Despite myself, I gasped. “You won't walk away?”
He raised himself on his elbows and put his forehead against mine. “Never.”
I nodded. “Okay.”
He kissed my jaw. “I do not walk away from what matters.”
“I know.”
A bird outside rustled in the eaves of the house, making scratching noises. They faded as the bird settled down again. Mordon propped himself up on an elbow, studying me carefully.
He asked, “Did the Sheriff walk away?”
“After a time.”
“Why?”
I told him about the fight right before the miscarriage. He leaned back, listening in complete silence. “I was inconsolable. I needed support, and he got bored of the job after about a week or two.”
“You did not seek out your parents?”
My laugh was borderline hysterical. “And tell them what? I'd have to start from the beginning, meaning that I'd have to admit that I'd had sex with a man I wasn't married to and hadn't really known all that long. That I'd been stupid enough to get pregnant by a man they didn't even know I was dating. Know what my parents said about girls like that? Those names weren't pretty. No, I'd rather keep my good name intact.”
Mordon stroked his chin in thought. “Your father mentioned you had made poor choices in the past. Was he referring to Sheriff Bruder?”
“Egads, no. Father never met him. If he had a clue what went on, he would have said that I made grave mistakes and dictated that I should be put under lock and key. No, Father was talking about some of the casual flings I got out of once I realized they were heading the wrong direction. Sam was clever enough to pull the wool over my eyes, that's all.”
“Magnus may have put you under lock and key, but do not think that your lover would have escaped his wrath. Should your father find out, Bruder will regret many things very quickly.”
I shrugged. I didn't care anymore what happened to Sam. Additionally, revenge had not been on my list.
Keen eyes appraised my reaction. Curiousity tinged Mordon's voice. “Were any of those casual flings sexual?”
My cheeks burned. “No way. I might be naive, but I'm not promiscuous.”
“Promiscuous.” Mordon frowned afresh. “I suppose that is one way to think of experience. No, I was asking because I wanted to know if you'd had positive encounters before him.”
I shook my head.
A calloused thumb rasped over my forehead. Mordon rolled onto his back, removing his hand from my head to stroke his hairless chin. His eyes went distant as he fell deep into thought. “Promiscuous, huh?”
“It's not the experience. It's how many partners you have.”
“I see. How many is too many?”
I bit my lip. “I've already crossed the line.”
“How many would earn you the maiden-locked-away-in-a-tower treatment?”
“Three. Any more than that and I think I'd be disgracing the family.”
Mordon shifted uncomfortably. “I am beginning to understand Magnus's discomfort about my presence.”
“Why? Are you promiscuous?” I scoffed at the idea. He hadn't so much as lifted an eyebrow at a single other woman around me.
“Without a doubt.”
Surprised and a little concerned, I propped myself up on my elbows. “Alright. How promiscuous are we talking?”
“Would you like a number?”
A bit of unease twisted my stomach. “If you're offering?”
He went quiet, stroking his chin and staring at Anna. The silence stretched thin between us. The unease in my stomach threatened to turn into a storm.
“You're making me nervous.”
He blinked, meeting my gaze. “I was counting.”
“Surely it can't take that long.”
“Seventy-three.”
My jaw dropped. “What?” Before he could comment, I added in genuine curiousity, “How do you even find time for that many affairs?”
“Ah, if we're talking affairs, I've had two, perhaps three if you count my first love with my invisible friend.” He was obviously more comfortable with this number.
I shook my head, having an impossible time imagining being with seventy-three people. “How? I do mean that, how? There aren't even that many people your age in Kragdomen—wait, you didn't go for cougars, did you?”
“By cougars, I expect you do not mean cats?”
“Women interested in men their son's age.”
“No. Although the age is not as important to drakes once a certain year is obtained. Liaisons within the Colony members is restricted, since so many of us are related. We search outside our community for partners. The initial introduction is customarily sexual in nature, which is what I counted. For the majority of introductions, neither party is interested in pursuing matters further. Should they be interested in a serious relationship, that is when they see if a brood ring will accept the partner.”
I shook my head. “And how doesn't this end up with a lot of illegitimate children?”
He gave me a wry smile. “Any child is legitimate in a race facing extinction.”
“What about those born to females without a mate?”
“Then that female is seldom without a mate for long.” He hesitated before adding, “A male would rather adopt a clutch that was not sired by him than to gamble on a female with unproven fertility.”
I felt a twinge of pain in my chest, realizing that if anything my fertility had been disproven. “Oh.”
“Do not sound like that, love. Miscarriages happen frequently, and rarely in recurrence.”
“I'm sort of a rare breed, you know.”
He smiled warmly at me. “Yes, I think I would call one in seventy-three rare.”
“Oh, you're counting me in on that number?” I asked. “Why is that?”
