The Scofflaw Magician (The Artifactor Book 3)

by Honor Raconteur

  “And yet you did not offer that method to me.”

  There was a question in the statement and she paused to look at him. Arandur was focused on unpacking the food, but glanced up when he felt her eyes on him. “There’s too much of Fae culture I don’t know about. I didn’t know if I should offer or not.”

  “Flying into another’s territory is frowned on,” Arandur said easily. “But if we need to go anywhere else, I would enjoy the experience of flying.”

  Oh? It didn’t sound like something he was saying out of politeness’s sake. Sevana was still having a hard time reading him, even after their long conversation that day. He was a quiet, reserved man in many respects but also seemed to have a very gentle nature to him. Arandur was the type of man that she was never sure could be taken at face value. He would probably say things he didn’t entirely mean just to put the people around him at ease. At least, he struck her as the sort to do so.

  Deciding it was past time to try and break the ice with him, she said, “I’ll be pleased to take you. But I do have a request.”

  “Ask,” he encouraged.

  “I’m calling you Aran.” Shooting him a look over her shoulder, she added, “Because the only time I call someone by their full name is when I’m mad at them.”

  A slow smile spread over his face. “Is that so. Then call me Aran.”

  He was not nearly as stiff as his first impression led her to believe. Relieved by that, she grinned back. “Call me Sev or Sevana or Sellion as you wish. I’ll answer to any of it.”

  “Understood. Sev.”

  She chuckled, more because of the devilish grin on his face than the way he promptly used her nickname. Sevana had a feeling that they’d get along just fine. “So tell me, do Fae burn wood?”

  “And waste a valuable resource? Of course not.” With a perfectly straight face, he pointed a finger at the cast iron pan in his hand. It started sizzling the food within seconds.

  Fascinated, she drifted closer, trying to figure out how he was doing that. “The Fae don’t use magics, or spells, or anything of that sort?”

  “It is not necessary. We speak directly with the elements. They do as we request.”

  Sevana felt a flash of envy. She had to bargain and weigh and measure every single thing she did when it came to magic. Even the simplest of spells were quite complicated if you broke them down. What would it be like to just point a finger at something and have it leap to do your bidding?

  “Do not envy us,” Arandur scolded lightly, more amused than chiding. “After all, you can create things we cannot because your magic can be more complex in structure. Ours is simplistic.”

  “And unimaginably strong,” she drawled back, not the least appeased by these words.

  Unoffended, he unbent enough to give her a small grin. “I am hoping that you brought some of your complex magic with you? To make sleeping easier.”

  “I might have brought a tent with me.” Snorting, she went for her own pack and dug out the camping equipment. Not for one second did she believe that he was looking forward to using any of her things. He could probably talk grass into being soft and cushiony if he was of the mind to. But she played along as he cooked dinner. Who knew? Maybe he’d get comfortable enough with her to share a few secrets.

  They made North Woods (or in human terms, Brennan Woods) in three days as Aran had said they would. Sevana had him teach her at least the basics of Fae customs as they rode. Normally pomp and ceremony could go take a flying leap as far as she was concerned, but when dealing with beings that could kill you as easily as someone would an irritating fly, basic courtesy became terribly important.

  The Fae didn’t seem to have any rules about dress code—as long as you weren’t showing an outrageous level of skin—but they were particular about not being an imposition to others. Kindness was the key word with them.

  Sevana fully expected to put both feet into her mouth within the first three hours.

  Late in the afternoon they reached the edge of Brennan Woods. Sevana had passed by here several times but had never tried to actually go in. The closest that she had come was when she’d gone into the Desolate Mountains with Bel and Aren to break the king’s curse. But that was only the outskirts of the woods. This time, she would be going into the heart of them.

  Aran slowed them to a walk, partially because of the thickness of the foliage, partially because it was rude to run right over someone’s figurative doorstep. It gave her a chance to properly look around. The trees here were ancient, as old or older than Noppers Woods. It put the phrase ‘primeval forest’ on a whole new level. Or maybe it just felt that way to her. She was used to going into Noppers, so she rather thought herself immune to this feeling of antiquity, but perhaps not.

