When it became obvious that Segeth, the soldier girl, was leading them to Elfheim Castle, Lena finally realized what Jack was reminding her of. Her uncle's father, Tyron, had had a cat once, a skittish and elderly creature that would fluff up its fur and sit hissing in the corner when anyone other than Tyron came near it. Beside her, Jack felt just as that cat always had, tense and poised to flee if anyone looked at them wrong. She gave his arm a reassuring squeeze, but couldn't look at him now - seeing the cracks in his soul made her decidedly uncomfortable.
She had experienced the emotions of the elves she passed as she walked through Elfheim that morning, but it was different now, with her soul sight active. She had thought to use it to scan the crowded streets for possible threats, but instead her heightened senses only made her more aware of the isolationist elves' suspicion of humans. A few were only curious, but the majority regarded her and her friends with wary distrust, though they showed no outward sign of it. "They'd smile and beg your pardon as they stabbed you," one of the pirates had told her before she'd left the ship. They really might, she thought, passing an elven couple who nodded warmly in greeting, though the woman feared them and the man hated them on sight.
"My lady," Jack whispered, and she realized she was clutching his arm too tightly. She hurried to relax her grip.
Refial walked behind them, oblivious to the fact that the elves who returned his friendly greetings did not reciprocate his attitude. Elleth, Segeth's sister, walked beside him. The girls were twins, Segeth had said, but Lena had trouble seeing the resemblance - their souls were as different as night and day. Elleth's soul was bright purple, strong and independant, with a stubbornness that would lend itself well to running one's own shop. Segeth's soul, on the other hand, was a vibrant yellow, loyal and brave, but not commanding, the sort to follow orders and do it well. Twins or not, Elleth was the "older" sister in the plainest sense of the word.
"What a picture we must be," Refial said, as they stopped at the castle gates while Segeth had a hushed conversation with the guards on duty. "Four little black mages out for a spring stroll. Might I say again how fetching you girls look in your robes?"
Lena noticed Elleth's amusement. The elf mage, holding to Refial's arm and taller than him by an inch, was not at all taken in by his flattery but Lena sensed she was enjoying it all the same. As her sister finished speaking to the guards and waved them all forward, she said, "The black really does look well on you, miss Lena. And much safer to be seen in."
Safer, perhaps, but not ideal. The black robe Elleth had insisted Lena wear was not only over-warm, since she still had her white one underneath, but it seemed uncomfortably like lying to wander the streets in disguise. However, it was true that no elf had looked twice at her in the black robe, even if it was several inches too long for her.
Lena felt Jack's emotions bridle again at the mention of her safety, his broken soul rippling on the edge of her vision. "If this was Cornelia, we'd likely be beaten in the streets," he muttered.
"Very likely," said Elleth with a laugh. "But no one cares about black mages in Elfheim. Most of elf-kind can feel the aether, you know. No one's impressed that we can see it too."
"Do you get many Cornelian black mages here? I've always wondered where they go when they leave the city," Lena said.
"We don't get many Cornelian anything," said Segeth. "Elfheim doesn't encourage visitors." She led them through the castle yard, around towards a servants' entrance on one side. The smells of baking bread told Lena they were near the kitchens, but once inside the castle they passed through a wide corridor, leaving the kitchen area behind.
At the end of the corridor, Segeth said, "Wait here," and knocked on a closed door, not waiting for a response before she went in, calling for someone. It sounded like she might have said "grandfather". Maybe that's why she was so anxious for a healer, Lena thought, but after a short conversation muffled by the door, the old man who emerged to meet them seemed healthy, his soul a rich shade somewhere between a blue and a purple.
He, too, wore the traditional robes of a black mage, with a hat like Jack's, only blue. He smiled toward Elleth, who gave a little wave of greeting, then turned his full attention on Lena. "You are a white mage?" he asked.
He seemed just as tense and worried as Jack did, and the emotions of the two men together made it suddenly difficult to speak. She nodded.
"Come in, please," he said, pushing the door wide and beckoning them into a spacious chamber that reminded Lena of the library at Black Hall, but as neat and organized as Elleth's shop had been. A set of large cabinets extended the length of the back wall, orderly bookshelves above glass-fronted cupboards bearing labels in Leifenish calligraphy. The wall to the left of the door held a fireplace, currently unlit, and to the right a wide window, beneath which, on a table, a tidy pile of books was the only sign that the spotless study ever saw any use.
She felt Jack change when they entered the room, his tension evaporating. With her soul sight engaged, his normally closed-off emotions were so easy to read. She could feel his curiosity, his desire to wander over to those shelves and explore their contents, and she could feel how hard he fought against that desire. She almost had to drag him along when the old man gestured them toward a collection of six carved wooden chairs near the fireplace. At her insistent tug on his elbow, Jack's mood snapped back toward the worry he'd felt before.
