The Mindmage's Wrath: A Book of Underrealm (The Academy Journals 2) (13 page)

His bed was gone, as were his bureaus and chests. The one mark he had left upon this house, scrubbed away like a recalcitrant stain.

Ebon swallowed past a suddenly dry throat and stepped back, closing the door softly. Quick footsteps down the hallway drew his attention. It was Liya, the servant who had spilled his wine at dinner. She looked up and saw him just as he saw her, and her steps faltered.

“Liya,” he said, forcing his voice to be calm. “Do I still have any clothes here? Have they been put somewhere else?”

She looked back, over her shoulder, shifting on her feet as though she might run. But then he saw her take a deep breath, composing herself by the time it escaped her lips. “Yes, milord,” she said timidly. “This way, please.”

He followed her down the hall and around the corner. There was another wooden door, just like the one that had once led to his room. She opened it to reveal a storeroom. Crates and barrels lined the walls, stacked in neat and orderly rows. Atop one stack was a chest with a lock, but he could see from the way the lid was ajar that it had not been secured.

“If milord will help ...?” Liya took one end of the chest, and Ebon hastened to take the other, and together they brought it down to the floor. Ebon swung it open to find a familiar sight—the fine golden silks he had grown up wearing.

“Just what I wanted. Thank you, Liya.”

“Of course, milord.” But Liya would not meet his eyes, and it seemed she wanted to leave the room but was unsure how he might react.

“Liya,” he said, frowning. “What is it?”

Her eyes widened, and she clutched at her dress with her hands. “Nothing, milord.”

“You are afraid. Of what, I do not know, but of something, certainly.”

She shook her head quickly, too quickly to make her words ring true. “I am not, milord. I swear it.”

Ebon found himself growing exasperated. “Tell me the truth, at once. I may not rule this household, but I am nephew to the one who does. Out with it, or Halab will know the reason you withheld yourself.”

Her olive skin went pale. “No, milord! Please, please not that. It is ... it is only that ... we are all grateful to see you alive, young master. And you must understand; we were ordered to leave the Seat. We never meant to leave you behind.”

Ebon balked. The thought was so strange that for a moment he could not react. When he did, it was to laugh. “Liya, of course I know that. I never thought you meant to abandon me.”

He stepped forwards, reaching out a comforting hand for her arm. That was a mistake. She shrieked and drew back. She hesitated, but then fear got the better part of decorum, and she fled through the door back into the hallway.

Staring at his hand, Ebon felt realization crash upon him like a wave from the Great Bay. His magic. She feared his magic, as though with a simple touch he might strike her dead. The thought was so simple-minded and foolish that he wanted to laugh. But the fear in her eyes had been real enough.

Was that what the servants of the Drayden household thought? That he had become some dark wizard of evil, and would return to them like some lesser Wizard King? A tyrant whose commands were to be obeyed without question?

Why should they think otherwise? You are your father’s son, after all.

He forced such dark thoughts away. Darkness take her. He was scarcely even a member of this house any longer, and its servants could think of him whatever they wished.

The golden silks felt glorious under his fingers, and Ebon worried that he might smudge them with his ink-stained fingers. But he had no time to bathe, so he closed the door and changed anyway. When he was done, he looked down on himself in wonder. Once, garments such as these had been part and parcel of his everyday existence. Now, they seemed like the height of unnecessary opulence. His Academy robes were of cloth so rough it was almost burlap. But rather than feeling more comfortable, this outfit felt too smooth, like a slithering serpent sliding along all his skin.

He shook off the sensation and made his way downstairs. The back door stood open, letting the cold air flood through the bottom floor. Ebon closed it behind himself as he stepped into the gardens. There was Albi, waiting for him with her coat pulled tight about her and a fur hood covering her head. But there, too, was Mako, standing aloof a pace or two from the girl, arms folded and bright teeth bared in a grin.

Albi turned. “Ebon!” she said, relief plain in her tone. “How wonderful you look. Much better than those drab black rags. Come.”

She took his arm and very nearly dragged him away through the gardens. Ebon got only a glance behind them at Mako. The bodyguard’s grin widened, and he gave Ebon a mocking wave with two fingers before retreating into the manor.

