Brothers: Legacy of the Twice-Dead God (59 page)

“Really,” snorted Peter. “Have you met your
parents? They put you on the high end on both the financial and
magical scales. Ehran pushed you up a few levels.” Ehran? Oh, the
butler. “Even if you call it a class system, you’re very high up
the ladder.”

“And cutting my hair will make the Queens
feel like I’m lower in the system?” I asked.

“Yes, sir,” Shrank sang out as he looped
around us. “The Fae hierarchy is far more rigid than the human
systems. It would be wiser to not give them any reason to believe
you have lost any status among your peers, even when your current
class consists of only four.”

“We’re in a class of our own?” I asked.

“Most definitely, sir,” answered the butler
as we descended the stairs. All four of our heads swiveled in to
each other, then to the butler to gawk. The man showed absolutely
no fear that we would misinterpret his comment and be insulted. We
all broke out laughing at the bottom of the stairs. Our joviality
lasted into the banquet room we were ushered into.

“Gentlemen,” the butler said, stepping to one
side and sweeping an arm toward the buffet table against the wall.
“Please help yourselves of the buffet at your leisure. The Cahills
will be down directly.”

“Thank you,” we said, almost in unison. We
started fixing plates of sausage, eggs, thick sliced bacon,
pastries, and some sort of oatmeal. I snagged some fruit for
Shrank.

“So why are we in a class by ourselves?” I
asked, sitting down at the ornately set table across from Peter.
The table was set for ten but looked like it could seat twenty or
more.

“Partly because nobody can see you outside of
the shell,” sang Shrank, then he tossed a blueberry into the air,
flying after it like a hawk after a sparrow. “But mostly because
you’re so strong you scare people, or at least, everybody thinks
so, which is pretty much the same thing.” He dripped blueberry all
over himself without concern. I tossed a napkin under him before he
dripped onto the white tablecloth, glowering at him. He grinned
sheepishly at me and wiped his tiny hands on the napkin.

“So where does that put you?” I asked
him.

“As a servant to one of the most powerful
mages in the world?” he asked, thoughtfully. “That pretty much puts
me wherever you want me.”

“Why a servant?” I asked. “The waffles are
excellent. Wonder what kind of syrup this is.”

“Boysenberry,” said Peter. “What’s wrong with
being a servant? It’s not like we’re making him lick our boots or
anything.”

“Yes,” Shrank piped in. “Everyone has a place
in the world. We Fae just know ours much better than humans.”

“It’s more strictly codified in them,” said
Kieran, “in their magic, almost in their blood itself. I admit I
had not considered the idea that our appearance may affect their
opinions of us, though, I mean over such a short period of time.
Everyone makes judgments based on appearances.”

“Good morning, sirs,” said Gordon as he came
into the dining room. We chorused our good mornings as he came in
slowly, nervous around us especially without his father. He loaded
up a plate and I wondered where at the table he would choose to
sit. We’d chosen to sit dead center so there were empty chairs on
either side of each of us.

“I don’t know if I have a problem with
someone being a servant, I suppose,” I said, responding to Peter’s
question. “I think it’s more that I have a problem with someone
being forced to be a servant or to think that’s all they’re good
enough to be, something so menial as to cart my bags around or do
my laundry just because I’m too lazy to do it myself.”

“Yeah,” agreed Peter, drizzling honey over a
biscuit, “That’s one of the reasons I liked staying at your house
back then. Pretty much why I took an instant liking to you, too.” I
looked up at him, puzzled and chewing on a tasty cinnamon bun.
“Your whole household staff felt like one big family. And I
thought, at first, that it was your parents. I mean, your mom and
dad are really nice people, really—”

“Wait!” Kieran interrupted him. “You are
talking about Robert McClure, right? Nice? Don’t let him hear you
say that.” He grinned as he stirred his oatmeal concoction. I still
had no idea what it was, but I had no desire to experiment with it,
even in small amounts.

“Actually, that’s the point,” Peter said
seriously. “The whole staff did defer to your parents just like any
hired staff and they were adequately to well paid for their
services. But where you were concerned, everybody there considered
you a part of their family and had some bond, some affection for
you, like a little brother to most. That Je ne sais quoi quality
ran through the whole house and centered around you.”

