by Jean Johnson
She grinned, but Alys looked down at the floor, catching her lower lip between her teeth.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Kelly asked her, softening her tone.
“It’s . . . it’s one thing to go up against Wolfer. It’s another thing entirely to go up against my uncle.”
“Don’t start thinking like that,” the outworlder woman ordered her. “An attack is an attack, and you have every right to defend yourself. Your attacker is nothing more than a target to be disarmed or disabled. And you did well. But now we have to stretch. Come on.”
Nodding, Alys started copying the other woman’s movements. Her mind was still split in two; she’d trained herself not to attack, so she felt uncomfortable in doing so. But she had also tossed Wolfer to the floor. He was larger, stronger, and more skilled as a warrior than either of her uncles, who had focused more on wielding spells than swords. Even her cousin Barol preferred the subtlety of magic to the bluntness of might. Thankfully, he had not been around much in the last three years, having gone off to manage his father’s estate shortly after Broger had taken over the Corvis lands.
I should get the brothers to teach me more offensive magics, she thought. And defensive ones, too. It won’t do any good to know how to throw my uncle to the floor, if I can’t protect myself long enough to get close enough to try.
May Kata and Jinga keep him far from here, for a very, very long time . . .
FOURTEEN
Alys,” Morganen addressed her, as Trevan passed around the last of the bowls of food.
“Yes, Morg?”
“I would like two or three hours of your time every morning, after you’ve completed your chores.”
“Why do you need three hours of her time?” Wolfer asked his youngest sibling, suspicious. He still felt a little edge of jealousy whenever he thought of Alys’ relationship with Morganen. They said they weren’t attracted to each other, and they didn’t seem to be, but he still felt like Morganen was stealing some of her affection away from him.
“Because I am her primary instructor,” Morganen returned calmly, carefully phrasing it that way. He didn’t want his second-eldest sibling to feel left out or indignant. “And now that she’s had the chance to settle into a routine among us, it’s time I finally gave her the testing and intensive training I couldn’t give her when I first started teaching her.”
“I am perfectly capable of teaching her—” Wolfer protested.
“And you can teach her all that you know,” Morganen agreed, as Alys stopped eating, uncomfortable with the rivalry between the two of them. “I certainly wouldn’t even begin to teach her how to be a shapeshifter. But I know what she knows, or what she should know, based on what I could teach her. I will examine what she does actually know and fill in the gaps in her education.” He lifted his hand as Wolfer started to protest again, waiving away his brother’s objections. “Once I have evaluated her skills and compensated for anything that’s missing, I’d also like her to spend some time with each one of us, learning what she can from each brother.”
Rydan snorted.
Morganen glanced at his black-haired brother. “We all have different styles and areas of expertise, Rydan. Even you could possibly teach her a thing or two. At least, that is the assumption until we know how much would be useful for her to learn from you.”
“Is this really necessary?” Koranen asked his twin, passing a bowl of greens to the other redhead in the family. “Not that I object to teaching her . . .”
“Alys never had a formal education in magic. She doesn’t know what she can or cannot do. Not as thoroughly as the rest of us,” Morganen pointed out.
“I think he means the two-to-three-hours a day,” Evanor said. “That will take a fair amount of your time. What about the mirror to scry on my twin? Aren’t you supposed to be working on that?”
“The silicate we used was too impure,” Koranen answered for his twin, shaking his auburn head. “The glass cracked before we could finish enchanting it during the firing, today. Unless Rydan can find us a purer source, we’re going to have to import a ton of the highest grade we can get out of the Glazier’s Guild.”
“Several tons,” Saber corrected. “Kelly told me about this thing her world has, a way of watching areas like a permanent scrying spell. Now that we’re a sovereign nation—” his mouth quirked on one side as he said that, glancing at his wife, “we need to watch our borders, as it were. And I think I’d like a Hall of Mirrors like the one the Council maintains. Somewhere that we can go to look all across the isle and see what is happening.”
Wolfer and Alys both blushed. The second eldest of the twins cleared his throat. “Uh . . . all of the island? Under close surveillance?”
