“I’m told you won’t get registered into the ward yet,” Harris said, “but you can learn what the ward is like. Right now, I can detect every living soul moving around the manor, such as the servants, the retainers, some of those damned townspeople who think they own the place … and the tricky thing is that outsiders can disguise themselves as regulars, and these disguises can fool the wards.”
Sean nodded. He had heard this before: magical disguises that could change a person’s face to match another’s, thus preventing a ward from attacking him. A ward could be designed to work around this problem, but the result could be an oversensitive ward that attacked those it shouldn’t.
“So … what you have to do, my boy, is get to know all the manor regulars. You have to get names, eye colors, clothing style … and you’ll have to know things about them they wouldn’t ordinarily want you to know. For instance, one of the maids, Mrs. Camdon, has crabs, and Gerald Hensley, one of the guards, has a scar across his back that nearly reaches his arse. If either of those people are missing those things, then it’ll be up to you to zap ’em. So what I’d like you to do today, besides eating and shitting yourself silly at the trials, is to talk to as many people as you can and ask them for everything about themselves. If you think someone’s a phony, then tell me and I’ll look into it.”
Sean didn’t like the sound of that, but he agreed to anyway. One person he’d be sure to avoid was Avery, who was more than a little miffed at being told of Callie’s departure. She first yelled at him for not telling her before Callie left, then accused him of forging the letter and of being a Consarian spy.
“If I and Callie are spies, then Master Cypher must be one, too,” Sean replied. “And besides, I gave her supplies with the count’s blessing. He allowed her to leave because he trusts us.”
His assumed his logical counterpoints would mollify Avery, but it only made her angrier. Her husband tried to play mediator, but in the end Avery proclaimed that Sean was never welcome in her home from then on.
Before he let Sean attend the trials, Master Harris brought his student to one of the many crystals that upheld the ward. It was in a corner of an upper hallway of the guest wing, sitting in a decorative steel frame with glass panes. His magic reserve was nearly full since he had taken the second potion Master Cypher gave him, but he believed that even if he hadn’t, he could still feel the atmospheric effects the crystal emitted. It was as if he was taking shelter in a rainstorm and was being slowly soaked by the resulting mist. Master Harris ordered him to hold a hand up to it, and he did so but couldn’t help but pull back after a few seconds. He had sensed that the crystal was alive somehow and was reaching out to him.
Master Harris cackled. “This is what you signed up for, boy: to be a part of … that. You see why so many apprentices left me? It’s because they ran with their tails between their legs!”
“Surely, it can’t be all that bad,” Sean said. “I’ll just think of it as a pet, and I’m the master who has to bring it to heel.”
Harris nodded approvingly. “Glad to hear you say that, my boy. It does take some sand to take on a ward like this. I swear, on some days it acts like it has a mind of its own and thinks like a man, and on those days I can’t tell which thoughts are mine and which are the ward’s.”
Sean glanced at the crystal worriedly, though he wondered if the master was just toying with him. “What’s it like, sharing energy with it? Is it like sharing food with a friend?”
“Hmm … don’t laugh when I say this, but it’s like … like being in the womb. I can’t remember back that far, of course, but yes, it’s like the ward is pregnant with me but I’m never ready to pop out.” He put a bony hand on Sean’s shoulder. “You still want to be a house mage here, eh?”
Sean put some thought into an answer, then sadly replied, “My good sir, I’ve seen the Gateway to Heaven and lived to tell about it; I should be able to handle a ward with a mind of its own.”
After a taking few lessons on potion-making, Sean was free until evening. He got around to speaking with two maids and two retainers, asking them only basic questions about themselves, since probing for intimate details could wait for a later date when people were better acquainted with him. He got the usual sympathies for being Master Harris’ apprentice, plus a broader understanding of their daily duties and family situations. He didn’t know if this information would help him detect a “phony,” but he assumed the master’s advice was given for good reason.
