Melmond Manor, Twenty-five Years Ago
Redden fought beside his brother. He could sense him there, the strong aether of Cid's aura guarding his back, but he couldn't see him: the Vanish spell Redden had found in one of Bram's old books was everything he'd hoped it would be. He wasn't Vanished himself; moving while invisible, it turned out, required a certain level of grace that Redden lacked, but he had grace enough for this.
His sword sparked with electric energy as he parried a blow, striking his attacker's chest with his other hand, his strength temporarily enhanced by another white spell. His opponent fell wheezing to the compacted dirt of the training yard, the fourth to fall in as many minutes.
Three came at him at once then, and if he hadn't seen them coming he would have been overwhelmed, but his quick thinking saved him. "Cheela galuhda!" he called, concentrating not only on his own sword but on his attackers' as well, as he summoned the Fire Blade. Two of the men panicked to find their weapons suddenly aflame; they cried out as they dropped their blades. The third kept his, but he was clearly shaken, and it took less effort than it should have for Redden to disarm the man.
He could still hear fighting behind him, but when he turned to render his assistance to Cid, he was just in time to see the last man fall, legs swept out from under him and his sword flying off into a corner of the yard as if it had been thrown. The downed man scrambled after it, but before he could take it up again, a voice called, "That's enough."
Lord Westen stood at the fence, nodding as he surveyed the scene before him. Father Bram stood with him, clapping as though he'd been watching a play. "Well done!" said the old white mage. "Well done, indeed! A dozen men against two!"
"Most of that was Cid," Redden said, feeling a blush creep over his face.
"You're too modest." Westen's eyes gleamed, his mouth narrowed into that thin line that counted as a smile if you knew the man at all. To the priest, he said, "Redden hasn't missed a day of training since your journey. His progress has been the talk of the Manor."
Bram nodded approvingly. "You have made amazing strides in only a few short weeks. But I see you haven't been lax in your magical studies either, young man. You have Protect up, and did I detect the use of Boost?"
"Yes, sir," said Redden. "The books you lent me have been amazing. I can't believe I ignored white magic for so long. It even makes the black magic easier."
"That's the first time he's managed to Spellblade someone else's sword!" came Cid's excited voice from somewhere to his left.
Westen started in surprise. "Must you sneak about?"
Redden blushed. "Sorry about that, sir. The Vanish has usually worn off by now."
"It will last longer as you become more proficient," said Bram. "It may be a good idea to start practicing Dispel." He waved a hand, and Redden felt the web of aether he'd woven over his brother dissipate. Cid reappeared, looking down at his arms and hands and torso as though to be sure nothing was missing.
There was a long, awkward silence. Westen sighed, and Redden noticed Bram's smile fading as well, the old priest growing serious. "Something's happened, hasn't it?" Redden said.
Bram nodded. "We believe the Rot is spreading once again."
"How?" Cid said. "If something has broken the seal-"
"No," said Bram. "The seal holds. We have already checked. But the foul magics are still building behind it, like a reservoir behind a dam. If we do nothing, they will continue to overflow into the countryside."
"What can we do?" said Redden.
"I must return to the cave," said Bram. "At moonrise on the next full moon, I must repeat the ritual. I would like you two to go with me, with whatever other warriors we can find."
"Sounds simple enough," said Cid. "If the seal is still in place, it's not as if those dead things can get out of the cave like they did last time."
"That is exactly why I require your aid," said Bram. "I must place the second seal behind the first. If we are to stop this evil, we must enter the cave to do it."
Melmond, Present Day
"It's not what I expected," said Tronn. "A warehouse in the lower town, maybe, but not the business district."
Halm Porter had been thinking as much himself. It explained why it had taken the Brotherhood so long to track the potions this far. The packaging was a nice touch. "Elven wine," he thought with a sneer. Carried through the streets in broad daylight, and none of these fool rich men the wiser. "Quiet," he said, but without much heat to it. It had been more than an hour since anyone had even come close to the alley mouth where the two Vanished men waited, watching.
"Oh, no one will see us," said Tronn. "No one without aether sight, anyway." The young dark mage could be so full of himself, confident that nothing in the city was a match for him, despite the fact that he knew no more than the most basic spells. They were all like that, the younger ones: they'd never been to Black Hall, never seen what real, trained black mages could do.
Near a corner across the way, not far from the entrance to Farplane Avenue where the ship's captain they were following paced impatiently, an old man with a face like a prune looked toward them. His gaze swept over the alley, back and forth, but more than once came to rest on the spot where Tronn stood, as if he could see him there. "Not everyone with aether sight is on our side," Halm whispered. "Be quiet."
Though Tronn himself was invisible, his aura shone in Halm's aether sight, a dark red. It shifted, a casual shrug, and the other mage said no more.
