A Ragged Magic

by Lindsey S. Johnson

  “How long has Linnet shown signs of this power? I noticed while traveling with her that she didn’t have much control. In fact, I was going to suggest to Julianna that she get some training in it.”

  “She never had it before, your Grace. I mean, she says she did, a little, but kept it hidden. We’re — the guilds are wary of magic in mastersmiths. I didn’t know about it. But after — after …” My mouth freezes over the words ‘our family’ and ‘hanged’.

  The duke takes my hand and strokes it as I catch my breath, washed over by memories and pain.

  “Keenan had magic, and I the Sight, but Linnet was the weaver of the family. And she never showed anyone any magic,” I manage to whisper after a few moments.

  Hugh continues to stroke my hand. I think I should pull back; it is a liberty, after all. But he seems to mean nothing by it, as if he were comforting his sister, or a child. And it is comforting, and I could use the comfort.

  “I think I see. Nevertheless, she should have some training. And you, Julianna says. I’m surprised your family didn’t do that for you,” he says.

  I shake my head. “It was never very strong. I mean, before. It’s been stronger … since.”

  “Since Bishop Gantry?”

  I nod. I don’t look up to his gaze, but I feel it. He tugs at my sleeve suddenly, and I pull back, startled. My wide eyes meet his friendly but too determined gaze.

  “I would like to see the scars, if I may. I might be able to tell something about them,” he says.

  The edges of the lowest scars peer from beneath my sleeve, pushed nearly to my elbow. Shaking, I pull it back down as I stand and back away.

  “My dear, I’m sorry to distress you,” Hugh says. I can feel my skin freezing and burning by turns as I tremble. I clear my throat, try to speak, but I can’t. I’m not gasping, but I still can’t speak.

  “I can see that this is too difficult. No matter: I have seen the drawings Connor made.”

  The what? I stare at him, feel my jaw open, the air rasp in my lungs.

  Hugh nods slowly. “Ah, he didn’t tell you that. Well. They’re your scars; I think you should know. Connor thought they might be a spell of some sort. Or part of one. He made drawings while you were ill enough that Juli thought you might not recover. I don’t recognize them. I thought if I saw them more fully — No.”

  I am shaking my head and backing away. I stop myself and stand firm.

  “Cardinal Robere didn’t recognize them either. He’s going to try to find out more about them, from what Connor sent him. But as he’s far from Corat at the moment, it will be difficult. I’ll look through our library here, of course. You needn’t worry, Lady Rhia. I shan’t force you to disrobe.” He tries a smile, and I nod, wary.

  “As for helping you and your sister with your sudden magical prowess, I’m not exactly a teacher, but I remember the exercises Grandfather taught me. And I’m the best we’ve got, right at the moment.” He catches my eye and smiles again. “I’m not very powerful, not like Julianna is in Healing, but I’ll do my best to give you and your sister guidance.”

  “Thank you, your Grace,” I manage to breathe.

  “You most definitely do not need to thank me, young lady. You and your sister are people of my duchy, and I owe you both an impossible debt, for not being here to stop the kirche in the first place,” he says, his face grave. “I will do my best to make it right.” Hugh bows to me, and I curtsey as he takes his leave.

  A binding catches my eye as I look across at the shelves: Tamarin’s History of Kiras. Da promised to bring me that one in the next wool shipment. I find myself staring at it, tears dripping down my face.

  A hand on my shoulder makes me gasp and whirl.

  “I didn’t mean to startle you,” Orrin apologizes. “What’s the matter?” he asks, when he sees my face.

  “Oh, nothing. Just — memories,” I say, wiping at my eyes. “What are you doing in here?”

  “Looking for you.” He holds out his handkerchief, and we both chuckle. “I really need to start carrying more of these,” I say.

  “I’ve begun keeping three in my pockets.” He grins at me.

  Our meetings have often been watery as we grieve together about Keenan. But I see tension in his face under his smile. “What is it?”

  He takes a deep breath. “I’m going away for awhile.”

  Relief and regret rush through me. “Oh? Did Cardinal Robere write to you?”