“Was it in the warding of the house?” asked
Gordon, taking an interest in the conversation. “Many parents will
build that sort of au pair binding into their wards to help keep
their children safe, or any children. The castle has several areas
like that.”

“No, Father would not have used such a
generalized form on that landscape,” answered Kieran. “Besides,
either Olivia or Robert was there with Seth at all times during his
childhood, until just recently.”

“I didn’t see any bindings,” agreed
Peter.

“I’m not sure what you’re saying here,” I
said to Peter, confused. “How does some people liking me relate to
class and caste systems?”

Ethan answered, “I think he’s trying to say
that you don’t understand them because you’ve never seen yourself
as being in one even though you are. And since you’re pretty much
at the top and don’t present yourself to everyone that way, it’s
easy to forget that around you. You see value in everybody. Because
of that, the people you are with tend to see the value in
themselves. The exceptions seem to be the truly class conscious
among us.”

“Which is why you rally against the Fae caste
systems,” added Kieran. “The upper tiers of that hold little life
dear but their own.”

“There’s truth in that,” sang Shrank, slicing
up a strawberry with a knife as long as his arm. I have no idea
where he kept that knife but he made quick work of the berry that
was half his size with it.

Felix Cahill strode into the room then.
“Morning, all!” he proclaimed as he sat down at the table next to
Kieran. The butler we’d followed down stairs was a second behind
him with a cup of coffee for him. “I seemed to have interrupted a
serious discussion.”

Kieran grinned, pushing his empty plate
forward slightly, “Not at all. We were discussing class and caste
systems and why Seth seems to break through them.”

Cahill arched his eyebrows, looking at me as
his butler placed a large cinnamon scone in front of him. “Thank
you, John,” he said softly, then to me with a twinkle in his eye,
“Not planning a coup in the castle, I trust.”

Chortles and chuckles ran softly across the
table. “How’s that for twisting a conversation,” said Peter,
grinning. “From wanting a haircut to storming the parapets in half
an hour.”

“Speaking of servants,” Ethan said,
grimacing. “We need to hire someone. I keep running out of
underwear.” We grimaced with him.

“Not going to be easy,” Peter muttered,
considering the task. “Finding someone that’s magically inclined,
strong enough to not be intimidated by us, but willing to do some
grunt work while we do whatever we need to do?” He shook his head
slowly, thoughtfully.

“Have you considered ‘second sons’?” Gordon
asked. We turned to him, questioningly, confused by the phrase.
“Similar to a second or third prince in line for the throne,
overshadowed by an older sibling but still competent.”

I was still confused. “Why is birth order
important? I don’t understand.”

“You wouldn’t,” Kieran said with a chuckle.
“You were raised as an only child.”

“I know several ‘second sons’ who would jump
at the chance to get out of their older brother’s shadow,” Gordon
said, hopefully. “I mean, not to be a servant necessarily, but an
aide, perhaps.”

I still wasn’t seeing the issue with birth
order, but I wasn’t sure I would get a better answer out of this
group. I said, “I don’t have a problem with ‘second sons,’ Gordon,
and it would end up more like an aide. We really don’t need that
much underwear.”

Gordon smiled and said, “Good, I’ll set up
some interviews for you then.”

“And speaking of second sons,” Cahill said to
Gordon, “You need to pick up Martin from school tomorrow,
remember?”

“Yes, Da, I remember,” Gordon said.

“Ooh, can I go with you?” I asked. “I’ve
never actually been inside a school before.”

“Sure, Seth, I’d enjoy the company for the
ride up there,” Gordon answered. “And I’m sure Marty would love to
show you around.”

John the butler came back into the room,
holding a silver tray with a folded sheet of paper out to Cahill.
He took the note off the tray and read it while John waited.

“Escort them to the conservatory, please,
John,” Cahill said. “Seth, were you able to get in touch with
Harris last night?”

“No, sir, his office said he was in transit
and wouldn’t be available until today,” I said, mirroring Kieran’s
move and pushing my plate forward. “I’ll try again this afternoon
when we get back.”

“No need,” he said, chortling, “He’s in the
conservatory, asking for an audience with you and Ehran now.”