The old man watched the alley for a moment longer, then turned and began to walk away. Halm sighed, relieved to see him go for some reason. There had been something… unsettling about him. Halm had a feeling he should know him from somewhere but couldn't think where. He shook it off, returning his attention to the captain, or, more specifically, to the boxes from which the captain was never more than a yard away. Three of the men who had been carrying them were sitting on them now, playing cards over a fourth box, while some other of their companions were off to one side having a smoke.
Through the aether sight, the boxes gave off a faint glow, some brighter than others. A few hardly glowed at all. Not all potions, then, Halm thought, staring at one of the dimmest. There may actually be elven wine in some of those. It wasn't as valuable as healing potion, but it was still an extravagance. He had enjoyed it the few times he'd tried it. Perhaps we could keep a few bottles when we...
His thoughts trailed off. There was something over there, near that corner where the old man had been, something in the aether. There was a boy, small, perhaps ten or so. He was watching the card game with interest. His aura shimmered, fading at the edges into little wisps of light that blended into the raw aether. A black mage? Halm thought, but that wasn't what had caught his attention. A faint green haze moved around the child, some spell perhaps. He's clearly untrained. He can't have cast it himself. They would have to take him for questioning.
"Porter," Tronn said, hitting him in the arm. "Wake up. I think they're moving."
He was right. The squash-nosed guard who seemed to be in charge of the others was ordering the barriers taken down. People began heading down Farplane Avenue again. The captain barked an order at the dock workers, who hastened to pack up their amusements and take up their loads once more. Halm looked toward the boy, wondering how they would do this. One of us will have to deal with him while the other trails the captain, he thought, but he saw right away that it wouldn't be necessary. The boy was still watching the dock workers, even though the cards had been put away. He's following them too, Halm realized. He didn't know why, but that didn't bother him. There will be plenty of time to ask him later.
"They're moving!" Thad said, turning to where he'd last seen Orin, but the monk wasn't there. "Orin?" he whispered, looking around the corner toward the alley that led behind the building. "Orin?"
Thad panicked. Where did he go? How could the old man leave him like that? Thad had never been to Melmond! He had no idea where he was, where he was going. And now Bayard and his men were moving. What do I do? Was this a test? Was the old man watching him from somewhere?
Bayard's guards moved into place around the dock workers and their cargo. Bayard signaled the men forward. Thad watched them go, momentarily frozen by indecision. He could just ask someone how to get back to the docks; most people were helpful if he smiled and acted cute...
...But, then again, he could ask someone how to get to the docks after he'd seen where Bayard was going.
He waited for his chance, then slipped into the crowd, unnoticed by almost everyone.
Kane was exhausted, not just from walking around the enormous house with its various outbuildings and extensive grounds, but from Ruby's relentless chatter. The girl hadn't stopped talking, not once the whole afternoon. She'd held to his arm and favored him with that smile so like Sarah's it was uncanny. Sarah, though, was more serious than Ruby, short-tempered and intolerant of silliness: when Sarah smiled, Kane always felt that he had earned it, that he had won some secret game. Ruby's smiles, freely given, only left Kane feeling confused.
At least now she's fixated on Lena, he thought. At some point in their tour, Lena had begun to open up, laughing at Ruby's jokes, asking questions about the house, and before long the two girls were focused on each other, with four silent young men in tow like a bored retinue. It was the first time Kane had seen Lena in the company of another young lady, and her behavior seemed so different from usual that Kane found it easy to understand why his father believed the soul reader only reflected the emotions of those around her.
"Ruby, this is gorgeous!" Lena was saying, walking beside the girl several paces ahead of Kane and his three companions as they toured the walled garden behind the house.
"I wish you could have seen it last year. This summer has really been quite too hot for some of these plants," said Ruby, pinching off a dead rose bloom between her fingers and tossing it into a basket she'd brought along. "Now, this fountain is new. It's genuine Half-Moon marble. Father commissioned it from a sculptor in the Blue Quarter. Very talented artist."
"Oh, look at the fish!" Lena exclaimed, leaning over the water.
Harvey chuckled, patting Jack's shoulder. "You've lost her to a water feature."
Jack sighed, speaking quietly. "It wouldn't be the first time."
"What was that?" said Harvey.
"Nothing."
"At any rate," said Harvey. "It's probably time for dinner. Wouldn't you say, Sergeant?"
"Nearly," said Quincey, lurking behind them and frowning at the blooming garden as if he'd rather be literally anywhere else. It seemed obvious to Kane that the man was an officer, now that he knew. Though the sergeant wore no uniform, there was something uniform-like to his outfit, the way he wore his collared shirt tucked in just so, as if he wasn't comfortable in regular clothes. Quincey craned his neck to look out the garden gate at the nearest guardsmen at their posts. "Looks like third shift's just come on duty."
