“Mouli’s right, my dear,” Da says, his attention back on his breakfast, “It’d do you good to get your mind off things for a night.” I look at him in disbelief and he slides a glance at me that tells me to go along with him.
“I’m glad you’re talking sense, Benen,” Mouli nods and starts clearing plates, “Listen to your father, Azi. Good man.” I read the invitation again and then get up to clear my plate, but Mouli takes it from my hands to do it herself.
“It’s just a few days from now,” I say. “I don’t even have a dress.”
“Never you mind that,” says Mouli, and I know she’s already planning everything from jewels to shoes and in between. She hums with delight as she cleans up the breakfast, and Da and I sit in silence as she goes on now and then about the color, and the style, and the weight of the dress. “So much to think about! I’ve got to get to market. I’ll be back for midday meal.” She takes off her apron, tucks it into her basket, and rushes out the front door.
“Well, that got her out of the way,” Da shakes his head. “Poor Mouli, she’s so predictable. Heart of gold, though, that one.” I slide closer to my father and hug him tight. He might be cursed as I am, but at least his mind seems whole again. I was worried he’d never be the same. He pats my arm absently.
“How did you know to make me let go of the sword?” He asks, and I pull away to look up at him. His gray eyes are the sort that always look as though they’re smiling, even when the rest of him isn’t.
“It happens to me, too,” I say. I recount everything to him, from the afternoon in the training hall with Cort and Bryse, to my days of sleep, to the experiments yesterday with Rian. I leave out Flit and the dreams. I don’t want him to worry that I’ve lost my mind. By the time I’ve finished, he’s leaning forward over the table, his clenched fists supporting his forehead. I let him sit for a moment in silence, as long as I can stand to be quiet. I have questions to ask him. I need to know.
“Da, what happened that day? To you? To Mum?” I watch his back rise and fall. He’s going through it in his thoughts, I can tell. His body tenses, the muscles of his arms ripple. The front door opens and I turn. Rian stands on the threshold, his arms weighed down with books, and his scroll case stuffed to overflowing. His eyes are half-wild, but when they stop at me and he sees my father sitting beside me he smoothes his expression so it’s nearly unreadable. When he crosses into the light, I notice that he looks even worse now than he did last night. The dark circles under his bloodshot eyes are prominent against his pale skin. His robes are disheveled and wrinkled, his hair limp and oily. I wonder if he’s gotten any sleep at all. He certainly doesn’t look it. His collar is pulled up high, but not quite high enough to cover the thin inky tendril that has curled up to his jawline. My father sits upright and turns to look at him. His expression darkens. Rian shrinks like a mouse caught under the cat’s paw.
“Hall. Now.” His chair slides back, and he disappears into the covered walkway that leads to the guild hall. As I follow him through to the corridor, my eyes fix on the streak of blood I’d left on his back earlier, which has since darkened to a rusty brown. Behind me I can hear Rian’s nearly silent steps along with the swish of his robes. Then I hear something else, so quiet that it might just be a thought in my head.
“Is that your Da, out of bed? He’s a little scary.” Flit. I look to one side and then the other, but I don’t see her. Rian doesn’t notice. His attention is fixed on the smooth floorboards as he walks. He has the look of a judged man on the way to sentencing.
“Not now,” I whisper as quietly as I can, unnerved by the fact that I can’t see her, and that I can hear her all too well in my mind. This could get annoying, fast.
“He’s not as tall as I thought he’d be, though. And he has nice hair. But he stinks worse than the stinky Mage.” I shake my head. “Go away, Flit.” I whisper, a little louder. I turn to Rian, but he is so deep in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice. Or if he does, he doesn’t react.
We follow my father into the hall, where he crosses to the door that connects it to the training hall and slides it closed and locks it. He comes back around Rian and myself and closes and bars the main door as well. It’s an odd thing to do. We never lock the hall doors. The thought of it makes me uneasy as I watch him.
