“I noticed,” she picked up her fork. “But---” she took a deep breath, poking at the carrots. Desmond drew the line at her making herself sick, and reach over, but she pulled away. “We're going to insult her if I don't. And if that is one step closer to getting these parts before we all die on this frozen rock...than so be it.”
He didn't stop her. He knew that he could probably argue or order her to step away from the plate, but they both understood that it would help.
“A bit,” he said. “A little bit shouldn't hurt you, not with the magical suppressors we have you on.”
“I never thought of that, actually,” she said. “Would they help?”
“Here's to being in a medical textbook,” he said, picking up his dirty water glass.
It didn't take long for the children to notice the strangers among st them. They were friendly and outgoing, which told Desmond that their working conditions were not terrible. If they were abused, they would not be smiling and playing so eagerly in such a public space.
Sienna found a little girl tugging at her arm shyly within the first five minutes. She looked down, smiling as she took what was her first bite of a real vegetable in a few years.
“Yes?” she asked.
The girl pointed to a ball, which had rolled under the table. Sienna bent to get it and then paused.
“Can you?” she asked. “With your magic? I'm sure you can.”
The girl grinned, and reached her hand out.
Sienna watched in awe as a pink stream of magic shot, encompassing the ball, and then pulling it back into the girl's hand. She moved her leg as it brushed her, feeling the warm magic of another witch for the first time in years as well as the chewy carrot.
The look on her face when she felt magic made Desmond's heart sink. In Sienna's mind, there had never been any other path, besides being a witch; besides serving the magic. She had only ever dreamed of it; and she had dreamed of it before they had even given her the path to achieve it.
There were a few more children who came over to play, and Sienna managed to ask one of them when the infamous Pedro was coming back for them.
“Tomorrow morning,” said one. “We will go back to work.”
“Are you excited?” she asked, and the boy, who couldn't have been more than eight, gave her a toothy grin and flicked his wrist.
“Of course. I love using magic.”
“Me too,” she said , before she could even think. Desmond's head flew up, and she bit her lip. The boy, however, looked excited.
“You are a witch too?”
“I am,” she replied. “Sort of.”
“You should meet Pedro then,” the boy cried. “He will have job for you.”
“Oh?” Sienna asked. “When?”
“Tomorrow He comes at dawn.”
“Then I'll be here at dawn,” she answered, and the boy scampered away, happy enough. She turned to Desmond, who gave her an approving nod.
“Easy enough,” he said. “The hard part will be in the morning. Would you consider going alone?”
“Alone?” her eyes widened. “Why would I go alone?”
“Because it is you gaining their trust, not I,” he said. “If I am with you...”
Her confidence instantly shrank, and her shoulders lowered.
“I don't know. Maybe. I don't know. Can we see how I feel?”
“It is the best course of action, Tiro,” he said, calmly. “And one day...”
“One day you won't be here,” she said. “Why do you keep repeating that? Is there something you aren't telling me?”
He briefly considered whether this was the moment to have the conversation that he had been holding back on. But he decided, surrounded by screaming children, that it probably wasn't.
“You should stop eating,” he said, at last. “There's rations in the room.”
“Do you think that's enough to satisfy?” Sienna asked, simultaneously pushing back her plate and yawning. “Oh my.”
“It's been a long day,” he said, scraping at the remains of his own plate. “And dawn comes early. If you're ready, we should head upstairs.”
“You don't think staying and talking to them would help?” she asked, as she rose. He stood as well, stacking his plate under hers.
“What do you think?”
She paused, analyzing the situation.
“I don't think it will help anymore than it already has. We need to talk to Pedro to get more information.”
“I agree,” he said, steering her gently out of the way. The innkeeper was still watching, leaning over the counter, but she only gave him a nod as they walked out. Whatever her thoughts were, she wasn't about to shove more food down their throats.
“Should we call Nathaniel?” Sienna asked.
“No,” Desmond replied. “I spoke to him already, and I want him to focus all his energy on keeping Eliza safe.”
“Safe?” Sienna picked up on the word. “Is he in danger?”
Desmond had felt a brief surge of adrenaline from his bond with Nathaniel, but he had not felt any danger, and so he kept it from her.
“He's alright,” he said.
“Would you tell me if he were not?” Sienna asked, as she grabbed her rut sack and headed to the bathroom to change.
“Of course,” Desmond replied, sitting on the bed on the other side of the room. “Are you feeling alright?”
“Fine,” she called. “Maybe the drugs do suppress everything. That would be wonderful, to eat normal food again.”
“It would,” he said, half distracted.
The fact that their Tiro could no longer tell whether her Maestros were in danger was a saddening fact, and only brought home his reasoning for the coming days. It wasn't that he couldn't continue any more. It's that they hadn't been continuing for a long time. Years, if he was honest with himself. There had been no advancement in skill; no quests that climbed up in ranking; no nods from the Jurors. It was just them and Sienna, stagnant for all of them; unless he put a stop to it.
She was asleep within minutes, her lithe body close to the wall, and her eyes closed; peaceful as he lingered by the window.
