Magic's Design

by Cat Adams

  “I’m fine with you coming along. I could use the company. But why take the pysanky? We’ll be back in an hour or so.”

  Candy tapped a finger on the front of her purse and then shook her head, tiny worried movements that started to chew at Mila’s stomach. “We need to take those along because when I went to get the sodas, I figured I’d grab the eggs you sold me. But they’re gone, carton and all. And since you didn’t mention taking them, and I didn’t take them, then—”

  She hung her head and let out a frustrated breath. “Then either Sela or Vegre took them. So, they’ve been back here. Crap, crap, crap!” Was the gate open upstairs? Jeff hadn’t mentioned it, but she remembered now that she and Tal had left Sela’s door open, but it had been closed when she and Candy walked in the bathroom. Without waiting for her friend, she sprinted up the stairs, but switched to a tiptoe as she approached the door. There was no sound, no voices, so she opened the door. The closet was bare and the suitcases gone. Yep, they’ve been here all right. I suppose I should be glad they didn’t strip the place.

  “Need any help up there?” Candy’s voice came from the bottom of the stairs. Apparently, she wasn’t real interested in running into either of them again.

  She spun and grabbed the doorknob, intending to shut it again when she left, when something sparkled on the floor, out of the corner of her eye. Furrowing her brow, she leaned over the cart that held Sela’s stereo system and game console. The item the sun had glinted off of looked like a driving glove, made from black suede. It was snagged underneath a wide splinter in the bed frame, and it took a little tugging to unhook it. She turned it over to see the clear green faceted stone that was nearly the diameter of a soda can. And exactly the diameter of my opal.

  Could it be an emerald? Was this Tal’s glove? She’d only seen it for a moment before he threw it into the gate. She raised it carefully to her nose and inhaled. The same spicy grass tones she remembered from his skin clung to the leather.

  A spark of something that felt frighteningly like joy filled her with a speed that matched the thought sailing through her head. Now he’ll have to come back. He’d been looking for his glove, and here it was. It was a shame it wasn’t connected to Vegre anymore, but she supposed he made it back through the gate when it got snagged.

  She tucked it in her coat pocket with a smile. I’ll just keep it safe until he gets back. She was halfway down the stairs when Dareen’s sad face came into her mind. Will I be waiting forever? Hoping he’ll come back until I finally put it in the basement—hiding it away from whoever I eventually marry? Is that what I want for my life … to always hope, to always— She couldn’t even finish as she joined Candy at the door. Her friend noticed her abrupt mood shift and didn’t ask questions … yet.

  Her hands were windblown and cold by the time they got the eggs loaded in Candy’s vehicle, and she put her hands into her pockets until the heater began to blow hot air. She felt the glove under her hand. Actually, she felt the stone. Rather than icy cold, it was warm to the touch, radiating with the same heat as when Tal was near. She opened her mouth and tasted … sweetness, and it made her heart pound and her skin ache.

  “Candy,” she asked in nearly a whisper as they pulled out into traffic. “Is it possible to discover you need something … truly need it with every ounce of your soul, even though you didn’t realize it existed until a few days ago?”

  “Accept it, guv. You need Mila.” Alexy took another casual sip of fragrant herbal tea in which he’d poured about three times the normal majorica fruit sweetener. He raised his cup and winked. “Or, at least, the rest of us do. Once she makes a few more of those pretty eggs, we won’t have to ration the juice at all.”

  They were sitting in the lunch room at the O.P.A. station in Vril, surrounded by a growing number of agents who were gating in to investigate the phenomenon of the Tree. Both the kings and Demeter’s Children had claimed responsibility for the new life of the Tree … naturally. So it was being tasked to the O.P.A. alchemists to figure it out. If, and only if, the alchemists came up empty would he give hints about what he knew. Both Alexy and Kris had agreed with him about that—just for different reasons.