“Because I do know you sexually. My definition of sexuality happens to be more generous than yours.”
I grinned, a blush forming across my cheeks. I would have incited something, but Anna chose just then to open her eyes and wave her hands around with a scream of pleasure.
“Yes, good morning to you, too,” Mordon said.
A thought occurred to me. “Mordon?”
“Hmm?”
“You mentioned … what I mean to ask is, is there any chance that you already have a clutch out there somewhere?”
He stilled, frowning. “There was one female.”
My heart plummeted. “What about her?”
“I believe I was in the same position as you were with Sheriff Bruder.” He grimaced. “She was very clever at making me see only what I wanted to.”
I gripped his hand and decided I wouldn't be the first to let go.
Chapter Twenty-One
It took three accidents for us to unveil the secret of how to open my cabinet doors now that they had been child-proofed. I found myself longing for when I was a child and skilled at undoing these simple things.
On the counter beside the sink, a long trail of dishes dried upon one of my bath towels which had been folded lengthwise. A few suds of soap still clung to glasses, a testament to my rush to get ahead on the housework now that I felt I should be acting more responsibly.
“See, you have to lift upwards, tug downwards, push in, then pull,” I said. The door very cooperatively decided to remain firmly locked.
Mordon laughed at my failed demonstration then tried his hand. “So lift, down, push, pull.”
It opened.
I hissed in frustration. “Apparently you have to have red hair for it to work.”
“I have used these before,” Mordon said, wrapping an arm around my waist and kissing my neck. “You will be the cabinet-opening master in a week or two.”
I recoiled from his grasp. “I don't want mastery in a week or two. I want to put the glasses away today. It's a miracle I washed them this morning at all. The last thing I need is to fight to put the breakables in a place they won't be broken.” I snorted and tried the door again
. Utter failure. “Tomorrow I'm going to buy paper cups and when they look gross, I'm throwing them out. That's it, all paper and plastic. No more of this classy reusable dining option.”
“Oh, Love.”
“Whatever, I'm making a little Mandrake Number One. What is it Nest calls it again?”
“Loopy Potion,” Mordon said.
When I reached the pantry, I wished I hadn't bothered. To my annoyance, Leazar had double-locked the potions pantry and I had to gather fresh things from my new plants in the sun room instead of using the things stored in oil in the pantry. The worst part of it was that I'd just managed to stock it, and now I couldn't even access it. I curled my lip at the safety feature.
“Get accustomed to it,” Mordon said. “You'll have to learn to use it as best you can. Leazar knows his enchantments and these aren't going to go away any year in the near future. Do you have a plan for that greenery in the sink or can I use some of it for flavor?”
Sizzling in a hot pan were smoked fish fillets and I knew Mordon had a fond spot for rice with spring onions and ginger. It had struck me as an odd combination at first, but if I added a bit of soy and a scrambled egg, and it wasn't a bad brunch. So I harvested in my sun room again.
After we'd finished with the meal I began a list of things to do for the day.
“Mordon, do you have a bestiary in King's Ransom?”
“You're thinking of checking for Anna?” Mordon stretched and let out a heavy yawn, last night he'd been the one up with the baby while I slept as if I'd been drugged. Actually...I swished my tongue around my mouth...I might have been. “I had the same thought myself. I checked. I've eliminated a few curses and the possibility that she's a shape-shifted salamander, but otherwise the books were of no help. All written post-1200 AD. Books are notoriously misinformed about creatures after the conquest.”
“And no one has bothered to write a more accurate copy in recent history?”
“Eight hundred years ago is recent history, if you think about it. But that's beside the point. Yes, a few people have tried, some with a little success, but how do you go about such an undertaking when creatures hide their true nature and will deny truths or perpetuate the myths which have kept them alive?”
“I see your point. So if you don't have anything, where can we find other things to check? Leif or Barnes?”
“I have asked them and Barnes had a few items pertaining to curses. Made for an interesting read, but in the end it was a fruitless pursuit as far as Anna is concerned. I asked around during the baby shower yesterday and didn't make headway. Lilly suggested we try the Market library.”
Did it have old books or would they all be younger than I was? There was one way to find out. I climbed to my feet and began the process of strapping Anna on. “Lead the way.”
A quick carpet ride later found us outside of a building which looked like it belonged on the face of a coin. Inside, it was marble floors and columns, dim chandelier lighting, and books with shining leather spines. Curiosities stood on pedestals in reading areas, wingback chairs with a bottle of sherry beside them.
“Sweet,” I said, doing a slow spin in the center of the hallway. “I could just live here. If my plants could tolerate it.”
Mordon cocked his head and considered his surroundings with genuine interest. “I have been looking to redecorate.”