It took Saber only a moment to catch on and flush as well. He cleared his throat. “Not in that close of detail. I’m thinking more of . . . of panoramic views. And mostly the coastline and the two roads. I don’t want to be caught by surprise from the east by the Mandarites if another ship comes this way again, and I don’t want the traders sneaking up from the west, either, if they think they can steal away the salt blocks without paying for them.”
“Short-range mirrors, with semi-fixed focal points,” Trevan murmured, setting down his fork long enough to rub at his chin. His other arm was still in a sling, supporting his injured shoulder, but he was healing quickly. “They’ll be quick to enchant, at least, and easy to make, compared to a mirror set to scry for Dom an ocean plus who knows how much farther away. But that mirror needs to come first.”
“They can wait until after we make the new mirror for him,” Saber asserted. “We’ll also need silver and quicksilver for the mirroring, lime and ash for the glazing—we’re going to need to produce a few more items to be able to get what we want in trade. Some of what we’ll need won’t be cheap, especially since we’re not going to be turning around and selling it to others.”
“Well, I’ve got that comsworg oil we traded for when we lost Dom,” Koranen pointed out. “While we’re waiting for the sand, I can focus on making more lightglobes. Unless you think you can find us a pure source nearby, Brother?” he asked Rydan. “You deal with stone better than the rest of us.”
“There’s none here,” Rydan answered in his usual terse style. “Under the sea . . . maybe. No guarantees.”
“I’ll contact the Guild by mirror and contract with them for a shipment,” Saber stated, settling the matter. “Go ahead and look for sand under the sea, Rydan. I’m not going to wait for you to find scrying-grade silicate, of course; importing it will be worth the cost to guarantee the quality. But even if we have to purify it ourselves, it would be good to have a high-grade source nearby.”
Rydan nodded, but didn’t say anything.
“We also need to discuss what we’re going to do about Uncle Broger.” Saber stopped and grimaced. “ ‘Uncle’ . . . I don’t want to call the man that. If he disposed of Uncle Daron just to get his hands on our family’s estates, he’s no one I want to claim as kin. Even if it’s only by marriage.”
“If I remember right, he’s mage enough to control and breed illegal creatures,” Trevan offered. His brow pinched in a frown. “But all the different things that have been sent . . . he couldn’t have cared for them on his own. Not without someone noting his absences.”
“Donnock could be working with him,” Koranen offered. “Not just to get a scrying fix for the island, but taking care of the animals.”
Saber shook his head. “Donnock is Broger’s man of business; he does all the traveling. He’d never be around to take care of the beasts. My bet would be his son—what was your cousin’s name, Alys? I can’t remember it.”
Setting down her fork, Alys answered him quietly. “Barol.”
“Barol, that’s it. Broger’s son Barol could have been doing it,” Saber offered. “Did you see him disappearing frequently at around the same time every day?”
Now she felt miserable, a knot of guilt twisting in her stomach. Unable to eat, barely ab
le to swallow, Alys answered as truthfully as she dared. “He, uh . . . went to take care of Uncle Broger’s estates, when Uncle took over your family home.”
“That was almost three years ago,” Evanor pointed out. “So it couldn’t have been him. One of the servants, maybe?”
Acutely uncomfortable, Alys stared at the surface of the table and tried to find the courage to confess as the others debated the matter. They were going to figure it out any moment, now . . . any moment. A shy, wary peek upward showed one set of eyes fixed on her face. A set of eyes that, though as dark and intimidating as midnight, were still clear with comprehension.
“You didn’t have any choice . . . did you, Alys?” Rydan asked her quietly. Not condemningly, just factually. His words still stunned the rest.
A glance at the other brothers around the table showed them staring at her in horrified silence. Well, not Morganen, who was giving her a sympathetic, supportive look. Saber had narrowed his eyes in a calculative sort of way, and Evanor was more blinking from disbelief than horror . . . but Wolfer’s reaction was the important one. His nostrils flared with several deep breaths.