Rian dumps the armload of books onto a chair by the hearth and shakes his arms out, then sinks into the chair beside it. He closes his eyes, preparing for the onslaught. Da is muttering to himself now, and I can’t make out what he’s saying. I have never seen him so agitated. He is usually one of the more patient members of the guild, the voice of reason. Not now, though. Now, he lets out an anguished growl and drives his fist into the stone wall with all his strength. I wince as I hear the crack of his knuckle bones on the unyielding stone, and rush I to stop him but he pushes past me and stalks to Rian.
“Da, stop!” I cry, but he’s already half-lifted Rian out of his chair by the front of his collar.
“You,” he snarls, “and your never ending secrets!” Rian’s feet graze the floor as my father lifts him so they’re eye to eye. The contrast between the two men is frightening. Rian has always been tall for his age, but his body is lean, almost too lean. Mouli is constantly trying to fatten him up, but he has always had the build of a sapling tree. When it comes to physical fighting, he avoids it at all costs. So when Da draws his fist back to threaten him, Rian screws his eyes shut and tries to press his face into his own shoulder to brace for the blow. His hands are occupied trying to free Da’s choke hold.
“DA!” I run behind him and grab his hand, pulling it down to keep him from swinging. He doesn’t relent.
“I never should have listened to you. I should have listened to my gut! You knew what you were sending her into, didn’t you?” He violently shakes Rian, who struggles weakly, fighting to breathe.
“Didn’t you, Gaethon?” Gaethon, I think. He doesn’t even know who he’s talking to.
“Da please, that’s not Uncle, it’s not! Look at him! It’s Rian! He can’t breathe!” I pull his free arm with all of my might, but it isn’t enough. My father has years of training and heavy labor on me. He’s just too strong.
“You knew what would happen. You knew she’d have to stay there, you knew because it’s in your blood, too! You should have stopped her! Forced her to stay! Now she’s lost!” He drops Rian into a heap on the floor and falls to his own knees, sobbing. “She’s gone, gone...”
“Are you okay?” I rush to Rian who is on his hands and knees gasping for air. He nods and I throw my arms around him. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper. My father’s sobbing slowly subsides as Rian catches his breath. I feel his eyes on us as we look up at him. His eyes are filled with hatred as he watches us kneeling close together, holding each other.
“And I trusted you, Lisabella. You swore you’d never go back.” He starts to sob. Beside me, Rian whispers something and casts an arm out, and I yelp in surprise as my father is suddenly flung away from us. He lands with a thud against the far wall and slides down it. Rian gets to his feet unsteadily and weaves his fingers in an intricate pattern. He murmurs some incantation and a soft pink glow hovers in the air over my father and then settles over him, fading until it disappears into his prone form. Da’s eyes slowly close as he fades into a deep sleep.
“What was that?” I ask, clinging to Rian.
“Sleep spell,” Rian murmurs.
“How long will it last?” My heart breaks when I realize the gravity of what’s just happened. Rian drops to his knees and leans over until his head is resting in my lap. I stroke his hair back with shaking fingers as I stare blankly at my sleeping father.
“Until I wake him,” Rian croaks. He coughs softly and rubs his throat.
“Are you okay?” I ask again, smoothing the fabric at his shoulder as he lays there. When turns away to cough, I notice that the inky tendril peeking up over his collar has thickened slightly.
“Oh, just fine,” he forces a laugh and I reali
ze that it was a ridiculous question. He was just nearly choked to death by a man who is like a second father to him. Of course he’s not okay. I know how he feels. I wish I didn’t, but I do.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, squeezing his shoulder. “I didn’t know. He seemed better. I thought he was better.”
“It’s not your fault,” he mumbles, his eyes drifting closed. “Or his...” It’s not long before his breathing slows and he drifts off to sleep. Careful not to disturb him, I stretch my legs out in front of me onto the hearth rug and lean my back against a chair. I’m certain that it’s been a day or perhaps two since he’s slept at all, and so I stay as still as I can to let him rest until my back aches and my legs are numb. My father sleeps, too, and with the warm air of the crackling hearth washing over me, I doze in and out as well. As I do, I go over in my mind the things my father said during his fit of madness. You and your never ending secrets! You knew she’d have to stay there! You should have stopped her!