  “What do you think of this place?” Aran asked her in a quiet tone.

  “It feels beyond ancient,” she answered back, unwittingly speaking in the same soft voice. “As if it has been here since the very creation of the world.” There was something else about it, too, that was right on the tip of her tongue, but she found it hard to put into words. “There’s this thrum, too, as if the place has its own pulse.”

  “Oh, so you can feel that?”

  She blinked and turned, trying to see his expression. He looked mildly surprised and approving. “What am I feeling?”

  “All of the tools and items of the Fae are made here. What you are sensing is magic being actively used, on a near continuous level.”

  Sevana’s eyes crossed. “That’s how your magic feels?”

  “When we are actively using it. Most of the time, we do not need to, as a request is enough to grant our desire. But when we are crafting something, our magic feels like this.” Cocking his head, he pressed, “What does it feel like exactly?”

  She didn’t really have anything to compare it to. The one experience that came to mind didn’t even come close, but Sevana wasn’t sure how else to answer. “Have you ever stood inside of a rainbow?”

  “At the end of one, yes. Once. It’s a rare experience.”

  Didn’t she know it. Sevana had only managed it once too. “The air there feels dense and moist and heavy enough that you feel like you almost can’t breathe, and yet it’s cool and refreshing at the same time.”

  “Ahh, yes, I can see how our magic would feel similar to you. It feels that way to us as well.” Aran sat up a little straighter, eyes focusing on something dead ahead. “Our hosts approach.”

  Sevana snapped back around, eyes straining to see forward. In these dim woods it was hard to see anything more than twenty feet out. She didn’t see forms so much as she caught hints of movement. Just how good were a Fae’s eyes?

  The chellomi stallion came to a stop as naturally as if he were the one to decide to do so. Aran slid gracefully off before reaching up for Sevana. She was used to him doing this by now, as he didn’t seem to trust her equestrian skills. She had none to speak of, so that was a good choice. Secretly glad for the help, she put her hands on his shoulders and let him lift her to the ground. Not being afraid of the chellomi any longer, she unbent enough to give him a pat on the shoulder, in the same way she would thank Big. The chellomi turned his head enough to touch his nose to her hat, knocking it askew.

  With a dirty look at the stallion, she straightened her hat and focused ahead again. Their Fae hosts were now visible and only a few feet away. She hadn’t expected them to look different, but they did, in a subtle way. They were slightly paler, their clothes not as loose and flowing, but more form-fitting. Far from favoring the light colors that the Noppers Fae did, they chose more subdued greens, greys, and browns that blended in perfectly with their surroundings. No wonder she had trouble seeing them.

  Man and woman lifted a hand in greeting, more casually to Aran—did he know these two?—but with more formality and curiosity with Sevana.

  “Arandur,” the woman said in a warm tone, “it has been many seasons since we last saw you. You are well.”

  “I am, Al
yan,” Aran returned with the same tone of familiarity in his voice. “Rincavornon, you are well.”

  “I am, Arandur,” Rincavornon stated.

  “I present Sellion, our adopted sister.”

  Alyan, a beautiful redhead with copper tones in her hair and eyes, picked up both Sevana’s hands. “Sellion, I greet you. I am Alyan.”

  This gripping of the hands didn’t feel like a simple hello to her. Sevana could swear the woman was doing a check of her, like a magical diagnostic of some sort. “I greet you, Alyan.”

  Alyan didn’t let go of her hands and the man with her, who could be Aran’s blond cousin with those looks, didn’t try to budge her. He was satisfied with words alone. “I greet you, Sellion. I am Rincavornon.”

  “I greet you, Rincavornon,” she returned, wondering when she would be able to get her hands back.

  “Ah, now I know you,” Alyan said with immense satisfaction. “You have been here before.”

  Aran’s voice rose in surprise. “You have?”

