The Wizard Heir

by Cinda Williams Chima

  The wizard raised his hand. “All right. You’re the best judge, I suppose.” He paused, as if debating what to say next. “Look. It doesn’t matter who you’re after or how strong the justification. You cannot attack anyone at the conference. This wasn’t a good day for Gregory Leicester. He would seize any excuse to undo what’s been done.”

  “What happened?”

  “The council agreed to convene an Interguild Conference to consider a new constitution based on the revised rules. If Leicester and D’Orsay can’t get their own way within a council of their peers, it’s even less likely where there are warriors and enchanters represented.”

  “Seph, you have to promise me you won’t do anything to disrupt the conference. It would play right into Leicester’s hands.”

  “Killing Leicester is the best thing that could happen, it seems to me.” He looked up into Hastings’s scowl. Reluctantly, he said, “Okay, I promise.”

  “You’ll need to stick with Jack all day tomorrow, or I’ll know about it. And you’re not to come near the inn. If you violate either of those conditions, it doesn’t matter what Linda says. I’ll put you away where you can’t cause any more mischief.”

  Seph nodded. He didn’t have much choice. “Okay.”

  “I’ll take you home, then,” said Leander Hastings.

  The next day, Jack and Seph left at four a.m. to go fishing in the western basin. Seph learned to bait hooks, cast a line, and clean fish. By the time they returned, the meetings at the Legends were over, and the council had dispersed. Most left the Sanctuary as quickly as possible. That evening, Leander Hastings, Ellen Stephenson, and Madison Moss came to dinner. Becka was attending a concert at the Institute. It was one of the warm nights at the end of summer that make promises that won’t be kept. Seph and Madison rolled lake perch in cracker crumbs and fried them while Linda and Jack made salads and roasted the corn. Although everyone was eager to hear what had transpired at the Legends, Linda would allow no discussion of events at the conference until dessert was served.

  “So how’d it go?” Jack demanded, when the ban was finally lifted. They were eating ice cream on the screened porch. Seph and Madison had claimed the wicker swing and were pleasantly crowded in together.

  “I’d say the outcome was mixed today,” Hastings replied. “Leicester and D’Orsay introduced an alternative constitution and put it on the agenda for consideration at the joint meeting.” He shook his head. “I don’t know how it could possibly pass. It’s a nasty document. Worse than the original rules.” He looked over at Linda, as if to get her reaction, but she seemed to be deep in thought.

  “One concern is the location of the conference. They were unable to change the composition of the Interguild Council, but they argued against holding the next meeting in the Sanctuary. They say that this is a hostile environment, that the whole concept was forced on the Wizard Council at the tournament last summer. Which it was.”

  Hastings shrugged. “Leicester and his group had already lost on many of the important issues. I think there was some desire on the part of the Wizard Council to appease them somehow.”

  “Where will the meeting be held?” Seph asked.

  “Second Sister. It’s an island in Lake Erie, in the western basin, actually Canadian.” Hastings explained. “Privately owned.”

  “Second Sister?” Jack raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t think there was anything there.”

  “There’s an old winery, rather like a great stone castle. It’s been renovated into a guesthouse. The feeling was that this would be a good compromise. Close to the Sanctuary, convenient for everyone.”

  “They didn’t want to have it in Raven’s Ghyll?” Jack asked. That had been the site of the tournament the summer before, in England. It was Claude D’Orsay’s ancestral home, a stronghold of wizards. D’Orsay was the hereditary Gamemaster for the tournaments. Seph knew all this from Jack and Ellen.

  Hastings shook his head. “Frankly, none of the other Weir would set foot in the Ghyll. It will be hard enough to convince them to sit down in the same room with members of the Wizard Council.

  “They also insisted that members of the Wizard Council be present as observers. That notion was popular with wizards, of course, those on both sides of the issue who want to keep an eye on the process. I just hope we haven’t given up something important. The location was suggested by Adam Sedgwick. He’s an ally of D’Orsay’s. And D’Orsay and Leicester seconded it right away.”

