Mage Evolution (Book 3)

by Virginia G. McMorrow

  “Ah.” Jenny Bretan smiled, showing even white teeth. “But you can’t prove that, either, can you, Mage Protector?”

  “Not at the moment, no.”

  “How shall I then take that comment? You ask us to purge the local councils, in time, of course. But do you consider us, the Crown Council, free of corruption and greed?”

  “I should hope so,” I said without hesitation, “or else the queen would not have kept you on the council for the past five years. Although you haven’t been very friendly, I can forgive that oversight” —my smile matched hers— “when you consider that our roles are different. Yours is more demanding, in my opinion, because you’re charged with guiding and directing the work of all the Duchy councils, who, in turn, guide and direct all our mages. The only responsibility I have is to my queen.”

  “Have we no responsibility to our queen?”

  “Yes, of course, to advise her if she seeks your counsel. And if not, then it is up to the Crownmage and myself to advise her. The Crownmage” —who’d sat so silent I thought he might have taken a nap— “supports me in my role of Mage Protector, as I support him.”

  “And the queen,” Elena added her own opinion, eying each one at the table, one by one, including me, “depends only on those mages she can trust, with or without magic.”

  * * * *

  “A very pretty speech, so I heard.” Without invitation, Seamage Neal Brandt, the head of the local Mage Council back home in Port Alain, sat at our table in the Seaman’s Berth where Anders and I stopped for a quick ale and gossip before returning home from our trek. He slung his cloak over the back of an empty chair. “Though there were sufficient insults traded back and forth to keep everyone happy.”

  “News travels fast.” Anders sipped his ale, eying Chester, the proprietor and our friend, to stay away. “Though in this case, I wonder,” —he slanted a grin in my direction, as I stole the mug from his hand— “is it good news or bad?”

  “Depends on your perspective,” I chimed in, sipping the foam from Anders’s ale before touching my own, ignoring the pitcher of cold water on the table. Ale, at the moment, was a better quencher of my thirst from the dusty road. And next to Marain Valley wine, I loved ale, and its bright white foam, best. “What do you think, Seamage Brandt? I’m quite certain you have an opinion.”

  “Indeed. Sad news, that the queen’s Mage Protector has lost her magic, though I’d heard that rumored weeks ago. Be careful whom you trust with ill news, Mage Keltie.” With that warning, the older mage, whom my grandmother and mother had both so despised, rested his hands on the table and steepled his fingers together. “Sad news, indeed, when you’d denied your talent for so long as a little girl and now that you hold it precious, find it missing.”

  “Your concern for my welfare is overwhelming.”

  “Now, now, Mage Keltie, we need not be at opposite sides, as you yourself informed the Ardenna Crown Council. Speaking of whom, it is worrisome that they, too, have fallen victim to this treachery.” Brandt’s eyes shifted to Anders, a question in them he daren’t ask. “Thank the lords of the sea your husband still has his potency.”

  “Potency in all things, yes, indeed.” I grinned, elbowing Anders before he could smash his fist in the seamage’s face. “And for that, I take delight each and every night,” I added, since he once accused me of being the village whore for no other reason than to provoke my temper. Not to mention he considered my mother a whore, too, a shared insult in which I took a certain perverse pride. “But I can assure you, Seamage Brandt, that as far as my husband’s mage potency, I don’t need Anders to protect me, even though my own magic is gone. Temporarily,” I added, wondering if he’d send word of hope to the Crown Council. I’d not mentioned an antidote, not seeing the point in offering hope where I held so little. My kindness and the resulting omission had another, less humane reason, which was that Seamage Bretan had irritated me. Besides, Jackson knew enough to fend off any of their questions, though their suspicions would never entirely fade.

  “Ah. So there is an antidote.”

  “Perhaps.” If the lords of the sea were merciful. But perhaps not, and if that were the case, I had best get on with my life. “Now tell me, Seamage Brandt, why you’re inside a noisy establishment on such a fine sunny day as this?”

  “A simple matter, Mage Keltie. I saw you and your husband arrive in town and wished to offer my condolences in person. The Crown Council sent word to all the duchies, and I wondered that the news arrived before you did. In fact, I was deeply concerned you’d met trouble along the way.” His grave expression was admirably sorrowful, and I had to bite back a laugh.