  “Not in the woods proper,” Sevana denied, relieved when Alyan finally let go of her. “But I’ve been in the Desolate Mountains a time or two. My most recent trip was last year, actually.”

  “You are an Artifactor, I believe?” Alyan regarded her with a sort of birdlike curiosity.

  “That’s right. My human name is Sevana Warran.”

  They made ahhing sounds of recognition. “You are the one that has brought us children,” Rincavornon stated. It was obviously not a question—he knew exactly who she was now.

  “That’s me,” she agreed. Whatever system they had to exchange news between the Fae territories was obviously a good one, as they were fairly up to date. Or maybe what she was doing was really that unheard of, that her actions were news all the way up here.

  “We will speak to you on that subject later,” Alyan warned her with a distinct pout. “We are not pleased that you only bring children to South Woods and not to us.”

  Aran cleared his throat, the sound suspiciously like a chuckle that was being suppressed. “We are nearest her home, Alyan.”

  Alyan looked him dead in the eye. “That is beside the point.”

  Sevana had this feeling she’d be making a lot of trips up here in the near future. If Aranhil agreed to let her do that. She wasn’t sure if he would. “We can discuss that later and work something out. Is it too late for me to see where this missing ink was stored?”

  “It is not,” Rincavornon assured her. “But first, we will see to the chellomi, and give you a moment’s rest.”

  That might have been their polite way of saying the pair of them smelled like horses and needed to wash up. Sevana was inclined to agree because three days on horseback would do that to a person. Chellomi might be magical creatures and whatnot, but the hair and the smell was the same. That and the uncomfortable, hard saddles and the saddle sores that went with them. As soon as she had some privacy, she was applying salve to certain tender places. And the next time that she ventured into Fae territory, she was taking her own vehicles, and Fae customs could go hang.

  Aran grabbed her bags and handed them to her, which she hefted over one shoulder. Alyan took the lead and struck off to the left. It was only when she did so that Sevana started to detect the path that was there. It blended in so well that she could barely discern the difference between normal forest floor and path. Were there signs? Hopefully? Otherwise she’d need a guide the entire time she was here.

  It all looked like forest to her up until they entered a small clearing. Here, she saw the same signs of ‘buildings’ that were in Noppers. It was nothing overt, just the bending of branches in unusual ways to form doorways and roofs. Alyan passed through one such opening and the air became lighter. Sevana slowed her steps, lingering, to get a better look. Woven into the branches were hundreds of fireflies, giving the inside a natural glow. The ‘floor’ was a thick, cushiony moss that looked like velvet. It would probably feel that way too. She recognized the type.

  Once she passed through that brief entrance, she entered what must be the main room. It was almost perfectly round, with other doorways in set intervals. The branches were woven together in such a way that it was beautiful, like an intricately woven basket.

  “I’ll take my usual room,” Aran announced in general before splitting off and going into the first room on the left.

  Alyan pointed to the room dead ahead. “That is a bathing room that is connected to a hot spring.”

  Sevana was going to make immediate use of that.

  “The rest,” Alyan continued, “are rooms for guests. You choose any that you like.”

  To keep things simple, she might as well take the room to the immediate right. Hopefully she would keep her bearings that way. These doorways looked almost identical. “Thank you.” Ducking in through the doorway, she paused long enough to get a good look around. From the way things were made so far, she fully expected a moss bed, but the Fae were apparently more practical than that. The bed frame itself was a growing, woven tree, but it had a perfectly human mattress on top, blanket and pillows included. Glad to see at least one thing she recognized, she put her packs on the bed and dug out fresh clothes. Then she made a beeline for that hot spring.

  She was almost through the door when she realized that she couldn’t just strip and jump in. For one thing, the doorway had a deep inset, to where one couldn’t see the inside of the room without taking several steps in. There was no way to tell if it was occupied. Pausing, she called, “Aran?”

  “Yes?” he answered from inside of his room.

  “I’m going into the springs.”

  There was a ruminative pause on his part. “I take it that if I enter while you are there, you will be displeased.”

  “You walk in on me and I’ll hex you,” she corrected.