I turn the words around and over again and again in my mind, trying to see them from every angle. Uncle Gaethon knew it was dangerous for Mum to travel to Kythshire. Da says he knew because it was in Uncle’s blood, too. But what is in their blood? Gaethon is my mother’s brother. They share the same parents and the same lineage. I think back on it and realize that my mother has never talked much about our family line on her side, though I can name my father’s tree for several generations. I trusted you Lisabella. You swore you’d never go back. It can only mean that my mother has been to Kythshire before. If his accusations were right, she knew she’d have to stay if she went back. I remember how reserved she was at our last guild meeting, and the note in her saddle bag. Still, I can’t bring myself to believe that she would choose to leave us behind.
I twist my torso from one side to the other to stretch my back, careful not to wake Rian. His scroll case and books are piled on the chair I’m resting against and I reach up over my head to feel for something to occupy myself while he sleeps. My fingers find the scroll case and I pull it to rest on the floor beside me. I hesitate for a moment. I know that Rian has been researching the curse, and that his notes and Uncle’s are tucked inside the case. It isn’t forbidden for me to see these. I would only have to be careful not to study anything that might teach me to use magic. At least, I think that’s the way it works. I slide the thick roll of parchment from the tube and smooth it out beside me. The first page is headed with the title of a book of curses, followed by a list of names and dates. The last name and most recent on the list is Viala Nullen, who Uncle assigned to teach Rian in his absence.
I leaf through several similar pages and find her name on every one of them. There are books of curses, books about Kythshire, books about the fae, and a tome of records listing the lineage of the families of Cerion. At first I’m suspicious to see her name appearing so frequently, but then I realize it can’t be that unusual. Someone in her position has probably read most of the tomes in the vast library. I scan the sheets again and realize that my uncle’s name and even Rian’s are scattered here and there on them. With a sigh I slide them aside and come to the first page of Rian’s notes. Much of them are written in the scholar’s language and despite my uncle’s relentless pestering, I never showed a talent for learning it. I fleetingly wish I had tried a little harder as the strange words swim on the page before me. He has written here and there in the commoner’s tongue, which I have much less trouble discerning, but his notes are brief:
Border curse. Defensive? Breakable? Lost treasure. Act of goodwill. Must be prepared to cross. Pure intent?
I shuffle through the pages and a small note falls out. The handwriting on it is unfamiliar and has a grace to it that is easy on my eyes after pages of Rian’s rough scratches. It reads:
Rian Eldinae
Sixteenth Circle Exam
20 Autumnsdawn
Report to studio “Grace” at dawn to begin your testing.
Exam will be both practical and written.
Attended by the High Council
Failure will retest in one year.
I sigh and look down at Rian, who continues to slumber with his head comfortably in my lap. I know he’s been training for his Sixteenth Circle for two years now. He didn’t tell me he was called in for his test. And now he’s spending all of this time researching my problems. I stroke my thumb over the Mage Mark on his jaw. No wonder it’s grown so quickly. He’s pushing himself too far, too fast. The door handle rattles and someone on the other side knocks, startling me.
“I’ll be!” Luca’s muffled voice is barely audible beyond the thick wood. He knocks again.
“Do you have a key?” I call out, trying not to disturb Rian. He turns his head in Luca’s direction, but I shush him and pat his arm and he goes back to snoring softly in my lap. On the other side of the door, keys jingle. The latch clicks and Luca pushes it open.
“What do you mean, locking the door, eh?” His eyes glide from Rian’s slumbering form to my father slumped unconscious against the wall beside the hearth. “Well that’s a puzzler,” he murmurs. “What happened? Looks like a blow of sleep dust or some.” I press my finger to my lips.
“Da wasn’t himself, so Rian made him sleep. And Rian hasn’t slept for days, so I think the spell wore him out.” I whisper. Luca looks from one man to the other and shakes his head.
“Strange goings-on lately. Don’t like it.” he walks over to Da and nudges him gently on the shoulder. I brace myself, but Da doesn’t even stir. “Well, now.” he paces around him, one hand on his hip, the other stroking his own beard thoughtfully as he assesses the situation. Luca is a wiry old bow-legged man who’s as weatherworn as the fisher boats lashed along the cliff side, and just as hearty. That’s why I’m not at all surprised when he stoops, pulls Da up by his arms, hoists him over his shoulder, and carries him to the door. “He’ll be up to bed,” he whispers. “I’d come back for the lad, but it’d probably wake him.” I nod.
