A Mix of Magics (Arucadi: The Beginning Book 3)

by E. Rose Sabin

  Renni reddened and looked embarrassed but also proud. “I guess you don’t know what you can do until you’re willing to try,” she said.

  Veronica giggled at the formality of Ed’s announcement. He regarded her, his eyes twinkling. “We’re happy that Veronica challenged you to try,” he said to Renni.

  Smiling at both girls, he continued his official report. “To those of us privileged to know Mother Esterville, this was the perfect solution to the thorny problem of what to do with our enemy. For those of you who have not had the privilege of her acquaintance, I will say that she accepted what was done to her son with complete understanding. She has added the Power-Giver to those deities to whom she has constructed altars in her attic, and she prays to him daily along with all the other provincial patron gods, as well as the great gods Dor and Dora.”

  Veronica snorted.

  Marta said, “Don’t make fun of her devotion. It is wholly sincere, and she is a good woman, perhaps the best I’ve ever encountered.”

  Ed nodded. “Mother Esterville attributes to the Power-Giver the opportunity to have a second chance to raise her son right. She promises not to neglect his training and vows that the new memories he develops will be happy ones, filled with the experience of her loving attention and patient training in ethical behavior. I’m confident that Jerome will never again be a threat to us or to anyone.”

  Some in the group looked doubtful, but Leah spoke up from her seat beside Abigail. “I know some of you are skeptical, but that is because you don’t know Jerome’s mother. If she dedicates herself to her son as in the past she’s dedicated herself to serving the gods, I’m sure he’ll turn out well.”

  “I agree,” Marta put in. “Most importantly, he is no longer gifted. His power has been taken from him permanently, as have his memories of having it. So he won’t miss it and with his mother’s guidance, he’ll lead a normal and fulfilling life without it.”

  Marta waited while the group applauded, then resumed speaking. “Unfortunately, we had no such satisfactory solution for Isham Tellent. We could have erased his memories of the time he spent in what had been and is again Ed’s land, but that would still have left him angry and determined on vengeance. His experiences in what was then Jerome’s land left him completely deranged. Whether he will ever recover his sanity we cannot know, but as long as he remains in his present state he will be confined in the Garden of Tranquility maintained by the priests of Ondin for those whose mental condition does not allow them to live in normal society. He will be well cared for there and kept calm, if necessary, with the herbal remedies employed by the keepers. We are grateful to the Honorable Camsen Wellner for arranging that care.”

  “What about his little boy?” Zauna asked.

  “Little Bennie will be raised by his aunt and uncle,” Marta replied. “The aunt is Mayzie’s sister, and is quite fond of the boy. Fortunately, he’s too young to have any understanding of what happened to his mother and father.”

  Veronica was growing impatient. She had important news to share, and Marta was dealing with everything else, though she knew how vital Veronica’s news was. Marta droned on. She mentioned that Ed would visit his land from time to time to restore it to its former beauty. She praised Winter for the help his newly discovered talent had been in their victory over Jerome and encouraged him to continue his art studies.

  “I will,” he assured her with a shy smile. “And I’ve learned to shield. I had to in that place.”

  Trille rose to her feet and waited for Marta’s nod, giving her permission to speak. “You and Ed will be staying here then? And leading the Community?” she asked.

  “Our home is still in Sharpness,” Marta said and lifted her hand, signaling for the groans that followed that statement to subside. “We’ve written to the people caring for our house and Ed’s horses in our absence and told them that we won’t be returning for some time. We’ll stay until Dreama is weaned and until the Community can select another leader. That will take at least a year, possibly two.”

  Her announcement elicited cheers and declarations of gratitude.

  Veronica bounced around in her seat, increasingly impatient. Marta looked her way. It must be time at last.

  But Aunt Abigail cleared her throat and said, “I have something I’d like to say.”

  And Marta said, “Of course, Abigail. Go ahead.”