  “No. The bishop is taking me on a trip with him.”

  I find all the relief has drained away, leaving a rushing through my scars that bodes ill. “Where is he taking you?”

  “He won’t tell me.”

  “You can’t go with him. You have to find a reason not to go.” I grip his hand and pull him to the chairs with me.

  “How am I supposed to do that? I am the bishop’s acolyte. I have my duties. I’m a junior member of the clergy: I can only do as I am bid. And anyway — this way he’s away from you, and maybe I can find out what he’s planning.”

  I shake my head, and he nods his. “What do you mean, what he’s planning?” I ask.

  “I know he’s planning something; I think something dangerous. I don’t know what it is, but it’s going to be even more dangerous now, since yesterday, after that spell, and the intruder,” he stops, raises his eyebrows. “There wasn’t an intruder, was there?”

  “Of course not. But I couldn’t think what else to do!” I sigh and shake my head again. “How did he even end up at Her Highness’ chambers, anyway? And those kirche guards with him. What made him come up yelling about treachery and spells?”

  “I’d like to know that myself,” Connor says from behind us, and Orrin and I both gasp and jump.

  “My lord!” I gasp out.

  “I thought I told the two of you to meet at those stairs,” Connor says.

  Orrin bobs his head. “Of course, my lord. Beg pardon, it was my fault.” He starts to leave, but Connor grabs his arm, his expression exasperated.

  “You’re here now, and I checked the hall. There’s no one about for the moment. I would like to hear an answer to Lady Rhia’s question.”

  Orrin looks uncomfortable, shrugs. “I’m not sure of the answer. The guards came because he requested them of the Inquisitor’s when we rose yesterday. He’s been muttering about the princess for days. I told you he’s been attempting to spy on Her Highness, my lord.”

  “I know,” Connor says. “Do you have proof beyond your own observation of anything he’s doing?”

  “No, my lord.”

  Connor turns and paces a few steps. “What kind of spying? How do you know he’s spying?”

  “I — I was supposed to use my Sight to find out things. But I think he has other means. I haven’t been able to tell him anything — and I’ve been lying to him about trying. I promise!”

  “I believe you, Orrin,” Connor says. “But there must be something else he’s doing. Or you wouldn’t have said so.”

  “I think … I think he has a watching spell on her rooms. It isn’t anything I recognize; nothing I’ve been taught. But he was certain there was magic, and he was certain of where.”

  “Her Highness’ rooms are shielded,” Connor says flatly.

  “I know. He’s very angry about that. He wants to know what she’s hiding, and he thinks he can find out. He’s certain she is hiding something. He won’t tell me what his plans are, but he rages about her — about her use of magic outside kirche doctrine — I mean, what he considers doctrine. He says she flaunts her connections. Um, meaning you, my lord. And that she’s working against the kirche, against the archbishop. That, that she has too much power. That she should not have married Prince Alexander.” Orrin trails off, uncertain.

  I put my hand out to Connor. “I have tried to See Gantry, to find out his plans. But it — it is hard. He is … he has strong barriers.” I don’t try to say demons, and I keep my breath, if barely. I must try to find a way around whatever keeps me from saying it.
I must figure out a way to warn them. But I also have to breathe.

  Connor is regarding me, and I flush. It can’t help him to have someone who panics all the time.

  “Gantry wants to take Orrin away with him. We can’t let him go, Connor. It’s too dangerous.” I reach for Orrin’s hand, grip it.

  Connor looks at our hands. “Where is he going?”

  “He says we are to meet some of the laity, do some charity work,” Orrin says. “It would be for a week, perhaps two.” He shrugs. “So he says. He’s being very secretive — I mean, more than usual.”

  Connor’s gaze sharpens, which I thought was impossible. “I see. And he insists you go with him.”

  “I am his acolyte.”

  “Of course.”

  I shift unhappily. “I have a terrible feeling about this. Something really awful is going to happen if you go; I can feel it. I wish you would find a way not to go. Don’t you feel the danger?”

  Orrin shakes his head. “I feel nothing but a dread of traveling with that terrible man. But maybe I’ll learn more of what he intends for Her Highness. And — and it gets him away from you. And your sister.”

