Red looked at Josiah as he took the words in. “Uncle, is there any chance that my powers would be restored?”
“Damned if I know, Josiah.” Marlon’s face was full of pity. “‘Maybe’ is all I can offer. Maybe once the land is fully restored.”
Josiah sighed and looked over the fields, his eyes distant.
“Meanwhile”—Marlon looked at Ezren—“you are a nightmare. What every mage scholar has talked about for years. An untrained rogue with wild magic.”
“Help him,” Evelyn said.
Marlon looked at her in astonishment. “How? He doesn’t even have the basic skills needed to manage magic, much less the wild flavor. He hasn’t absorbed his lessons through his mother’s nipple, like you did.”
“It can be taught,” Evelyn insisted.
“Why me?” Marlon demanded. “You could—”
“Because as the head of the Mages Guild, you trained mages for years. You are his best and only hope.”
Marlon snorted. “Even if I can teach him the basics, daughter dear, it is a temporary measure at best. Eventually he will lose control, and then what? A danger to all who surround him.”
“Not if he stays close to Josiah,” Red said.
“Use Josiah like a wet blanket on a fire?” Marlon took a sip from his glass. “That might work, but eventually it will not be enough. Risky for Josiah as well, since the strongest fire can blaze hot enough to burn wet wool.”
“Give him some basic training, Father,” Evelyn asked. “Enough that he can learn some small control.”
“We don’t even know if that will work,” Marlon grumbled as he eyed Ezren. “It’s wild magic that fills his soul, not the mundane.” He narrowed his eyes, and considered Ezren. “Still, it might be educational.”
Evelyn seemed to be holding her breath.
“Very well, then.” Marlon straightened in his chair. “Ezren, what does it feel like when the magic builds within you?”
“I…it’s hard to describe.” Ezren squirmed in his chair, looking at each of them.
“I can help,” Marlon said. “You know how it feels when you really have to piss?”
Red’s mouth dropped open. Bethral blinked in surprise, but Evelyn just rolled her eyes. “Father, I don’t think—”
“It’s how we teach the children,” Marlon said loftily. “Just as you teach a child not to soil his nappies.”
“It is, Evie,” Josiah said apologetically. “You didn’t go to a formal mage school, so you wouldn’t know.
“Magic’s like peeing?” Red asked.
“Pissed your trous lately?” Marlon asked, ignoring Evelyn’s indignant sputters.
“No, you rude pi—” Red growled.
“Because you learned when you were a babe. Your body knows—you know—and barring illness or extraordinary circumstances, you are in control. The urge that builds up, you delay, do a bit of a dance, eventually you gotta go or pee your pants.” Marlon focused on Ezren. “He can’t, because he’s never learned. He doesn’t recognize what his body and the magic are telling him.”
Red looked at Ezren, who had the faintest bit of red on his cheeks. He lifted his chin in defiance. “I am certain I can learn.”
Marlon gave him the eye. “Maybe. You can learn the feelings, what they mean. But can you learn control? Especially when you are angry, or startled, or—”
Red snorted. “So all the high-horse mages are just those who can hold their water longer than others?”
Marlon stopped, and gave her an offended look. “If you don’t mind. Guild secrets.”
Red quirked her mouth, but she managed not to laugh out loud.
MUCH later, Marlon, Red, and Evelyn were seated at the table. The cloth sides of the tent were rolled up, and the last bit of sun was disappearing behind the hills.
“Josiah may have lost his skill, but not his knowledge. He can help Ezren.” Marlon sighed. “But it won’t last, daughter.”
“It’s dealt with for now,” Red growled. “We’ve other worries that need seeing to.”
Marlon snorted. “Your cause is—”
“Thank you for your assistance, Lord High Mage,” Evelyn said stiffly. “I am sure you wish to return to your home.”
Marlon gave her the eye. “Without sharing the latest gossip of the Regent’s Court?”
Red raised her eyebrows. “You have access to the Court?”
