Call of Brindelier (Keepers of the Wellsprings Book 3) (7 page)

“Did my three,” he whispers across to a blond haired girl. “You finished, Lilen?”

She nods and they both pick up their bindings and get up to leave. The boy, only a year or two Rian’s junior, brushes past his neat stack of pages and they go tumbling to the floor. He doesn’t pause to pick them up or apologize. Instead he smirks at the high tower of tomes on Rian’s desk. Lilen freezes and stares pale-faced at Rian, who sets his quill down with measured patience.

“Come on, Lil,” the boy tugs her sleeve as he tramples over the pages. “He can handle it. He’s got
friends
, you know.” He chuckles and Lilen gapes, wide-eyed.

“S-sorry,” she breathes at Rian as she’s tugged away. She whispers a spell and wriggles her fingers and the pages float up and settle back onto his desk. At first I think it was kind of her and then I realize the truth. She’s terrified of him. Several of the others stare over their shoulders at the scene. A score of faces younger than his and a few who are older watch and wait to see what he’ll do. Whether this will be the moment Mentor Rian finally loses his temper.

He doesn’t, though. He offers Lilen a smile and a thank-you, he nods cordially to those who stare, and he tucks back into his meditative scribing.

“At first it was a thrill, the way they looked at me with fear. The way they saw me as this mysterious figure with secrets. Unapproachable.” Rian’s voice in my ear jars me back to the present. I blink my eyes rapidly and feel myself plummet back to the guild hall. At some point I must have crawled into his lap, because now I’m curled there with my forehead pressed to his. His arms tighten around me and soothe me as despair and emptiness quickly replace the magical euphoria.

I break my gaze from his and look down to my hands in my lap. They’re covered again with golden swirls; evidence of my craft printed plain for everyone to see. For once I don’t care about that, though. I knew things had been difficult for Rian, but I had no idea of the details until now. Before Kythshire, everyone had looked up to him. Everyone wanted to be him. He was the first seventeen-year-old from Cerion in decades to reach Seventeenth Circle and be named Mentor. He had a promising life ahead of him. He was the favorite of Headmaster Gaethon. Everyone wanted to know what Rian the Protégé would become. He was at the brink of fame, not only in the Academy but also throughout the kingdom.

Now he’s nineteen, treading carefully, and reduced to copying dark tomes in the library.

“What was that book?” I whisper.

Rian shakes his head wearily. “Never mind.”

“Has it occurred to you,” I ask after a long time thinking, “that maybe your path doesn’t lie here in the Academy, or even in Cerion? Maybe you belong somewhere else.” It breaks my heart to say it. I can barely speak through the lump in my throat. But Rian is a talented Mage, and he isn’t like the others. He’s not proud or haughty. He’s got a better sense of humor and a kinder heart than any other Mages I’ve ever known.

Although I’m grateful for Uncle, who I know must have spoken on his behalf countless times, I’m furious that the Academy and its council would treat him this way after all he’s done for Cerion and for Kythshire. He doesn’t deserve to be scorned and feared. “If only they knew…” I whisper.

“They don’t, and they never will,” he says. “No one will ever know the truth of it and that’s fine by me. But you see now why I can’t accept Shush. I’m already thought of as an outsider. Few of them trust me, and those who do suspect I’m losing my mind. It’d be a torturous secret to keep, and if they ever found out, if they knew, they’d…” he trails off and sighs and kisses the top of my head as I burrow closer.

“They’d have you stripped and thrown out,” I say.

“That’s not what worries me most,” he says in a hushed tone, barely loud enough for me to hear. “I fear what would become of the fairies, Azi. Many of the Mages are on the brink. They corner me in dark hallways and offer me bribes and promises. They want to know what I know about Kythshire. They want me to tell them what I know about the Wellspring. They try to get me to break its secrets. The Academy is not as disciplined as they’d have you think. Just like everywhere else, there’s corruption and games of power. You never hear tell of it because it’s too covered up. I couldn’t even be telling you about it now if you weren’t already marked as my apprentice. But it’s there.”

“Does Uncle know?” I whisper, watching the fire light catch my gold swirls.

“Oh, yes,” Rian sighs wearily. “Yes, indeed. He keeps a close eye on those who seem to be edging toward Sorcery. I’ve seen his stern counsel. I’m just glad he’s on my side.”