  “Have you found out who owns it?” Linda asked. “A group of investors from Detroit. Friends of Sedgwick’s.” He shrugged.

  “When will the meeting be?” Seph asked.

  “In two weeks,” said Hastings. “Invitations will go out in a week. A subcommittee is going to decide who gets invited. That’s me, Ravenstock, Leicester, and D’Orsay.”

  Seph became alert at the name Ravenstock. “I hope Ravenstock is on our side,” he said.

  “He’s with us now. So the subcommittee is evenly divided. It won’t be easy coming to an agreement on the membership.”

  “I don’t think wizards should pick the attendees,” Linda said, as if coming out of her trance. “Seems like the other guilds should choose their own representatives.”

  “Seems like,” Hastings agreed. “Only, they’re not well organized. Until this year, they were either hiding out or in service to wizards.” He turned to Jack and Ellen. “Don’t be surprised if you are named to the Interguild Council.”

  Ellen sat up straighter, looking dismayed. “Can’t you find someone else? How am I supposed to negotiate with a bunch of wizards?”

  “Don’t worry.” Hastings smiled at her. “There will be a whole team there. Besides, I think you underestimate yourself.”

  Seph heard this exchange as if from a distance, distracted by Madison’s hip pressing against his and her long hair brushing his arm, her bare back with its scattering of freckles. He knew he didn’t have to worry about being invited to the council meeting. He was small change in the wizard world.

  He wondered if the results of the proceedings would make any difference in his own personal situation. Perhaps a new constitution would get Leicester off his back, give him something else to keep him occupied, since the current rules had done nothing to discourage him. It was something to hope for, but Seph was not optimistic.

  There was one other card to play. He looked across at Linda Downey. Every day his wizardry skills were growing. One day soon, he would ask his questions, and she would answer him.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The Storm

  The day after the conference, Hastings left for New York, where the subcommittee was convening. Matters were moving fast. The invitees would not have much time to make their decisions. Perhaps that was part of the strategy.

  School was scheduled to start in a few weeks, but it was hard to focus on that with so much going on in the parallel universe of the Weir. Seph had already registered at the high school and signed up for his classes. He had never gone to a public school, but he was looking forward to it, especially now that he might actually stay and graduate.

  Linda’s house was scheduled to be finished by Halloween. She and Seph visited daily to monitor its progress. His room had its own bathroom and a turret with a winding staircase, another special touch the contractor had suggested.

  Madison worked a heavy schedule at the Legends, but Seph often met her for breakfast before she started her shift. They sometimes walked on the beach early in the morning or on muggy summer nights after her shift ended. They attended openings at Trinity’s Chapel Gallery. When she worked a double shift, they would go to afternoon matinees in the air-conditioned downtown theater, blinking like nocturnal animals when they emerged into the brilliant sunshine.

  She set limits that suggested that she just wanted to be friends. Seph was hoping for something more. She seemed to look on Seph as a window into another world.

  There was a wistful urgency to summer pastimes in the last days before sch
ool started. Jack made plans to take the sailboat out of the water, since it was unlikely there would be time to go sailing once school was in session. So a week after the end of the Wizard Council, Jack invited Ellen, Seph, and Madison to go sailing one last time.

  It was a beautiful late-summer day, not too hot, with high clouds and a brisk breeze coming out of the west. There were whitecaps out beyond the cut from the har-bor. The spray hit their faces as they headed into the wind, toward Sandusky. Madison had never been sailing; she couldn’t swim, in fact. Seph had strapped her into a bright orange life jacket before they left the dock. She’d been pale and snappish, but determined to go.

  Now her apprehension seemed to have faded. She sat in the right rear corner of the boat, one hand trailing in the water, her face turned up to catch the spray. She’d pulled her hair back into a ponytail, anchoring a Cincinnati Reds baseball cap.

  Ellen’s sailing skills were on par with Seph’s. She’d never sailed before coming to Trinity, having spent all her time training to kill people. But she was strong and willing, and soon Seph and Ellen were making the boat fly over the waves, while Jack supervised from a seat on the side of the boat.