"Has it?" said Kane. He didn't know if the guard shifts here ran similarly to those in Cornelia, but he suddenly noticed how hungry he was. He hadn't realized they'd been at Melmond Manor so long already. It felt like they'd only just left Lord Unne's house.
"Ruby," Harvey said. "Let's get our guests to their rooms so they can dress for dinner."
"Goodness, you're right!" the girl said. "Oh, you must come with me, Miss Lena! I have a maid who loves to fix my hair, and when she sees how gorgeous yours is, she'll simply die!"
"Um… alright," Lena said, uncertainly.
Ruby linked arms with Lena, her basket jostling between them. "And on the way, I can show you that tapestry I mentioned. The one with Leviathan on it? It's not hanging at the moment, as we found it in a trunk in the attic and it needs seeing to, but the colors are quite vivid!"
She was still talking when they reached the house and she pulled Lena off toward her room. Lena smiled back at Jack and Kane, throwing them a little wave. Jack lifted a hand in farewell, his eyes forlorn as he watched her go until they'd turned a corner out of sight.
Harvey tried to hide a laugh but it came out as a snort. "My, you do have it bad," he said. "Buck up, friend. Ruby hardly ever keeps anyone. There's every chance you'll get her back." He signaled a servant, a stiff, older man in crisp livery, who bowed low despite the generous paunch around his middle. Harvey said, "Gilbert, show our guests to their rooms, please."
"Yes, my lord."
"I'll see the two of you at dinner, then," Harvey said, offering them a lazy sort of salute over his shoulder as he walked away.
"If you would follow me, my lords," said Gilbert, bowing once again.
Kane winced. "You needn't call us that," he said. "We're not lords."
"I'm sure it's not my place to say, my lord," the old man said.
Quincey followed after them with a grimace that put Kane in mind of the lean, hungry dogs that sometimes prowled Cornelia's streets, like the officer was just waiting for one of them to make a mistake before he attacked. It made Kane uncomfortable, but he didn't have to deal with it long: before they'd even crossed the foyer, a large guardsman approached the sergeant, handing him a sheaf of papers that might have been reports. He spoke low and rapidly. Quincey sighed and said, "I'll handle it. Keep an eye on these two. Leiden's orders."
Gilbert waited politely as the new guard took Quincey's place, then the old servant led them through the halls of the manor, upstairs to an area on the third floor that seemed to be the guest wing. Gilbert opened a pair of neighboring doors for them. "Your rooms, my lords. Can I fetch anything for you?"
Jack entered the room on the right and shut the door without a word.
"No, thank you," Kane said.
Gilbert bowed and left, passing the guardsman, already standing sentry. The guard faced Kane, rather than facing the hall leading to their rooms, guarding against whatever Kane and Jack might do rather than guarding the two of them from harm. Kane wasn't surprised. He wondered if the entire manor and every guard in it already knew who they were and why they were here. The guard, a thickly muscled man with a bulging neck and a squashed nose, caught his look and gave him a nod of acknowledgement. Kane returned the gesture before stepping into his own room.
The room was grand for guest quarters, Jack thought, surveying his surroundings, grander even than the Carmines' rooms in Cornelia Castle. The bed was large enough that he could lay across it sideways with only his feet hanging over the edge, and covered in a blanket featuring an elaborately embroidered pattern of loops and swirls that must have taken a year of stitching to complete. The furniture - headboard and side table, a small desk and chair, a washstand, and a tall wardrobe - were a matched set, all a reddish wood, carved at the edges with the same swooping pattern as the embroidery.
Jack sat on the edge of the bed, jabbing himself in the side with the hilt of Redden's sword. He stood, unbuckled the sword belt, and sat again, laying the weapon across his lap before sinking his elbows to his knees and burying his head in his hands. He took deep breaths, wrapping his mind around the sword. The aether was quiet; Jack had, after all, drawn off of that stranger in the business district earlier, filling the ever present hollow in his soul. But then that stranger had turned out to be an officer in the Melmond guard, the very officer who was assigned to watch over him while he was stuck here. Running his mind over the simple focus spells bound to the blade helped him calm his jangled nerves. His emotions had been tied to the aether for so long he didn't know any other way to work through them.
A door beside the wardrobe opened and Jack looked up in alarm, but it was only Kane. The guardsman's smile faltered when he saw Jack's posture. "Look," Kane said somewhat awkwardly. "Connecting rooms."
Jack scoffed. "Yes, wonderful. Amazing. Now, turn around and go back."
Kane grinned, shutting the door behind him as he stepped fully into the room. "What's got you in a snit?"
"Nothing," Jack snapped. One hand fell to the sword that lay across his knees, gripping the scabbard so hard that his leather glove creaked.
Kane nodded toward the weapon. "Is it the aether again?"
"No," Jack said. "I just want to be alone."