  “I want to apologize to Veronica. I behaved abominably toward her.” Meeting Veronica’s gaze, she said, “I’m sorry I treated you like a child and tried to prevent you from carrying out your plan. I should have trusted you. It isn’t easy for me to say this, but you were right. I was the one acting like a child. I was just so afraid of Jerome.”

  She began to cry. Leah patted her on the shoulder. Veronica rose, went to her, and said, “We were all afraid of Jerome, Aunt Abigail.” She kissed her honorary aunt on the cheek.

  Still blubbering, Abigail returned her kiss.

  And then, finally, Marta said, “Thank you both. And now, Veronica has some very important news to share with the group.”

  Veronica stood and walked to the center of the room. She turned slowly, eyeing the entire group before speaking. “After everyone else returned from Ed’s land, I stayed behind to meet someone,” she said. “I was directed to do so by a voice that spoke in my mind. It wasn’t the Power-Giver. Five years ago Ed heard that voice, the voice of the Dire Lord called Claid.” She paused, letting the excited murmurs die away before continuing. “Ed met him in the ruined building near where you, Lore, first met Jerome.”

  Lore hung his head, clearly uncomfortable at being reminded of that meeting.

  “Lord Claid told me that, and lots of other things,” Veronica continued, deliberately tantalizing her audience with the hint of knowledge that she wasn’t going to share with them.

  “But here’s what’s important.” She paused again, letting anticipation build before her great announcement. “It was Lord Claid who caught Aunt Kyla away after she created the sandstorm that smothered those of us Jerome had struck unconscious. He told her what she had to do to bring us all back to life. But she could choose whether or not to do it. He told her what the outcome would be. Because she’d lost her temper and let the sandstorm get out of hand, and therefore she was responsible for the deaths of all of us it buried, she said she owed us our lives and would gladly give hers in exchange.”

  Again she paused, this time not for effect but to get her emotions under control. When she could continue, she said, “Now the big news is that Aunt Kyla isn’t dead. Not entirely, anyway.”

  That brought outcries of joy and relief and a lot of chattering. She raised her hand, calling for quiet.

  “I don’t mean that you’ll see her alive again,” she continued, and waited until the disappointed groans subsided. “At least, I don’t think you will. She’s in a state of suspension and can remain that way for a long time, seeming dead to anyone who sees her. I don’t really understand why Lord Claid is doing this, but he swore he had a good reason. ‘You’ll understand some day,’ he said.

  “Now I’m to convey his orders to you. Kyla is to be placed in a special coffin. He’s given me the directions for its construction. And she’s to be taken to a place called Hillcross. It’s the site of a powerful nexus. That’s a point where our world and other worlds intersect. You could even reach the Dire Realms from there. It’s in the mountains in Northwoods Province, just north of Inland Province, a short distance from the headwaters of the Soileau River.”

  Marta, who’d been apprised of all this ahead of time, while they waited for Ed’s return from taking Jerome to Carey, distributed maps showing the location Veronica described.

  “At Hillcross in a mountainside, there’s a cave that is precisely over the nexus I told you of. That’s where you’re to place Aunt Kyla’s coffin. Then you’re to seal the cave and in front of it you’re to build a shrine to Aunt Kyla—to the Lady Kyla, as Lord Claid said.”

  Ed interrupted to say,
“That sounds like he means for her to be there, in what you called ‘suspension,’ for a very long time.”

  Veronica bit her lower lip and hesitated before answering. “I think he does expect it to be a long time. But he promised me that I’d see her alive again in my lifetime.” She paused again and then added, “He did say I should expect to have an unusually long life.”

  Abigail frowned, looking skeptical. Some of the others just shook their heads. But Renni and Lore were both watching her intently, and Renni raised her hand. Veronica nodded permission to speak.

  “Are we all—all of us—” She made a sweeping motion with her hand to encompass the roomful of people, “supposed to go on this journey?” She looked at the map Marta had given her and traced the route with her finger. “It’s a long way.”

