Dylan’s triumphant whinny cut short.
Istvan continued remorselessly. “However, if timing was the sole consideration, you could have settled ownership of the field circle between yourselves, or at least, within your community. The magisterial court accepted your case because the item under dispute is magical. Failing to expeditiously report a magical anomaly to the bunkers is a misdemeanor. One that I find both Dylan and Mordred guilty of. Before you leave, today, you will arrange payment of your individual fines with Radka.
“What neither of you two,” the idiots was implied, “seem to have realized is that reporting the finding of a field circle or any other magical occurrence that is capable of having a claim registered on it is the modern equivalent of claiming it by combat.”
“What?” The two unicorn stallions and their audience boggled at Istvan.
Istvan stared back scathingly. “Do you really think the scientists at the bunkers require you to discover magical anomalies?”
There was some embarrassed hoof-scraping of the forest floor.
Every member of the Migration knew that while they would live a low-technology lifestyle for several decades, if not a century or more, the technology they’d grown up with on Elysium was to be rigorously maintained and used in the bunkers. Obviously, the scientists’ scans would have found the field circle, and identified others. It was the rules regulating the bunkers that meant the information wasn’t disseminated. Faerene society in the early Migration period needed to develop at an organic rate, including discovering resources. That was the best way for their minds to adjust to the challenges of a new world and to avoid the debilitating condition colloquially known as nova world burn trauma.
“Since you both put your egos ahead of your duty, to conclude this matter, either Dylan or Mordred may relinquish their claim—”
“No!” they trumpeted simultaneously.
“Or you will compete in a single game of mage fire to determine the matter via non-adversarial combat. First one burned three times, loses. And if you force me to do this, I will try to hurt you,” Istvan warned. Mage fire was like dodgeball, but with a lash of magic-generated fire instead of a harmless ball.
“Oh dear heavens above,” Radka muttered as the unicorns enthusiastically chose mage fire. “Macho idiots. They’re actually excited.”
Istvan wasted no time. “Everyone bar Dylan and Mordred, leave the clearing. We begin on the count of ten.”
The excitement of novelty and testing one’s courage and agility lasted till Istvan’s mage fire branded Dylan and Mordred simultaneously. The air filled with the horrid stink of scorched hair and flesh, and the appalled murmuring of their audience.
“I forfeit,” Mordred cried. “Dylan found the field circle first. It is his.”
The two unicorns stood shivering from their burns in front of Istvan.
“I forfeit, as well,” Dylan said. “Make the field circle communal property, Magistrate Istvan, as you suggested. I feel like a colt who has just been schooled, justly schooled. I should have reported the field circle to the bunkers as the rules say. I am ashamed that I peacocked back to the herd like a…a…” he looked at Radka, “macho idiot rather than doing so. I earned this pain.”
“We both did,” Mordred said. “I should have discussed the timing of your discovery with you rather than bringing a court case. A frivolous court case. I apologize, Magistrate Istvan.”
Istvan relented. “This is precisely the sort of case I anticipate dealing with throughout my first circuits. I commend you both on wrapping up the precedent we’ve instituted here today by both relinquishing your claims. In light of your good sense, once you were reminded of it, I grant the field circle to Dylan. Mordred, good luck in finding your own circle.” He healed the two unicorns.
“Don’t forget your fines,” Radka added, and to Istvan. “Go, now.”
He went.
Istvan translocated into the airspace above the magistrate hall.
One of his guards waited for him. Yana. She’d brought up a stool and sat to the side near the ramp, sharpening a knife. She slid it back into a boot sheath and the whetstone into a pocket.
Istvan landed. “Apart from Rory and Nils, any problems?”
“No.”
Which meant she hadn’t met him to report to him, but held herself ready for his orders.
Yana changed her answer. “Maybe.” Despite the equivocation of “maybe”, her tone held utter resolve. “I have pledged to serve the magisterial territory. I will. Alerting you to this issue is not about pushing my own agenda.”
