She found a large bag on the floor of the closet that already held diapers and a box of wipes. No bottles, though. She yanked open a dresser drawer and found layers of tiny clothes. She shoved some of the clothes into the bag, which was decorated with elephants and giraffes in primary colors. Jessamine frowned and ran her hands over her elegant suit, swept a curtain of dark hair away from her face. She did not relish the idea of walking around with a diaper bag on her shoulder and a baby on her hip. She should have hired someone to take charge of the brat from the start.
She pulled a plastic infant seat from the closet and set it on the floor next to the crib. The catch resisted when she tried to lower the side, so she stretched over awkwardly and scooped the baby from the mattress. She laid him in the seat and began fussing with the straps.
How does one go about finding a nanny? She had no idea.
“What are you doing here?”
Jessamine jumped. The enchanter Linda Downey stood in the doorway. She was just a child, really, barefoot, in jeans and a T-shirt. Linda was the baby’s aunt, Jessamine recalled, not his Anaweir mother. Good. Not that it would have mattered, but she preferred to avoid a scene.
Jessamine stood, leaving the baby in the seat and the straps in a tangle. “I didn’t know anyone was home,” she said, instead of answering the question.
Linda tilted her head. She was a pretty thing, with long dark hair woven into a thick braid. She moved with a careless grace that Jessamine envied. But then, if Jess had to choose one gift over another, she would always choose her own.
“Of course there’s someone home,” the girl said, in the insolent way of teenagers. “You don’t leave a baby by itself.”
At least the sudden and awkward appearance of the enchanter solved one problem. “I’m glad you’re here,” Jessamine said imperiously, with a sweep of her elegant hand. “I need you to pack up some things for him, enough for a few days, anyway. Food, clothes, and so forth.”
“Why? Where do you think you’re taking him?”
Jessamine sighed, flexed her fingers with their long, painted nails. “If you must know, I’m taking him back with me.”
“What?” It came out almost as a shriek, and the baby threw out its arms, startled. Linda took a step forward. “What do you mean?”
“I’m taking him back to England with me. Don’t worry,” she added. “He’ll be well cared for. I just can’t afford to leave him lying about.”
“What are you talking about?” Linda demanded.
“Since the surgery, he has…appreciated in value,” Jessamine said calmly.
Linda knelt by the car seat, looking the boy over as if she could discover something through close examination. She extended a finger, and the baby grabbed on to it. She looked up at Jessamine. “What did you do to him?”
“He needed a stone, and I gave him one. A miracle. Something no one has ever done before. I saved his life.” She smiled, turning her palms upward. “Only, now he’s Weirlind.”
“A warrior?” It came out as a whisper. “No! I told you! He’s a wizard. He needed a wizard’s stone.” Linda shook her head as she said it, as if by denying it she could change things. “It’s all in his Weirbook. He’s a wizard,” she repeated bleakly.
Jessamine smiled. “Not anymore, if he ever was.
Be reasonable. A wizard’s stone is hard to come by. Wizards live almost forever. But warriors…warriors die young, don’t they?” The last part was intentionally cruel.
Now the enchanter stood, her hands balled into fists. “I should have known better than to trust a wizard.”
Jessamine drew herself up. She was losing patience with this scrap of a girl. “You didn’t have much of a choice, did you? If it weren’t for me, he’d be dead by now. I’m not in the business of providing charity care. I did it because I intend to play him in the Game. And I think you’d better remember to whom you are speaking and hope I don’t lose my temper.”
Linda took a deep breath, let it out with a shudder. “What am I supposed to tell Becka?”
“I don’t care what you tell her. Tell her it died.” The Anaweir and what they thought were of no consequence.
“But why do you have to take him now? He can’t play in a tournament until he’s grown.” The girl’s voice softened, grew persuasive. Jessamine felt a gentle pressure, the touch of the enchanter’s power. “He’s alive, but how do you know he’ll manifest? And what will you do with him in the meantime?”
Jessamine shrugged. “Perhaps I’ll bring you along to watch him,” she said. “In a year or two you can go to the Trade.” The girl would bring a pretty price, too, if Jess was any judge. Enchanters and warriors were both hard to come by.
Linda took a step back. “You wouldn’t!”
“Then don’t try your enchanter’s tricks with me.
I’ve spent quite a bit of time on him already. I intend to keep an eye on my investment while he’s growing up.”
“If he grows up. If someone else doesn’t get to him first.” Linda extended her hands in appeal. “Everyone knows you are Procurer of Warriors for the White Rose. How long do you think he’ll last if he’s with you?”
The girl had a point. The stone Jess had used on the boy had come from a seventeen-year-old warrior, her last prospect. A girl who would never play in a tournament. She’d been butchered by agents of the Red Rose when they’d been unable to steal her away. Illegal, but then rules relating to the Anawizard Weir were made to be broken. “I assume you have a suggestion?”
“Let his parents raise him. Come back and get him later.”
The baby scrunched up his eyes and let out a screech, his face turning an angry blue-red. Unfathomable creatures, babies, Jessamine thought. Unfathomable and unpredictable and messy.
“He might be hard to handle later on if he’s not raised to it.” Jessamine said.
Linda lifted her eyebrows. “You’re saying a wizard can’t manage a warrior?”
Jessamine nodded, conceding the point. “What if someone else takes him to play?”
“In Trinity? No one will ever look for him here. It’s perfect. You’re a healer-surgeon. Suppress him, so he won’t stand out.” Linda sat down next to the baby, smoothing down his fringe of red-gold hair. “You can easily keep watch on him. His parents are Anaweir. They can be managed well enough. Tell them you need to see him on a regular basis. Becka will do whatever you ask. You saved her son’s life.”
Jessamine had to admit, the enchanter’s suggestion was appealing. It would be years before this boy could be put to use, and he would be nothing but trouble in the meantime. This way, she could keep the warrior brat out of harm’s way and out of her hair until he was old enough for training.
She looked into the enchanter’s blue and gold eyes. “What about you? Are you manageable? Are you going to be able to give him up when the time comes?”
Linda looked down at the baby. “As you said, I don’t have much choice, do I?”
A B O U T T H E A U T H O R
CINDA WILLIAMS CHIMA (www.CindaChima.com) wrote her first novels in middle school. She is the New York Times best-selling author of The Warrior Heir, The Wizard Heir, The Dragon Heir, The Enchanter Heir, and The Sorcerer Heir, as well as the four books of the Seven Realms series. Cinda lives in Ohio with her family.
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