Tib

Griff and Mik are not very good at searching. They don’t even have a plan. Maybe it’s because I know the two places he’s most likely to be, but their method of trying to find him almost makes me laugh. They ask around a while for a boy dressed in yellow carrying a satchel. Nobody gives them any answers. Why should they? The boys have no motivation to offer. No reason to make anyone talk.

They don’t go near the sea wall at all. Not even a thought for Seabird’s Swoop. Instead, they stay in the richer part of the city. Peek in windows. Ask maids and servants doing the night rounds. Their methods make no sense to me. He’s obviously an islander, not a native to Cerion. Why bother asking the richer locals? It’s getting dark. Dusk. They’re running out of light to search in. People have gone inside. The boys don’t even try to knock on doors.

Griff slips around a corner. Mikken follows, whispering warnings. I feel it before I see it. Magic, forceful and cruel. I pick up my pace to catch up with them. I rush around the bend expecting to see some dark figure waiting. Instead, I find nothing but an empty alley. I run to the end of it. There’s no other way out. The boys came this way, there was magic, and now they’re gone. I slap my hands against the rough stone wall. Solid. Around me I can still feel it. Smell it. The dregs of magic, thick in the air. It can’t affect me. I know if it could I’d be gone, too.

“Griff!” I call, “Mikken!”

No answer.

“I know you took them!” I yell. “Come and face me!” I draw my dagger. It’s ended more than one Sorcerer in my hands. I’m ready, always ready, to run it through another. Eager, even. Maybe they know, and that’s why they don’t come out. “Cowards!” I growl.

I slide my hands over every brick I can reach along the alley, hoping to find some secret passage. Something to show me that the boys are safe. That they weren’t actually swallowed up by a Sorcerer’s spell. I find nothing to comfort me. The only strange thing is a small circle carved into the stone at the far wall. It still tingles with magic, but nothing I do to it changes that sensation. I sigh and go to the end of the alley. Lean against the wall. Keep watch. Wait and see if anyone else comes around.

At dawn, ships’ bells wake me. I push myself to my feet and stretch, sore from sleeping all night against hard stone. The alley has changed. It’s bright, washed with pink from the sunrise. Empty. Lighter. I walk to the end again. The magic is gone. Something glints in the far corner, catching my eye. A coin, silver and small. I crouch to look closer. Nudge it with my fingernail. Feel nothing. Its edges are little spikes with balls on the end. Its face is blank. I flip it over. This side shows a symbol. A cloud with a single spire piercing through the top of it. On top of the spire, a hand with fingers spread wide.

There’s no magic to it, but the symbol captures me somehow. I can’t stop looking. Thinking about what it might mean. I pick it up. Feel its weight. It’s just an ordinary coin with an unfamiliar design. It doesn’t hold any magic or enchantments that I can tell. I turn it to the blank side. Think for a while. There’s nothing else I can do now. The portal is gone. The danger has passed. I tuck the coin into my bandolier and decide to head home.

At the steps of the manse, my stomach growls. Breakfast. I can smell it. Biscuits. Eggs. Fish and potatoes. Stewed fruit. The meals are always hearty at Nessa’s, but today, it’s even more so. Today, the Admiral is home. When her husband dines with us, every meal becomes a feast. I push open the door. Inside, it feels like a holiday. It’s early, but everyone is already up. Their laughter and playful chatter drifts out from the sitting room. Saesa’s on the stairs when I step inside. She’s still in her dressing gown. When she sees me, she dashes across the foyer in a blur of red hair and bright blue flapping silk. She skids to a stop in front of me. She throws her arms around me and hugs me. Before I can wriggle free, she shoves me and then punches me in the arm, hard.

“Ow,” I wince and back away. “What’s that for?”

“Where were you, Tib?” she asks, her fists clenched at her sides. She looks tired. Like she didn’t sleep much. “Ruben said you’d be home for supper. He said you were running off but you said to save you grouse. And then you didn’t turn up all night!” She punches my other arm.

“Ow,” I rub both spots. Glare at her. “Stop punching me.”

“Don’t be a baby,” she scowls. “Are you going to tell me where you were or not?”