  What might have been a chuckle floated in the air. “Understood. Enjoy yourself.”

  She didn’t plan to, as she was here to investigate something, not soak in magical hot springs. But she needed fifteen minutes to get the worse of the smell off and some of the aches and pains in her rear to go away. Right now, any bending sent a sharp ache through her buttocks, which was far from pleasant.

  Sevana had given up trying to predict what anything in Fae territory would look like. She didn’t expect a traditional bathing area and that was just as well, as she didn’t get one. It looked like a natural hot spring, the rocks and moss and plants growing around the springs completely undisturbed by hands. If not for the fact that the branches wove a ceiling above her head, she would have thought she had wandered into the woods by accident.

  The only addition to this scene were two wooden tubs, both of them looking as if they had grown from a Tub Tree, they were so perfectly formed. They sat demurely near the springs, waiting to be used. Sevana found a flat spot on the rocks to put her clothes on, stripped, and then gingerly dipped a toe to check the temperature. It was perhaps a mite hotter than she cared for but not intolerable. She found a path into the water and then searched about until she found a rock that was the right height. Settling, she grabbed a bucket and started scrubbing.

  At first, the heat of the water felt like bliss on aching muscles and joints, but eventually it got to be too much to her. She was sweating and starting to feel dizzy. Still a little reluctant to get out, she lingered a few more minutes before common sense compelled her out of the water. Only then did she slosh free, grabbing a towel and drying off as she did so.

  Sevana had one foot into her pants when she realized that she was no longer sore. At all. Not even a trace to be found. Disbelieving, she bent as far she could in all directions, testing this, but if anything she felt more limber than she normally did.

  Just what was in that water?!

  In an automatic motion, she reached for her tool belt, intending to do a quick study. But of course she hadn’t brought any of that in here with her. Swearing, Sevana promised herself she’d come back tonight and do a proper study. She was duplicating
this, no matter what.

  “Sevana?” Aran queried, voice dry. “You realize you’ve been in there for almost a half hour?”

  Stone the crows. No, she hadn’t. To cover that up, she responded, “I’m only partially dressed, do not come in. And what’s in this water?”

  “A variety of things, I imagine. Why? Do you feel better?”

  “Better is a very weak word.”

  “If you ask, they’ll tell you.”

  What?! Since when did the Fae share any secrets? Sevana jerked her shirt over her head, leaving her hair dripping wet over one shoulder, and grabbed her dirty clothes in a rough bundle. She wasted no time getting to the entrance so that she could demand of Aran face to face, “What?”

  He regarded her levelly, his head canted ever so slightly to the side as if he couldn’t understand her surprise. “You know this.”

  “I know nothing of the sort,” she denied, near to spluttering. “The Fae have never shared any secrets with me until this week. It wasn’t until three days ago that I learned I had my own name among you!”

  “Truly?” Rocking back on his heels, he considered that. “Perhaps Aranhil was waiting for the right moment to tell you.”

  “The right moment passed and he didn’t. Veassen told me. But that’s beside the point. Can I truly ask questions now and get answers?”

  “As long as they are harmless things, like the water. Our truest secrets must remain with the Keepers.”

  The way he said that word gave it a special significance. Sevana’s ears perked at it. “There are specific people that keep secrets?”

  “The masters of that craft, yes. No one soul knows everything, but each knows how specific things are made. It is safer this way.” His tone suggested she should already know this. “Are not humans the same?”

  Sevana snorted. “Humans are more ambitious and greedy by nature. It’s a lack of talent, education, and position that keeps us from knowing everything. But believe me, if given the option of knowing or not knowing, I’d choose to know.”

  “Is that right.” He leaned down slightly to put their heads at the same level, eyes boring into hers. His gaze was so penetrating that it felt like he saw through everything, reading her secrets as easily as if she had said them aloud. It made her flush and instinctively take a half-step back. He did not let her retreat far as he challenged, “And yet you have not pressed to know exactly how the ink is made. Instead, you only ask for the knowledge that you absolutely must have to do the task you have been given.”