  “Yes, it is a long way, but you can take a train as far as Harnor, which is a port on the Soileau River, and then take a boat upstream as far as Highport, and from there it’s just a short trek north to Hillcross. There’s a road. Or another way would be to take the train only as far as Marquez, then rent a horse and wagon and go northeast to Pescatil in the northeastern corner of Wide Sands Province, and from there a mining road runs due east to Hillcross.”

  “Hillcross is what? A village?” Darnell asked. “It looks awfully isolated.”

  “It’s small,” Veronica agreed. “But it’s big enough to be on the map.”

  “You didn’t answer my question about who’s to make this trip,” Renni called out. “All of us?”

  “No, the Lord Claid said only four should go. We’ll need volunteers. Those who go should expect to be gone for several months, maybe even a year or more.”

  “Why can’t Ed or Lore or you or someone use power to transport them there?”

  “The distance is too great, and none of us with that talent has seen Hillcross and could visualize it.”

  The room was quiet for several minutes as they all looked at one another. Then Lore spoke. “I volunteer. I owe it to the group and to Lady Kyla to make up for what an ass I was, believing that bastard Jerome. Excuse my language.”

  Everyone laughed at that. Renni’s hand went up. “I’ll go,” she said. “I’m up for some adventure. Oh, and don’t worry, Veronica. Before I leave I’ll teach you to milk the goat.”

  Again laughter rippled through the room.

  “Good,” Marta said. “Now we just need two more. Ed and I can’t go. We have Dreama to take care of. Trille has her singing career.”

  “And Winter has his art classes,” Veronica supplied. She made a face and added, “And I have to go to school.”

  “I wouldn’t be much help,” Petros put in from his seat on his wheeled platform.

  “I wouldn’t want to be away from my grandchildren that long,” Winnie said.

  Winter raised his hand, drawing gasps of surprise. He shook his head frantically and blushed a deep red. “I wasn’t volunteering,” he said. “I just … I have something I want to … I mean, I’d like to have taken to put in, uh, the place where her coffin will be left. It’s a painting. A-a portrait of Lady Kyla. A large one. But,” he added hastily, “it’s painted on a canvas that can be rolled up. It wouldn’t take up much room.”

  “That’s very generous and thoughtful of you, Winter,” Marta said, searching for the right words before adding, “We don’t know exactly what sort of place Kyla’s last resting place will be, but surely your portrait of her would be a welcome addition to it.”

  Murmurs of approval that followed carried an undertone of doubt until Veronica stood up. “I think that’s a wonderful idea, Winter. You’ve shown what a gifted artist you are, and who knows? Your portrait could even hold the power that will restore Aunt Kyla to life. So thank you.” She began to applaud, and others joined in.

  Winter, still blushing furiously, shook his head, and said so softly that Marta suspected few heard him, “It’s only a painting.”

  “We’ll be happy to have it, whether or not it holds power,” Marta assured him. “And in fact, I’ll add another to it. Kyla showed me one you did secretly for her of the Mage Alair, our Power-Giver, based on her description of him. She said you and she both agreed it was to be for her alone, and no one else would know about it, but I think it would be fitting to send it as well.”

  “She wanted it as a reminder to her of the man he had been,” Winter said, his red face paling to white. “She didn’t want it seen because she didn’t want people to focus on his humanity.”

  “I did see it once,” Veronica exclaimed. “She wouldn’t tell me who it was. but I suspected it was Alair. It’s a powerful work.”

  “But if Kyla didn’t want it shown …” Marchion left his objection unfinished except for a shrug.

  “Perhaps we should defer that discussion until later,” Ed put in. “I personally can’t see the harm in sending it. But we’ve gotten far from the business at hand. We still need two more volunteers.”

  “That’s right,” Marta said, bestowing a grateful smile on her husband. “Unless two more of you are willing to go, there won’t be an expedition at all.”

  After a short silence in which the gathered members looked around at one another, Camsen Wellner stood up. “I volunteer,” he said, drawing gasps of astonishment. “I’ve decided to withdraw from the priesthood. This experience has made me comprehend that my first obligation is to the Power-Giver.”

