A Ragged Magic

by Lindsey S. Johnson

  I can’t feel my face; I have no idea what expression is on it. “Did you tell him of that vision?”

  “Not all of it — just that she was Healing someone. That threw him into enough of a fit. He wanted to know what, who, where, and I just — I said I couldn’t tell anything else. I didn’t even say it was a woman …” His voice trails off, his face shocked in the flickering light. “Oh, Lord of Stars, it was you, wasn’t it? Oh, I don’t — what did he do to you?”

  I can’t breathe, I can’t think — if Gantry figures out who I am, we are all lost, and Orrin is in so much danger, and I can’t speak, I can’t speak …

  “I’m sorry, Rhiannon. Don’t tell me. Don’t tell me anything. I’m so sorry,” he’s saying, sobbing, holding and rocking me, and I find my breath finally.

  “Rhia,” I whisper. “You have to remember.”

  He breathes a sigh, another. “Rhia,” he says, pulling back. “I will remember. I won’t even speak it at all, if that will help.”

  “It might.” I wipe at my face — it’s wet and sloppy.

  Orrin smiles and hands me another handkerchief.

  “Oh, dear,” I say, and he laughs.

  A thump sounds on the wall and we jump to standing, me muffling a cry.

  “This is a place of worship, not a trysting house!” a voice shouts from the next chamber. I bite my lips, but Orrin squares his shoulders.

  “I am counseling a worshiper. Pray do not interrupt,” he says in a voice that is a perfect match for Gantry. I blink, raise my eyebrows. He smirks a little.

  “Beg pardon! Beg pardon, Lord Bishop! Beg pardon!” The voice fades as the speaker hurries out of the chamber, out of the chapel.

  I start to shake, relieved laughter making me sag onto the bench.

  Orrin’s smirk turns to a sheepish grin. “Among my many talents,” he says. He joins in my shaky laughter.

  I can tell both of us feel sick and frightened and want to ignore it. I clutch his handkerchief, wipe my face. “My lord the Earl of Dorward wants to speak with you,” I say, finally calm enough. “He is, well, he’s —”

  “The princess’ spy,” Orrin finishes.

  “Cousin,” I say firmly. “But he is … concerned.”

  Orrin nods. “And rightly so. Where shall I call upon him?”

  “Oh, I think he’ll call upon you. Probably tomorrow. I’ll try to be there, too, but he’s …”

  “A spy,” Orrin finishes.

  I cluck my tongue. “A very concerned cousin. Who is an Earl.” I correct.

  He snorts.

  “He’s, well, he’s intimidating, but he means well,” I add.

  “I will keep my eye out for his approach, then.”

  “Don’t take his ferocity to heart. He won’t hurt you.”

  Orrin raises his eyebrows at me. “Thanks for the warning.”

  I shake my head at him. “He is gruff. And very rude. But he has her — he has everyone’s best interests at heart.” I stand. “I should go. I’ll look for you tomorrow. I, we’re not supposed to meet too often.”

  “No. We should not.” He stands and pats my arm. “Let me go out first. Get some sleep.” He smiles at me, worry and pain in his eyes. I know mine look the same as I smile back.

  ～

  Connor finds me the next day on my way to Duchess Marguerite’s solar with my embroidery. He gestures impatiently for me to follow him, and I am just as glad to go despite his peremptory behavior. My embroidery skills are weak at best. I was always better with the loom. Not much, but better.

  I follow him down the corridor, staring at his brown velvet back. He leads me to the north tower, but down, where the steps are smooth as ice they’re so old, and smell of damp. Slowly a steady surge sounds, an undertone of wild rushing.

  As my legs begin to ache, Connor grabs a lamp from a wall sconce that I didn’t see in the growing dark. He lights it, and we descend further, spiraling into the heavy weight of earth.

  The stairs stop suddenly at a heavy wood and stone door. I bump into Connor’s back and he grunts, squeaking hinges sound, and we walk out into the misty daylight.

  The sea bashes the cliff we stand on; a short wall at the edge of the path is wet from the spray reaching high and wetting my hem and hands.

  When I step through, Orrin is seated on a stone bench against the wall, the spring sunshine breaking through wispy clouds and painting the dark contours of his face with copper.

