by Karen Miller
He looked where her finger pointed. Being a rumination on a transmutation of intent. Recommended for the shifting of diametric oppositions. Well… that was unexpected. Had he even known the Compendium was here?
If I did, I’d forgotten. But trust Barl to find it… and to find the exact incant we must have to proceed.
Taking his silence to mean disagreement, she wriggled a little and tapped the page.
“You said it yourself, Morgan,” she added. “Every time we adjust the incant’s base harmonics we seem to throw it out of balance somewhere else. I know I argued with you, but I begin to suspect you’ve been right all along. There is something askew in the fundamentals of the aspect enhancement. That’s why we can’t progress any further.”
She intoxicated him when she got like this. Leaning sideways, he pressed his lips to the pulse at the base of her throat. “So I was right, was I?” he murmured. “I think that means I deserve some kind of forfeit.”
“Yes, yes, later,” she said, impatient, and shrugged him away. “Look, Morgan. Please. And tell me I’ve not stumbled across the perfect solution to our conundrum. I’ll wager you can’t, though. I’ll wager I’ve solved at least one of our problems!”
Fingertip pressed beneath her chin, he drew her face toward him and took her lips in a swift kiss.
“You, my love, are the answer to every problem. Didn’t you know it?”
She dimpled at him, wickedly. “Well, yes, of course. But I was trying to be modest.”
“Really?” He widened his eyes. “Why? You’ve never tried before.”
“Oh, Morgan. Do be sensible. Now let’s go back up to the attic so we can—”
“In a minute,” he said, and took hold of her hand. “But first…”
She stilled. “What? Is something wrong? The Council. Did something else happen?”
“Something, yes. Perhaps,” he said slowly. There’d been such an odd look in Venette’s eyes before she left. An improperly masked fear, that was very unlike her. “As we’ve been mageworking, Barl, have you felt anything… untoward?”
“Untoward? What do you mean?”
He wished he knew. He wished he’d not dismissed Venette without first making her explain what she’d meant. But he’d been so angry.
“I think… Venette is worried.”
A shadow skimmed Barl’s expressive face. “Your dear friend Lady Martain has no love for me. Doubtless she’s of the opinion I’ve ruined your life.”
“True, but that’s not what I’m getting at.”
She looked at him, properly. “Then what are you getting at?”
“I’m not sure,” he said, shrugging. “She asked me if we’d felt anything out of the ordinary during our magework.”
“Out of the ordinary how?”
He shook his head. “She didn’t say. I didn’t ask. I was eager for her to leave. But—” Frowning, he saw again that fearful glint in Venette’s eyes. “As I said. She was worried.”
“Well, my love, I’ve felt nothing to give me pause,” Barl said. “And if I had, you’d know for I’d have straightaway told you.”
“And I’d have told you if I’d felt uneasy. And I haven’t.”
“Exactly. And since if there was something wrong you and I would surely feel it…” Sliding the Compendium to the floor, Barl scrambled to her feet. “Pay her no mind, Morgan. This is only Venette Martain seeking to cause trouble. She’s trying to lure you back to the Council so they can crowd you into a corner and harangue you until you change your mind about me.”
Surprised, he watched her step over piles of books and cross to the library window. Stand before it with her back to him, her arms folded, her shoulders slumping a little as though she were burdened by some impossible fear.
“Barl? What is it?”
She pulled away from him a little when he joined her. “Nothing.”
“Barl.”
“Well, it’s the Council, isn’t it?” she demanded, her voice unsteady. “Morgan, they have so much power. And now that you’re not one of them…”
“Not being one of them any more doesn’t make me helpless,” he said, sliding an arm around her shoulders. “Should they try anything foolish they would soon regret it. Barl, you are safe. We are safe. They can moan and mislike us to their heart’s content but they cannot, they will not, interfere any more.”
She shivered. “You sound so certain.”
“I am certain. I have not the slightest doubt that they’ll leave us alone.”
Pulling away a little, she looked at him. “What exactly did you say to them?”