He then retrieved Jonas from their quarters and brought him to the western field, where the competition was down to fifteen contestants. He was able to witness one battle (having to fight the crowd to do so), but Jonas grew upset when one fighter got bashed on the left thigh and had to limp out of the arena. Nearly in tears, Jonas demanded that Sean never take him to see another fight. Sean had little problem meeting this request, though he wished the older man wasn’t so sensitive to a little unpleasantness.
Sean took to speaking with various townsfolk, such as woodcutters, masons, bakers, and housewives. He introduced himself as the house mage’s apprentice who hoped to take over the ward someday, and to his surprise a handful of people offered to introduce him to their daughters who were of marrying age. It made him a little uneasy, being pushed to see ladies on a personal level, so he claimed he wanted to get settled in more before going out on dates. But someday, he thought, he’ll have to get over his insecurities and look into getting a serious relationship. He had been shut down numerous times by young noblewomen, but perhaps a commoner would be more accepting of him.
Jonas meanwhile entertained himself by watching grazing cows and horses, plus fetching food for him and Sean (though Sean didn’t want to spoil his appetite for tonight’s feast, where he’ll be a guest of honor). At one point, he started playing with a group of children and stray dogs. This sparked an incident where concerned parents demanded to know what perverse interest he had in their children. It was up to Sean to explain that Jonas wasn’t like most men, for he was simple but harmless. The parents accepted this explanation yet still eyed Jonas suspiciously, as if he was a cougar waiting atop tree branches.
“I only wanted to play,” said a sullen Jonas as Sean led him away from the scene. “Why didn’t they let me? I see other adults play with the dogs and little ones, so why can’t I?”
“Because, Jonas, you—”
Acted too much like a child, was what he wanted to say, but that would probably upset Jonas further.
“The parents didn’t know you very well. They’d be more comfortable if they knew who their kids were playing with.”
“Yeah … and it’s because I’m not a kid.”
Sean blinked in surprise. “Why, yes, that’s right. Usually, parents play with only their own children, and if other children are present, parents leave them to play in a group. A grown man playing with a group raises questions, because parents don’t know what you intend.”
“But what did they think I wanted to do?”
Sean sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “Kidnap one of them. You didn’t like it when you were kidnapped, did you? So please, remember that you’re still a stranger here.”
Jonas reluctantly agreed, and Sean suggested they kill time at the stables, where they could offer their services pitching hay and feeding the horses. It soon occurred to Sean that not only would he miss Jonas when he was gone, he would also miss the feeling of being a father. His older charge was so much like a child that it drew out his fatherly instincts, and though it was nerve-wracking at times, there was a certain satisfaction in teaching Jonas the ways of the world. Of course, Sean was only nineteen so he still had some maturing to do, but he expected to be ready for fatherhood in five or six years.
Now if only the right girl would come along …
The winner of the trials was Dio Tranquilli, a mountain of a man whom Sean had a hard time seeing Callie defeat if she
were to face him. He looked to be a full two meters tall, with a shock of red hair and a broad fiery beard.
In the final match, Dio faced a man of similar stature though a bit more winded from all the fighting he’d done. Dio ultimately disarmed his opponent with a blow to the knuckles, then amazingly tossed aside his own sword, picked the man up nearly head-level, and threw him to the ground. The man miraculously wasn’t injured, but he was so winded and dispirited that he couldn’t get back up. Dio lifted his fists to the sky, and the crowd gave a deafening roar as the mediator declared him as the next bronze sentinel for Count Erik Guyver.
Festivities were soon underway as long banquet tables were set up, musicians banded together to play lively tunes, and torches were lit around designated dancing areas in the waning daylight. Sean was impressed at how quick and orderly the event organizers were, suspecting that celebrations of this scope were fairly regular in Darin Province.
After a meeting with the majordomo about what was expected of a guest of honor, Sean and Jonas went to one of the dancing areas, where children and couples let themselves loose over melodies from violins, flutes, citterns, and drums. Jonas was more eager to dance than Sean, who merely wanted to see that Jonas didn’t get lost or in trouble, and he was content to prance among the others while clapping to the tempo.
