“Not him, but his work.” If she wasn’t so dog tired, she might be able to put the pieces together. “I’m struggling to remember where.”
“Is this recent?”
Instinct said so. “Fairly recent?” she responded doubtfully. “In the past year, I think.”
“The only two big cases you had in the past year were with Bellomi and that artifact.”
She snapped her fingers, memory coming back to her. “Bel. It’s Bel’s curse. Half of it was altered and breaking down, that’s why it wasn’t in its true form. No wonder I couldn’t recognize it straight off.”
Morgan’s eyebrows kissed his hairline. “Bellomi’s? But that happened over a decade ago. Does that mean this magician was running around even then?”
“And had considerable knowledge and skill. It took that in order to reach two men under magical protections.” She banged a hand against the table. “Ha! Good, now I have a better idea of what this man is capable of.”
“So, he has to be at least middle-aged?”
“He could be far older and taking age reduction potions for all we know. But he’s not a young magician, that we can be certain of.” Sevana felt an odd sense of satisfaction for figuring it out. Maybe with that puzzle solved, her brain would let her sleep now.
“Anything else I need to know about?”
Sevana pondered for a moment. “Can’t think of anything. I’m going to bed. Wake me before the merchant gets here.”
“You think I can’t recognize them straight off?” Morgan sounded slightly insulted by this.
“You probably can,” Sevana denied, draining her glass, preparing to stand. “But I have a feeling that his style changed, and his method, with each portrait. The earliest ones might look different enough that you won’t see them for what they are.”
“Ahhh. Alright, I can see how it might be helpful to have you hovering nearby.”
Snorting, she gained her feet. “Why do I put up with you again?”
“My devastating charm and good looks?”
“Nope, that’s not it.” Shaking her head, amused in spite of herself, she waved a good night and headed for the door. If she was to be of any use tomorrow, she needed at least eight hours of sleep first.
~ ~ ~
Morgan’s artistic eye was better than she’d given him credit for. He could indeed pick all of the right ones out of the stack of fifty ink portraits brought to them. (The merchant had apparently decided to err on the side of caution and packed everything that bore even a remote resemblance to their directions.) Sevana harbored a sneaky suspicion on one of them that Morgan was only able to recognize it because of the backwards name, though. Even she barely recognized it for what it was.
Every other portrait was blazing with energy but this one. It was glowing, certainly, but in a muted way and the craftsmanship of the portrait was cruder and more slapdash. It made her worry about the old man trapped by it. Was the magic constructed well enough to be able to reverse it and get him back out whole? There was a niggling seed of doubt that she wouldn’t be able to save this man. That was not a feeling that she liked.
They found seven portraits that morning. Sevana eyed them, arrayed out along the edge of the man’s cart, and felt a sense of satisfaction. Seven here, the two she had in the palace, and there was enough of a difference between the two that she felt like she had found all of his trials.
Now if only Princess Amas’s portrait would show up.
Morgan came to stand at her side. “This enough?”
“I think this is all of them, actually. Except Amas’s portrait.”
“I’ll join the search for that one.” He cocked his head at her. “Are you leaving now, then?”
“Yes. Help me slide these into tubes.”
They packed up and, with the merchant’s efficient help, managed to get them all back to the palace without any issues. Morgan went into her temporary workroom and let out a whistle. “It’s all gone. You took everything back to Big already?”
“Everything but Grydon,” she confirmed. “Don’t stop here, take these through to the courtyard and strap them onto Flappy.” She had retrieved the device earlier, seeing as how she couldn’t portal everything home.
“I can’t believe you called your new flying device Flappy.”
“It flaps, doesn’t it?” Smirking at him, she eyeballed the Illeyanic wolf dogging her heels. “Grydon. Go through the clock.”
He whined at her in protest, shifting from paw to paw.
“Don’t give me that. You can’t fly with me this time, I’m carrying too much. Go through the clock and wait there.”
Grydon gave her his best set of puppy eyes.
“Wolf. Don’t give me that. I’ll be back at Big in eight hours. An eight hour separation isn’t going to kill you.” Pointing a stern finger toward the door she commanded, “Clock.”
Letting out a disgusted huff, he slunk for the clock. She followed him, opening the door and letting him through before firmly shutting it again. “Why does he love flying so much?” she grumbled to herself as she headed back toward the courtyard. “I mean, seriously, you’d think he was part cat, the way he loves high places.”
Morgan had everything strapped on for her. He looked up as she came through the door. “Grydon set?”
“Why does he like flying so much?”
“I have no idea. Baby’s influence?”
Maybe that was it. Swinging a leg over the seat, she settled herself in. “Kip, I tried to talk to either Firuz or Malia this morning but couldn’t catch either of them. I finally left a message with Captain Kamran. But if they ask, update them on everything but the Fae ink. I don’t know how they’ll take that information.”
“Right.” Even though they were alone here, he lowered his voice to admit, “It worries me that the princess’s portrait hasn’t shown up yet. The whole country is looking for it.”
It worried her too. “Maybe he gave it to a merchant out of the country?”
“It’s a thought that occurred to me as well. Or a collector has it and isn’t about to give it up. Collectors are strange people.”