He thought it might be best not to tell her. Not now, when she was feeling unsure of herself, and vulnerable.
“Nothing of which my father would have approved,” he said, and kissed the top of her head. “Do not ask me to elaborate. I’d not sully your ears with language of that stripe. Now, what say we take Ollet’s Compendium and—”
She pressed her palm to his chest. “Yes, but first—Morgan, I’ve been thinking. There’s something I need to do. Want to do. And I think I should do it sooner, rather than later.”
There was no need for her to tell him. He’d been waiting for her to speak on this. “Your brother.”
Her eyes were tear-bright, and full of relief. “Yes. I knew you’d…” Her fingers smoothed the front of his tunic. “I have to go and see him. He must be sick with worry for me by now. I want to tell him I’m all right. I want to tell him goodbye.”
He felt an enormous blossoming of joy. “Goodbye?”
“This is my home now,” she whispered. “You are my home. It’s Remmie’s turn to find his home. But he won’t unless I tell him to his face that he must. My brother’s a lovely man, and a jigget. This is the only way. Believe me.”
He stroked his fingertip down her cheek, across her lips. “I do.”
“I won’t be gone long. I’ll be back in time for dinner.”
“You mean you want to go now?”
“I see no point in waiting.”
He gestured to Ollet’s Compendium, abandoned on the floor. “What of our mageworking?”
“I know, I know. After dinner?” She pulled a face. “Or in the morning, if Remmie keeps me late. But that’s all right, isn’t it?”
“Yes. But you should know I resent every heartbeat you’re away from me. I resent even a brother. I want you to myself.”
“And you have me,” she said softly. “But Morgan, a part of me still belongs to Remmie. It always will.”
Yes, he could see that. And he could see that fighting Barl’s brother for it would leave him the loser. So he smiled.
“You’re family, and you love him. Go. I’ll tender my formal written resignation to the Council. And then there’s that list of catalysts for Rumm.”
“Speaking of which,” Barl said, brows pinching. “Since he’s going to be obtaining supplies. I think he should procure us some more chickens, Morgan. An awful lot have died, and we do need eggs.”
“More chickens,” he said gravely. “I think that can be arranged. Anything else?”
“I don’t think so,” she said, glowing like glimfire. “And starting tomorrow, my love, with the help of Ollet’s Compendium, we will take our recalcitrant transmutation incant by the scruff of its neck and shake it until it conforms most pefectly to our will!”
He watched her skim out of the library, so light and graceful on her feet. His Barl. His beloved.
Bid farewell to her, Remmie. She’s mine now. Not yours.
When she walked into the schoolmaster cottage’s kitchen she gave Remmie such a fright that he dropped his pan of mutton soup onto the floor.
“Barl!”
Oh, it was so good to see him. He was a jigget, and he tethered her, but she loved him anyway.
“Remmie,” she said, her voice breaking, and threw herself into his open, eager arms. Held him as hard and tight as he was holding her, half-laughing, half-crying, just like him.
“I can’t believe it,�
�� he said at last, pushing her to arm’s length. “Are you really here?”
“I’m here,” she said, smearing her cheeks dry. “Remmie, the floor’s swimming in soup.”
He looked down. “Oh. So it is.” He put the dented pan in the sink then banished the mess with a quick chant and a sigil. “Barl, how are you here? When Lord Danfey came to see me, he said you’d be gone a long time. And while it’s felt like years, really it’s only been weeks. Are you all right? What did they do to you? I mean, you look all right but—”
“Remmie! If you’d bite your tongue I could get a word in edgewise!”
He stared for a moment, then burst out laughing. “Oh, Barl, I have missed you!”
“And I’ve missed you,” she said, grinning like a fool. “Cut us some bread, pull out the butter, and I’ll explain.”
“Still the same bossy Barl, I see,” he grumbled, but he did as she said and they settled down at the table with fresh bread and butter and cherry conserve between them. Still staring, Remmie reached out and poked her.
“What was that for?”
“Sorry,” he said, grinning like a fool himself. “Just making certain you’re real.” And then the grin faded. “Tell me everything, Barl. Don’t think to spare me.”