Sean kept an eye on his charge from a nearby tree, occasionally grimacing in dismay at Jonas’ ungainly dance moves. Not that Sean himself was much of a dancer outside of a ballroom, but if he was ever found marching around with sharply bent knees while pumping his fists, he should likely die of deep red shame.
He was eventually approached by a woman about his age with straight brown hair and an amber kirtle. She asked if he cared to dance, to which he was struck speechless. Surely there were plenty of other young men around whom she was more familiar with, so why entrust herself to a complete stranger? Well, perhaps she took pity on him for being left out of the festivities, or perhaps his sharp clothing—consisting of a black woolen jacket trimmed with elk fur, a necktie with a silver clasp, and nearly spotless brown leather boots, all courtesy of the mansion’s wardrobe—marked him as a man of import. Whatever the case, he couldn’t turn down her small blue eyes and sweet smile, though he insisted he could only join her for one song.
She led him to the edge of the crowd where they faced each other and began to dance with two conjoined hands. They performed what most couples did: a quick and frantic form of the waltz, where they swiveled their torsos back and forth while rotating. Sean did his best at copying what the others did, though he couldn’t help but stumble from time to time and recover himself with a look of apology. The girl didn’t seem to mind, and she obliged him when he raised her hand and spun her around when a violin player launched into a spirited solo.
When the song ended, Sean thanked his partner and kissed the back of her hand.
“You can only stay for one?” she asked.
“I’m afraid I must. The feast will start soon, and I must be there. I am the house mage’s apprentice and a guest of honor. The name’s Sean McAlister.”
She suddenly beamed at him and drew in close to be heard over the crowd. “Please remember me, Sean. I’m Mandi Sandusky; my father’s Aaron the baker. Come by sometime.” With that, she kissed his cheek and wandered away with a final backwards glance, her eyes wanting.
Sean stood there, stunned as blood rushed to his head. Could she be the one? No, you fool, don’t jump to conclusions … but she’s certainly a start.
He snapped out of his reverie when he realized he had taken his eyes off Jonas. He cursed and went around the dance area, calling out Jonas’ name. He searched for minutes that felt like lifetimes, and he got the sinking feeling Jonas had retreated too far away for Sean to find him in the dense crowd. If he couldn’t find his guileless charge, he’ll have to hope Jonas found his way to the feast on his own when the time came.
Just when his heart began to feel too heavy to bear, Jonas materialized from the dark and excitedly confronted him. “Sean, Sean! You’ll never guess who I found!”
“What?” Sean awkwardly asked. “Who is it?”
“Come, I’ll show you!”
“Okay, just don’t stray too far from me.”
Sean was led through throngs of people who talked and laughed with breaths smelling of booze. As they neared an old, gnarled oak, he wondered what mysterious person could work Jonas up into a frenzy. He expected someone from the convoy, perhaps one of the women. If it was Lucy, Lydia or Olivia, that would be okay; but if it was Avery with her husband Kevin, he’d be sure to turn himself and Jonas around and run like hell.
So when he spotted Callie leaning on the tree trunk in the dim torchlight, he blinked a few times to make sure his eyes weren’t lying to him. “Callie, is that really you?”
“Uh, yeah. Good seeing you, Sean.”
“Wow, I can’t believe you’re here! You were so dead set on leaving …”
“She changed her mind,” Jonas said. “She wants to stay now.”
Callie made a short, polite laugh. “Afraid not. This is only temporary.”
Sean peered at her, for something didn’t seem right. She held her face away from him and Jonas, and her eyes darted across the celebrators. Clearly she was looking for something, and her body language—consisting of crossed arms and legs—suggested she’d rather be left alone.
He put on a mischievous smile. “Hey, if you just came for the free food, I’ll understand. You probably shouldn’t have left before tonight, anyway; but now you can stuff yourself silly.”