Where could she go? Where would she want to go? Who would taken in a witch without power; a fragile dreamer?
And would he be damned forever for what he did to her; the broken promises he made?
Maestros were supposed to protect their Tiros, and he was confident only in the fact that he was protecting her from a lack of future. The only way to move forward was to separate; and there was no way to do it painlessly.
Creator, Forgive me, he thought.
Chapter 11
Desmond awoke to Sienna retching and shivering over the edge of her bed. She had managed to grab the one rubbish bin in the room, and there wasn't much in her stomach. But her body was rejecting everything there was, her eyes tearing up in pain as she fought against the convulsions.
He sprung up at once, touching her arm to tell her he was there, and nudging the rubbish bin closer.
“I can't--- I can't---” she was gasping for air, and without the bond, he had no help to figure out what she couldn't do. He reached for the blanket, pulling it over her shoulders to keep her warm.
“Hush,” he said, sitting down beside her and rubbing her back. “You need to relax, it won't hurt as much.”
“Blue---” she said, trying to meet his eyes.
“Blue. The blue pills?” he asked, and then paused. “Sienna, you don't need those. Just relax and I'll get you some water in a moment.”
Her blue pills were a powerful mix of electrolytes and chemicals, meant to re hydrate her in extreme measures. Desmond did not consider one bout of vomiting extreme measures, and instead reached for his water bottle.
“Nathaniel always...”
“Nathaniel is on the ship and I am here for you,” he pointed out. “I need you to try water first, and if it doesn't work, we'll move on.”
; He would never accuse his former Tiro of neglect; that wasn't the case. But he was starting to see why she and Nathaniel had so many sleepless nights; if he panicked and pampered her at every turn. There were legitimate times she was ill, of course, and they had both had many nights in the hard plastic chairs on the med bay.
But this was not one of those times, and Sienna soon sank back.
“Was it dinner?” Desmond asked and she nodded.
“Yes. I thought we were fine.”
“There was quite a delay on that,” he glanced at the clock as she sipped back water. “Better?”
“Yes,” she said, trying not to gulp it down. “I'm sorry.”
“What are you sorry for?” he raised an eyebrow. “If anything, I was waiting.”
“But I shouldn't have done it.”
“That, Sienna, is up to you,” he said as he rose. “You need to get some rest.”
Her eyes went wide.
“But Nathaniel always sits up, in case...”
Of course he did, Desmond thought.
“We're in the same room, little one,” he said. “I'll hear if anything goes wrong. But your body is fighting and it needs rest, alright? I'm right here.”
She reluctantly accepted this fate, and after washing out her mouth, lay down. Desmond resisted the urge to blast Nathaniel through his bond or the com link
She needed to learn to self sufficient, to be strong; to understand that she was stronger than she had been treated to be.
Dawn came before either of them were ready. Desmond felt the sunlight shine into their room, peeking through the ripped curtains. The wind had died down, and the makeshift job he had done fixing the crack in the window had held up. He sat up, blinking as he tried to wake up without complaining.
I'm getting too old for this he thought, as he glanced over at the other bed. She was still sleeping, and he figured he could let her have another few minutes, given that it was still partially dark outside.
He grabbed the com link from the bedside table, and quietly closed the bathroom door behind him, hoping it would block out the sound.
“Nathaniel,” he dialed in the frequency.
It took a moment and then another, but eventually, his former Tiro with a perchance to sleep until noon answered.
“Maestro?” came the sleep laden voice. “Everything alright?”
“I see you've gotten power up and running,” Desmond said. “To charge the com link”
“Aye,” Nathaniel replied. “Power and heat and narrowly avoided being scrap metal. Listen, Maestro, about last night...”
“Now is not the time to talk about it,” Desmond replied. “Both of us were hotheaded last night.”
“Is she alright then?” Nathaniel asked.
“She's fine,” Desmond said. “We have a lead for ship parts today, and the storm is dying down. But our lead comes with some interesting baggage.”
“Oh?” Nathaniel said, rolling over. Eliza was still asleep beside him, and he briefly contemplating going into the other room, as not to wake her. But then, the bed was so warm, he was pretty sure he'd never leave.
Desmond briefly went over the children they had found, and Nathaniel sat up a bit more.
“The school is not for the rich,” he said, in defiance “What a ridiculous notion.”
“I think some people see the elegance of witches and assume it's about money,” Desmond replied. “Which is obviously not the case. They don't know there is another way. And if they are happy enough, I will not interfere. But our job is to educate...”
“Educate...” Nathaniel said. “But not steal away. If there are no families, the children get to speak for themselves.”
“I'm aware,” Desmond replied. “But I still think they need to know of the life out there.”
“So you're going to tell them?”
“If I can,” Desmond said. “Obviously, getting Eliza out of here comes first. You are safe?”
“For now,” Nathaniel answered. “Can't last forever on makeshift power.”
“We're working on it,” Desmond tried to assure him.
“Did you tell her yet?”
There was a silence on the other end, and Nathaniel sat up more.
