oscar and back again.

  Was this it? Should I freeze him now?

  I pulled magic toward me and muttered the words of the spell. Before I got it all out, Kurke held up a hand. At the moment my freezing spell should have hit him, instead it seemed to dissipate into nothing. When I felt for the magic, my woven spell had disappeared.

  “Wordless magic and an absorption spell. Tricky but useful. I just absorbed all the magic from that badly cast freezing spell. No offense, Mullins, but you’ll need to do better than that. That wouldn’t even immobilize a beetle.”

  My jaw clenched in frustration. He was mocking me. Very well. I would try something else.

  For some reason my mind jumped to the forgetting spell I cast in Waltney so long ago, the spell I used on the men I bribed to sign my affidavits of gender. It was a weak spell and only erased one specific memory—not like the oblivion, which took large chunks—but if I could get Kurke to forget he was here to kill Oscar, just for a little while, perhaps I could save a life tonight.

  I uttered the words of the spell, and the woven magic left me. This time the spell didn’t dissipate; it deflected. I felt the moment the magic rebounded on me and—I blinked in surprise.

  What just happened? Something felt different, although I couldn’t put my finger on what. I was conversing with Master Kurke, a man I didn’t like. A man who had forced me to swear to help him kill Oscar Wendyn. A man who was here to help the master celebrate his natalis.

  Kurke looked smug. “A forgetting spell, eh? I’ll presume Garrick never taught you that one. You’re lucky it was strong as wet paper.”

  I blinked and thought and pieced together what must have happened. He deflected my spell at me more precisely than I thought possible. I’d forgotten something—oh, yes. Now it was coming back through the haze of weak magic. He was here to kill Oscar.

  “I won’t help you,” I hissed at him. “You may have forced me to swear, but you can’t force me to do your bidding.”

  He frowned. “Now, your defiance I can do without. There are plenty of innocent people here I could threaten to get you to help me. I don’t want to do it, but I will.”

  He was right. Upwards of twenty people filled the room, and a third of them were children.

  “You don’t want to hurt all these people,” I told him. “But if you do this now, you’ll have to.”

  “It’s interesting you think I care. But there’s one thing you don’t seem to understand. They deserve it.”

  There was something behind his eyes, something like hesitation, and I knew he didn’t mean it—at least, not entirely.

  Use what you have at your disposal, that’s what Oscar said about my fistfighting, rather than using magic. Maybe the answer was already in front of me. I’d seen Kurke had a soft spot for children.

  My eyes lit on the lit
tle boy, and I stepped past Kurke. “Hello again. What’s your name?” I crouched down so I was on his level.

  “Vito.” He peeked around the corner at me.

  “Do you know Matthias too?” I gestured at Kurke.

  That got him to come out from behind the bookcase. “’Course.” He grabbed Kurke’s hand and tugged him toward me. “We’re friends.”

  “Indeed we are,” Kurke said. He frowned at me. “But now I must go say hello to your father.” He dropped Vito’s hand and veered across the room.

  I watched him go. Would it be that easy? Would Kurke forget about his murderous plan, just for tonight?

  “Can you make candy, like Grandpapa?” Vito asked me.

  My gaze swung back to the little boy. “’Fraid not.” I smiled at him. “That’s your grandpapa’s trick. But I can do this.” I held my hand out and formed a spark of fire in my palm.

  The little fire impressed him. “Wow! See what I can do?” He spun in a circle, kicking one leg out. I was sure in his childish mind it was the height of impressive.

  “Unbelievable.”

  “Yeah, and I can do it the other way too!” He spun the other way, but this time he kicked into a pedestal at the end of the bookshelf. It tilted, and the carved stone sculpture atop teetered and fell. I realized in that instant that, one, I was too far away to catch it before it hit the ground, two, even if I were closer, the thing was heavy enough it would just crush me, and three, it would crush Vito instead.

  I acted without thinking. The words of the lifting spell came out of my mouth without my even thinking about it. It was the same spell I had considered for moving Mrs. Pitts when she was unconscious. The sculpture’s weight pulled at the magic that tried to hold it up, dragging the spell toward the ground. I would only be able to slow its fall, not stop it. I stepped closer and snatched the little boy out of the way. The sculpture crashed to the ground, cracking the marble floor beneath it and breaking itself into several pieces. The pedestal toppled over on top of it.

  Adults and children surrounded us in the next moment, chattering voices all wanting to know “What happened?” and “Are you all right?” Vito ran past me. When I looked over my shoulder, I saw that he was clinging to Master Kurke’s side. After a moment of deliberation, Kurke swung him up into his arms, and Vito threw arms around his neck in a viselike grip.