"We are alone," said Kane. Jack glared, but the guardsman only raised an eyebrow at him. "You haven't said a word all afternoon. Come on, out with it."
Jack lowered his head again, squeezing his eyes shut as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Gods, Kane! What have you got us into now?"
"Me?" Kane gasped. "You heard what Leiden said! This is father's mess! Why is this my fault?"
"Because it is! We wouldn't be in this situation if not for you!" It had never occurred to Jack that someone who had purportedly had a white mage nursemaid could lie so quickly and with a straight face, but Kane was apparently skilled at it. "You lied to get me off the ship, lied to the registrar... lied to Leiden!" Jack's face burned as he thought of that last one, but just this once when a rush of cold from the aether would have been welcome, there was nothing. He called up the ice spell he commonly used to keep himself cool in his coat, a spell he hadn't needed in weeks, and shuddered as it settled over him. It did nothing to abate the weightless, floating feeling of dread that radiated out from the pit of his stomach. "Gods! What were you thinking?"
Kane blinked. "Wait, that's what you're upset about? That was hours ago! Have you been holding it in this entire time?"
"Yes, I've been holding it in! You know what happens when I don't hold it in, you colossal moron!" He stopped, ashamed of the sudden outburst. "I… I didn't mean that. Kane, I-"
Kane laughed, seeming more amused than offended. "You know, you can be so quiet in mixed company, I sometimes forget how blunt you can be when you do speak." He leaned against the wall beside the washstand. "I thought it was pretty clever, myself. I didn't hear you offering Leiden any better explanations as to why we'd want to keep Lena close." He flashed what was probably meant to be a disarming smile.
Jack ignored it. "You told them she was my betrothed! That's too close!"
"No closer than you already appeared!" Kane said, spreading his hands. "If she'd been on my arm at the time, I would have claimed she was mine!"
Jack stared. "What in Ramuh's name is wrong with you?"
Kane rolled his eyes. "It's the best way to keep her safe! Did you miss the part where the Brotherhood is here - in Melmond! - actively kidnapping white mages?"
"It would seem I did!" Jack hissed. "I spent weeks in this city, didn't I? I never heard anything about the Brotherhood in all that time! And now I've brought Lena into the middle of it!"
"To be fair, that was father again. That's not on us." Kane shrugged. "Besides, you're here with her. You're meant to guard white mages! You said so yourself."
"Not like this!" Jack said. "Playing at being betrothed? I can't! Not without my staff! You don't know what she does to me!"
Kane smirked. "I have a general idea."
Jack groaned. He thinks this is funny. I'll kill him. Gods help me, I will.
Kane laughed again. "Relax! I know what you meant: the aether. Honestly, Jack, you're overreacting. Not that I mind - I keep telling you it's unhealthy to hold back all the time - but it's going to be fine. You've been at her side all afternoon, haven't you? Nothing happened."
"Today was…" Jack sighed, rubbing his temples. He'd done dark magic today - that was why. As worried as he was about their current situation, he was hellishly aware that if hadn't drawn off Quincey in the street earlier, he would currently be sitting in a snowdrift. "There are things I can do that make it easier to control. But they're unpleasant."
Kane crossed his arms, regarding Jack critically as he continued to lean against the wall. When he spoke, his words were sharp as knives. "As unpleasant as being apart from her?"
"But…" Jack stared down at the sword in his lap. Drawing from the sergeant had bought him at least a day, perhaps two. What would he do after that? "She's bound to notice, Kane. I can't keep it from her if I'm with her all the time."
"Would it really be so bad if she knew? Surely she wouldn't think less of you for something you can't control?"
"You might," Jack said bitterly. "If you knew anything about magic."
Kane stepped up to the bed and put a hand on Jack's shoulder. "You're right: I don't know about magic. But I do know what it's like not to be with the person you want." He sighed, his eyes unfocused for a moment as he seemed to look within, but then his usual smile returned and he patted Jack's shoulder hard. "You, though. You have a chance. I'm only trying to help."
Jack looked up at that stupid, sincere grin. "Please stop helping me," he said, his voice flat. "I don't think I can handle more help from you."
There was a knock at the door and a polite, "My lords?"
Kane grimaced at the words before he called, "Come in."
Gilbert entered, carrying a small bundle of folded clothes. "Forgive me, my lords. Your lord father has sent to your ship for your things, but seeing as they have yet to arrive, the young Lord Leiden has lent you both something suitable to wear to dinner."
"Give Harvey our thanks," Kane said, taking the bundle.
When Gilbert bowed and left, Kane unfolded what he'd been handed: a pair of cross-breasted, long-sleeved suit jackets, one blue, the other red. He held one in each hand, looking between them as though he'd never seen a jacket before. "I know Melmond nobles dress for dinner, but this can't be right," he said, holding them up for Jack to see.