“An ‘audience’?” asked Ethan, almost
giggling. “Like you’re the crowned prince now, Seth. A month ago
you couldn’t get anybody to talk to you and now you can’t drive
them away with two swords, a crossbow, and a giant brick wall.”

I smiled at him as I stood, waving Kieran
back down in his chair. “I’ll go see what he wants. If we both go,
it’ll seem like we’re at his beck and call.”

“I’ll come rescue you in a few minutes,” said
Cahill, picking apart his scone.

I followed John the Butler out of the room
into the hall. This was a different hall than last night and I
honestly had no idea where I was in relation to the front door. I
felt Shrank slip onto my shoulder and I pushed my awareness out
further to cover him, too.

“I could use a map,” I muttered as I sidled
up beside John. He smiled at that.

“It’s really not that difficult as old houses
go,” he said, pointing to our right to another hallway juncture,
one I recognized. We were in the main hall now, and the front doors
were ahead of us. “The lower levels, however, are a different
matter.”

“How many people does it take just to clean
this place regularly?” I asked.

“The house staff is about sixty,” John said,
“Mostly consisting of family retainers. When green fire starts
floating through the sky, you really can’t count on temporary help
to remain calm, after all.”

“Or glowing black swords just appearing in
mid-air?” I asked. John gave me a lopsided smile as he indicated
the conservatory door with a wave of his hand. It was the same room
we were in last night. “Thanks, John.”

Shrank jumped off my shoulder and flew
quietly into the room ahead of me. There were six men in the room,
three pacing around the room uneasily. Two I recognized: Harris and
Calhoun. Harris was one of the pacers. The other two pacers bore
the brand similar to Harris, just like Calhoun had. Even from the
front of the room, I could see the power of the curses glowing
under the branding that had kept them crippled for years. I stayed
at the front of the room for a moment, curious to see how they
interacted. I felt one of the men probing the hall behind me, his
attention slipping over me like quicksilver.

“I thought I felt someone coming,” muttered
one of the men sitting on the couch. He went back to staring out
the windows at the mountains behind the castle, which I couldn’t
blame him for—it was a gorgeous view.

“God, I wish they’d hurry up. What’s taking
them so long!” grumbled one of the pacing men. He beat on a
bookcase with a fist, which apparently aggravated Shrank a bit. He
was sitting on the top shelf at the time and on the last bang of
the man’s fist, Shrank made a rather large tome shift and fall,
hitting the man on the left side of his head and shoulder. Shrank
was well away from the shelves when the book hit the man. I have to
admit I had a hard time not busting a gut right then.

“Markham, sit down and shut up!” snapped
Harris through clinched teeth. With a minor pulse of power from
Harris, the book flew back onto the shelf. “We are barging in on
them at eight in the morning and we’ve only been waiting ten
minutes. Learn patience,” Harris said more calmly. He sat down in
the Cahill’s chair from last night, massaging his head. He was
tired, frustrated, and aggravated, but he seemed to be maintaining
his composure, if just barely.

“Bill, how has your practice been going?”
Harris asked, quietly.

“Not particularly well,” one of the men on
the couch answered. “It is totally counterintuitive, after
all.”

Harris sighed heavily. “Let’s see how well
you can do, then,” he said.

“Here?” Bill asked, complaining, “But there
are like, seven convergent ley lines within a couple a hundred feet
of us.”

“The boy did it for seven straight hours in
an airplane,” Calhoun said softly.

That irked me a bit, “the boy.” I looked for
Shrank and found him sitting on a lampshade reading over the
shoulder of one of the men I didn’t know. Bill started pushing his
energies out of his body in a haphazard way. I saw why he was
having difficulty with the process: he was trying to save key parts
of his power without annealing a shell around them first, letting
them bleed out. It would have been easier on him if he’d protect
his own aura first then push away the energy from everywhere else.
But if that’s the way he wanted to do it, I could help him out a
little.

I pushed into his aura and slowly started
pushing the magic out of his body. He gasped when he was completely
empty—he wasn’t expecting it. The other men in the room were
staring at him, amazed at his sudden success. Shrank looked up at
me suddenly, alarmed. Waving him over to me, I started slowly
increasing the size of the bubble around Bill as he poked and
prodded feebly with his talent.