  Seph loved this business of capturing the wind, of having his way with it. The breeze made him feel like he was flying. He suddenly realized that he was very much at home on the water after a summer in Trinity. The contrast with his season at the Havens was breathtaking.

  It was after two when they started out, and by four, they were already several miles west of Trinity. The weather seemed to be turning. Great towers of clouds had piled up off to the west, and the sky that had been blue was rapidly darkening.

  “I don’t remember hearing anything about thunderstorms,” Jack said, puzzled. “We’d better head back.” Seph and Ellen brought the boat about, expecting the sails to fill with the freshening wind, but it died away suddenly, then changed direction, now blowing strongly from the east. They continued to have to tack back and forth, finding it just as hard to head back as it had been to head out, against the wind.

  “That’s weird,” Jack said. “Especially with what’s coming out of the west.” He looked apprehensively over his shoulder. The ragged edges of the cloud bank were overtaking them. The surface winds were blowing one way, and the winds aloft another. “We’d better use the engine or we’ll never outrun it. I’ll bring her in a little closer to shore.” He sat down in the captain’s chair and tried to start up the engine. There was no response— no sound, save the slap of water against the hull of the boat.

  Jack lifted the cowling, peered into the tangle of metal, made a few adjustments, and tried again. Still nothing. He shook his head. “This thing worked fine two hours ago when we left the harbor.” He stood carefully and looked about, scanning the horizon. The few boats that were left were far ahead of them, scurrying for shore.

  The strange easterly was blowing stronger than ever, and the boat began to wobble in the heavy seas. Madison crouched in the corner, holding on to her hat with one hand, gripping the toe rail with the other. Jack helped Seph and Ellen put up the storm jib and took over the management of the sails. Despite all their efforts and Jack’s expertise, the boat seemed to be standing still in the water as the storm overtook them. Jack strapped on his life jacket and made sure everyone else did, too.

  The light had fled, and the lake had turned from a deep blue to a slate gray color, flecked with white-and-yellow foam. The boat pitched and rolled as the seas grew heavier. Lightning strobed across the sky and thunder boomed from not far off.

  “Try the radio,” Jack directed Ellen. She played with it for a few minutes. There was no static. Nothing. “Either I’m not doing it right, or it’s not working.” she reported. Leaving the sails in Seph’s hands for a moment, Jack tried it himself. The radio was dead.

  By now the wind was a gale, the noise of the wind and the water so loud they couldn’t hear each other, even when they shouted. Jack moved quickly from one side of the boat to the other, ducking under the boom, directing them with hand gestures. A few large drops of rain splattered on the deck, although by now there was so much water aboard it was hard to tell.

  Seph realized the boat was actually being driven backward in the water, stern first, pushed by the wind toward the west. He looked at Jack, who had stopped fussing with the sails and was staring, one hand on the tiller, at the rear of the boat. Slipping and sliding on the wet decking, they lowered the sails with the downhaul sheets and snugged the sails to the poles. Water slopped over the stern as the boat plowed on, threatening to founder them. Jack used the rudder to bring the boat about. They picked up speed, cutting through the tops of waves as if they were under full canvas. Heading northwest.

  And then it came to Seph, a revelation. You’re no longer in the Sanctuary. You’re nowhere, but you’re going somewhere, and you’re taking three people with you.

  The rain was sheeting down in torrents, icy needles against the skin. Their clothes and hair were plastered to their bodies, and the noise of the storm was a constant clamor. Madison hung on grimly, shifting her weight on command to keep the boat righted. Jack was still maneuvering the rudder, while Seph and Ellen released a little reefed canvas. The boat flew on toward an unknown destination. Away from Trinity.

  Seph had an idea, a desperate one. Being careful to keep a firm hold on the rail, he worked his way to the stern, where there was a storage compartment under the seat. He forced the door open and pulled out a bright yellow, rubbery cylindrical object. Seph staggered back to the rail, clutching his prize against his chest.