  I look up, away from the surf, and see the north tower’s tip and outer wall stretching high above.

  “When you speak to one another, it might be better to meet here. Or just inside, when the weather is bad,” Connor says.

  I turn and look at him. I suppose this is his way of approving of our friendship. I stare at him for a moment, raising my eyebrows. Julianna does this to him and it seems to work.

  Connor shrugs and points to where the wall ends in more rock and a crude door. “It’s an old tunnel, to what used to be the Lord’s hall. Now it’s the Inquisitor’s building.” I shudder, looking away. How they got me out, I realize.

  “Why not keep meeting in the Star Chambers?” Orrin asks.

  “A pattern will be noticed. Meet here,” he says, and closes the door behind him, leaving me with Orrin. I blink a couple of times, turn to regard my friend. Yes, my friend.

  “Is he always like that?” Orrin asks.

  I breathe a laugh, shrug. “Worse, mostly. I hope he wasn’t too … too Connor.”

  Orrin looks at me at little sideways, starts to smile. “So you call him by his given name? Ah, but he is your cousin and guardian now, isn’t he?”

  I nod, a little confused.

  “And anything else?” he asks archly.

  “What do you m — no! No, nothing else. Good grief, Orrin,” I say, trying to be repressive, but he grins and I can’t help a rueful smile back. “He’s just my — he’s just my —”

  “Connor,” Orrin supplies.

  “Exactly,” I reply, and he laughs.

  “Oh, exactly.”

  “Shut up.” I sigh and he laughs some more. I take his hand, and we sit in the sunshine, enjoying the wind and the sound of the waves. I lean on him for a minute, then remember the ladies, and the solar, and the dratted embroidery. “I have to go. But do you want to meet here? I mean, soon?”

  He stands and offers me a hand up. “I’ll try and come day after tomorrow, after dinner. I’ll let you go up first now. We should probably leave separately.”

  I hadn’t thought of that. That he did — and I have a vision of Keenan so sharp, so sweet, that I have to sit down again.

  “Oh,” I say, just that, and he looks stricken.

  “You felt that,” he says, and I bite my lips, nod. “Your Sight is stronger than mine.”

  “You and Keenan — you hid your relationship?”

  Orrin looks away. His hands clench on his thighs, and I feel a wave of sadness that isn’t mine. “It was an open secret. Everyone knew. But our Reverend Superior believes strongly in celibacy for students and acolytes, and didn’t approve. Since there aren’t any official rules about acolytes forming attachments to each other, we just kept everything quiet, and he never told us to stop.”

  He looks back at me, blinking back tears. “After the … arrest, everything changed. Keenan was so loved, and then suddenly he was —” he stops, closes his eyes.

  I See angry faces, raised fists, feel the ghost of old pain. “I think that’s why the Reverend Superior sent me here, when an acolyte with the Sight was requested. No one else wanted to go.”

  The phrase jerks me back to myself. Something about Gantry wanting the Sight specifically crawls through my skin, along runes cut by a knife and demon spells.

  “Bishop Gantry requested an acolyte with the Sight?” I try to keep my voice calm, but I can hear it going high and quavery.

  “That’s what he said. I told him it wasn’t much, but he didn’t seem concerned.”

  “Oh, no,” I whisper. Magic trickles
through me, and I See a knife, Orrin’s eyes wide and terrified. I shake myself free of it to tell him — but I can’t.

  “What? What is it you are so worried about? What did he do to you?” Orrin asks, frustrated.

  I feel my lungs constrict, hear the demon voices from my memory, and I cannot speak, cannot breathe again. It is this, it is this question — I can’t speak if someone asks me about the scars, about the demons, about what Gantry did to me.

  I can hear Orrin calling my name, the ocean surf, and my own gasping. I think carefully only about Orrin, that I am concerned for Orrin, and not why. I pull pieces of myself from the air around me and weave them together with promises that I am not thinking about anything.

  “Rhiannon! What is it?”

  Gasping, I manage to say, “Do not ask me that question,” although I can’t be sure he understands me. But he has his own Sight, and I try to send him something, anything.

  He stops talking, just holds my arms as I manage my breathing.