  “Not at all. We took our time, making a leisurely detour to Glynnswood.” So my new-found brother could spend some time with his new-found father.

  “Ah, yes, to visit your family.” His emphasis on the word “family” was almost an insult that I might not have chosen to ignore had my mood been different. However, I’d learned over the years to pick my battles with the seamage. “Well, I hope your father and stepmother are in good health. But to answer your question, I also wished to reassure you I’d spread the word to our mages, especially the proprietor’s daughter—” He indicated Chester’s young daughter, who was serving tables at the far end of the common room. The child, now eleven and a firemage in her own right, had, thankfully, avoided becoming arrogant because of her father’s constant guidance and my own interference during the years she spent under Brandt’s tutelage. “If strangers do show up in Port Alain, it’s bound to be in an establishment such as an inn.”

  “I’m sure Duke Barlow will appreciate your good faith.”

  “Do send him my regards. I always prefer that the duke and his mother think kindly of me. And your daughter?” Beneath the table, I stepped hard on Anders’s foot to keep him quiet as the seamage rose to leave, his polite query hanging in the air between us. “Is little Emila well? I haven’t seen the child in some time.”

  “Very well, thanks. Off visiting her grandparents for a time, and now back at the manor, with Lady Barlow, who must have heard news by now that we’re home. We’d best be going ourselves.” I stood opposite the table from the seamage, knowing he’d been eying Emmy from the day she was born, waiting to spread word of her powers, as he’d kept close watch on me, particularly after my mother’s odd death. “Anders? Are you coming?”

  “You’re rushing my ale.”

  “Sorry.”

  “And you’ve hardly touched your own.”

  “Hmm, you’re right.” I grabbed the mug of ale and took a sip, not willing to sit down, instinct warning me of something imminent, something dangerous.

  “My fault, Crownmage,” Seamage Brandt apologized, grabbing his cloak from the empty chair. “Your wife was standing up so that I would surely take the hint and leave. In fact— Ah, sorry, indeed— How clumsy of me.” Slinging his cloak over his shoulders, the older mage reached for the pitcher of water that had caught onto the heavy material, spilling the contents in my direction.

  Jumping back to avoid ice cold water on my travel-stained trousers, and instead sloshing ale all over my tunic, an ugly thought occurred to me. Grabbing an extra cloth from Chester’s outstretched hand as he hastened to my side I began to mop up the spill on the table, ignoring my ale-drenched tunic, locking my eyes on the seamage’s face.

  “Mage Keltie, I am so very sorry.”

  “That I didn’t change the water in the pitcher to air and avoid a mess for poor Chester to clean up? Assuming that I still had mage talent,” I spat the bitter words out one by one, “I’d never use it for such a wasteful purpose.”

  “If you’re implying I’d trick you to see whether you had indeed lost your mage powers, you insult me.” Puffing out his chest, the seamage looked wounded, so sincerely hurt I wondered if my old prejudice had led me astray this one time. But the glint in his eye when I spun on my heels to face Anders brought me back to my senses.

  “I’m afraid, Seamage Brandt, that it
is our fate to insult each other. Good day.” I turned my back to him in a direct insult and winked at Chester, whose face had gone ashen with fear. “Sorry about the mess, Chester. You might think about being more selective with your customers.” Studying the proprietor’s wrinkled features I could tell when the seamage had departed the inn.

  “Alex Keltie,” Chester hissed, throwing another rag in my face, ostensibly for use on my soiled tunic, “you are going to make me grayer than I already am.” Annoyance transformed to concern as he added, “Is it true what he said?”

  “About my magic?” At the genuine regret on the proprietor’s face, I patted his grizzly cheek. “Unfortunately, yes. I’ve lost it, and do sincerely hope it’s temporary. That’s for the lords of the sea to determine. In the meantime, old friend, beware of anything mixed in one of your glasses that has an odd smell, something foul, like a carcass gone bad.”

  “Ugh.”

  “Well, yes, but it can be very nearly disguised so be careful what you serve your guests, who may not even admit they’re mages. Not everyone wears a pendant openly.”

  “Most do, now, Alex, thanks to you.”