A slight lift of Morganen’s chin told her to go ahead and confirm Rydan’s guess. The man at her side made her uncomfortable, but the time had come for the truth. She couldn’t lie about this, anyway, not after having been given their hospitality.
“No, I . . . I didn’t have any real choice.” She bit her lower lip, wincing in anticipation.
Muscular hands slammed on the edge of the table, rocking it. The chair next to hers scraped backward, as Wolfer shoved to his feet, whirling away from the table. He stalked through the door, yanking the panel wide enough that it banged against the wall, making her flinch and hunch her shoulders. In doing so, she bit her lip, hard enough to draw blood. Wincing, Alys tongued the wound gingerly in an attempt to soothe it.
“Well.” Saber’s voice filled the quiet following the furor of his twin’s exit. “I don’t suppose you’d care to explain exactly what you did, and more importantly, why you did it?”
“Don’t be an ass, Saber!” Kelly snapped. “She’s not a big, strong, strapping brute with muscles like a mountain, or a highly powerful mage-brother! It’s quite obvious to me that her uncle bullied, and threatened, and probably even beat her into doing whatever he wanted. The fact that she escaped and came here and isn’t serving him anymore is proof enough that she wasn’t interested in serving him willingly.”
“If she wasn’t interested in serving him willingly, why didn’t she escape a lot sooner?” Koranen argued. His gaze slid to Alys’ face, a slightly guilty edge to his expression, but he pressed the point as he looked back to Kelly again. “It’s been three years, after all!”
“And why didn’t she tell us sooner?” Trevan asked. His words were directed at Kelly, but his green eyes rested on Alys as he spoke.
“I didn’t want you to hate me,” Alys mumbled, wishing she had some courage. Even the self-assurance that earlier had helped her to dump Wolfer on his back would’ve helped. “I didn’t . . . I just fed the animals. And . . . brought the cages to the mirror . . . I’m sorry.”
“Sorry? You came here to us for shelter, and you didn’t tell us you’d been helping our enemy all along?” Saber asked her. Kelly thwapped him on the chest with the back of her hand, but he ignored her. “Is this how you repay our friendship and our hospitality?”
“Saber!” Kelly protested.
“How could you do it?” Trevan demanded. “Why didn’t you run away as soon as you knew what he was trying to do to us? How could you stay there and help him?”
“I would’ve run away!” Koranen agreed heatedly. “I would’ve done anything to escape, rather than betray my friends!”
Alys shoved to her feet, tears blurring her view of the others. “I couldn’t run away!”
“A likely story!” Saber scoffed. “Anyone can run away!”
Angry, she grabbed the edges of the tunic Kelly had loaned her and yanked the neckline down, baring the silver diamond embedded in her sternum. “Do you see this? Do you see it?”
The eldest brother blushed a little, since revealing it had also exposed some of the curves of her breasts. Even Trevan looked uncomfortable, and Alys remembered well how he’d ogle anything with curves. Including her when they had been younger, though not openly.
“Do you know what this is? This is the only thing that is keeping my uncle from tracking me down! It is the only thing that is keeping him from tapping into my very life-force and draining it to use in his spells! He could’ve killed me with a single word, raping my magics from my body in the process, if I hadn’t scraped and bowed and kissed his ass to stay alive!” Jerking her clothes back into place, she glared at the lot of them, excepting only Morganen and Kelly. “You know what? You can kiss my ass, too!”
Whirling, she ran from the dining hall.
Kelly stuffed a knuckle into her mouth and bit it, her shoulders shaking as she struggled to suppress her laughter. The other woman’s anguish and suffering wasn’t amusing, not even in the slightest . . . but the way the Ultra Tongue translated Alys’ complaint was very funny. It was such an American thing to hear, very otherworldly sounding in this land of magic and fantasy. Catching Morganen’s disapproving frown, she mastered the urge to laugh and cleared her throat.
“Well . . . There you have it. There’s more to her story than meets the eye. A lot more than she’s revealed so far.” A sidelong look at her husband showed him brooding. Kelly arched her brow. “What, you don’t believe her?”