  “I think,” I say when I can, “I think you are in danger. Do not ask me why. I can’t breathe when you ask me questions. I can’t tell you. But please, please be careful. Be careful with the bishop. I think he wants to use you.” And I can’t say any more, but at least I can breathe.

  “How can I help you?” he asks, his eyes worried.

  “You can be … my friend,” I say. “Stay well.” I look into his dark eyes, the sun warming them to a deep umber.

  He sighs, nods. “I am your friend. And I will be careful. As long as you are, too.”

  I smile at him, take his hand. I don’t think I know how to be careful anymore. We sit for awhile longer, looking at the sea.

  Chapter Nine

  His Grace the Duke of Haverston arrives today with Linnet. It’s weeks later than he originally meant to arrive. His last letter expressed concerns installing Linnet as a ward in Corat, but did not specify why.

  Julianna has warned me that Linnet has been deeply grieving and going through significant changes. I tried very hard not to roll my eyes.

  Connor spotted the carriage from the tower, and hurries me down the back stairs to greet them in private. Connor is concerned Linnet will need coaching. I’m concerned Connor will frighten Linnet.

  The cracked wood of an old garden door squeals in protest of his rough handling, as I have not, and we rush into the kitchen gardens. Winter foliage begins to give way to early spring green, and the raised beds are fuzzed with small shoots. Chest-high walls surround the small square garden, with statues of saints and warriors set round the top, facing out toward the formal gardens.

  The morning breeze raises bumps on my neck and flutters my gown. I watch the sky while Connor paces. Sun teases through wispy clouds and paints the garden in grays, both muted and almost silver. Light gleams off puddles in the beds, and the paths between show hints of green through the brown mud and grass of last fall. A fountain trickles somewhere beyond the gate, in the formal gardens. Over all I hear the crying of sea birds and the ever-present shushing of the sea.

  A smiling, elegant blond man who must be the duke enters the garden through the arch of the back gate. He guides a thin girl in dark wool by the arm, her face sullen and wrinkled with frustration: Linnet.

  I rush forward three steps, and stop, breathless. Little Linnet. Even in these few weeks, she seems to have grown taller, almost to my own height. The dark kerchief tied to hide her hair does a poor job of it, and bright orange strands escape to curl over her hazel eyes. Those eyes catch mine and my heart stops at the rage I see glittering there.

  “Linnet —” I start, but her gaze clogs my throat. I feel a power emanating from her that she never had before, and it crushes my words before I can speak them. She blames me for running, for surviving while our family did not. She blames me for Deacon Bertram’s rhetoric and cruel words. She blames me for death.

  “Linnet, little bird, I’m so glad you’re — are you — I …” Her eyes grow colder. I search for a hint of warmth, anything, and I step forward to hug her. She backs away, wrenching her arm from the duke. He pushes her forward again, tells her to behave.

  “Don’t touch me, witch!” Her magic glows pale green to my Sight. I can feel her magic calling to mine, her anger fueling it, and I have no idea how to stop it. Hot magic flows through us both.

  She has grown, in more than height. I cannot speak for her rage. She never had this power before, and it crackles around her like lightning. I choke, fluttering my hands as her eyes burn into mine. “You’re a liar and a murderer, and Mum is dead and it’s your fault!” Her lips twist into a sob.

  Hugh, Duke of Haverston, dashing in a blue riding coat, steps forward and with a touch her power fades. With a firm hand on Linnet’s shoulder, he puts on a determined smile. He looks a twin to his younger sister.

  “Connor, well met! And your lovely companion,” he says as he bows gracefully at me.

  Linnet turns her rage to Hugh, but my eyes are only for her.

  “There have been some developments. If you’ll bring her to my sister, I’ll inform you later. I have to see to things in the hall. Keep all of this —” he waves his hands at us, “quiet, if you can. Best to go to Julianna’s rooms quickly.”

  Hugh turns to Linnet. “Remember, you’re safe now. And be a good girl.” His gloved hand squeezes her shoulder. She shrugs it off, and he walks briskly away, his bright hair gleaming.

  Linnet’s eyes look bereft a moment, following his form as he leaves by the formal gardens. I reach for her hand.

  “I said don’t!” Linnet jerks her hands behind her back.