This got a smile to break through her frosty demeanor. “Yeah, it all does look good, but, well … let’s just say I’m here on some business.”
“Business? You mean—”
He stopped himself, not wanting to pry any further. Even so, a sliver of anger slipped through him like a pickaxe through porous stone. Coming from Callie, “business” probably meant she was on some kind of unsavory job. So who was she looking for now: someone to rob or someone to abduct?
Dammit, I knew she was going to return to her old lifestyle; I only assumed she’d wait till she got to Asturia to do it. Guess she found an offer that was too good to refuse in St. Clive, as if the coin and supplies I gave her weren’t good enough!
“So, you’re going to stay now, right?” Jonas asked in a pleading tone.
“For now, yes, but not for long,” Callie replied. “Time is precious, you know.”
“Well, do enjoy yourself since you’re here,” Sean said. “I hear some drinking contests out yonder; if your fighting skills are lacking, maybe you should put your drinking skills to the test.”
She smiled again and shook her head, her gaze still glued on the milling celebrators. “Maybe another time.”
Jonas started to say something when the dinner bell rang from the manor gates. Sean stopped him with a hand on his shoulder and said to Callie, “We have to go. It’s good to see you … but please, stay out of trouble.”
The men made to leave, but Callie stopped them with a word. This raised Sean’s ire, for he expected her to make some proud rebuke. But instead, she said, “Maybe I should tell you … please be careful. Look out for a man with long black hair and a scar across his face.”
“Why? What’s his story?”
“It’s probably nothing, but I don’t know what he’ll do. Just keep an eye out for him; don’t let him get too close.”
He stood there a moment, dumbfounded, until Callie shooed him away. He had more questions for her, but she was probably right: He shouldn’t be late for the feast.
Perhaps she’s not on unsavory business after all, but why didn’t she warn me sooner? If it’s “probably nothing,” then why warn me at all?
Sean found Count Guyver already seated at the host’s table just west of the mansion. Perpendicular to this table were four rows of sixteen banquet ta
bles standing end-to-end, all covered with white cloths with intricate designs of spiraling ivy. The patrons were former contestants and winners of a raffle that took place throughout the trials, and while the finest clothes of these homely folk wouldn’t get them past the door to a noble’s ballroom, it was charming to see them try their best to look good for their local lord.
Count Guyver was in a black jacket with a red waistcoat decorated with gold twine, and a gold circlet with an emerald crowned his head. At either end of the table were the count’s advisors while the guests of honor were right beside him. Sean sat on his right, and his new bronze sentinel was on his left, who wore a white formal shirt under a coonskin coat. Dio’s small green eyes gave him a naturally wild look, and they shined with pride as he overlooked those he had beaten to win his place. Sean imagined the host table must have made for an amusing sight, with his diminutive stature on one side of the count and Dio’s overbearing stature on the other. The nobleman could draw comparisons to Lady Justice, with a pair of scales where one was lower than the other.
While the patrons could help themselves to a sumptuous spread of fowls and red meats, the count and his guests of honor were served plates of selected cuts of sirloin steak with buttered potatoes, maize, green beans, and cranberries, along with gem-studded steins of frothy mead. Sean’s mouth began to water at the sirloin’s rich scent, his tongue itching to take in the crusty brown exterior bordering a juicy pink center. He knew it was extremely rude to eat before the count did, but perhaps if he took a nibble …
“Hear, hear!” the count bellowed before Sean’s eager fingers could betray him. He rose with one crutch under his right arm and further called for silence. “My fellow countrymen, it is good to be here with you. I have come from the front with less than I had, and I can attest to the bravery and commitment of our fine soldiers. They have worked hard and fought gallantly, and many have fallen in the line of duty—including my dear brother Henry, who is now in God’s grace and care. A moment of silence please, for the spirits of the fallen.”
The Hunt for the Three Roses Page 17