“I do,” Marlon said. “As Guildmaster, I am frequently invited to the Regent’s table.”
“And just as frequently, you decline the invitation,” Evelyn said.
“The Regent has not held many Court feasts of late.” Marlon looked at Evelyn sideways. “Seems he’s heard tell of a Chosen raising an army against him, one who wears red gloves and wields a sword as most women wield a needle.”
Red shrugged. “Not unexpected that he learned of me. Once word got out, I knew it would make its way to his ears.”
“But there’s no talk of your involvement, daughter,” Marlon said. “Just the usual complaints that you give away your services to the poor.”
Evelyn smiled slightly. “Mother always said that it wasn’t right to charge for prayers.”
“You know the Archbishop, Evie. He’d charge per blessing and double on holy days if he could,” Marlon pointed out.
“True enough,” Evelyn sighed. “But that is a problem for another day.”
“You might not hear if there was suspicion against her,” Red pointed out. “She is your daughter.”
Marlon shook his head. “Don’t think me a fool, Red. I’ve other ears. I’d know. I may not approve of her foolish ways, but I’d know of a threat to my daughter.”
“Father, it would help if the Guild withdrew its suppor—”
“At the time, the Regent seemed the only option—you understand that, don’t you?” Marlon glared at Evelyn.
Evelyn looked down at the table. “I am sure it seemed so at the time, Father.”
Marlon sighed. “I may be the Guildmaster, but mine is not the only voice in the decision. I will consult with the others.”
Evelyn said nothing.
Marlon looked at Red. “Josiah is as much a weapon as your sword is. In many ways, far more powerful.”
“He’s a man, not a weapon,” Red snapped. “A man who will be needed to rebuild this land.”
Marlon studied her face, then gave a satisfied nod. “Well, then, I will return to my comfortable lodgings, and leave you to it.”
Red stood. “We’ll see you to the shrine.”
“What for?” Marlon asked. He turned his head to Evelyn. “Stay alive, daughter.”
Evelyn gave him a sad smile. “I’ll try, Father.”
“Don’t you need to open a portal from the shrine?” Red asked.
“Oh, please,” Marlon scoffed. He snapped his fingers and disappeared, chair and all.
“Father loves to show off,” Evelyn apologized.
“He can do that?” Red looked at her, shocked. “Just ‘poof’ and he’s there? Or gone?”
“He isn’t head of the Mages Guild because of his charming personality,” Evelyn pointed out. “He’s the most powerful mage in the Kingdom, and the only one who can do that.”
“Fine. Wonderful.” Red stood. “I’ve a prophecy to fulfill. Let’s be about it, shall we?”
TWENTY-NINE
HE was losing her, and he wasn’t sure why.
Josiah paused, leaned on his shovel, wiped sweat from his forehead, and looked around him, letting the land distract him. As uneasy as he was about Red, this work filled him with a sense of satisfaction.
Soon after their return, Red had sent a party to retrieve the dead they’d been forced to leave behind. Larrisa had gone with them, and spread the word to her neighbors that there was safety to be found in Athelbryght. Red had told her to pass the word to those she trusted.
Families had started to arrive with the supplies they could carry, and their animals in tow. Many had lived in Farentall before the battles had
ravaged that land. They all were looking for a safe place.
Red had taken one look, and thrown up her hands. She’d given the task of settling them to Josiah. “You know the land,” she’d said, with an odd guarded look on her face. “You figure out what to do with them.”
Though it was late in the spring, Josiah had set them to glean what they could from the land. The fields about the camp would be worked by all, to ensure a decent crop for the fall.
The livestock had been combined, and soon the herds would multiply. Josiah was pleased, although he always had to explain anytime someone tried to milk his goats.
Larrisa had aided him in sorting the wheat from the chaff, helping him figure out their skills and abilities. They’d worry about the establishment of homesteads once Palins was restored and Red was on the throne. In the meantime, they’d search to find what new life was returning to Athelbryght.