  I am lost, I can’t move any way, until Connor sighs and steps forward. “I am the Earl of Dorward. This is Rhia Wolff fitzWellan, and she is my cousin. You are Linnet Tallys. Keep that straight. We will take you to see Her Royal Highness, Princess Julianna. You will do as you’re told and keep your mouth civil. Is that clear?”

  Linnet stares mulishly.

  Connor is suddenly taller, without moving a muscle. “I said, is that clear?”

  Linnet backs a step, frowns fiercely, and nods. “Yes, my lord.”

  “Well, your tone is civil, at least. See that your expression is as well by the time we present you to the princess.” He turns and strides toward the kitchen, motioning for us to follow.

  Linnet mockingly bows to gesture me ahead, her face puckered in an angry pout. Her eyes are as cold as Mum’s were, that day.

  I lower my head and follow Connor.

  ～

  The back stairs are steep and narrow, empty for the moment, and echoing. I climb as quickly as I can to stay close, but Connor is feeling brisk and I tire so quickly. He waits with little patience as I enter the upper passage, his arms crossed.

  I feel Linnet’s gaze on my neck; sweat slides down my temple as I grow hot. I blink back tears and Connor, who has already reached the princess’ chamber door, turns to wait again for us. He looks at me, and at Linnet, and his chin softens a little. I feel a brush of something kindred from his mind, but I am trying not to cry. Connor opens the door to the solar.

  I precede Linnet into the room. Princess Julianna sits, rose-colored from the light, in her high-backed chair by the east windows. Her embroidery catches the morning sun, and she smiles as Linnet and I curtsey. Linnet’s expression remains uncharitable as we rise at Her Royal Highness’ gesture, but she says nothing. The princess rises and steps forward, grasping Linnet’s hands.

  Linnet backs a step, her eyes wide. Her Highness’ smile is dazzling.

  “Oh, good, you must be Linnet. Our Rhia has told us so much about you. I’m sure you’re exhausted after your journey.”

  Linnet blinks at Julianna, taken aback.

  “Such a lovely face you have. Come sit with me, my dear.”

  Linnet follows to the chaise with a dazed expression.

  Connor clears his throat. “I will meet with Hugh, my lady. He mentioned developments.”

  “Very well, Connor. Did he explain?”


  “Not yet.” He bows and leaves, and I am standing in the middle of the room with no idea what to do now.

  I pick up the basket of mending, and cautiously settle into the chair Julianna has abandoned. Linnet looks at me, at the basket, and smirks. I feel my face flush again — I am awful at mending, it’s true. I try to smile at her, but she looks away.

  Julianna notes the exchange, but merely strokes Linnet’s hand and continues. “I understand we are changing our plans, so we’ll have to find a place for you here. It’s a bit of a worry, having you and your sister here as well as the bishop, but it seems we must. I promise we will do everything to keep you both safe.”

  Linnet pulls her hands away and folds her arms, slouches back into the corner of the chaise.

  “Linnet, be respectful,” I admonish, and she glares at me.

  “Don’t tell me what to do,” she snaps, slouching further.

  Julianna’s smile dims a little. “I know this has been a terrible time for you and your sister. I am sorry that such things have happened in my country.”

  Linnet stares at nothing.

  Reaching out, Julianna brushes back the strand of hair that has escaped Linnet’s kerchief. “It’s too bad we’ll have to change your lovely hair. So like your sister’s.”

  Linnet glowers.

  Julianna stands, and I stand also, clutching the mending to my stomach like a shield. Julianna pats Linnet’s shoulder. “I have faith that you’ll find your footing here soon. But for right now, why don’t you get settled. Rhia will help you.”

  Julianna heads for her bedchamber, beckoning me to follow. I look between them for a moment, set down the mending, and head after her. Linnet stays slouched on the chaise.

  “Here, Rhia, hand me my shawl. I’m going to look for Hugh, and then I’m having lunch with my mother.” I hand her the shawl from the top shelf of the wardrobe, then her boots when she asks.

  She looks up at me as she reaches for them, shakes her head. “Don’t worry so much.” She pulls the boots from me and sits on the edge of her bed to put them on herself. With them on she stands next to me, pats my arm. “I know it’s frightening, but really, you’re better off here than anywhere else. Trust me.”