  Kris shrugged and took another drink of steaming dandelion root and chicory, her preferred drink. She’d gotten more than one appreciative glance from arriving agents. One didn’t often see the royal burgundy of the palace guard in a lowly O.P.A. office, and his sister was a striking woman even without the cloak. “I’m not willing to make a judgment on what Mila might or might not have done. I mean, I saw the gloves with my own eyes, but I didn’t feel a trace of magic come from the woman, Tal. She felt like a human and it’s my job to sense magical ability—searching for threats to His Highness. And while the evidence you showed me does support some of what I already knew from our search for Vegre, I still can’t get past thinking that there’s no cause to attack Denver.” She leaned back in her chair and set her cup on the table again.

  “I know,” Tal admitted, rubbing his forehead with his fingertips, in a vain attempt to relieve the pressure. “That’s what’s making me crazy about this. But, I can’t ignore the fact that Sela was in Denver, the gate she crafted … or Vegre crafted, was in Denver, I traced my glove to a hospital in Denver. The same hospital, I might add, where I first spotted the Tin—” He paused, not wanting to panic anyone in the room. “Teeen … aged girl. There’s not a single British connection. Either Vegre is exceptionally good at throwing us off the track, or we’re being exceptionally dense.”

  Kris reached out and touched his arm. “Look, big brother. It’s obvious that there’s something between the two of you. It might be that your judgment’s clouded.”

  He frowned. The way she said that—“What do you mean, it’s obvious?”

  Alexy let out a bark of a laugh and then shook his head. Kris rolled her eyes before responding. “Talos Onan, I’ve known you all my life. I’ve met every one of your girlfriends. Craters, half of them were my academy classmates. But I have never seen you look at a woman like that before. So yeah … it’s obvious.”

  He tried to shrug it off, and even to him it felt a lie. “I’ve known her for three days. It’s nothing.”

  “You met her three days ago. But from what you’ve said, you’ve known her for a lot longer. Like your whole life longer. Didn’t you say she was in your head during our battle? That’s not real normal—even in our world.”

  He shook his head and fingered the carved handle of the intricate cup he’d found to pour his coffee in. “No, Jason was right. What about before she was born? She’s not even thirty. Who was the voice before that? The Tree has been inside me my whole life.” And if it hasn’t been the Tree spirit, then who … or what has been in my head?

  Kris released his arm to pat his hand. “Call it whatever you like, brother. I only know what I saw, and what I saw between you and Mila at the Tree wasn’t the embrace of a concerned O.P.A. agent for a crime witness, nor a devoted acolyte for a deity. You’ve bedded her, haven’t you? Or is it even more than that?”

  The blunt phrasing took him aback and his reply was defensive and more than a little angry. “That’s none of your business.”

  Alexy tipped his head toward Kris. “Yep, he’s bedded her. Can’t blame you. I’d be more than happy to give that friend of hers a go.”

  They made it sound like a frivolous romp! But … well, wasn’t it? Wasn’t it supposed to be just a relieving of the sexual tension between them? When did it become more than that? When did he start to care that her favorite color was blue, or she liked to work in her garden? Apparently, the others realized they struck a nerve, and Kris shook her head with a sad look. “I’m not saying it’s wrong to feel something for her, Tal. I’m just saying your logic might be affected. Happens to all of us.” She winked and then flicked her eyes to Alexy. “Well, most of us, anyway.”

  Alexy flipped his blond hair like a girl and stuck his nose up toward the ceiling. “You’re just sorry I’m not available, so
you can’t date me.”

  She laughed and it made Tal smile for the first time since Mila had walked away. “Glad you’re not, you mean. My sympathies are with Olga for having to put up with you.”

  They continued to banter for a few minutes while Tal tried to think. Was his logic affected? It didn’t feel like it. Soft hair and hot skin couldn’t explain away the legal paper, nor his glove. And where was his glove? He never did take the time to look for it in Vril, which was foolish.

  “I should do another search for my glove. Maybe that’ll give us some answers.” He scooted back his chair and Alexy followed suit.

  “Now you’re thinking. With some of the magic restored here, we should be able to craft a right powerful tracking spell.”

  He was halfway out of his chair when a sound filled the room. Chimes, bells, and every manner of horn sounded in one clarion call. It was an announcement—a member of the royal staff had just arrived. Before Alexy could even get his feet fully under him, his allegiance spell activated and forcibly dropped him to one knee, so abruptly that the bottom of his jaw slammed against the ironwork table, nearly knocking him out.

