Swift Magic (The Swift Codex Book 2) (19 page)

Sinking down into the grass helped me contain the swirl of dizziness, but not by a great deal. I focused on my breathing, taking it in and out, counting breaths. I kept losing track after nine or eight, and restarting. Mother ran me through a rambling quiz. How long have I felt 'off'? What do I feel? Is it constant? Does it come and go? Is it getting better or worse? Can I tell if there is a particular trigger? I gave glossy answers to all of them, because I didn't want to tell her the truth. I needed a lie to cling to, something which might be true, but what? Then, What happened before I decided to come?

The hearing.

“Could one of the spells at the hearing—or a combination of them—do something like this?” I asked.

Mother's frown was not encouraging, but she said, “Likely not. There were other people in attendance? While daring, the Coles would not be brave enough to try something like that in the public eye. Appearances matter very much to them. If they seem less than upset, I can assure you they have a plan in the works, but whatever it is, it did not happen at the hearing.” Mother's eyes brightened. “Speaking of planning, we must plan an illusion for you to perform.”

“Perform?” I repeated, startled out of my wits at being the center of attention again. “What would I have to perform for?”

“It is a contribution to the Illusion Library. Entertainment not just for the youths but also a source of inspiration for the woods and for those who have a particular challenge they must overcome. It has been our way since Morgana to add to the library, and no one is exempted from it. Why, some key members of society have cultivated a small library to themselves!”

“You mean I'm going to have to do this?” I bit my inner lip, wondering if it would be bad form to do a repeat of the illusion that I did for the Merlyn's Market sorcerers.

“Yes, even if it is something small,” Mother said. “But I would be disappointed in you to not be original. The Swift Clan has a respectable standing in the Library. Nothing too grand, mind, but it wouldn't do to do less than you're capable of.”

“And what sort of thing should I do?”

“People put all kinds of stress on the first illusion. That it should reflect personality and interests or be a significant contribution in some way. That can all come later. Though a good opening illusion does make a favorable impression, it is not needed. You just pick something suitable and please don't do another Morgana thing. There are too many as it is. And after Bialla's rendition sixty or so years ago—was it truly that long ago!—you are unlikely to perform better than that. Something original would be nice.”

I didn't point out that I had no idea what would be original when I hadn't seen the contents of the Library. So I changed the subject. “You said Mordon was eating. Have you been introduced to him yet?”

“Not yet.”

“How about having breakfast with us, then?”

Mother smiled and held out her hand.

If I thought I'd grown used to the ways of the Wildwoods, I was very quickly put to rights during my first visit to the fey village. It would at one instant seem empty, and at the next seem every bit as overcrowded as Merlyn's Market during a frog's eye shortage. The extremes jarred me at first, mostly because I would be staring out at a peaceful and quiet creek next to a mushroom circle at one instant, and then turn around and there would be teenaged girls squealing and grandfathers shaking their head. Nothing in my knowledge of portals or illusions could come up with a reasonable explanation for how these people got here, all at once, or where they had been before, and so I had to accept that these things simply happened here.

There was not much here that resembled a standard house or street. Everything was disguised as nature. Some time passed before I knew what was where, and then a little more before I could guess what a new structure was. If Mother hadn't been patiently teaching me directions and how to find the kitchens, I'd have been in a good deal of trouble and ill-humor. She let me lead, but guided me when I strayed.

Traveling around the fey village was both a simple and a complex matter. After wandering and finding that I couldn't seem to go the same way twice, I realized that I could arrive to Mordon's blackberry room by wishing to be there and walking, and that I could do much the same thing for the willow tree room. Going someplace new was a different matter.

“The woods likes to be explored, it doesn't like to jump straight to a destination,” Mother said while we walked by a boulder which held an alchemist's shop. I paused, and the customers chatting with a frizzy-haired old man stopped talking long enough to wave.

“Hi, Maggie,” the shopkeeper said, then resumed his attention to the customers again.

“They're curious about you,” Mother said as we continued on our path.

“No one has said hi to me.”

“They're shy. Strangers are rare, but more welcome than you seem to expect.”

“If you say so.”

We strolled beside a lake filled with brightly colored wood ducks, koi, and newly blooming irises.

“Unless the woods wants me to eat fancy carp, it'll show me to the kitchens soon. Why not have houses like I grew up in, with all the rooms and the convenience of eating without going for a walk?” I asked.

Mother laughed, a merry tinkle like the jingling of silver bells. “You'll see. And when you've been here a while, it'll be faster for you to walk to these areas than it would be for you to march all up and down a standard house. You'll go mad with impatience when you set foot outside the Wildwoods again.”

“I doubt it.”

“You're new here. Give it time.”

I grunted. I didn't want to give it time, I wanted to fill the painful void in my gut which was my empty stomach. But more than that, I wanted to sit next to Mordon and have a cup of brew. My adventure devoid of it had me craving the salty and irony flavor. The smell of roasting beef and caramelized onions announced the end of the morning journey. Mouth watering, I picked up the pace. Mother laughed.

“You have a nose on you like your father! It's that drake side, isn't it?”

“I suppose,” I said and slacked my speed so she wouldn't lag behind.