  The group burst into applause. Marta gave Veronica a questioning look, and Veronica nodded.

  “So we need only one more,” Marta said.

  “I’ll go,” said Zauna. “Without my crystal ball, I have no way of earning a living here. Except—how are we to finance this trip?”

  Veronica shook her head. Lord Claid hadn’t mentioned the cost. And such a trip would be expensive. She should have thought of that.

  Marchion Blandry stood. “I can’t go. I have my business interests here. But I’m a wealthy man. I can finance the trip.”

  “So we have our four volunteers and the way to finance it,” Veronica stated. “Now what about the paintings? Let’s take a vote. I move we send them both. All in favor, raise your hands.” She raised hers as she spoke.

  Winter raised his, and one after another, some quickly, others hesitantly, hand after hand lifted. There were no negative votes.

  “So the paintings go, and with that we’ve concluded our business,” Marta said. “I think it’s time to celebrate.”

  The group greeted her suggestion with cheers. Veronica cheered louder than all the rest.

  THE END

  Read this excerpt from

  Deniably Dead

  the sequel to Bringers of Magic.

  DENIABLY DEAD

  CHAPTER ONE

  A ROUGH RIDE

  Renni shifted about, trying to arrange herself more comfortably, a nearly impossible feat in the narrow space left to her on the wagon’s rough floor boards. Not to mention having to share space with three other people and a coffin.

  She kept reminding herself that she just had to get through this night. Tomorrow they would reach Marquez, where they could stay in an inn. She’d still have to share a room with Zauna and endure the older woman’s loud snoring, but at least they would have separate beds. With more space between them and a soft mattress to lie on, she should find it easier to sleep.

  This was the sixth night since they’d left Port-of-Lords, and sleeping grew more difficult with each night. Her companions’ snores, Zauna’s especially, were only part of the problem. Sleeping so close to the coffin that she often reached out in her sleep and touched its wooden side grew creepier with each passing hour. No odor issued from the coffin, for which she should have been grateful. A decaying body would give off an odor strong enough to escape from this specially built coffin. Its lid was tightly sealed, but on the top a metal faceplate hid the face from view but was pierced with many small air holes that not only let air flow in but would also allow odor to escape. No odor meant no decay, Renni figured. And so, she aske
d herself, was the coffin’s occupant dead or alive?

  She’d seen and touched the body of Kyla Cren, the former leader of the Port-of-Lords Gifted Community, before they’d placed her in the coffin. The cold flesh and corpselike pallor along with no discernible breathing all told Renni that Kyla was dead. Yet Veronica, Kyla’s fourteen-year-old ward, insisted that her honorary aunt still lived, at least in some sense. Veronica had provided the specifications for making the coffin and had sworn that those specifications and the instructions for transporting Kyla’s body to a place no one in their Gifted Community had heard of had been delivered to her by a Dire Lord.

  Renni had begun to reconsider the wisdom of having joined three other members of the Community in volunteering to follow those instructions. They had, after all, acted on the word of a fourteen-year-old girl. A girl known to be excitable and moody. Yet at the time everyone accepted Veronica’s words as true, her instructions as the mandates of a Dire Lord and not to be disregarded.

  The first two nights, when they slept comfortably in inns, Renni thought the trip a lark, a marvelous adventure. Then their road took them into a desert area, stifling hot during the day, cold at night, and without inns where they could enjoy a good supper, a fortifying breakfast, and a restful sleep between. That this would occur they knew from the outset, but Renni had discovered the difference between knowing and experiencing. Now eight days into the journey, doubts grew daily and more questions crept into Renni’s mind with each passing night.

  If it had not been for the absence of any odor emanating from the coffin, Renni would have persuaded, or at least tried to persuade, her companions to turn back and forget this quixotic venture. She could convince Lore, she felt certain. Like her, he’d set out with the notion that they were embarking on a grand adventure. Just two years younger than her own age of twenty-five, he did not consider her in any way his superior, but at the same time, he was easily swayed by the opinion of others and would more readily defer to her judgment than that of their much older companions.