  Connor’s look is inscrutable. “Could you recognize her?”

  “Yes. I knew she was coming, though.”

  “Maybe it is best you are gone while she settles here. Fewer opportunities for mistakes. She may be sent away before you return, in any case.”

  I shake my head. “He is planning something terrible. It might be a move against the princess. But it feels focused on you, Orrin. I — that’s all I know. It isn’t any more clear than that. I think he will hurt you.” I turn to Connor, pleading in my eyes.

  Connor looks gravely at Orrin. “I could take you somewhere safer tonight. You’d be forsworn from your vows, and I can’t guarantee the cardinal can intercede for you later. But you’d be away from Gantry, and I can guarantee that he won’t find you. It’s your choice.”

  Orrin regards us both for awhile. Shaking his head, he sighs. “No, but thank you. I will go with him. Perhaps I will learn nothing. Perhaps he will beat me more. But I will not give up on my vows so easily. I feel the Star Lord and Dorei have called me to this. I will do what I can to stay safe, Rhia. But I won’t run away.”

  I blink back tears of frustration and worry. “This is a mistake, Orrin. I feel it.”

  “It’s not your mistake, Rhia. I’ll take my chances.” He smiles at me. “Use the handkerchief.”

  “It’s not funny,” I mutter, but wipe at my eyes.

  “I’ll be fine, Rhia. I promise,” he says.

  “I’m holding you to that,” I say fiercely. I glare at him, and then Connor. “And you, too.” I shake my arm free of Connor and walk away, before I embarrass myself further. I promise myself that I’ll try to find out more about Gantry’s plans tonight. Maybe I can learn his plans before something awful happens to Orrin.

  Chapter Eleven

  Morning drizzle curls and frizzes my hair as I stand on the castle wall. The carriage driving away down the coast road carries Bishop Gantry and Orrin, leaving behind a castle full of dazed servants and not slight disarray. Gantry started his morning with shouted orders that the staff hadn’t anticipated. It seems the only people informed of his plans to leave were Orrin and the kirche guards riding with him.

  One of whom, I am informed, will report back to Connor. I don’t know which one. And the guard can hardly interfere, if Gantry hurts Orrin again. Fear churns in my gut, but there is nothing to do but wait and hope. Hope that the nightmares I had last night about Orrin are only that.

  Nightmares of blood, and the demons I can’t speak about, and Orrin’s terrified face. I wish I never had the Sight. I wish Orrin weren’t leaving with this monster.

  Father Matthew is to return to giving chapel service here in the castle. I walk down the steps of the inner wall and into the yard, heading for the front hall. On my way to service, I see more servants are heading that way than normal. The services have been thin on attendance since Gantry came. I suspect some have gone into Haverston for kirche instead of suffering through the bishop’s disconcerting stares.

  But Father Matthew seems nervous, as well. Not that I knew him before. We do sing a song, one of penitence, and his homily — “Be thou vigilant” — seems shakily given. I don’t know what orders the bishop gave, but I see Duchess Marguerite shaking her head when speaking to him, afterward.

  I excuse myself from the midst of her ladies. Lady Geneve smiles absently at me, but most take little notice. The six of them are from neighboring minor estates, and are of minor nobility. Since my assumed rank is of a minor family from the north, and they have some resentment I don’t understand toward Connor, they have, for the most part, snubbed me.

  I am content to let them.

  My duties for Julianna are few, as she wants her freedom here at her childhood home, and not chaperonage. And she wants me to concentrate on honing my Sight, and keeping safe. I attend her in the morning, bring her breakfast and help her to dress. Now that Linnet is to be her personal seamstress, which was decided late the night she arrived, no one will suffer from my uneven stitching and poor seaming.

  My other duties for Julianna consist of making medicines with her in the herbarium, and bringing them to the sick. Julianna uses her Healing for those that need it most, and gives simples and medicines to others. The people of Haverston seem thankful, but the kirchemen follow her with wary eyes.