When she paused as if for his consent, he snapped, “Understood.”
“Nora hasn’t released any further information than that Rory and Nils are at a bunker and she intends to update you, personally. It’s not my trust in her, but in you, that stopped me pushing the issue. Rory is the leader of the Hope Fang Pack. Nils and I are his second-in-command. When something happens to both of them, I am the authority that must be informed.”
Istvan’s tail lashed, then stilled.
Yana wasn’t challenging his authority. She was, very properly, protecting her pack, and part of that meant asserting her rights as its functional leader in Rory’s absence. Hope Fang Pack was shiny new. If anything happened to Rory, without him it could fall apart.
And some people might be pleased to see that happen.
Hope Fang’s existence changed some of the power plays in Faerene society. It included some powerful magicians and personalities.
“You’re correct,” Istvan said. “Raise the issue with the bunkers whenever you like, or via Rory. I will back you. I hope Nora knows better than to maintain information silence with us if anything truly endangered Rory or Nils.”
“You can hope. I’m just p…cross.” Yana looked away. “Sorry, sir.”
“Istvan,” he reminded her. He preferred the informality that Amy’s insistence on a core family group had brought to the hall. “And I understand your worry. How is Amy?”
“Applying herself to her magic practice.”
Which, perhaps, did answer his question. He started down the ramp. “I saw her in the courtyard garden. Please, ask the kitchen to send us lunch. Also, have Urwin contact the bunker and tell Nora that I expect an update, a comprehensive briefing, on the condition of Rory and Nils and their mission within the hour.”
“Will do. Glad you’re home, Istvan.” Without waiting for a response, she ran down the stairs.
Istvan leapt off the side of the flat roof and landed outside the courtyard garden. He prowled inside, moving silently.
Amy knelt beside a hole in the dirt.
All humans looked small to Istvan. So did elves, and goblins were smaller yet. He preened a chest feather or seven as he contemplated his human familiar and how especially vulnerable she appeared today.
Perhaps she sensed his gaze on her. She looked up, saw him, and rose. Her usual juvenile energy was missing. Caution marked her movements.
He came forward to close the distance between them. “We will have news of Rory and Nils within the hour. Overnight they fought and killed an unidentified magical creature. They took it and themselves to the nearest bunker. A sensible precaution. They are going through decontamination and a health check. Nora has not warned me of any problems.”
Amy took a deep breath, as if she’d been frozen and now dared to live again. “Is it silly that I’m so scared?”
“No. But whatever they discovered, we can handle it. The bunkers are fully stocked with emergency equipment.”
She nodded slowly, wiping her hands on her trousers and leaving streaks of dirt. “I forget that you come from a civilization far more advanced than what we see here on Earth. Okay.” Then, more strongly. “Okay.” She blinked and looked down at her trousers. “Oh blast. I forgot my hands were dirty.”
“Wash them,” Istvan said. “I asked the kitchens to send us lunch.”
She dipped them in a water fountain. “I’m not hungry.”
&n
bsp; “But you’ll eat anyway.” Peggy bustled into the courtyard, carrying a basket. Her husband, Arthur, trailed her, carrying an even bigger basket.
Amy counterattacked. “Peggy! This is meant to be your day off. Go and be with your family.”
Her husband rolled his eyes. “Like we want her in mother hen mode.”
“Arthur!” Peggy handed Amy soap and a hand towel, and pointed to the nearest spigot.
“Rory and Nils will be fine, woman.”
Peggy tsked as she unpacked the contents of the baskets onto a bench. “Of course they will. But Amy’s a new wife. She’ll worry meantime.”
Hands clean and dry, Amy gave her a quick hug and smiled at Arthur. For all his complaining, his devotion to Peggy was the core of his life. “I’m fine. And now Istvan is here for me. Take your wicked, over-working woman home, Arthur.”
