Spellsmith & Carver: Magicians' Reckoning

by H. L. Burke

  He hung his head. “I understand. Blast, though, I don’t want to wait, Lotta.”

  “For me, please? Give me a little time to think it over?” She leaned against him.

  He nestled his face into her hair. “Take as long as you need.”

  Lotta focused on him, on his breath, his warmth. “I do love you, though,” she whispered. “You make me feel like a watch spring wound tight, all whirring pieces and frantic thoughts I don’t know what to do with.” The thought of ticking clockwork made her remember something. “Oh! I have something for you … well, for me, really, but you said you’d help me with it. Best simply to show you.”

  Opening the door, she peeked into the hallway. No sign of his family. She relaxed then led him down to her guest room where her overnight bag waited.

  “I’ve been working on this off and on since I met your sister’s metal fox thing,” she said as she opened the leather satchel. She took out a small bundle of cloth and began to unwrap it. “I kept starting over because I’d change my mind about what sort of animal I wanted most. Finally last month it sort of came to me.” She pulled away the last scrap of cloth, revealing her creation, a silver owl about the size of her hand with wide glass eyes and flexible talons.

  Auric took it. “Beautiful work. Why an owl?”

  “I’ve always liked them. They’re supposed to be wise and they can turn their heads around in a circle which is a very efficient design.” She shrugged. “Do you think you can animate him for me?”

  “Yes, definitely.” He kissed her forehead. “It’ll take a little work, though. Give me a week?”

  “Perfect.” Perhaps by then she’d have an answer for him. She needed to find a way for it to be yes.

  Chapter Seven

  Jericho trotted down the stairs from the workshop and let out a long breath. The gold-tinted light of dusk trickled through the glass windows over the door, casting long shadows across the foyer. He’d worked through dinner, only catching a bite to eat on his feet.

  With Hedward’s death a week before, and the various matters they’d needed to see to involving the estate, followed by Iris’s departure and Auric’s general state of distraction over the whole mess—with all of that, Jericho had swept shop business to the side. Now it came crashing down on him like an avalanche of magical quires. Auric had tried to help at first, but his mind was elsewhere, leading to a lot of basic mistakes, especially after both Lotta and Iris departed within days of each other. It was easier for Jericho to suppress his own grief and take charge than to double-check every spell Auric wrote.

  Now, he stopped and closed his eyes, savoring the silence of the house. A faint smell of rosemary drifted in the air. Before she left, Iris had insisted on hanging sprigs of it over all the entrances. She’d also instructed Auric on how to construct a barrier of iron filings and dried fennel seed she swore was the natural deterrent towards the sort of Fey she was hunting, all the while assuring Rill she had no reason to believe the Leecher posed a specific threat to their household. It was just a case of “better safe than sorry.”

  The scent carried bittersweet memories. When Jericho first came to work for Hedward, the man was paranoid that Fey forces would meddle with Rill, a fear that proved well-founded. Many of Jericho’s early tasks as Hedward’s apprentice had been setting out bundles of dried herbs and memorizing lists of plants that could counteract Fey powers. At the time, he’d assumed the old man was batty, if in a harmless way. Looking back, however, he regretted doubting him. There had always been a reason behind Master Spellsmith’s eccentricities, and it boiled down to protecting his family. Jericho would be proud to do half as well for his own children.

  A baby’s cry rang out from above. A moment later, a second joined in on the song. Jericho chuckled wryly and hurried up the stairs.

  As he approached his door, however, a new sound caught his ears, similar to the babies’ cries but deeper and muffled. Slowing his pace, he eased the door open.

  Rill sat on the floor beside the bassinets, her face in her apron, her shoulders shaking.

  “Rill?” Jericho rushed to her side.

  She started. “Oh, Jerry.” She angled away from him, but not before he caught the redness in her eyes and the tear tracks streaking her cheeks.

  He opened his mouth to ask what was wrong but realized it was a silly question. Many things were wrong, and she didn’t need to explain any of it to him. Instead he slipped his arm around her and drew her to his chest.