“Understatement, Kip.” Touching the base with a flat hand, she activated the machine. “Do what you have to.”
“Oh, I don’t have to twist arms. I have a set of royal parents doing that for me.” Grinning, he stepped back. “Keep me posted!”
“As I can,” she promised, already kicking up into the air.
It was a relief in more ways than one to be leaving Sa Kao behind. All of those restrictive customs had just about driven her mad. Not to mention the spicy food. She might be able to only handle bland food for the rest of the year. Flying helped her clear her mind as well. Sevana had to focus on where she was going and keeping Flappy upright, turning her mind away from the problem she had been chewing on for over two weeks now. It was a welcome relief.
The skies were clear, the weather at that perfect temperature where it wasn’t too hot, and no storms were threatening. Sevana made the best time she’d ever achieved in getting back to Big. She set down on the top of her mountain just as the sun was setting, painting everything in shades of red and gold and purple.
Big rumbled a greeting to her, which she returned with a pat. “Master’s supposed to come soon, Big. You might want to open his room.”
Here, the mountain informed her.
She stopped dead. “He’s here already?” It should have taken him until tomorrow afternoon, earliest, to make it here from Belen. “How did he manage that?”
Flew.
“Ah.” Sevana had assumed that Master would use his traveling carriage to get here, but if he’d snagged Sarsen’s flying contraption, of course he’d make it here much faster. It was just as well that he was, as Sevana was ready to dig back into the problem and wouldn’t mind having someone to bounce ideas with. “Take care of Flappy for me?”
Yes. Big seemed to ponder before adding, Grydon sulking.
Sevana snorted. “Of course he is
. Let him sulk, he’s just pouting because he didn’t get to fly.” Shaking her head, she gathered up all of the tubes and shut her flyer down so that Big could store it for her. Then she made her way down the winding stairs and into her workroom.
After two weeks of making do with someone else’s space, it was a relief to be back in her own rooms, with all of the tools handy and the comfort of working in her pajamas if she felt like it. Upon entering, she found Master already situated in an easy chair he’d dragged in, feet propped up on a battered ottoman, intently staring at an art easel in front of him.
“Master.”
“Tea’s likely cold,” he greeted, pointing to a tray on the table next to his chair. “But I picked up flatbread sandwiches on the way here.”
“Bless you,” she said fervently, diving for them. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast and was beyond starved. Even cold tea was fine by her at the moment.
“This is one of the strangest things I’ve ever seen,” he proclaimed, eyes never leaving the portrait in front of him. “Is it a transmutation spell? Transportation spell? Something else? I’ve been staring at it for hours and can’t tell.”
“Join the club,” she said around a mouthful. “I’m starting to wonder if it’s both.”
Master went taut, arrested by this new idea. “Both. Both would explain…much. If it is both, you were wise to advise not taking them through the clocks. That would have warped the magic beyond recognition.”
“It was just a hunch I had at the time. But I’m beginning to think my subconscious knows more than it’s letting on.” She chased the sandwich with a cup of tea and reached for another. “But it does explain things, doesn’t it? That strange twist in the spell, as if it’s blending two purposes into one.”
“I think it’s doing just that, sweetling.” Master lifted a finger into the air as if tracing things. “Huh. This man excels in finding holes in magical shields.”
“He found two of them,” Sevana sighed, put out. “And we can only effectively block one. The other one…well, we can block it most of the time, but we’ll have to remove it if we want to take a member of a royal family anywhere.”
“Cumbersome,” he agreed absently, “but I think preferable over a fate like this.”
“Well, yes, that goes without saying.” Hunger satisfied, she perched on the arm and stared at the portrait of the Belen king. As paintings went, this one was a good likeness, although still clearly not of a professional quality. “Did you check on the saplings?”
“A fly by as I came in. I’ve only been here a half hour more than you.”
Too late to troop into Noppers Woods, in other words. Right. She’d have to check it herself in the morning. Baby sauntered into the room and arched his back so that he could rub up against her. She gave him a good scratch around the neck in greeting. “I’ll go and speak with the Fae tomorrow. Or try to.”
Master shifted so he could talk with her more normally. “You think they don’t want to talk?”
“Just because I enter Noppers doesn’t mean I’m coming to talk to them,” she explained. The exhaustion of the day was starting to catch up with her. She’d only gotten five hours of sleep before her brain had prodded her awake and she’d jumped back into the thick of things. She was feeling that lack right now. “If I have a child in hand, they always come out because they’re sure I’m coming to them. But short of yelling Lorien’s name, I’m not sure how to get their attention.”
“You know where their territory is?”
“Roughly. But you know how it goes, no one sees a Fae village unless they want it seen.”
“Save your voice,” he advised, a muted twinkle in his eyes. “Wait until you’re in their territory before yelling.”
“Ha. Ha. Ha. You funny, funny man.”
He put a hand to his heart. “I try. You game to look over these tonight, sweetling? You look tired to me.”
“On the way down here, I was ready to dive into the problem again, but I’m thinking I should sleep.”
Master nodded in support of this. “Just leave me your journals. I’ll read through them and get up to speed so we can work on it tomorrow.”