The goblin couple departed after a bit more fussing from Peggy.
Amy sat on the ground, resting against Istvan’s side as she ate.
He told her about his latest case of the two unicorn stallions, and laughed at her disbelief.
“I thought unicorns were wise!”
“No wiser than any of us. You were spoiled by meeting Melinda first. She is special, that’s why she was chosen to tutor human mages at the familiar trial. It’s interesting about the field circles. Even without detectable magic of their own, humans have stories that recognize the circles’ existence and sometimes pinpoint hotspots.”
A distracted “hmm” answered him.
“Tell me about your magic practice,” he invited. Any message from Nora would be brought straight to him. He could wait here as readily as in his office. When Amy stayed silent, he surprised himself by confessing one of his own problems. “Nora said she’s in love with me.”
Amy scrambled away from his side to stare him in the eye.
He had one hundred percent of her attention now, even if he hadn’t meant to grab it in this manner. Perturbed at the personal twist the conversation had taken, and at his instigation, his feathers ruffled and his tail flicked.
“She’s pretty,” Amy said. “But you’re gorgeous. I bet she’s not the only griffin in love with you.”
Istvan coughed. “That is not what I expected you’d say.”
She wrinkled her nose at him. “You probably thought I’d ask how you feel about her.”
“Um, yes?”
She patted his nearest front leg. “You’re cute when you’re baffled, which doesn’t happen often. If you loved Nora, you’d be partnered with her.”
Istvan’s beak gaped.
“It really is that simple,” Amy said. “You’re an honorable person who deals straightforwardly with people. If you cared for Nora in that manner, and she’s in love with you as she says, then you’d already be together.”
“There could be reasons…”
Amy shook her head. “You don’t let anything get in the way of what matters. I did notice at the trials that Nora flirted with you.”
“She did?”
“So cute,” Amy muttered.
Avoiding her amused gaze, he looked upward, and caught the moment Nora translocated in above them.
Amy noticed his sudden shift in attention. “Nora. Where’s Rory?”
The golden griffin scientist disappeared from sight as she landed on the roof.
Istvan concentrated on the flow of magic in the hall and on its grounds. “There’s a portal opening in the guard training yard.”
Amy ran.
Rather more slowly, Istvan went to meet Nora.
“Rory and Nils are travelling by portal,” she said in greeting. “They’re both well. No sign of contamination. Piros is to join us.” They both felt the magic of the red dragon’s translocation. “Now.”
“We’ll talk in my office,” Istvan said, and ushered them down. By descending via the outside ramp, they collected Amy, Rory and Nils along the way.
“We’re fine,” Rory said immediately.
In fact, Amy looked the most disturbed of any of them. Her hair had escaped its braid and dirt marked her trousers. But her smile meant more than any of those deficiencies.
The worried knot in Istvan’s chest—so uncomfortable—relaxed.
The guards who accompanied Amy, Rory and Nils out from their yard, and the staff emerging from the kitchen, chatted and questioned and displayed the same sense of relief Istvan felt.
Piros marched through them and Nora followed in his wake.
Istvan met Rory’s gaze and glanced fleetingly at Amy.
Rory nodded grimly, indicating that Amy needed to be included in the meeting. Since Rory could describe events to her later, privately, his decision raised new concerns.
As they reached Istvan’s office, Piros began. “If you can peel yourself away from your mate—”
Istvan interrupted. “Amy joins us.”
It was his hall, in his territory, and she was his familiar.
“Unnecessary,” Nora murmured. “And perhaps frightening.”
Istvan trusted Rory’s judgement on Amy’s welfare over anyone else’s, and Rory and Amy were ignoring all objections. Separating them would require violence.
Rory sat in the armchair by the window, and Amy sat in his lap. He seemed content with the situation. However, she wasn’t satisfied. Her gaze strayed to Nils, who’d sat on a wooden chair beside Istvan’s desk, positioned between them and Nora.