So she told him, and in the telling held back only her work with Morgan on the transmutation incants. It wasn’t her secret to share… and besides, she knew her brother. She’d never be able to convince him she and Morgan were right.
It was harder than she’d expected, reliving the worst of the past weeks. The fear, the binding, the dread of being prisoned magickless for the rest of her life. Remmie listened without speaking, only his harsh breathing and his eyes revealing the depth of his pain. It wasn’t until she told him about her and Morgan that he broke his silence.
“What?” Disbelieving, he sat back. “You and Councillor Danfey?” He shook his head, seemingly unable to say it. As though the thought of his sister naked in a man’s arms was more than he could stomach. “Barl.”
She wasn’t sure what she’d expected. A little happiness for her, at least, after so much pain endured and survived. What she hadn’t looked for was a stare of shocked disapproval.
You were pushing me at Barton Haye, Remmie. If I’d not pushed back, where do you think I’d have ended up? I never imagined you could be such a prude.
“He’s Lord Danfey now, Remmie,” she said, nettled. “His father died. And he’s not a councillor any more, either. He resigned his appointment.”
“Lord Danfey? That’s even harder to reconcile! Barl… what are you thinking? He’s a ranked mage. And he’s—he’s—” Remmie pulled a face. “He’s so cold.”
“He’s not cold at all,” she said, offended. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“I certainly do! I met him, remember?”
“He was being a councillor then, on official Council business. That’s all changed. He’s different now.”
Remmie’s eyes narrowed. “Because he’s resigned. And was that your doing?”
“No!” Then she wriggled a little bit, compelled out of habit to be properly truthful. “Not exactly.”
“Then what exactly was it?”
“You’re as bad as the Council,” she muttered, poking holes in her unfinished slice of bread. “They don’t approve of Morgan and me either. So he stepped down. But I never asked him to.”
“I swear,” Remmie said, marvelling. “I never knew anyone who could find trouble the way you can.”
She glowered at him. “Well, one thing’s for certain. You haven’t changed. Always convinced that I go looking for strife.”
“I’m sorry. Barl, what about your binding? It’s not officially lifted, is it?”
“No,” she said, after a moment. “But they won’t try to bind me again. Morgan won’t let them. And neither will I.”
“You won’t…” He was staring again, aghast. “Barl, do you hear yourself? Who do you think you are?”
“I’ll tell you who I will be, very soon. Lady Danfey. And you’d best believe that while the Council might bully unranked Barl Lindin, they won’t dare lift a finger against another ranked mage!”
“Ranked?” Remmie dropped his head into his hands. “Barl, I think that binding must have addled you.” He looked up again. “Handfast yourself to whoever you like, but to the Council and the First Families you will never be ranked. They won’t accept you as one of their own. Why would they, when you’ve broken every rule in the book?”
“You make falling in love sound like a crime!” she said, indignant. “Remmie, don’t you dare be tiresome. I didn’t have to come to see you, you know. I could have stayed on the estate and left you twisting in the wind!”
“Maybe you should have,” he said, slopping too much cherry conserve on a fresh slice of bread. Then he sighed. “You must admit, none of this sounds very likely. A ranked mage, a lord, tumbling head over heels for you?”
Sitting back, she folded her arms. “Such flattery, my dear! If you’re not careful you’ll turn my head.”
“You know what I mean,” he said, folding the bread in half, his boyhood habit. Rich red fruit oozed out of each end. “I’m sure other ranked mages have dallied below them, but none of them handfasted with their fripperies! He’s defying his peers, Barl. He’s defying the Council.” Brooding, he shoved the folded bread into his mouth and bit it in half. Chewed, swallowed, and swiped conserve off his chin. “Was this his idea, too? Like resigning? Or… you know.”
And to think she’d fretted herself sick about him, harrowed by the thought of him fretting for her.
“You mean did I look to seduce Morgan to save myself?”
Remmie blushed. “Of course not. I know you wouldn’t.”