I can see it through her frown. The worry being pushed out by relief. She was up all night, probably. I take her hand and link it through my arm. Lead her into the empty dining room, where the table is set with glistening silver. Some of the serving trays are already covered with steaming domes. Others sit empty. Saesa’s green eyes flash at me as I tuck her into the corner. She crosses her arms and tries to seem angry, but her cheeks are rose pink under her freckles. Her gaze flicks to my lips and back to my eyes again.

I tell her about everything, from Celli and Loren all the way to the disappearing boys in the alley. About the magic that lingered there. About how I stayed to keep watch. By the time I’m finished, her eyes are wide. Her hand covers her mouth.

“Then I found this,” I say. I reach into my bandolier and pull out the coin. She looks it over. Stares at it, like I did, unable to look away for some time.

“What does it mean?” she whispers.

“Don’t know,” I say. “Never saw it before. What about Loren?” I ask as she rubs her thumb across the symbol. “Did he show up?”

“No,” she whispers. “It was a quiet night.” She looks up at me again, scowling pointedly. “Too quiet.”

“Sorry, sorry,” I rub my arms. “Don’t punch me again.”

“I can ask Rian today. Maybe he knows what it means,” she says. “A hand and... What is it? A floating city?”

“Take it with you,” I reply and press it into her hand. “I don’t know if it’s a whole city. It looks like just a tower to me.”

“Actually,” she says, “I was going to ask you to come to the palace with me today. I was invited to luncheon with the Princess. Me and a guest. She invited Lady Azaeli, too.”

My heart starts to race. If I can get into the palace, maybe I can find that doll vest, or at least warn Margy about it.

“Sure,” I say. “I’ll come.”

Saesa grins at me and starts to say something, but she’s interrupted by Bette, the cook, who comes in holding a tray of hot biscuits.

“Look at you two, skulking in corners! If you’re coming to breakfast you’d better go dress properly. Saesa, in your dressing gown.” She clicks her tongue and turns to me. “And Master Tib, you look as though you’ve slept in the street. Off with you both! I won’t have you ruining the Admiral’s breakfast. Go on!”

Saesa grabs my hand and we run up the stairs together. She giggles all the way until she flings me into my room.

“See you at breakfast!” she calls.

Admiral Ganvent is a broad-shouldered man with a stern brow. His face is always red from too much sun. The first time I saw him, I was sure he was a harsh man. He is sometimes, I imagine, but not now. At the breakfast table with Nessa beside him and the children gathered around, he’s relaxed. Amused. There are eight children for breakfast, and not one of them is his. They’ve all been taken in by Nessa, who can’t have children of her own. We don’t know why. Nobody has ever dared to ask.

It’s different today than it was the first time I sat at this table. Saesa’s brother Raefe is gone. He’s off at the barracks, training for the navy. He wants to work on the Admiral’s ship but Ganvent said he’s going to need a lot of training and some ranks for that. Lilen and Ruben are still here, but Maisie married off last year and took her baby, Errie, with her. Emmie is older now, maybe eight. She’s a glass blower’s apprentice. Garsi is only five and she wants to join the Academy already. There’s Jeshan, who’s eleven. He’s studying woodcarving for ships. The newest is Hett. He doesn’t talk much. We’re still trying to figure out where he fits. Nessa says he’d better speak up soon. He’s older. Fourteen, maybe. The same age I was when she took me in.

It’s only a little less noisy today with the Admiral here than it usually is. Lots of chatter and gossip from around the city. Nessa’s kids are taught early how to gather information, and all of them are good at it. None of what anyone shares really interests me until Lilen speaks up.

“I overheard something curious yesterday while I was scribing for Master Gaethon,” she says in her usual haughty tone. “You know, the Headmaster?”

“Yes, Lilen,” Saesa rolls her eyes. “I think we might have heard of him.”

“Never mind, then.” Lilen huffs. “If you’re going to be rude, I won’t tell you.”

“Go on, Lilen,” Nessa says, leaning toward the girl. “Saesa, stop teasing.”

“Well,” Lilen pointedly looks away from Saesa to Nessa. “Master Gaethon was having an argument with Cari, the bookbinder. It seems that six of the books we scribed have somehow gone missing between when they were dropped off to be bound and when the order was returned to us. Cari insisted they were finished and returned, but Master Gaethon was certain they were never returned. Master Gaethon was shouting. I’ve never seen him so mad.”