“I don’t think I can,” he returned grimly. “I have never heard of a spell that can strip the magic from a mage and funnel it into another mage’s enchantments . . . and the only use of a life-force I’ve ever heard of is in a blood-sacrifice by the darkest of sorcerers. The more I learn about our uncle-in-law, the more I’m inclined to believe he could sacrifice someone’s life to fuel his spells . . . but she makes it sound as if he wouldn’t need any wards or runes or a consecrated blade to perform the sacrifice.
“I think she was overreacting,” Saber finished. “Which makes me wonder how much of her story is pure exaggeration.”
A heavy sigh from the far side of the table stopped the others from commenting. Morganen’s forefinger tapped against the sanded surface of the table, his expression pensively unhappy. “Actually . . . that’s not true.”
“It isn’t?” Trevan frowned.
“To the far northeast is a land called Mekhana. It is the land of the so-called Dead God,” Morganen explained. “It is rumored . . . only a rumor, but a disturbing one . . . that His priests drain the magic from their mage-born citizens to sustain His existence. And from any enemy mages they catch. If I have heard of this thing, it is possible that Broger has heard of it . . . and unlike me, he is unscrupulous enough to want to either beg, borrow, steal, or somehow recreate the process just to gain himself a little more power.”
That made the others study him. Saber arched a brow at Morganen. “He is unscrupulous enough . . . ?”
A pause, and the youngest among them continued. “Yes, well . . . While we’re on the subject of deep, dark confessions . . .”
Saber quirked one of his brows. To the right, Evanor and Koranen eyed the youngest of them. To the left, Trevan folded his arms across his chest, unconsciously echoing the pose of his black-haired twin, though Trevan’s expression was skeptical and Rydan’s was thoughtful. With similar poses, Kelly could definitely see how closely related the two brothers were in their facial features, for all that their coloring didn’t quite match.
“Well?” she prodded her youngest brother-in-law.
“Well, you’re going to be angry with me, my brothers,” Morganen began his explanation. “But . . . I’ve known all along about dear Uncle Broger, and all that he’s been forcing Alys to do. Even before we were exiled, I knew what she had to endure. And I’ve been coaching her in what to do and say all along.”
Saber’s brows rose. Trevan sat up
in his chair. But it was the youngest brother’s twin, Koranen, that found his voice first. “You what?”
Morganen met his brothers’ and sister-in-law’s shocked looks with a calm expression matched only by Rydan’s still rather thoughtful regard. “I coached her. I helped her, trained her, covered for her, and instructed her for the last eight years. Though for the last six years, it was more or less entirely from a distance.”
“You knew all along that she was helping her uncle send those beasts to us?” Saber demanded, sitting forward and scowling at his youngest sibling. “You knew that Broger was our hidden enemy?”
The frown Morganen returned to him wasn’t as fierce, but it was just as firm. His forefinger tapped the table. “These things must unfold in their own time, Brother. I knew early on that Alys was the woman predestined to bind Wolfer’s hand, and with it, his heart. When I knew what sort of life she was being forced to lead under the fist of her uncle, I knew that one day she would be coming back to us, and I tried my best to give her what she needed to survive in his care.”
Evanor eyed the youngest of them. “That thing on her chest, that she says blocks her uncle’s spells . . . did you have a hand in it?”
“Of course. She researched all the spells her uncle had laid into her, while I did the research on their countermeasures. I then designed the amulet, and she crafted it. But our method of communication was . . . erratic, at best,” Morganen confessed quietly, his voice tinged with a touch of grimness. “I wouldn’t have let it drag out nearly so long as it did, but for that. We didn’t dare communicate in such a way or for such a length of time that her uncle would have noticed. What would have taken six months at most stretched into roughly two and a half years. After that . . . well, it was just a matter of encouraging her to survive until the time was right for her to join us.”
Gray eyes narrowed in accusation. “You manipulative bastard!” His other brothers gave him inquisitive looks, but Saber’s attention was focused on the youngest figure seated across from him. “You deliberately manipulated Kelly’s presence into this world, you manipulated Alys’ arrival—did you have a hand in Dominor’s kidnapping, too?”