“He’s fine here,” I whisper. “Stay with Da, won’t you?” Luca grunts his agreement and lumbers off into the corridor with my father hanging limply over his shoulder. I turn my attention back to the roll of notes. The rest of them have to do with his studies, and I feel strangely like I’m invading his privacy even looking at the first page, though I can’t understand anything they say. I arrange the pages into the order I found them, roll them up, and tuck them back into the tube.
“Can I come back yet?” Flit’s voice dances in my mind again. I close my eyes and let out a long, slow sigh.
“Are you sure you want to?” I whisper to nothing. “The stinky Mage is here.” I hear a giggle and Flit appears, hovering right above Rian’s brow.
“I’m sure. Do you want to play?” she asks, her fluttering wings lifting her to perch on my shoulder. “He’s not so bad when he’s asleep,” she says. I shush her and consider her offer. I definitely have questions I need answers to.
“I do, but we’ll have to be quiet. I don’t want to wake him.”
“Oh!” She hovers out again and digs into one of the pouches at her belt to produce a glittering white powder. Before I can stop her, she sprinkles it directly into his ear, which begins to glow with white sparkles. Rian nuzzles my leg and dozes on.
“What was that?” I ask.
“Muffle powder. My turn!” She does an excited little flip in midair.
“I didn’t mean to start yet—oh, alright.” I roll my eyes.
“Are you going to the ball?” she asks, coming to perch on my shoulder again.
“How did you?—“
“Ah, ah, ah!”
“I think I am, yes.” I say. I wonder if she heard about it somewhere in her travels today, or if she spied the invitation that I left in the kitchen. I decide not to waste a question on it; how she found out isn’t really important to me. Instead, I take some time to think about my first question. I have so much to ask, and I know her game now. Tiny master of misdirection. She crunches in my ear as I try to concentr
ate, and I turn to see her munching on another sugar cube. That reminds me of Margy’s pitcher, and the diamond hidden inside. I decide to start there.
“A few days ago, I had a dream about a beautiful place. I was there for a long time, so long that I became part of a tree. Then a fairy visited me and a star fell from the sky into my hand. When I woke up, I was still holding it. It’s the diamond in your pitcher in my room. How did that happen?”
“Whoa, you’ve been practicing. Good question. This will be fun! The fairy that you met was a Greeter. She has powerful magic that can be used to cross objects over the edge of our world into yours. So, she gave it to you in your dream so you would have it with you.” She pushes her bangs out of her face with sugar-coated fingers, causing them to stick up erratically. “I heard shouting before. What was your father going on about?”
“He was confused. He thought Rian was my Uncle Gaethon and he was angry about what happened to my mother.” The words he shouted swim in my thoughts but I shake my head to clear them. I’ll ask about that later. “I don’t understand why she gave me the diamond. What is it for?”
“She gave it to you so I could get here.” She does a twirl, sending her ribbons out in a spinning blur, and then flies to the wall where my father had been lying earlier. She looks at the empty space for a moment and then drifts upward to land lightly on the edge of the hearth mantel. She walks along it, weaving through the collection of awards, statues, and trophies on display. “Why was your father confused?” she asks, taking particular interest in a bronze figure of a man just a little taller than she. She links her hand through the crook of his arm and bats her eyes up at him. I chuckle at her flirting and then shake my head.
“I don’t know. Since he came back from the quest, he’s been different. Something happened to him in Kythshire. I was hoping you could tell me why, actually.” Tears sting my eyes. I try to blink them away but it’s too late. “I don’t know if he’ll ever be the same again.” I’ve been holding my emotions back for too long and now that they’ve forced themselves out, I can’t stop it. I shake with a torrent of sobs, but I try to keep them as quiet as I can so Rian can sleep. Flit comes to land on my shoulder.
Call of Kythshire (Keepers of the Wellsprings Book 1) Page 10