Already there were fish and eel in the river, and someone had reported deer on the farthest fields at dawn. Arent was still supplying them from the farm in Soccia, but with any luck, if they planted in the fall, they’d be self-sufficient come this time next year.
One of the lads came by with a bucket of cool well water, and Josiah gratefully accepted a drink. Another few breaths and he’d get back to work.
His gaze moved toward the barn and the command tent, where there was a bustle of far different activity. For the last week, Red had done nothing but organize men and arms, sending messages and conferring with the High Barons. Josiah had tried to join in the councils, but more than once his curse had canceled an important spell or portal. Besides, he really didn’t have an interest in troop movement, try as he might.
Red had chased him off. Oh, she’d smiled as she’d done it, but Josiah knew that the Chosen was putting distance between them. Not at night. Lady of Laughter, the nights were full of their lovemaking, and his body pulsed at the thought of this evening’s tryst. But the heat between them was different, and Josiah was fairly certain he knew why.
She’d exposed herself to him—let him see into the depths of her heart. To a warrior such as herself, that would be frightening. Josiah chuckled, feeling a bit smug. His kitten was startled and afraid, her fur puffed out and teeth and claws displayed.
But the nights—she was just as eager as he, and more often then not, it was his kitten who reached for him in their tent. Of course, once she took the throne—
Josiah stopped in midthought, not letting himself finish the idea. He’d have her as long as he could, Lord of Light willing.
Their forces were almost ready, he knew. Another few days, and she’d leave to join the forces massing to attack Edenrich.
Another few days…
“Lord Josiah!” The cry came from behind. Josiah whipped around to see Lerew running toward him.
SHE was losing him, as she’d known she would.
Red looked toward the fields where Josiah was working as she waited for the next messenger to arrive. A moment of peace in the organized chaos that is a military campaign. Bethral and Oris stood nearby with horses, also awaiting the next messenger.
Josiah had tried to look interested as they pored over the maps and discussed the routes that the warriors would take from the various baronies, but more than once his eyes had strayed to the fields around them. Red smiled at the memory. The refugees had been a good reason to send him off to do the work he was best suited for. Every night, in their tent, he’d talk of plants and grain and births among the cattle and sheep.
She’d lie back on the bed, content for a while just to watch and listen to him. Odd that he didn’t bore her with his talk of crops and livestock. She enjoyed watching his face as he talked, alight with interest, enthusiasm, and plans for the future. He was so sexy, padding about the tent, folding his clothes, crawling into bed….
Red sighed. She wouldn’t be able to do that for much longer.
She looked at the maps spread over the table. The armies had been moving for some time now, and it wouldn’t be long before they’d be massed, waiting to move on Edenrich. From every report, they’d be ready sooner, rather than later. She’d know in the next hour or so.
As much as she wanted to remain at Josiah’s side, they couldn’t move soon enough for her. Time wasn’t their ally. The Regent knew of the Chosen with the red gloves, might even know of the force gathering to stand against him. The sooner they moved, the less time he’d have to counter them.
Red glanced over to where Gloriana was studying a map, comparing the counters with the papers before her. She was intent on her work, and dedicated to the cause. Gloriana certainly looked the part of the Chosen, wearing the armor that displayed her birthmark.
Red studied the girl carefully, satisfied with what she saw. Gloriana looked so young, her shoulder-length hair brushing the map as she leaned over the table. She’d do, to follow in Red’s footsteps if necessary.
Of course, one never knew with the young, until they were tested in the fire. But Red thought Gloriana would survive, when it came down to it.
Movement by the shrine caught her eye, and she saw Ezren leading a group of men talking and gesturing. The men were all dressed differently: some prosperous, some plain, and a few down on their luck. She’d let him have full rein over his plans, and didn’t ask too many questions. He seemed very earnest that his scheme would be helpful, but only time would tell.