Jack shook his head. "No, that's the fashion here. Looks like the sort of thing Seward always wears."
"It's high summer!" Kane sputtered. "We'll roast in these!"
"You might," Jack said, setting the sword aside as he stood and took the blue one. When he slipped it on, the sleeves were several inches too short for him, leaving the cuffs of his long-sleeved shirt exposed above his gloves. The bottom hem hit him near the hips, well above where it should. He glanced at himself in the mirror over the washstand and sighed. "I suppose it's a good thing I'm used to looking ridiculous."
"It's no worse than that dreadful hat of you usually wear," Kane said, getting an arm into one of the sleeves of the red jacket, but unable to get the other. "A little help?" Jack guided his arm into the right place, but the jacket was clearly tailored to Harvey's slender frame. Kane struggled to get it on, and then it was stretched taut across his shoulders. He reached for the buttons, but couldn't seem to move his arms more than a few inches. "I can't button this," he said, crestfallen.
"At least we'll be ridiculous together," Jack said.
"Surprisingly little comfort, that."
Jack looked at the two of them in the mirror and nodded. "Something tells me comfort is going to be hard to come by for the immediate future."
The boy was quick, Halm thought. He lost track of him more than once, but the boy always turned up again, his aura a bright, pale green like the reed grass that grew back home in Cornelia. Before they were halfway up the street, it was clear that the captain and his shipment were heading toward the Chubby Chocobo, the big tavern at the end of the block, and Halm felt more comfortable keeping a closer eye on the boy.
There was definitely something strange going on with the aether around him. The more that Halm watched, the less certain he was that it was a spell after all. Though he'd flunked out of Black Hall shortly before the war, he still knew a thing or two about spells. This seemed more like a current of aether, like a river or a swift wind, curling in little eddies in the boy's wake. It wafted like smoke behind him, swirling and spinning as he hurried toward the Chocobo just as the captain went through the door. The boy stood outside, trying to be subtle about peeping through a window, then turned and casually strolled around the side of the building, looking in every window he passed.
"That's it then," said Tronn. "We should report back."
"Not yet," said Halm. "There's a boy over there - a street urchin, I think - that Lord Eldieme will want to see. This way."
By the time they'd crossed the street to the tavern, wending their way through the crowds of people who couldn't see them, the boy was gone. Halm followed his green aether trail to the back of the building, and was surprised to see it flowing up the wall and into an open window on the second floor. It looked like a difficult climb; Halm was sure he couldn't do it himself, particularly as fast as the boy must have gone.
"Is that his trail?" Tronn said.
"Yes."
"Bugger that. I hate climbing. I say we go inside and have a look before the Vanish wears off. If we find him, you can Teleport us out."
Halm nodded. Most dark mages had a talent, and that was his. It was why they called him Porter. "I'll go in," he said. "You keep watch here in case he comes out again. If he does, hold him until I get back."
He headed toward the tavern's other side instead of back the way they had come. It was, he reflected later, the only thing that saved him. One little choice, deciding to go left instead of right. He was about to turn the corner when he heard footsteps behind him, and hurried to make the turn, forgetting he was Vanished. It could have been a cook, or a kitchen maid - Tronn stood near the tavern's service entrance, after all - but when Halm looked back, he saw the old man he had spied in the street before.
How do I know him? he wondered again.
The man walked slowly and with apparent pain, leaning heavily on a walking stick. Had he had that walking stick before? Halm searched his memory but he couldn't recall. Tronn's red aura still stood in the middle of the alley, almost directly in the old man's path. The mage waited until the old man was nearly upon him before he stepped silently to one side.
The old man stopped, cocking his head as though listening, then he spoke. "It is no easy thing, to move while Vanished. You should have trained more."
Halm flattened himself against the wall, peeking around the corner.
Tronn moved back another step. The old man stared right at the spot, motioning at the ground with one hand. "You see, if you had trained, you might have discovered that being Vanished does not prevent you from casting a shadow."
Then the old man lashed out, so fast that Halm couldn't follow the motion, whipping the walking stick into Tronn's ankles with a loud crack. The stick shattered, and Tronn cried out. Halm almost moved to help him, but something tickled at his memory when Tronn drew from the old man, when that dark green aura flowed into the other mage and the old man staggered but didn't fall. Dark green… No! It can't be! He had seen that aura before, back in Cornelia, when the fighting had begun: the royal court's answer to the Brotherhood's uprising, a man who fought while shielded with white spells but who wasn't bound by the white mage's Oath. No one had ever seen his face.
"Stupid old man!" Tronn spat. "Do you have any idea what I am?"
"A dark mage, it would seem," the old man said. "But Vanish is a white spell."