Because she was so irked, she decided to shock him with more truth. “Actually, if you must know, I might have. Since I was feeling quite desperate. Being bound, Remmie?” She shivered. “Never again. I’d rather be dead.”
He was still holding his half-eaten slice of bread. Cherry conserve dripped onto his fingers. “You don’t mean that.”
“Don’t I?” She treated him to a fierce smile. “If ever you’re bound, Remmie, you’ll find that I do. It’s the cruellest, the most inhuman, the most—” She had to clear her throat. “Binding is wicked. And I’ll see an end to it, Remmie. Anyway.” She reached for another slice of bread and began to poke little holes in that, too. Not hungry, just keyed up. “As it turned out, Morgan and I seduced each other.”
Remmie swallowed the rest of his bread, then licked the drips of cherry off his fingers. His expression was muddled between dismay and resignation. And then he heaved another sigh.
“I suppose I shouldn’t complain. Anything’s better than you being bound. And at least this explains how you come to be dressed head to toe in fine silk.”
Oh. Yes. Her tunic and trousers. Beautiful. Expensive. A gift from Morgan… and his lost love, in a roundabout way. The fine clothes had once belonged to Luzena. He’d kept them, perfectly preserved, and offered them to her in place of her work-ruined linens. Just until other arrangements could be made.
Only I don’t believe I’ll share that tidbit with Remmie.
“Silk or linen or cotton, what does it matter?” she said, dismissive. “It’s only clothes. Just a way not to be naked.”
“That’s true.” And then Remmie looked at her, his eyes cautious. “This business of your magic, Barl. Unbinding yourself, and breaking Lord Danfey’s wards. How do you explain it?”
She shrugged. “I can’t. And what does it matter? The point is, Remmie, I’m as good as I always said I was. In fact I’m better. And the things I’m learning. You should see Morgan’s books. I’ve learned more in a few days of reading them than in my last three years of artisanry study.”
“That’s good,” he said, subdued.
She leaned toward him. “And I’m going to share what I’m learning with you. I’m going to copy out any incants I think are suitable and I’ll s
end them to you, so you can teach your pupils and Barton Haye and anyone you think might like to learn them. So much fantastic magic, Remmie, that the ranked mages have kept for themselves. But their magic’s mine, now. And I’m going to make it yours.”
“Barl…” Arms folded on the table, Remmie lowered his head. Shook it, very slowly. “You can’t.”
“Watch me.”
He looked up. “No. You can’t. What if you’re caught? You think you’re untouchable because you’re bedding Morgan Danfey. And yes, all right, you’re bedding him today. But what about tomorrow?”
“I told you. Tomorrow, or the next day, or in a week or so, I’ll be Lady Danfey.”
“And you know that how? Because he told you?”
He’d told her many times since that night in the attic. Told her smiling, told her breathless, told her with tears in her eyes.
She lifted her chin. “I suppose you’re going to tell me he was lying?”
“Barl…” Remmie’s eyes were full of fear for her. “By your own admission he’s already spurned one young woman, a mage ranked in the First Families. What’s to say he won’t grow tired of you in a week, or a month? And if he does, and he discards you, who’ll protect you then?”
To her surprise, Remmie’s harsh words didn’t anger her. Instead, she felt sorry. He didn’t understand.
She rested her hand on his arm. “He’ll not discard me, Remmie. And you’ll believe that when you stand in the estate’s gardens and watch Morgan and me handfast. You will come, won’t you?”
He was smiling, shaking his head. “Yes. I’ll come.”
“I am untouchable, you know… but not because I share Morgan’s bed.”
Smile fading, Remmie bit his lip. “Because of your magework?”
“Yes. Magework is the only currency the ranked mages understand.”
Remmie’s hand slapped the table. “Exactly, Barl! And that makes you a threat.”
“I don’t have to be. There is no reason why the ranked and unranked mages of Dorana can’t work together to make life better for everyone. All the Council and the rest of them need is some encouragement.”
“Oh, Barl…” He shook his head, affectionately exasperated. “If you think your magework can make that happen, you’re mad.”