That sounded like a good plan to her. Sevana went to the box that she’d packed in Sa Kao and dug through them until she found the two journals. Passing them over, she yawned out a good night and headed for bed. Master could fend for himself until tomorrow morning.
Sevana said a prayer as she headed into Noppers Woods the next morning. It might take several hours before she was able to find one of the Fae, and she was prepared for that, but hopefully it wouldn’t take the whole day. She stopped first to check on the saplings and was relieved to find the soldiers had done a good job planting. They’d put in quite the variety, all of them indigenous of this region, with lots of dark soil around the roots to give them a good start. Glad she didn’t have to stop and fix that first, she called for Baby and Grydon and waded into the heart of the woods.
Her wolf and mountain lion had fun in a mock game of chase, tearing through the area, but never venturing out of her sight. They were guarding her against any menaces that might be awake at this hour of the morning while having fun. Anything that thought they weren’t paying attention would pay dearly for their mistake.
It took three hours to hike into the right area for Fae territory. Once there, she stopped dead and looked about her. Even now, she couldn’t see any of the Fae, just feel their eyes on her. She knew the feeling wasn’t wrong, because Grydon and Baby came to stand right next to her, the game of chase coming to an abrupt end. Lifting her voice slightly, she called, “Something has happened in the human world. Something that involves Fae magic. I need to speak with you about it.”
A man she vaguely recognized stepped out from behind a tree. His blond hair was tied back in a simple knot, clothes a muted green that seemed to flow around him, nose and cheekbones sharp and prominent in his pale skin. “Artifactor,” he greeted in a smooth baritone.
“We’ve met before, I believe?” she ventured. Her mind scrambled to recall his name, but came up blank. Had she even heard it? “Bertrude’s father?”
He gave her a true smile, one of the few she’d seen from the Fae. “She chooses to be called Maeron now.”
Sevana relaxed, glad to be right. “It’s a prettier name, don’t blame the kid for that.”
“I am Veassen. You speak of our magic loose in the human world? We know naught of this.”
“You probably don’t even have an inkling about it,” she assured him. “I myself only stumbled on this recently. I can show you?”
He gestured for her to do so, so she slipped the tube off her back and pulled the portrait free, unrolling enough of it so he could see it for himself.
Veassen took one look and hissed like a stepped on cat. “What vileness is this?”
“Some of the worst evil I’ve seen,” Sevana responded grimly. “This is made from Fae ink, at least partially, which is why I’ve come to speak to you.”
“You were wise to do so. We know naught of this. Such ink should not be in the human realm at all, except what was used for the Book of Truth.” Veassen glared at the portrait as if its existence itself was an affront to him on a personal level. “Come with me. We must speak with Aranhil and you will inform him of everything you know.”
Oh, she got a direct escort to someone important? Excellent. Maybe she could finally get a peek inside the Fae’s territory instead of just their front door. “Aranhil is someone who has authority over things like this?”
“He is King of the Woodland Fae.”
Sevana tripped over her own boots. “W-what now?”
Veassen unbent enough to give her a fleeting nod of reassurance. “Aranhil regards you with much favor. You have proven to be a friend of the Fae. He will wish to speak to you directly on this matter.”
So Master was right? The Fae thought of her as a friend now? That was a worry off her mind. Did that mean she could waltz into Fae territory without worry
ing about stepping on any toes? Her sense of diplomacy was rather low, after all. Not sure if it was a good idea to walk in without an ambassador regardless, she tucked the thought aside, put the portrait back in the tube, and followed him in.
A path of sorts developed, nothing obvious like paving stones, but something made of shorter grass and flowerbeds lining either side. The trees swept down, brushing their branches nearby as if welcoming both of them. It felt solemn and peaceful and strange, but it wasn’t a bad feeling. Sevana felt oddly as if a part of her had always belonged here. An odd homecoming, considering she had never been here before and likely never would again.
The air took on that tint of saturation again, as if it were moist and yet not. She recognized it now as Fae magic. It settled on her skin thick enough to make her almost shiver, either from pleasure or discomfort, even she couldn’t say.
There were no houses, not in the human sense, no buildings of any sort, but her eye slowly started to pick out areas that were crafted for gathering. Pockets were formed from tree branches and fallen logs, places where people gathered. She heard a tinkle of laughter every so often, and the low hum of conversations overlapping, but it never rose to such a pitch to disturb the tranquility of the forest.
Veassen paused at a fork in the path and mentioned in an off-hand manner, “You are one of the few humans to ever come this deep into Fae territory.”
“It’s just as well,” she responded, still drinking in the sensations all around her. “If they knew how harmonious it was in here, they’d throng their way in.”
He liked this answer, she could see it in the way his eyes lifted. “We go this way.”
Following him, she asked, “Are there any courtesies I need to observe while greeting your king?”
“Do not interrupt him. Do not look him in the eye unless invited to do so. It is also customary to offer him some token upon your first meeting, but you’ve done that by bringing knowledge to us.”
“I don’t refer to him by title or anything?”
“His name is his title.”
The Scofflaw Magician (The Artifactor Book 3) Page 10