She stretched, reaching up and standing on her toes. It would be good to finish this, good to—
She heard a cry, and turned to see Josiah and his workers running for one of the distant fields. They were moving fast, and she couldn’t tell…were they being attacked?
“Oris,” she called out, and pointed.
Oris pulled himself up on his horse, as Bethral did on Bessie. Red ran from the platform and mounted as well, and set Beast to a gallop. Damn fools, if there was trouble, why didn’t they run toward her, and not away? Where were the cursed sentries?
Fool goatherder! She kicked Beast into a gallop and pounded through the fields.
JOSIAH didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. He knelt in the soil, examining the tiny green leaves on the twisted, gnarled vine.
Others milled about, talking and laughing and checking the other rootstocks. But Josiah just stared at the tiny growth, and felt something ease in his chest. He’d never thought it possible.
The thunder of hooves brought his head up. Red pulled Beast to a halt, scanning the area and glaring at them. “Where’s the attack?”
Josiah looked up into Red’s eyes, filled with concern and worry. His heart swelled with joy, with gratitude, with love for the woman who had ripped his scabs off and started the healing. He just grinned at her—looking like a fool, he was sure. “No attack, Red. Come and see.”
She dismounted, and threw the reins to Oris. Bethral stayed mounted, her armor gleaming silver in the sun.
“Fool goatherder,” Red grumbled as she knelt. “Scared the life out of me. I thought you were being attacked.” She nudged one of the goats away with her knee. “What is this?”
Josiah smiled at her, using his fingers to display the leaves. “The vines. They are coming back. Athelbryght is coming back.”
Red gave the vine a dubious look. “If you say so, Josiah. Not much to look at, though.”
“Not yet.” Josiah stood, brushing off his knees. “But in a few years…”
Red quirked her mouth, and gave him a doubtful look.
Josiah laughed, the joy welling up inside him. He reached out, took Red in his arms, and swung her about. The goats kicked up their heels, bleating and dancing about. Red squawked a protest, but there was a sparkle in her eyes when he set her back on her feet.
“The grapes will come back, Red, wait and see.” Josiah grinned. “We’ll make wine again, wonderful wines that dance on your tongue.”
“Wine to make a bard weep?” Red asked, repeating what she’d heard him say.
Josiah looked at the smiling faces of the men and women talki
ng and laughing around him. “Aye, Chosen.”
She smiled, but there was something in her eyes. Something haunted. Josiah reached out to her, but Red pulled back. “I’ve one last dispatch to consider.” She turned back toward Beast. “We’ll eat in the tent tonight. Just the two of us, eh?”
“Yes,” Josiah said softly, but Red just mounted and rode away.
THEIR meal was a simple one. They ate on the bed in an easy silence, which suited Red just fine. She relished the food, and the light of the sun as it glowed on the tent walls. She’d managed to bathe before they ate, and was wearing some worn trous and a tunic from deep in her pack. Old, but comfortable. No armor this night. The guards were posted about the camp, and Bethral had trained them to within an inch of their lives. They were safe enough.
And her plans for the night did not include smelling like oiled metal.
She watched Josiah as they shared the food. He ate absent-mindedly, lost in thought of vines and grapes, no doubt. She smiled, and he caught the look as he reached for the last of the kavage.
He smiled back. “What are you staring at?”
“The vines are not the only things growing, Josiah. You need a haircut.” She set her mug aside.
He shrugged, putting a hand up to his neck. “I usually cut it when I can feel it on my neck.”
“Let me,” Red offered. She leaned over, and drew her dagger.
He gave her a smile, and she moved behind him, running her gloved fingers through his curls. She pulled the hair out with her fingers, and carefully started to trim it. “So soft,” she whispered as the silky locks clung to the leather of her gloves.
“It will get everywhere,” Josiah warned.
“We can shake out the blanket.” Red smiled at the back of his head. She loved the contrast, the black strands with the dusting of silver. “Your hair shines like Bethral’s armor. Silver in the black of night.”
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