  The twins wailed over them, but a quick glance showed they weren’t in any danger or severe discomfort. Perhaps tired, perhaps wet, perhaps simply bored. It didn’t really matter. He kissed his wife’s forehead and rocked her back and forth, waiting for her to calm.

  Finally, she pulled away from him. “I need to … He was wet, and I think she’s hungry.” She wiped her nose on a handkerchief. “It’s silly. It’s just that I went to see to him, and before I could even start, she began crying too, and I didn’t know which to take care of first or how I would handle listening to one crying while I ignored them in favor of the other.” She let out a great sigh.

  “Well, I can’t feed her, but I can change him.” Jericho scooped up Ric and crossed to the changing table where a stack of crisp white diapers awaited, neatly folded with a slight scent of rosemary. Apparently the herb had even gotten into the laundry.

  “Thank you,” Rill whispered.

  Jericho patted Ric gently on the back. The baby’s lower half was definitely soggy. He had only done this a few times—normally Rill was quick on her feet where their needs were concerned—but it wasn’t particularly complicated. He finished up in a few minutes then passed Ric the wooden rattle Jericho’s uncle had carved for him. The baby cooed at it, shook it wildly, and grinned. Jericho grinned back before returning Ric to the bassinet. “All squared away—” He turned and his smile died.

  Rill sat in her chair, Lila at her breast, fat tears rolling down her cheeks.

  Jericho knelt beside her. “Rill, what’s wrong?” Now was the time to ask.

  “So, so, so many things.” Her voice cracked. “Jerry, I love them, I promise I love them, and I wanted this, I know I wanted this, but I’m so tired, and now Father is gone, and I know Auric is upset and he can’t work the way he should and I know you have to take up the slack so you have to be in the shop more, and I know that Mom needs to catch that monster … I know all that.”

  Jericho placed his hand on her knee and waited for her to catch her breath.

  “But things aren’t going how I imagined they would.” Her voice trailed off as she sniffed away more tears.

  He stroked her cheek. “Well, to be fair, neither of us expected twins. I wouldn’t give up either of them, but they’re still double the work we anticipated.”

  “Even if it was only one, I was foolish to tell myself I could be a mother and a magician. My training isn’t even half complete, and with you and Auric, there isn’t need for another person in the shop.”

  “But we talked about you bringing the babies to work alongside us, remember?”

  “It isn’t worth it.” She dropped her eyes. “They always need something, to be held, to be changed, and one of them is always crying. That’s too much chaos to introduce into a working environment.”

  “Whatever is easiest. Remember, it won’t always be this way. They won’t be babies forever.”

  Her mouth contorted. “So I’ve been told by the reverend’s wife, and your mom, and the butcher, the baker, and … and … if one more person tells me to treasure this time because someday I’m going to miss it, I swear, Jerry, I will send a flare spell right up their backside!”

  He raised his eyebrows. Apparently that had struck a nerve rather than being the soothing sentiment he’d hoped it would be.

  “Everything I do now seems to be for someone else. If I’m not caring for the twins, I’m comforting Auric, or dealing with the account books Father left in a complete mess. Even my body isn’t my own anymore, and I don’t
feel … I mean, you haven’t said anything, but you see what I look like? I’m always tired and messy and my hair is falling out and my body looks like a deflated balloon.”

  “No, it doesn’t.”

  “Yes, it does. I don’t feel like me anymore, and I should be so happy, and it is awful that I’m not. What sort of mother wouldn’t be blissfully happy with two beautiful, precious, healthy children?” Her voice cracked and her whole being convulsed. Lila lost her latch, staring up at her mother with wide eyes.

  “I think she’s done.” Jericho eased her out of Rill’s arms. “I’ll burp her.” He patted her on the back a few times then laid her next to her brother. “Rill, you just lost your father. I think you can give yourself permission to be sad for a bit.”

  “He wasn’t just my father, though. He was Auric’s and he might as well have been yours—”

  “Shh.” He put his fingers to her lips. “This is exactly the problem. You are taking care of everybody but yourself.”