“But the books are bound right in the Academy, aren’t they?” Nessa asks.

“Yes, they’ve all been done there, in the workshop,” Lilen takes a tiny bite of stewed fruit.

“Did he ever figure out what happened to them?” Nessa asks.

“No,” Lilen replies. “He’s furious. Six books missing from the library. It’s unheard of.”

“Which books?” I ask out of curiosity.

“Tib, you know I can’t tell you that. Academy secrets,” she says primly. Dabs her lips with the corner of her serviette. She lowers her eyes to her plate and then looks up at me again. Smiles.

Next to me, Saesa huffs impatiently.

“Well, either Cari is in on it or someone stole them,” Saesa says.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Saesa,” Lilen rolls her eyes dramatically. “Nobody steals from Cerion’s Academy. It’s impossible. And Cari is a wrinkled old failed Mage. What would he want with a bunch of old tomes that he can’t even use?”

“He could sell them,” Saesa suggests.

“Even more ridiculous,” Lilen chides. “Who’d buy them? Only Mages have an interest in such writings, and everyone knows it’s illegal to trade in the Arcane, especially in Cerion.”

“That’s what the Undermarket is for,” Saesa glares at her. “Or hadn’t you thought of that in your brilliance?”

“Enough, you two,” Nessa laughs softly at the tension between the two girls. She glances at me quickly and looks away, still smiling.

“I hope they’re found before tomorrow,” Admiral Ganvent says thoughtfully. “We can’t delay the shipment any further. The council at Zhaghen is getting restless to finish its library now that the towers are rebuilt.”

Saesa and I exchange a quick, knowing look. Suddenly I find my own breakfast very interesting. She’s the only one here who knows what happened. Why Zhaghen had to rebuild their Mage towers. Mevyn and I burned them to thwart the Sorcerers. To keep them from draining Sunteri’s Wellspring. To distract them so we could work to restore it and hide it away.

It’s still a secret. Especially the Wellspring. Even Saesa doesn’t remember that it’s been restored, or where it is. They were all there. His Majesty’s Elite. Azi, Rian, everyone. I’m the only one who remembers it today, though. Mevyn swore to me that he wouldn’t tamper with my memories any more, and he kept his promise. The rest of them weren’t so lucky.

The table goes quiet except for the clink of silver on china. Everyone’s deep in their own thoughts about the missing tomes, or other things.

“Will you bring me back a silk robe, like Saesa’s, Pabie?” Garsi asks.

“If you’d like. In lavender, I imagine?” The admiral leans back in his chair and grins. Nessa gets up to fetch his pipe for him. She kisses him as the table erupts into requests.

“A brush and ink!” cries Jeshan.

“A spyglass like Raefe’s,” Ruben bobs up and down excitedly.

“You had one,” Admiral Ganvent says to him. “I brought it last time.”

“Yes, but I was climbing and it fell out and smashed,” Ruben whines.

“All right,” the admiral laughs, “but what happens to the scout in the crow’s nest who drops his spyglass?”

“Throw him overboard!” Everyone shouts.

The rest of breakfast is lighthearted as they talk about the adventures in store for the Admiral. Even Saesa and Lilen seem to forget to hate each other.

After breakfast, everyone goes their own way as usual. The children head out to the streets to gossip and collect secrets. Admiral Ganvent goes to check on the readiness of his fleet. Nessa calls me into the sitting room. Saesa comes, too.

Nessa sits on the chaise and smoothes the ruffles of her dress. She looks perfect, like a trinket that belongs in this bright, rich room. Like a doll, set in place. Her eyes are brown, wide, and a little sad when she looks at me.

“We held supper for you last night,” she says quietly. Pats the cushion beside her. I cross and sit there. Take her hand. I’ve missed supper before. I know the routine. She won’t shout. She’ll be kind and gentle, so I can’t help but feel guilty. I consider lying about where I was, but I know Nessa. She gets information from everywhere. She might even know the meaning of the coin. Saesa perches on the arm of the chaise beside me. I chew my lip. Look up at Nessa, considering.