  Well, that answered which palace, because Alexy answered to the Shambalan king. A dozen or so of the other agents likewise dropped and bowed their heads in reaction to the spell, dropping cups and food trays all over the room.

  Even Tal was forced to bow his head to the dignitary—a side effect of his own allegiance spell to show respect and modesty. Only Kris was immune as a member of another royal guard. It would be a deadly mistake for a king to be killed because the palace guard couldn’t move, or for them to be taken out of action in time of war. Yet, she stood as well and tucked her chin to her neck. But she kept her eyes fully on the door to see who was arriving. One hand was already under her cloak, likely putting on her glove.

  Occasionally, a general or defense minister would visit an O.P.A. office to follow up on an investigation, so that’s what he was expecting. But when a tall, dark-skinned man with a broad face and thickly muscled bare arms swept into the room, without a single courtier or attendant, his golden laurel crown glowing with enough magic to burn the eyes, Tal was frankly stunned.

  Kris immediately dropped to a knee next to Alexy, and slapped one fisted arm across her chest in the traditional salute of the guard. “O great and noble King Mumbai, ruler of Shambala. I bid you welcome on behalf of King Kessrick. My pardon, Your Highness, for our lack of tribute, but we were not informed of your visit.”

  Of course, Tal couldn’t speak even though he opened his mouth to try to pay his respects. A king may only be spoken to by other kings, or when directly addressed. His sister could offer welcome on behalf of her ruler, but Tal and the others had become mute, as well as awestruck.

  The king dipped his head toward Kris and made a tiny movement of his fingers. She must have understood it because she rose and stepped back a pace to stand at attention—eyes forward and blank. But he also noticed her delicately bending her middle finger to touch her focus, no doubt to mentally inform her commander of this surprise visit.

  Mumbai spoke, and his voice was the rumble of the earth itself, low and powerful enough to shake the blood in his veins. “I seek the mage commander Talos Onan. Let him approach me now.”

  Tal was released from the spell so abruptly that he stumbled and nearly fell over Alexy. His heart was pounding like a caged animal as he stepped forward and presented himself with a similar salute. “I am Talos Onan, Your Majesty. How may I serve you?”

  The king stared down at him for a long moment. It was hard not to flinch under those dark eyes, glowing with the rich color of fertile new soil. “The Kingdom of Shambala is indebted to you, Commander Onan. May your king and your peers praise you in song and word for your foresight in averting a great wrong. The news you sent us—” Tal noticed that the king was very cautious not to mention what news. “Allowed us to rescue a number of hostages … guildercents who might have died but for your actions.”

  Now he was confused. What guilder—? But then he remembered. Dareen had talked about Vegre collecting Parasks. Had the king found them? Had they found his hideout? Again, he wanted to ask, but the spell kept sound from passing his lips.

  Mumbai noticed and lifted the spell with a nod of his head. “You may speak freely to me for now, Commander.” That turned Kris’s eyes his way in surprise before her discipline kicked in again. But a fine trembling had overtaken her, that curiosity and intelligence that had made her a guard at such a young age.

  “Highness, may I inquire if you have indeed found … his stronghold?” That should be vague enough not to break too many taboos.

  The king nodded and crossed his arms, the golden bands surrounding his biceps twisting as the powerful muscles flexed. “We have indeed, and we never would have considered that location if not for your message.” Then he took a deep breath and let out a frustrated rumble of noise that vibrated every glass in the room. “But we need your help once again.”

  His help? A king, surrounded by the best minds on the planet, needed help? But it wasn’t his place to question the word of a king, even though he couldn’t imagine how he could assist. “Of course, Your Highness,” he said with another bow of his head. “Anything I can do.”

  The king nodded and walked toward him and then clapped an arm around his shoulders. “Walk with me, Talos.”

  His heart rose into his throat from the blast of power that pressed against him like an avalanche of stones. He could even smell earth now—plowed fields and the ripe, fresh scent of harvest day. He saw a golden light and then all went dark for a moment.