Redecorate what, King's Ransom, his tower, my house? I decided not to ask. “We'll compare notes over some of Barnes' brandy later tonight,” I said. “If we can get him to part with some. So, for now, where do we go from here? I'm thinking none of these look prior to eighteenth century.”
“There are reprints. Let's see … we could ask Sue. He should be here somewhere. It was his home before the Council leased it for public use. He gets all kinds of things for being curator, caretaker, and custodian, such as not paying taxes, getting a stipend, special benefits. It's lucrative position.”
Sue as a man's name was anything but common. Still, as Mordon wasn't cracking a joke about it, I would be careful to say it with a straight face. Finding Sue amongst all the books and levels proved a fair challenge and by the time we decided the library was empty, my feet ached from all the marble floors.
“What's an expensive book?” I asked. Mordon pointed one out, The Encyclopedia of Enchantments and Environmental Elementals. It promised to have graceful botanical illustrations. I took it and made straight for the front door.
That had the desired result. When I was within eight feet of the door, Sue bolted out from a row of books and skidded to a halt before us.
Working in the market brought me elbow to elbow with all kinds of people. If there was a race in existence, one of its members inevitably found an excuse to visit King's Ransom. Sue was something I'd seen before, but never a male specimen, even though the commercial lawn ornament market abounded with them. At knee-height, Sue was about what you'd expect of a gnome except he wore slacks and a burnt orange button-down.
A dusting rag stuck out of his pocket. His unnaturally large eyes stared at me with resentment. How long it had been since he'd had a decent conversation with another person it was impossible to know, but according to the hostility radiating off him it had been a very long time. Sue straightened up and said in a level tone, “Do you wish to check that out?”
“Yes.”
When he swung his arm in a motion to follow, Mordon explained what else we were looking for. Only after Sue had taken a pair of spectacles out of his shirt pocket and consulted a massive tome did he nod.
“There are some books on those topics in the levels down below.”
The way down was a trap door behind the main desk. We descended a tight metal spiral staircase which had no railing in the typical Merlyn's Market fashion. Mordon was kind enough not to tease me about my death grip on the central pole. Then again, he might have seen the danger of his situation if I were provoked into pushing him. At last we were on level ground and facing a door bolted shut. Sue yanked the bolts back and spoke between the screams of rusty metal.
“I haven't opened this place up in years. Special Collections. Nothing here passes the anti-racism regulations.”
Mordon crossed his arms and I remembered a conversation when he talked about the passing of the equalities bills and how much subject matter was now forbidden to display. He would have ignored the legislation but for belonging to the coven that he did. Sue finished opening the door while Mordon and I faced the yawning gap. It was a good thing I was present. I knew in an instant the real reason Sue hadn't opened that door in years.
The squeals of the bolts had stirred up everything which was in the room beyond and attracted them to the forefront. Sue had undone the last bolt and yanked down on the lever—then he was flung flat between door and wall as the door slammed open. Shadows poured out.
No sooner had Mordon put up a ward than I was flinging trinkets left and right to a rhythm which I'd perfected in the scint years of bogey busting. Illusions sprung up, confounding and terrifying the shrieking and howling things of the dark. Traps formed and snapped shut, one nearly catching Sue as he panicked. Anna cried terribly along with him. Mordon had worked with me enough that a few well-placed spells hurried the cause along.
Long, heart-pounding minutes passed. The final shadow batted its way in endless rushes, striking the ward over and over, all my traps deployed. Mordon glanced at me, expecting me to do something, but I just shrugged and patted the upset baby. Sue screamed as the shadow rushed. A fireball struck it, turning the thing into a nothing. I crooned to Anna and she calmed. I was feeling as worn out as she looked.
Dropping the ward, Mordon circled the room collecting all the rings and pebbles and things I'd thrown during the frantic heyday of the battle. A hairpin wriggled and bounced end over end to escape only to meet with Mordon's shoe. Then he reached the gnome and stood waiting until Sue composed himself. He gazed at us in awe.
“Those were bodachs,” Sue said.
“There was storage ghost
or two and a young bogart,” I said. “That was what charged you, if he was any older you wouldn't still be here. You should have hired a bogey buster weeks ago.”
Sue rallied himself with a huff and excuse. Issuing a noise which sounded like a sneeze, Sue made the candles in the next room light themselves. Indignant about the display he'd made of himself, Sue strode bravely into the shredded papers and parchment. Cautiously we made our way into the center of the destruction.
“Smells like mold,” Mordon said. “Careful where you step, there are nails sticking up.”
At the work bench with curator's tools we took in the damage. Even the shelves which had held the books were destroyed, torn into splinters, their fasteners laying bare and open. Some books were in worse condition than others.
Lost Magic (The Swift Codex Book 3) Page 16