“Thank goodness,” said Albi in a hushed tone. “That man has always terrified me.”

“Mako?” said Ebon, raising his eyebrows. “He used to make me uneasy, I will admit. But terrifying? I think you exaggerate.”

He felt her shudder where their elbows were locked. “I mean it. He seems to view everyone as a meal about to be devoured. If I could do any more to avoid him without being rude, I would.”

Ebon thought of the room upstairs, and of the terror in Liya’s eyes when she looked at him. His mouth twisted. “Mayhap you do not give him enough credit.”

She snorted, but said nothing more. Ebon turned his gaze away from her, out to the garden. It was a sizable plot of land, as far as properties went upon the Seat, though compared to the land surrounding the Academy it seemed a cramped patch of dirt. Many of the plants were dead to winter’s cold, but plenty of evergreen trees had been put about, and their verdant branches showed stark against their light dusting of snow. The plants were strange to him, and familiarity had not lessened their oddity. What scrubs grew in Idris were thin, small, and hardy. They bore the night’s cold as well as the day’s heat, but that was because they were small and self-contained. These pines and the live oak at the garden’s center were like grand old men who refused to cow before winter’s stormy assault, and Ebon felt like a child in their shadow.

Albi gripped his arm tighter. “I have missed you so much, dear brother.” Then she drew back her other hand and struck him in the chest as hard as she could.

“Ow!” he cried, rubbing at the spot. “You have a strange way of showing it.”

“How could you fail to write me?” she said, pouting. “I did not receive so much as a hasty scribble until the Seat was attacked, and we all feared you might be dead.”

“I doubt you
all
feared it,” said Ebon, thinking of his father. But her scowl deepened, and he spoke hastily to avoid another smack. “I am sorry. Of course I should have written you. But even before the island was attacked, my days were much occupied with fear and danger.”

That earned him a snort. “You make it sound
quite
dramatic.”

“In truth, it was,” said Ebon. “Indeed, I almost died more than once.”

He spoke in earnest, but Albi only laughed. “Oh, Ebon. Do not think to wheedle out of this with outlandish tales. Only promise to write me more often in the future, and we may leave it at that.”

A part of him was irked, for he had thought he might confide in her, at least, the way he did with Kalem and Theren. But then again, there were things that had happened in the months before the attack that he wished to tell no other. So he simply said, “I promise.”

“Good. Now, tell me of your magic! After so long, I can only imagine how pleased you must be to put it to use.”

He smiled. “It is a greater pleasure than I can say. I am only a simple beginner yet. But still ... the power ... sometimes I cannot believe it.”

“Show me,” she said, eyes dancing. “Show me some small spell.”

Ebon looked about them on the ground and found a small branch, about as long and thick as his index finger. He stooped to retrieve it, and then concentrated. His eyes brightened, and stone rippled along the branch until it was all grey. Releasing the hold on his magic, Ebon placed the branch in her trembling hand.

For a moment, Albi could not speak. Her mouth was parted in a silent circle. Then she gripped the branch in both hands and tried to break it. She strained, but nothing happened.

“It is stone!” she whispered, as though someone might be lurking around the corner to eavesdrop. “Did you turn it all the way through?”

“Every part of it,” said Ebon, not modest enough to hide his smile.

Albi clapped her hands once and laughed. She tucked the branch into a pocket in her cloak. “I will hold this always as a keepsake of the first spell I ever saw you cast. And to think you learned this after only a few short months. As I said before, I have proven to be a quick study as well—and in more things than book learning.” Her eyes danced, and she leaned in closer to speak in a false whisper. “I have had a romance, you know.”

Ebon nearly froze, a flush creeping up from his collar and into his cheeks. “A ... you what?”

“Oh yes, a very passionate one,” she said, giggling as her blush matched his own. “Such a charming, handsome boy. We stole many kisses here and there, in dark corners while I was visiting his family with Mother. But sadly, he was royalty. After a time I felt I had to ignore him and rebuff further advances, because after all, his family would never allow us to be wed. Still. If I seem a bit womanlier to you, that is no doubt why.”