  The weather is still cold, spring hardly emerging from winter. I am relieved; I can keep my hood up as we ride through town in Julianna’s carriage. Haverston seems bare and grim; few people walk the streets, and most of the bright shops look faded, and haven’t been repainted yet. Guild members snipe loudly with each other outside the guildhall when we pass, and I keep my head ducked low.

  Linnet speaks little to me, and is snappish and sullen by turns. We leave her with the mending and designs for new gowns when we go out. Julianna wants to set up a small loom for her in the tower room. Linnet seems resigned to her new role, and ungrateful. But it’s hard to be grateful when your life is ruined.

  I’m only grateful because I almost lost mine.

  Now that Linnet is here, and Hugh has discovered our lack, we are to have lessons, which consist of beginning magics such as Keenan was taught at monastery: shielding of mind and thoughts, sending thoughts to others, drawing magic from wells that gather the wild magic and tame it to a more manageable source. This last Hugh has only a little skill at himself. He mostly uses what is in himself, or is shared with others.

  I knew some of these things already, although only in theory, as I was never very strong. Keenan always did most of the magic before. But now I feel power dance along my senses all the time, and Hugh says I should be able to draw from some of the stronger lines of magic.

  There is an ancient tale of the First Prophet Dorei blessing these cliffs for hiding her from her enemies, and as she stood and called on the Star Lord, the magic pooled here under her feet. The cliffs in the old language were called Seely Magan, or blessed power. The castle has always glowed a little to my Sight.

  The well under the castle is so strong that Hugh says it is difficult even for strong mages to sense magic workings here: the power from the well masks it. Hugh says that our magic was only noticeable when Linnet arrived because of the combination of spells plus our magic. Normally, magic is so imbued in the stones of the castle that one cannot feel most spells.

  Hugh is obsessed with barriers, however, and now so am I. I will not be caught and used again. I still don’t understand why I can’t speak about what Gantry did to me: is it fear only? Or is it part of the spell? Since I cannot ask, I’ve decided to spend my free time pouring over books in the library. Hugh commends my study habits. Linnet glowers and says unflattering things about bookworms. When I say she never minded before, she glares and denies that I was one.

  Hugh sits in front of the tower’s narrow windows, resplendent in a dark blue doublet of si
lk. It’s been more than a week since Orrin left, but there has been no word of him. I try to concentrate on Hugh’s words about magic flowing, and not the thoughts running in circles in my head.

  Also the fact of Hugh’s unconscious beauty and conscious charm is distracting enough. I think he knows it. His smiles flirt without meaning to, and his manner is familiar for a duke speaking to daughters of the guilds. But our rank has changed, as he keeps reminding us when we stammer.

  Linnet is discontent to be the orphaned daughter of a knight, as Hugh is presenting her — the child of a dear friend, killed in battle. Which means she ranks below me, as the orphaned daughter of a Lord. This is still considerably higher in the instep than our parents’ births. We chafe under unknown rules.

  I worry we will betray ourselves as imposters, or sisters. We certainly fight like sisters — more than we ever did before. I worry we’ll fight in front of strangers. I worry about Linnet’s anger and grief. I worry about Orrin. I worry about my magic. I am exhausted with worry.

  “Lady Rhia, do pay attention,” Hugh says.

  I snap my gaze back to him from the window and paste a smile on my face. “I’m sorry, your Grace. What were you saying?”

  “I want you to let your barriers down just enough to receive a sending from me, and then raise them again. But don’t lower them until you feel me ask.”

  “What does that feel like?” asks Linnet. She can’t send yet. Hugh thinks she might be able to, but it isn’t something she’s figured out. I feel some relief at that.

  “It feels like an internal nudge,” he says, and then I feel it. Although to me it feels like a tingle, a shiver, a plucked thread puckering in my mind. Keenan’s sends were softer, but I knew him better. I lower my barriers from the tight lockdown I put them in, after Hugh showed me where I was leaking before. I need much tighter barriers than I ever used to.

  Hugh’s sending comes to me as a feeling — expectation — along with the words from a children’s rhyme. I snap my barriers shut again — I feel so much safer with them shut — and recite the rhyme back to him.