  “But if I don’t take care of everyone, who will? Also, it isn’t as if you can stop working. The shop is already behind on orders, and Auric is in no condition to pick up the slack, especially since that supposed girlfriend of his ran back to the city. He’s been acting like a lost puppy all week.” She shook her head. “I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but I thought it would be easier, and that I’d at least have my mother here to help.”

  Jericho let out a long breath. “You could use some help. What about my mom?”

  Rill winced.

  He narrowed his gaze at her. “What? I thought you liked my mom?”

  “We’ve been married less than two years. I’m not stupid enough to start trouble with your mom.”

  Jericho tapped his fingers against his hip, thinking back on all the times Rill and his mother had interacted. Milly Carver tended to be opinionated, but how could she disapprove of Rill? Rill was near perfect. “Do you want to tell me about that?”

  Rill exhaled. “It’s not that I don’t think she would be helpful. She would probably be very helpful, and I know she adores the twins. It’s just, after Dad’s funeral, she offered to help with them if need be.”

  He tilted his head. “How is that a problem? Isn’t that what you want?”

  “It was … she said she was offering because I needed an example of how to stick with my family because she knows my mother ran off when I was young, and she didn’t want her grandchildren being left motherless because things got ‘too much for me.’ Especially because my mother was apparently ‘running off again’ … It made me so mad that I told her I was doing fine and I wouldn’t need her help, ever.” She flushed. “I offended her. You’ve noticed she hasn’t been out to see the twins since then?”

  A hot anger squeezed Jericho’s chest. “She shouldn’t have said that to you.”

  “I tried not to take it personally. I know what the town thinks of my mother, but they don’t have the full story.” Rill’s fingers tightened into her skirts. “And your mom has had a hard life. She stuck with your father even when he was awful to her, so the fact that my mom disappeared for over a decade and then was gone again when Father got sick … I can’t imagine what she must think of my whole family, Jericho. She made me feel so ashamed.”

  “I’ll speak with her.”

  “No! Don’t!” She grabbed his arm. “If she thinks I’m turning her son against her, she’ll hate me even more.”

  “Oh, Rill, there is no way she hates you. You should’ve seen her face when I told her you’d accepted my proposal.”

  “She just wanted grand-babies. You could’ve settled down with anyone of the female persuasion, and she would’ve been fine with it.”

  “That’s not true.” They sat in silence. The gentle clacking of Ric’s rattle and the mixed coos of both babies eased the sharp corners off Jericho’s mood. He drew Rill into an embrace. “So what do you want to do?”

  “I wish my mom would come home, but if that can’t be … I had a nurse when I was little. When I was doing the books yesterday, I couldn’t help noticing we have enough in the budget for another servant.”

  “We can definitely do that.” He massaged his hands into her back. “I’ll make some quiet inquiries so my mom doesn’t hear about it until we’ve found someone we like. Maybe we can ask outside of Mountain’s Foot.”

  “That might be for the best. I’d like someone who doesn’t know the town gossip about our family.”

  “In the meantime, I’ll try to be here more, I promise.” He squeezed her closer. “We can get through this, Rill. Together.”

  Chapter Eight

  Iris pulled her horse to a stop outside of the cabin. Sun seeping through the pine boughs of the thick forest. A clearing with a garden and a brick-encased well stood to one side, and a small space filled with tree trunks suggested the landowners were clearing more land for crops. She sighed.

  The trees reminded her of the thick, misty forests of the Fey Lands, where she’d grown up. Though she’d never regretted her decision to bond with Hedward and leave that world, she sometimes missed the wild beauty of it.

  Of course, she wasn’t here to take in the scenery. She needed to investigate.

  The cabin proved empty. Not a surprise. She’d rode hard to get here before the man who owned it. He’d shown up in Mill River that morning, raving that his wife had been spirited away by a strange force which had left an unknown, wizened corpse in her place. He’d brought the corpse, tied to the back of their plow horse, to town, begging for help finding her.