“Nils.” Rory’s voice held laughter, but also amusement and respect, not to mention an underlying authority. “You chose pack life. You have to bear the consequences.”
The elf and former assassin glanced at him, eyebrows raised.
Rory answered the silent question. “To use Amy’s term, pack is touchy-feely. She needs you close to know you’re safe.”
Unhesitatingly, Nils got up and sat on the floor beside the armchair, near enough for Amy to touch his shoulder.
She was horrified. “You can’t sit on the floor. At least bring the chair or grab a cushion or—”
Nils caught her hand and clamped it to his shoulder.
“I’m glad you’re both safe.” She leaned forward and kissed the elf’s cheek.
There was no jealousy in Rory’s expression, just love and pride. They were building pack bonds by offering care and accepting it.
“Can we begin?” Piros prompted impatiently.
Rory regarded him as blank-faced as a sergeant reporting to an incompetent lieutenant, and about as respectful. “In the cases you gave us, the victims were all mid-level magic users. The orcs who went after their lost shaman were low-level. They noticed nothing out of the ordinary and attracted no out of the ordinary attention. Nils and I decided that I’d play bait, using mid-level magic on a purported hunting and exploration trip. He made himself as nearly invisible as only Nils can,” a grin for him, “without using magic, and watched my back. The grub attacked in the darkness before dawn.”
Nora moved to the wall-hung slate. “May I?” At Istvan’s nod, she brought up an image. “The grub is nine feet long and two feet wide.” It appeared gray, but when she zoomed in on its skin, there were other colors hidden in the textured surface.
“Not quite scales,” Piros observed.
“And verging on impossibly heatproof,” Nora said. “We’ve barely begun our analysis, but if it weren’t for the invulnerability of a dragon’s throat to fire, we wouldn’t have any point of comparison for an organic feature like this.”
“Show the mouth,” Rory said.
Nora switched images. A double row of teeth ringed a mouth so darkly gray it was almost black. “Two feet and three inches in diameter.”
They studied the fearsome mouth while Rory continued.
“The grub is carnivorous and aggressive. It attacked without warning. Neither Nils nor I detected its approach. Being able to hide from us suggests a high degree of predatory ability.”
“Unless you were asleep?” Piros’s tone was coolly curious rather than accusatory.
&nbs
p; “We were both awake,” Nils said. “We detected no magical signature from the grub, but it was locked onto Rory as its target even though there were caribou nearby and seals on the coast.”
“Those animals mass together. He was seemingly alone,” Amy said. “Would that matter? I’ve never seen anything like it or heard any myths about it. You said its skin resists heat? Do you think it lived in the volcano?”
“Hatched there,” Nora said. “Don’t look so surprised. The reason Rory calls it a grub is because the entomologist in the bunker classified it as one.”
Piros stared at the slate. “A larval stage? Which invites the question of what it would have metamorphosed into?”
“Something damn big,” Rory said. “When Nils and I used our magic against it, we encountered resistance. It worked, but it took a heck of a lot more magic than usual and the magic channeling into the spells seemed to move through earth rather than air. Given the grub’s aggression I decided that a safely dead specimen was the best option. I gave Nils the order and he sliced off its head with a sword.”
“Hacked,” Nils said. “Even reinforcing the blade with magic, I couldn’t get a clean slice.”
Nora flicked to another picture of the grub. This one distinctly showed the head as separate to the body. “It’s impressive that you got through that skin even with an assassin’s sword.”
Amy rubbed at Rory’s arm around her waist. “Nora, did you have any idea that this thing existed?”
“No. We don’t routinely scan to the level of detail to track individual magical signatures, which is why we weren’t able to track the five victims and pinpoint when and where they vanished. It would take that level of scan to reveal the existence of an unknown creature like the grub—if it had magic, which Rory and Nils said it didn’t. Nor could our machines find any trace of magic intrinsic to it.”
First Magic Page 13