Tronn drew from him again. The old man sank to one knee, but too smoothly. His face was serene. It was true… the rumors were true. But Tronn wouldn't know about that; he was too young. He's immune to the pain! Run! Halm called out in his mind, willing the other mage to hear him. Tronn didn't appear to notice anything out of the ordinary. He bent over the old man, and Halm could hear the leer in his voice. "Old fool. Didn't anyone tell you there were no white mages left in Melmond?"
"Forgive me," said the old man. "That news has not reached the Cornelian court." He struck, jabbing his flattened hand into Tronn's throat with horrible efficiency. There was a snap, and Tronn fell gasping to the ground, his breath a choked rattle. The deep red of his aura flared bright as he tried to draw from the old man again, but then it faded, gradually, like a candle flame under a glass jar, until it went out, and Halm could see nothing but the shadow of Tronn's Vanished corpse.
"I am sorry it came to this," the old man said. He stood, somewhat unsteadily, and walked back the way he had come.
Halm waited, afraid to breathe, wanting to be sure the old man was gone before he moved, then he Teleported as far from the city as his powers would carry him. Forget about the boy, he thought. This was too important. Lord Eldieme had to know: the White Wind, King Fuller's assassin, had come out of retirement.
Offices, Thad thought. Why is it always offices? He looked about the room he'd broken into: packed full of four broad desks, two against each of the side walls, a place for minor clerks to do their tasks. They'd have to be skinny, Thad thought, imagining how little space would remain if the four chairs were all occupied at the same time. He glanced at the papers on the desk nearest him, shipping records for expensive foods and liquors. Knowing what he knew about Bayard's "elven wine", Thad wondered how accurate the accounts were.
He hurried to the door, putting his ear against it. The other side was quiet. He could make out some ambient noise from the tavern on the first floor, but he didn't think anyone was nearby. He opened the door a crack, looking out into the hall beyond, and found it empty. He's around here somewhere, Thad thought.
He knew it was the boxes that interested Orin, but Thad only cared about the captain. Through the windows out front, he'd seen Bayard's men carry the strange boxes through a door into a back room while the captain himself went up a set of stairs behind the bar. It was clearly not a public staircase, only accessible to the taverns' workers, and Thad had been sure he wouldn't have had any luck following Bayard that way. But, Thad thought, there was something fitting, something right, about his sneaking in through an upstairs window.
He stepped into the hallway, moving quietly, leaving the door to the tiny office - and its open window - gaping behind him in case he needed a quick escape. There were sconces along the wall, though only one was lit, the one across from the stairs. The light showed three other doors, all shut, and Thad listened at each of them. Only at the last one did he hear anything: the voices of Bayard and another man.
"-sahagin attacks the likes of which I've never seen," Bayard was saying. "If you expect us to make another run in this heat, we'll need more soldiers."
"You shall have them," the other man said. His voice was quiet and proper-sounding, like Jack's. "I'll send word to the commander in the morning, though it's unlikely he'll give you anyone before the festival's over."
"Suits me fine. I hadn't planned to sail out again before then." There was a pause while Bayard apparently ate something, for when he spoke again, his mouth was full. "Commander must have a lot on his plate. What's this I hear about an attack on Farplane Avenue?"
The quiet man made a "tsk" sound. "I'm afraid I do not yet know the details. Seems a dark mage set upon a young guardsman this afternoon. Only a single spell. No one else was hurt."
"I find that hard to believe."
"If I didn't know the victim myself, I'd dismiss it out of hand." Thad heard the clink of glasses, the sound of a drink being poured, another long pause. "However, my sources bring me other rumors which I'm finding rather harder to discredit. Rumors of a white mage in the city."
Bayard sputtered, choking on his drink. "A white mage? Alive?"
"Somewhere in the lower town, from what I can gather." They know about Lena! Thad thought, but then the other man continued, "I had hoped, seeing as you won't be departing again for a few days, that I could count on you and your men to find him and bring him to me."
Thad cocked his head at that. Him?
Bayard laughed, but it sounded forced. "You expect us to comb the slums on a rumor? The lower town's packed with refugees from the outlying farms. Titan himself could be hiding in that lot and we'd never find him."
"Perhaps if you'd been able to persuade one of the white mages from the Lake to accompany you, we wouldn't be in this position. We need white mages, captain. We can't finish this without them."
"What about that girl? The one from the high families?"
"Her father smuggled her off to Cornelia as soon as the Nerick Pass reopened. I don't know what use she would have been to us anyway, untrained as she was. This other mage, though, seems to have at least some training. I've seen his works. And if I've seen them, it's likely others have noticed them as well. I want him found before he causes unnecessary harm."
What kind of harm could a white mage cause? Thad wondered.
There was a scraping of chairs. The quiet man said, "I hate to seem rude, captain, but I'm afraid further discussion will have to wait. I have another obligation this evening."
"I could come back in the morning," said Bayard.