“Turn right up here,” Mother said. The hip-tall pink roses broke for a set of three stone stairs which led down to a roasting pit with flagstones and moss as a floor. Stadium-style seating surrounded the central cooking area, and smaller pits held various cauldrons and skillets which people used on a whim. Against one side of the seating were counters and a free-flowing tap sheltered beneath a roof made of ivy.

A whole host of young women ringed Mordon, asking a question then putting forward possible answers before he could even begin to talk, and they'd all giggle at once. The chicken leg in his hand had hardly been touched. He winked when he saw me.

Immediately all the ladies hushed and looked to see who he had winked at. Pretending to not even have noticed him, I continued with Mother to the biggest pit where coals radiated a surprising amount of heat. A wizened old man tended to the roast with a carving knife.

“Good daylight to you, Maggie, how much would you like today?”

“Not a great deal, Rejan, but my daughter is famished.”

The old man peered from beneath bushy white brows which had curled black tips from close encounters with the fire. “Daughter, you say? Not Feraline?”

“The one and only. It's her first morning here from the woods.”

“Say no more. Here, young one, take this and go see Rossalinda for the fixings before you waste away.”

I took the plate, heaped with a massive chunk of beef which I wouldn't have dreamed of eating in one sitting before arriving here, and went in the direction indicated. Rossalinda seemed to be Rejan's mute mate, a shaking and timid woman who used a serving spoon at the pace of an uncertain snail. Soon enough, I sat on my own and ate.

“Good daylight to you, beautiful. Are you going to eat all of that?” Mordon swung down next to me, draping an arm over my shoulder and kissing my cheek. The fey girls who had been mooning over him either drifted away or remained not too far off with scowls.

He took a piece of meat, one with the seasoned crust. I slapped his hand and swallowed hard, protecting my plate with one widespread hand.

“Yes.” I re-examined the overflowing plate, and amended, “Or I'm going to try.”

Mordon nuzzled my neck below my ear and said, “But surely you can spare a little for your mate to be?”

“Have a carrot.” I held it out for him.

He took it with a playful nip on my fingers.

Mother sat down on the bench just below us, turning around so she could talk, her plate in her lap. It was like a perpetual picnic here, and the birds were singing and the sun shining through shade trees on a summery day.

“Mother, this is my fiance, Mordon Meadows, future drake lord of the Kragdomen Colony. Mordon, this is my mother, Maggie of the Swift Clan of the Verdant Wildwoods.”

“An honor to meet you,” Mother said and extended her hand palm-down.

Mordon took her by her fingers and kissed the back of her wrist. “An honor to meet you as well.”

Mother giggled, high and shrill just like me, and drew her hand back. She leaned to whisper conspiratorially to me, “He's handsome.”

Mordon gave me a dazzling grin and while I suffered a blush, he hurried to snatch another piece of meat off my plate.

“Hey! Where's that chicken leg I saw you with?”

“In my other hand,” he said, then took a bite of it. “Both are delicious Rossalinda and Rejan!'

Each in their turn held up a serving implement to acknowledge the praise. Evidently this was not the first time he had praised their food, and they did not seem to be tired of hearing the appreciation.

“What was with taking off so early?” I scolded lightly.

Mordon glanced at my mother, who laughed. “I was the one who fetched Feraline this morning from your nest, Mordon. I know where she was last night.”

Mordon smiled. “Ah, in that case. The truth. You were sleeping so peacefully that I didn't want to wake you just because I was hungry.”

I rolled my eyes, but didn't complain. I had been tired.

“So, once I'm done eating your food, what's on the itinerary today?” Mordon asked.

“I think a visit to Aunt Linnia, if the Fey Council is unprepared to see me.”

Mother nodded.

“Aunt Linnia would be your mother's sister, one who you were named after?” Mordon asked.

“Yes.” Mother looked tickled pink with Mordon's perceptiveness. “Have you heard of Luminous Cavern Spiders?”

Mordon found a subject which would make him forget my food. I ate with haste while he talked with her.

“Heard of? They're worth gold. What does your sister have to do with them?”

“She raises them and harvests their silk.”

“She does both? She must be a primary supplier to the market, then. There are just a few caves the spiders will procreate within.”

“Yes, indeed. Would you like to go with us to see them and tour the facilities?”

“I'd love to.”

So it was settled, and so it was agreed, all without my input. I was too busy putting food into my mouth, but the arrangements suited me fine.

After I finished my meal, we washed the tin plates and put them up in their place in the cupboard, thanked Rossalinda and Rejan for the meal, and walked back up the steps. Mordon took my hand, and a thrill went through me. The ladies of the fey, young and too young and not so young, had taken a decided dislike to me on account of Mordon preferring me above them. When I mentioned the illusion that I'd need to be doing, the other women became almost scornful. I nudged us away as fast as I could.

The walk to Linnia's went by much faster than the walk to the food. Either the Wildwoods put us straight in her direction, or I simply enjoyed the walk all the more being hand-in-hand with my beau. In any case, we arrived almost too soon at a shack made of woven willow walls and a thatched roof, smoke coming out of a hole in the center. Linnia emerged at once to hug me.