  He blinked and he was suddenly topside, or in an amazing facsimile of it, on a hillside of blowing golden grass. A deserted stone building was mere steps away. Tal had heard that the kings could gate at will, wherever in the world they wanted to travel. But he’d never seen it before. He wondered what the others would think to see a gate appear in the middle of the break room, or whether they were still bound by the spell.

  “This is Silberdag,” Mumbai said as though it explained everything. When he realized it didn’t, he continued. “This is the guild house of the Parask clan, the soul-conjurers. It was burned to the ground by our human neighbors and deserted by the guild shortly after. This land is part of what was once the original Shambala, before we were exiled to Agathia.” He walked toward the building, apparently expecting Tal to follow.

  So he did.

  The original doorway had collapsed so long ago that the stones were half-buried under the grass. But there were obvious signs of recent occupancy once he stepped inside.

  “It was your mention of the Parask that made us realize that Vegre might have returned here. Perhaps he thought us still filled with foolish pride … or too afraid to venture close.” He swept his hand around the room. “The trouble is that Vegre was gone when we arrived, having left his captives to starve behind bars. There are clues aplenty here, but we can’t read them. Unfortunately, in our attempt to bury the Parask in obscurity … we did. But Lady Rockwell informs us that you have knowledge of their ways … that you have met and watched one or more of them craft.” Mumbai sat down on a bare stone and sighed. Without an entourage or golden light and flowers raining down upon him where he walked, he looked just like every other agent Tal knew—as frustrated as a man surrounded by water, but with no way to drink. “We are asking … no I am asking for your help, for the human queen of this land relies on me to protect her from our kind. If you cannot read these clues, or give me some hint of where to go, then our centuries-old agreement may finally be lost.”

  The kings had binding agreements with overworld leaders? He opened his mouth, but no sound came out—even though it wasn’t the spell. Rather than think of a response, he decided to simply do as he was asked.

  There wasn’t much left of the building. The fire-scarred granite was moss-covered and crumbling. But here and there were spots of bright colors—brilliant reds and blues that stood out in sharp relie
f against the pale brown of the dried grass.

  Dye. It must be dye. So, confirmation then of their theories. But the king already knew the Parask were here, since they rescued the captives. He turned his head while still in a crouch, twirling the blade of blue-stained grass in his fingers. “I’m not certain what you wish of me, Majesty. Did you seek confirmation that it was really Parask who were held here?” For there was little more to be seen in the open room. A little dye, some bits of crushed eggshell—nothing that would tell him Vegre’s location, nor his true plan.

  “I knew your father, Talos. Knew him well and he was a brilliant investigator … absolutely without equal.” He let out a small smile. “But he was not one who worked well with an audience—considered most people supreme fools.” Now a small chuckle as he fell further into his memory. “Me included, I’ve no doubt. But I called Khevdir friend in a time when there were few to be had.” He stood up and walked over to Tal and likewise squatted near the colored grass. The light of his crown was so great that it hurt his eyes and he had to squint and drop his gaze to the man’s neck. Mumbai looked chagrined for a moment and then swallowed that great mass of power inside, until he was just a normal man, wearing an unusual cap. “You see, I was once an investigator like you, and your father was my partner.”

  Tal was taken aback. Sybil had never mentioned any history between his parents and one of the kings. He’d thought Father a simple crafter of heat and light. “I didn’t know that.”

  “Well, the O.P.A. wasn’t organized then … not as such. And kings weren’t exalted nobles, to be catered to. We were expected to earn our keep—bring lawbreakers to justice, protect … or avenge the innocent, and always, but always seem to be more intelligent than the average crafter.” He winked at Tal and let out that rolling chuckle again which moved the very ground beneath them. “Your father made me look damned good for a very long time. I’m hoping you’ll do the same, because I admit I’m at a loss. I see colors staining my ground, but it means nothing. I see bits of shell and remember the flocks of birds which used to call Silberdag home. Yet there are no birds here now. What am I missing, Talos? Before I must face my people and admit my own stupidity.”