Thad could hear the two men moving, their footsteps coming toward him. He retreated into the tiny office, pulling the door almost closed, leaving a small crack that afforded him a limited view of the hallway facing the stairs. He heard the other door opening. The quiet man was speaking, though Thad had missed some of it. "-tonight. The bar will be open late for the revels."
"Very well. I've some business in the harbor. I'll return when it's done."
"Until then."
Bayard left. The quiet man stood at the top of the stairs and watched him go. From his hiding place, Thad watched the quiet man. He was tall and thin and pale. He wore a sword at his waist that was just as skinny as he was, a long, slim blade that looked almost delicate against the pale man's dark suit. It seemed to glitter in the flickering light of the sconce, as did the man's eyes. He turned back toward the room he had come out of, then stopped, looking toward the room where Thad hid. "Is someone there?" he called.
The light from the window! Thad realized. It would be shining through the crack in the door. He hurried out the window and down the wall, ran as fast as he could toward the street, then slowed to a walk, trying to appear casual as he found a kindly-looking man and said, "Please, sir! I'm lost. Can you tell me which way the harbor is?"
Kane leaned against the wall by the window, looking out at the orange evening light, trying not to think about the heat. The tight red jacket pulled his shoulders back uncomfortably. He was afraid, if he sat wrong, he would split every seam. "Did Lena seem odd to you? This afternoon, I mean," he said.
"Odd how?" asked Jack. He was sitting on the edge of the bed again, walking a tiny flame across his fingers in much the same way other men might twirl a coin. The mage didn't look up from the fire; his eyes glowed subtly in the slanted light, the barest hint of a corona, though not an obvious one.
"Just… you know, bubbly. She was behaving very like, well, like Ruby, not to put too fine a point on it."
"She did seem to be having a good time."
"That's not what I meant," Kane said, rolling his shoulders as much as the jacket would allow. "Lena told me once that she has trouble separating other people's feelings from her own. Seeing her with Ruby today, well, I guess it has me wondering how much control she has over the whole thing."
The little flame vanished as Jack turned his gaze on Kane. "What are you trying to say?"
Kane raised his hands defensively. "Look, she does have feelings of her own - I truly believe that - but surely you've noticed? She's… different… around different people."
"So am I," Jack growled.
Kane sighed, sorry he'd brought it up, and turned back to the window.
There was a knock on the door, and when it opened before either of them could respond, Kane was surprised to see Sergeant Quincey there instead of the old servant he had expected. "Are the two of you ready?" the sergeant asked.
"As we'll ever be," Kane said, standing up straight.
The sergeant raised an eyebrow at Kane's appearance, then shook his head. "Take that off," he said, unbuckling his sword belt. He shrugged out of his own jacket, brown trimmed in darker brown like something a forester would wear, and held it out for Kane.
"What about you?" Kane said.
"Clyne," the sergeant called to the squash-nosed guard who hovered near the door. The guard nodded, pulling off his black uniform jacket and passing it to Quincey. "I'm an officer of the guard. I can get away with wearing the uniform to dinner." As Quincey buttoned the jacket, and belted his sword back on, Kane realized the sergeant had been wearing half of his uniform already, creased black pants beneath an ordinary shirt. Quincey checked himself in the mirror, smiling in satisfaction at what he saw there before he schooled his features again.
More comfortable in a uniform, Kane thought, remembering his earlier assessment. At the same time, he remembered something he'd heard his father say as they were approaching the manor, something about Quincey's father being a lord. "But you're a noble, aren't you?" he asked.
"Don't remind me," Quincey said. He fumbled at his collar, removed the silver insignia pin that marked Clyne's rank, and passed it back to the hulking guard before motioning Kane and Jack to follow him into the hall. "Let's get this over with."
"I still don't see why I had to wear these shoes," Lena said, holding the long, full skirt up so that she wouldn't trip over it as she tottered along in shoes several inches taller than any she'd ever worn before.
"For the look of the thing, dear!" Ruby said with a trilling laugh.
Lena smiled. "What look? If I weren't holding this skirt up, no one would ever see them! Apart from the height, I suppose..." The shoes did make her taller, but she was still too short for the black dress Ruby had lent her. Lena didn't often wear black, but this dress was embroidered along the edges with a design of red fish that had made Lena smile, and Ruby said the color went well with her hair.
That was another thing Lena was uncertain about, the way her hair had been twisted and pinned up, making her head feel heavy and her neck feel exposed. It was a style she'd seen many ladies wear, but she had never done anything to her own hair more elaborate than tie it with a ribbon.
Ruby squeezed Lena's shoulder in a sort of half-hug. "Don't underestimate the height! Your young man will spend half the evening staring at you, trying to figure out what's changed."