  “You’re just looking for a good tip. Listen,” —I drained the remainder of my glass of ale, refusing his offer of a refill, and delicately covered a burp— “keep watch for strangers, too. Especially when that ship from Spreebridge, the Stoutheart, arrives in a few weeks. I know you can’t stop anyone from doing anything, but watch to see if your customers do or say anything unusual. By that time, I’ll have my own eyes down at the dock.”

  “If you’re talking about those sneaky Glynnswood folk of yours, they’ll do a job better than any of us could. Your brother’s already told me about the ship. But you know I’ll do what I can.”

  “We depend on you. Oh, and listen, in a few days, you’ll see a young man in my brother’s company, or mine, who looks a little like Gwynn and—”

  “Don’t tell me.” A wide grin creased the old man’s face. “A little like you?”

  “You devil. How’d you know?”

  Chester laughed aloud, and then lowered his voice when curious heads turned in our direction. “Because your brother and his pretty young woman warned me the other day, over a glass or two of ale, to be on the watch for a strange young man looking like the Kelties. Where is the lad?”

  “Spending a little time getting to know my father, which in itself is dangerous. But that’s Sernyn’s problem. For me, right now, I’ve got to get up to the manor and see my daughter, whom I miss terribly.”

  “That seamage has his eyes on Emmy.”

  “That’s more than he’ll ever get.”

  Chester took the rags from my hand. “He couldn’t touch your grandmother, or your mother, or you. And we’ll never let him touch that precious little girl.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Trading insults” —Rosanna sighed, heaving her wool-clad bosom for dramatic effect, which did nothing to faze me— “is one of the things you do best. In a perverse way, I can understand the fascination for insulting people you love, Alex, but surely, with adversaries like the Crown Council of Mages, ridiculing them in front of their queen, and then Seamage Brandt, and—”

  “Hold on. I didn’t insult any other enemies.”

  Having lost my frothy ale due to Seamage Brandt’s mock ineptness, I was enjoying a glass of Marain Valley wine. I dismissed Anders to go find my brother while I caught up with the senior Lady Barlow. No sense wasting time while Emmy and the other children were in the schoolroom with their temporary schoolmistress, the junior Lady Barlow. What would I have possibly done without Lauryn’s help these past few years, often covering for me at the last minute when an emergency reared its ugly head?

  “I’m sure if they were available, you would have.”

  “Hmm. Do you mind very much if I lean against these pillows instead of sitting upright?” I asked, getting stiff from my awkward position.

  Rosanna narrowed her eyes. “Is this a trick question?”

  “Now, see, here I am being polite because I haven’t yet changed out of my travel-stained trousers and tunic—”

  “Definitely a trick question. I never expect politeness from you. Go on.” She waved airily in my direction. “Just be sure to lean against the dark brown pillows, not the yellow or rose ones with all that fancy embroidery.”

  “That was my intention.” Stretching out on the deep chocolate-hued pillows, I grinned and smothered a yawn. “Anyway, back to my major talent for insulting people. I have to admit it was fun. And besides, the seamage was testing me, to see whether I’d really lost my mage talent.” Without worrying Rosanna, I reached inside that hollow space in my gut to find nothing, no magic lying anxiously in wait for my notice.

  “Alex?”

  Did nothing slip by that woman? “Well, that’s all my news. What’s been happening here in Port Alain? Why is it so quiet? Where are the twins?”

  “Aha. You noticed.”

  “They’re the only ones who make noise.”

  “Yes, well, Jules decided they’re old enough to start earning their right to their future Duchy. He’s visiting the local merchants and dragged the boys along.” She laughed, sipping her own wine. “Well, dragged Carey, who’d rather go fishing. Hunter, naturally, couldn’t wait.”

  “Thank the lords of the sea for that boy. How’s Linsey?”

  “You mean, is she safe? Or has she shown any latent mage power?”

  “I know she’s safe, or Chester would have sent me flying up the Hill without taking time for an ale.”