“Did you tell her?”
“No,” Desmond said. “ We haven't discussed it yet.
”
“But you are decided?”
Desmond heard Sienna shift in the other room, and he knew his time was up.
“I'll speak to you later, Nathaniel,” he said, ending the call.
Sienna didn't hate morning like her younger Maestro did. Taking after Desmond, she often awoke at dawn unless she was extremely sleep deprived.
In this case, she didn't feel horrible, despite her night, and reached for water to suck it down. She didn't reject water as badly as other things, and she found her thirst quenched quickly; a good sign.
“Are you talking to Nathaniel?” she asked, as Desmond entered the sleeping area.
“I was,” he said. “He's fine. But it's almost full dawn and we need to be downstairs soon. Can you get ready quickly?”
“Are we checking out?” she asked him, eyeing the items she had basically thrown on the floor. “Should I pack?”
“It's the best idea,” he said, although he had a feeling that they would not in fact be leaving tonight. With the discovery of these children, this mission was turning into much more than a buying excursion
They were out the door within 10 minutes, and down the stairs into the small lobby. Sure enough, the children were all waiting; yawning; but ready to go.
“Hi,” said one of the children who Desmond played jacks with yesterday. “You are coming with us?”
“I'd like to meet your Pedro,” Desmond replied. “He seems like a nice person.”
“Desmond,” Sienna leaned into him, and he turned to her in alarm. He knew that lean well; and it usually ended badly.
“Sit,” he pointed to a broken down chair. In a mess of children, though, there was no way it went unnoticed. They gathered around her, squeaking in alarm.
“What is it?”
“What's wrong?”
“What's happening?”
Desmond desperately wished for the bond then, so he could find out in peace. But he knew it was off limits, and so he had to rely on his voice.
“Talk to me,” he said, as she went pale.
“Just...dizzy,” she said.
“We can fix it!” one of the children raised forward, magic on his finger tips. Desmond was quick to grab his small wrist gently.
“Don't,” he said. “You'll make her sicker.”
“That's not how magic works,” the boy replied. “Silly.”
“For her, it is,” Desmond answered. “So it's best if you don't. She's allergic to magic.”
That brought the conversation to a standstill. The boy looked up at Sienna with wide eyes.
“Aren't you a witch though?”
“Hey, let go,” came a sudden voice from behind them. Desmond glanced up to a see a tall, dark and imposing figure standing behind him.
“You must be Pedro,” Desmond said, and the dark alien raised one of his four eyebrows.
“Yes?”
“We've been waiting to meet you,” he let go of the boy's wrist and rose. “My name is Desmond, and this is Sienna. Forgive her for not rising, she's not well at the moment.”
“And you are opposed to magical healing?” Pedro asked. “You're not one of those sorts, are you?”
“We are not,” Desmond assured him. “Please, allow me to start over. We're witches ourselves and we've been stranded here by a broken ship. When we met your ...workers, we had to meet you.”
Sienna was surprised at the amount of information Desmond gave out to the workhouse boss, but she figured that he must have a reason for it. If this was the amount of information that was needed to form trust, she figured it was alright.
; “Why?” Pedro asked. “So you can steal them away?”
“No,” Desmond said. “Not if they don't want to go.”
“Ai,” Sienna doubled over. She didn't want to interrupt the conversation, but her head throbbed. She was about to tell Desmond that she wasn't going to be able to go with him, when Pedro spoke up.
“You think you're allergic to magic?”
“I---” she glanced to Desmond, who placed a gentle arm on her shoulder.
“She has the acridid gene,” he said. “Have you heard of it?”
Pedro's face softened at that.
“Yes,” he said. “I have.”
Sienna picked up on something in his voice, and through her pain, managed a full sentence.
“You know someone with it?”
Pedro glanced to the children, who were eagerly awaiting his departure.
“If you can make it,” he said. “You should come with us.”
No other information was offered, but Sienna's interest was peaked.
She had never met another person with the gene. They died young, unable to control their powers with the defects that raged in them. It was only thanks to her Maestros choices that she survived at all.
She reached out for Desmond, who carefully supported her as she rose.
“Let's go,” she said, her eyes a bit brighter than they were a moment ago.
Pedro clapped his hands, alerting the children that it was time to go. They gathered around him excitedly, and then followed him out in a large group.
Now that the door was open, the storm had died down. It wasn't exactly warm out, but it wasn't cold either. Sienna didn't fear her digits were going to fall off as they slowly walked.
“How is it possible?” she asked Desmond. “They must be very young.”
“How is it possible that he has this many magical beings that have gone under our radar?” Desmond asked back. “This place is full of mystery.”
“You have a plan?” Sienna asked.
“I always have a plan,” he answered. “For now, just focus on getting there.”
She set her jaw, watching the path ahead of her. She wasn't sure she was going to get there, depending on how far it was, but she was going to try. To meet someone else who endured what she went through was a thought that moved her feet, despite the hardship. She hadn't realized how alone she felt, until that very moment.
White Star (Wolves of West Valley Book 1) Page 56