  “What are you doing with the raft?” Jack demanded.

  Seph hooked both arms over the rail and then lifted his leg over.

  “Seph, don’t!” Madison released her death hold on the rail and slip-slid toward him. Then the boat bucked and she lost her footing and fell, sliding across the wet deck. She grabbed on to the rail and pulled herself into a sitting position. A cut above her right eye welled up, the blood sluicing away in the rain as quickly as it appeared.

  “Stay where you are!” he shouted, lifting his other leg over the rail. He clung to the outside, great swells crashing over him, trying to maneuver the raft into the right position.

  “Seph!” Madison was inching toward him again. “What’s the matter with you?”

  “Don’t you see? The storm’s for me,” Seph said.

  Jack struggled with the tiller, trying to keep the boat from turning crosswise to the wind. “If you think this is wizardry, you’re wrong! Not even a wizard can control the weather.”

  “Explain this, then!” Seph would have waved his arm had he dared to let go. “I’m going to bail. Maybe you’ll be all right.”

  “Come on, man!” Jack said desperately. “Get back in the boat. We’ve done okay so far.”

  “It’s not just the journey, it’s the destination you should worry about.” The boat was still flying west, as if pushed by an invisible engine.

  The next part would be tricky. Somehow he needed to land in the raft. Turning his back to the rail, he grabbed the cord on the CO2 cartridge in his teeth and gave it a fierce yank. The raft inflated like a yellow bomb going off and Seph let go of the rail just as a body slammed into him.

  He fell through space in a tangle of arms and legs. The raft smacked into the water, and Seph and his attacker smacked into the raft a moment later. Water washed over them, and the raft bobbed to the surface like a cork. Seph thrashed free, rolled over, and pushed himself into a sitting position, spitting out water.

  Madison lay next to him, coughing and sputtering. He slid his hands under her arms and hauled her upright, slapping her back to clear the water from her lungs. Her hair hung in tangles, her teeth were chattering, and she looked scared to death.

  “Why would you do that?” he said, genuinely bewildered.

  She just shook her head. He pulled her in close, trying to warm her with his body. The sailboat was nowhere to be seen. He and Madison and the raft were still flying before t
he wind.

  Jack saw the raft momentarily, a yellow spot on the dark water, before it was swallowed up by the storm. He stood at the railing where he’d tried to grab Seph at the last minute. Ellen was kneeling, stunned, in the bottom of the boat.

  The boat pitched and shuddered as the swells crashed into it. Jack lunged and seized the rudder, turning the boat into the wind, while Ellen pulled to her feet and scanned the water around them for the raft.

  The storm seemed to be abating. The wind dwindled, the rain slowed and stopped. The sickening pitching of the boat receded. Ellen released her grip on the rail, regaining a little color. Jack looked to the west, where a dark curtain receded across the sullen waves. To the east, the sky was brightening.

  There was no sign of Seph McCauley or Madison Moss.

  Seph soon realized that what he did or did not do had absolutely no influence on the trajectory or speed of the raft. He lay back, holding tightly to the rubber handles on the sides, with Madison tucked in next to him, her head resting on his shoulder. When they hit a particularly fierce wave, water cascaded over them, but they could not be any wetter than they were already. The storm raged around them, despite the fact that Seph was cooperating in the only way he knew how.

  Wherever they were going, he was sure it was bad news; although, if they were going to the Havens, they were heading in the wrong direction.

  He looked down at Madison. She was lying still, eyes wide open, her left hand still gripping his life jacket. Eventually, like an animal retreating from too much stimulus, he slept.

  When he awoke, it was dark and still storming, lightning harsh against his eyes, and thunder grumbling like the sound of a battle moving away from him. But it wasn’t thunder or lightning that had woken him, but the grating crunch as the floor of the raft hit bottom.

  Looking over the side, he saw that it had been driven up in the shallows next to a beach. It was a typical lake beach, a mixture of sand and rocks. The surface of the water surrounding the boat was littered with seaweed and debris, driven there by the storm.