It took a moment before Lena realized Ruby was referring to Jack; she felt herself blushing furiously. They'd been too busy that afternoon for Lena to speak privately with him, to ask him how he felt about Kane's lie. He always seemed to hold himself back from her more than he opened up; shy as he was, Lena worried that any kind of forced closeness would drive him further away.
Suddenly, Ruby said, "Oh, look! Here he is!" Lena looked up from her feet and stumbled as soon as she did so. Ruby gripped her arm, but Jack was there as well, coming from a hallway on her other side, his eyes full of concern as he steadied her.
"Careful," said Kane, behind him.
Sergeant Quincey was with them, bored again, and Lena wondered if he ever felt any other way. He smirked at Ruby after he glanced down to where the bottom of Lena's skirt hit the floor. "How is it that neither you nor your brother had anything in your prodigious wardrobes that would fit our guests?"
Ruby giggled, playfully slapping the officer in the chest. "Oh, hush, Gabriel! It fits everywhere that counts. Wouldn't you say, my lord Jack?"
Jack didn't reply, avoiding eye contact with all of them. Lena felt his discomfort.
"Anyway," Ruby said, taking Quincey's arm and leading them down the hall. "Why are you in uniform? I thought father took you off duty to act as liaison while the Cornelians are here?"
Is that what everyone thinks? Lena wondered, knowing full well that Leiden had set Quincey as the boys' guard dog. Quincey knew it too, for Lena felt his guilt at letting Ruby believe the misconception. She found she liked him for it, this possibility that he was too honest and honorable to take any joy in Leiden's games. "Why wouldn't I be in uniform?" he said, smirking rather like Kane was wont to do. "Just because I'm off duty doesn't mean I stop being a guard."
Ruby only laughed, changing the subject to ask him if he knew anything about this year's Midsummer festival players.
When Ruby and Quincey were several paces ahead of them, Ruby's words an indistinguishable melody that echoed back through the hallway, Jack bent his head closer to Lena's, so that his scarf brushed her ear as he said, "You look lovely."
"Thank you," she said. "So do you. I mean, not… not lovely. You look… you look very well. Blue suits you."
Jack cleared his throat, coloring slightly as he focused on the floor in front of him. "Thank you," he said at last, his words short and clipped.
"You're both hopeless," Kane whispered behind them.
Lena flashed Kane a smile, but when she looked up at Jack again, he was still looking ahead; she didn't think he had heard Kane's comment. He seemed more than a little distracted, but, as usual, he held his emotions so tightly within himself that Lena could feel nothing without her soul sight. She turned her full attention to him, focusing her abilities; she could feel that he was hungry, but more than that she felt an edge of nervousness, as if he was expecting wolves to appear around the next corner. She tugged at his sleeve, and when he looked down at her, she said, "What's wrong?"
"It's… it's nothing, my lady," he said, but she saw the way his hand wandered up as he absent-mindedly checked the position of his scarf and then she knew.
"Is it…" she said, but she didn't finish that sentence. His face, she thought, momentarily embarrassed that she could have forgotten his scars - Jack certainly never did. He would have to show his face at dinner. He must be dreading it, she thought. Maybe it won't be that bad... "Ruby," she called to the girl walking ahead of them. "How many people do you expect will be dining with us?"
Ruby slowed her steps, waiting for Lena to catch up somewhat before she said, "It's hard to say. No more than a dozen, I shouldn't imagine."
"A dozen?" said Lena.
"Well, this was all rather thrown together at short notice, you know, and with the festival going on, most people would have had other plans, but we can be sure of father's secretary," Ruby said, counting off on her fingers. "The undersecretaries… Talbot will bring his wife, I expect. The Hornwoods are in town for the revels - a family of four - as are Gabriel's brothers…" Here, Lena saw Sergeant Quincey make a face. "Though I don't think Hugh would come."
"Thank the gods," Quincey muttered.
"And a couple of other lords," Ruby finished.
"Oh," said Lena. Beside her, Jack's nerves settled into a frenetic vibration that reminded Lena of a ringing in her ears. She wondered if he would bother to eat at all.
Author's Note: 2/3/17 - The shadow thing makes no sense, but it's true. Go back and play some of the older FF games. In several of them, Vanish/Invis leaves a shadow behind. I can only work with the source material I'm given.
I spent entirely too long coming up with a name for the large tavern at the end of Farplane Avenue. Farplane Avenue was easy: I lived in Louisiana for a time, so I based my version of Melmond pretty heavily on New Orleans (because swamp), and there's an Elysian Fields Avenue there. But this tavern, which comes up several times over the next few chapters, needed a name. "Can I call it the Chubby Chocobo? Is that going too far?" I asked my betas. They all responded with squees and squeals and various heart emojis, so that's what I went with.
So! big reveal in this chapter, and I got a lot of satisfaction from writing it. I've been hinting at Orin's mysterious past since chapter 2. I hope you were pleased with the outcome.