  “I didn’t think of that, but you’re right. Maylen has been safeguarding both Linsey and Emmy, while your brother skulks around the docks, looking for signs of trouble.” Rosanna smiled at the sound of light running footsteps coming nearer the sun parlor. “Maylen’s a wonder, really. It’s not only Gwynn who’s lucky to have her around. But no, Alex, my granddaughter has still shown no mage talent, not since the day she was born. Poor Khrista’s half hoping Linsey will turn out to be a seamage, like herself, while the other half hopes for more. But having that ‘more,’ unfortunately, will always be a reminder of the child’s father.”

  “We learn to live with the truth about our fathers, don’t we?” I said, more to earn a raised eyebrow at my unexpected mature comment, than for any other reason. Over the years, I’d bested the old witch every once in awhile. Regardless, Rosanna’s tart answer was lost in joyous squealing as the doors to the sun parlor flew open and Emmy ran straight for me, Maylen right behind in case the child was intruding on a very private conversation. “Hold on. Emmy, wait—” Instinctively, Rosanna grabbed the wine glass from my hands as the child halted within a few inches of me, her eyes wide with uncertainty. “I’m all dusty and dirty, sweetling, and—”

  “I don’t care.” Bouncing into my lap, the child threw her arms around my neck and hugged me tight. “Papa was dusty and dirty, too. And I hugged him tight.”

  “You little minx. I don’t know why,” —I returned the embrace and held on for a second longer— “but I missed you, too. Hey, who combed your hair like that?” Holding Emmy at arm’s length, I studied the neat coiled braid of dark brown hair wrapped around her tiny head. “Hmm. Let’s see. Carey did it, right?”

  “Mama, Carey’s a boy.”

  “Then it couldn’t be Uncle Jules. How about—” Peeking over her shoulder, I winked at Maylen, who waited with characteristic patience at the door until Rosanna waved her inside. “I know. It was your Uncle Gwynn, pretending to be a girl, wearing a dress.”

  “Mama, stop being silly. It was Maylen.”

  “Ah, of course.” Planting a kiss on her lips, I set the child on my lap and wrapped my arms around her, both of us content. “Did she tell you why she made your hair look so pretty?”

  “So Carey wouldn’t pull my braids.”

  “Like Uncle Gwynn pulled hers when they were little, right?”

  “Uh uh.”

  Maylen accepted a small glass of wine from
Rosanna and joined us on the floor, another creature like me who preferred the softness of a good plush carpet. “Your uncle,” she informed Emmy, “was always a pest.”

  “Still is. Thank you for keeping watch on the girls.” Though she’d become so much a part of my family, I didn’t want Maylen to think I’d ever take her presence and aid for granted. “I didn’t plan on your babysitting the children.”

  “Gwynn and I thought it best to divide ourselves this way.” She smiled as Khrista and Lauryn came in, with Linsey in tow. “These two are well-behaved. But even so, with Gwynn watching them, he would have taught them all sorts of mischief.” Her eyes met mine, and I knew, without asking, Gwynn hadn’t trusted himself to watch my daughter, not after his supposed failure to prevent the attack on Emmy weeks ago. “Besides, had it been the twin boys in my care, your pardon, Lady Barlow,” —she grinned impishly at Lauryn, who nodded in agreement— “my experience would have been quite different. How on earth did Prince Brendan manage to keep them in line and out of too much trouble?”

  “With Alex’s help.” Lauryn matched her smile, brushing loose strands of light brown hair behind one ear. “Our fierce schoolmistress was always the last resort when the twins were abominable. That is, when Carey was misbehaving. Hunter, like Emmy and Linsey, doesn’t know the meaning of the word.”

  “You’re selling yourself short,” I told Maylen, who blinked in confusion. “After all, you grew up with Gwynn.”

  “You’re insulting people again,” Rosanna chided, as the ladies poured wine for themselves and Linsey sat beside me, quietly content to receive my hug of welcome.

  “It’s a gift from the lords of the sea,” I said breezily. “You said so yourself only moments ago.”

  “I said no such thing.”

  “You’re such a poor example, telling lies in front of these innocent children. And speaking of poor examples, has my brother really been skulking around the harbor?” I asked Maylen, who didn’t have a chance to answer because Gwynn and Anders chose that moment to appear. “Ah, my beloved brother and husband. By the way, Anders,” —I winked over Emmy’s head— “your daughter said you were much dirtier than me.”