  Now Iris poked through the home, sniffing the air for any trace of a magical signature. The house seemed clear, only the mundane scents of mildew and sawdust. Of course, according to him the attack had occurred when she was berry-picking, so that was to be expected. The cabin consisted of a single room, a table, two chairs, and a pallet bed covered in worn but carefully crafted quilts, a deep furrow in the middle where two bodies had formed a valley in the straw mattress. Wilted flowers drooped in an earthenware vase on the table. Yes, this couple had little but there was love in this home. Such a waste.

  Closing her eyes, Iris thought back on his frantic words. “I was digging out a stump, and she went to get some berries for supper. There’s a good patch right in shouting distance of the cabin. After a bit, I hear her scream. I hear her scream like she’s right terrified. Thought she’d stumbled into a snake. There’s sometimes bushrattlers in those brambles. When I got to the patch, though, she wasn’t there. Just the body, but I swear that body’s not her. My Nan’s young, beautiful, raven-haired.”

  The corpse definitely hadn’t matched that description. Yes, it was female, but it was silver-haired, wrinkled, and feeble. Even a Leecher couldn’t drain life from a human that quickly. Also, why would a Leecher bring one victim when preparing to take another? And how had it gotten away so quickly with the presumably unwilling forester’s wife?

  She shut and latched the door. Behind the cabin, a worn path trudged through the long grasses into the cool shade of the trees. A steady hum of bees rose up ahead, and she came upon a tangle of blackberry bushes, rich with ripe berries and busy insects. This had to be the patch. A tingle of Fey energy mingled with the summer heat. It prickled beneath Iris’s skin like mosquito venom, and she had to resist the urge to itch her arms and neck. So much of this wasn’t right. At least the victim hadn’t been a child this time. Perhaps more a target of convenience to bolster failing energy? But if so, why hadn’t the Leecher stayed in a more populated area? They had to feed too regularly to stray this far from human settlements.

  Something flashed in a sunbeam at the edge of the clearing. Iris stooped and picked up a shattered, green glass bottle. Only the neck remained intact, but from the shards lying about, it had to have been about the size of her hand. Energy pulsed from it. Heavy magic. Something stirred to life in Iris’s brain.

  Leechers didn’t use bottles in their magic, but another Fey, a Fey she hadn’t considered for other reasons, did. It couldn’t be, th
ough. Soulsnatchers never killed. Why would one be taking victims in the human realms? She strode deeper into the woods. If Nan’s husband had come from the cabin, it made sense that the Fey fled in the other direction. Perhaps she could find a path.

  She traced a line of broken branches that seemed far too obvious for a forester to miss. In fact, if she hadn’t known any better, she would’ve assumed this was a trail meant to be followed. She stepped into a clearing and a something snapped at her feet. A burst of golden light sprang up around her like star dust. She gasped for breath as it knocked her to the ground. A flash of light snaked through the air in front of her, leaving a trail that formed words.

  I know you’re after me, you High Fey Witch. I know, and your family will pay.

  With a cry of horror, Iris threw herself forward, only to bounce off a magical barrier. She was trapped.

  ***

  Jericho brushed his hair back from his forehead. Sweat dripped into his eyes so he swiped his sleeve across his brow then blew out a long breath. The late August sun flooded through the windows of the workshop.

  “Want me to open a window?” Auric had laid aside his embroidered waistcoat and was working in his shirt sleeves.

  “No point. I’m pretty sure it’s just as hot outside if not hotter.” Picking up a sheet of paper from the worktable, Jericho scratched out a commencement symbol, a snowflake symbol, a wind symbol, and an activation symbol. As the paper quire crumbled in his fingers, a breeze swept through the workshop. He closed his eyes and savored the drop in temperature.

  “Nice, but we have a lot of spells to work through, and only so much Fey energy to go around, remember?” Auric tossed him a wooden quire which Jericho caught midair. “You want to do the weather spell for the Farmers Guild or the pest wards the innkeeper ordered?”

  Jericho held up the square of planed cedar. “Wood’s better for weather spells. You can do the pest wards on paper.”