She gave a self-satisfied little smile and smoothed the front of her dress, though Ebon saw no wrinkles.
Womanlier?
he thought. True, Albi had grown what seemed an incredible amount for the few short months since they had seen each other, and she carried herself with a more mature air than before. But Ebon thought of his own dalliances with Adara, and the crimson deepened in his cheeks.

“Why, Ebon!” she laughed, mistaking his look. “I do believe I have embarrassed you.”

Should he tell her? Of course not. Albi might keep some of his secrets, but only when she thought they were important. She would see nothing wrong in his visits to Adara, and so she might make mention of them to Shay. That could be a disaster.

He forced a tight smile and said, “I did not know you had such a rebellious streak within you, dear sister.”

Another flashing smile answered him. “I know. I feel so
scandalous.
And we had to keep ourselves so carefully hidden, for it was the first time I was permitted to join Mother and Father on a caravan excursion. First we traveled north to the capital, and then west to explore the new route we wish to ...”

On she went, telling him about the trip, her first with their parents where she actually had a role to play. The story was all too familiar, for he had gone on a few such excursions himself. Now that he was no longer there to attend them and learn the family’s trade, he supposed it was only natural that they would bring Albi along in his stead.

With a shock he realized that that life was slipping away from him, and he did not want it to. Mayhap he had never wanted to follow in his father’s footsteps, transporting spices across Underrealm to fill the family’s coffers. But long years had let him grow somewhat used to the idea, and now he realized it might never be. What would he do when he was graduated from the Academy? He had asked Theren that question often enough, for she was on the cusp of having to make that decision. But he had rarely thought of the answer for himself.

And as his thoughts ran further, he realized suddenly that the answer did not concern Albi at all. She did not care if he finished his training and returned to the family’s business, or went off into some other kingdom entirely—so long as he wrote her, most likely, and visited on occasion. He could hear it in the way she spoke of her exploits with the caravan, and as he thought back, in the way she had turned every conversation away from him and to herself instead.

Had she always been so vain? And, a far more perplexing thought: had Ebon been the same, when he was in her position?

He thought of Liya’s face in the storeroom earlier, and how it had filled him with annoyance, rather than compassion. His mood darkened further.

“—and do not hate me for saying so, but Father’s mood has been much gentler since you entered the Academy, and I think especially so since now I will be the head of the family.”

Albi’s words snapped his attention back to the present. He stared at her for a moment, letting the words play back in his mind so that he could understand them. And yet still they held no meaning. Albi seemed to recognize that she had said too much, for she looked at him wide-eyed, and her mouth worked as she fought for some explanation.

“What do you mean?” But he knew the answer even as he asked.

“I mean only ... Ebon, please, do not be angry with me.”

The pain in her eyes, the sorrow for him, sealed the knowledge in his mind. Shay did not only mean to remove Ebon from the family’s business dealings. Ebon’s inheritance, his role as the future head of the family, was now forgotten, like a nightmare fading in daylight.

Had Shay made the decision the moment Ebon joined the Academy, out of spite for losing his son to the fate he had always hated? Or had Shay concocted the plan for other reasons? Had he removed Ebon from his inheritance in the same breath he had ordered the Draydens’ possessions removed from their manor upon the Seat?

Did Shay remain home in Idris because business held him? Or mayhap because he was ashamed to face the son he had left on the Seat to die?

From nowhere, a laugh bubbled up in Ebon’s breast. It erupted before he could stop it, and he was glad to learn that it was hearty and cynical, rather than desperate.

“Ebon?” said Albi, still looking at him fearfully. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” said Ebon. For truly, that was what he faced. His father’s motivations did not matter, because Ebon never needed deal with him again. He was cast out from the family, from its business, and from his role as its future patriarch. Halab would always give him her favor, and that was more than enough.

How often had he wished, as a boy, that he did not bear the name Drayden? In effect, that was what he faced now.

“Nothing,” he said again. “It is only that I made a wish when first I came to the Seat, and that wish has come true. Mayhap I should have been more careful in making it. But then again, mayhap this is all for the best.”