The old man sat in one of the chairs and Elleth sat to his right, though Segeth opted to stand just behind him on his left side, the stance of a soldier poised for action. Refial chose a chair across from them, and Lena chose another, leaving one empty between them for Jack, but instead the black mage moved to stand behind her, mirroring Segeth's stance.
The chairs were higher than she was used to, made to accommodate elvish height - she had to stand on her toes to slide into it, and once seated, found her feet didn't reach the floor. The old man smiled as she took her seat, some of his anxiety fading at last. "My name is Gollor. Segeth tells me you are called Lena?"
She nodded, clearing her throat to say, "And this is Jack. That's Refial."
"It's a pleasure to meet you," said Refial, though Jack remained silent.
"Likewise," said Gollor. "I don't know how much my granddaughters told you..."
"Nothing," said Jack, annoyed.
She winced at his tone, but the old man nodded. "Only to be expected. The king has ordered no word of our plight to be spoken outside of the castle, but since you are here, I will try to be brief. I was once the personal tutor to Prince Aryon, and I am now in charge of his care." Gollor bowed his head, and Lena felt the weight of his sadness. "It is the prince who needs your help."
"The prince?" said Refial. "Like an actual royal prince?"
"Yes," said Gollor. "Five years ago, the prince fell into a deep sleep from which he could not be roused. Our devouts found that it was caused by a curse, but none have been able to break it."
Lena said, "I'm afraid my experience with curses is limited."
The old man raised a hand, forestalling her protest. "No, miss. We do not expect you to succeed where our own devouts have failed. But I fear that this long sleep has had a deleterious effect on the prince's body. Our devouts are having trouble keeping him alive."
Behind her, Jack's worry ebbed somewhat. He squeezed her shoulder with one hand and said, "So you still have your devouts after all. The way your granddaughter talked, I worried they'd all met an untimely end."
Lena laughed a little, reaching up to pat his hand, but then she felt Gollor's discomfort. His granddaughters eyed each other over his head, feeling guilty, looking ashamed.
Gollor sighed, "Some of them have." He leaned forward, looking intently at her. "I have no intention to deceive you, but I cannot go into detail. Suffice it to say that this curse weighs heavily on the mind of the king. He occasionally grows… suspicious… of the devouts who care for his son. Sometimes, he orders them imprisoned. Other times, he has them put to death."
"You don't need to worry about that, miss," said Segeth, hastily. "The king need never know you're here."
Lena shook her head, pinching the black robe she wore over her white hooded one. "Surely he knows I'm here already? I think every citizen of Elfheim saw me walk through town."
Gollor waved off her concern. "No one would be able to report such a thing. Access to the king is extremely limited. He rules from his tower with an army of servants to attend on him. Most days, he has very little contact with the outside world." The old man clasped his hands together as though begging. "One healing. That's all we ask. Just enough to restore prince Aryon's health for the time being."
Lena nodded as though thinking it over, but she realized she had already made up her mind. She had come here determined to heal this person, even before she knew it was the prince. She suspected Jack, too, knew what her answer would be; he stood close behind her, his gloved hand still on her shoulder, and the only emotion she felt from him was resignation. "Alright," she said.
"Thank you, miss!" Segeth said. "Oh, thank you. It means so much to us."
Gollor stood. "Elleth, make sure the path between here and Aryon's room is clear. Segeth, ask the other guards to inform us if the king leaves his tower."
"Is it only the king?" Jack asked as the two girls left. "Is that the only danger here?"
"I cannot promise you that. We do not know where the curse came from, after all. But if we move quickly, I assure you, the risk is minimal."
Elleth returned a few minutes later. "The halls are empty," she said. Gollor nodded, motioning for Lena to go with her.
She moved to do so, noticing that Jack and Refial were poised to follow, Refial's soul a dull, burnt orange that only made Jack's seem brighter by comparison, a distraction she didn't need. "Stay," she said. "Please. Just wait here for me."
Refial sat again immediately, not needing to be told twice. She didn't wait for Jack's reply.
Elleth led her up a flight of stairs to a wing that seemed unnaturally quiet. The elf moved silently, but every step of Lena's sandaled feet on the stone floor seemed to echo up and down the hallway, making her feel exposed. It's just my own paranoia, she thought. There was no sign of anyone else nearby, neither sight nor sound.
Elleth stopped before one plain wooden door, opening it slowly, and the squeak of its hinges screamed in the silence. Lena felt sure guards would come running in response, but still nothing moved. "Would you like me to come in with you?" Elleth asked.
"No," she said, looking past her into the room. A large window, its curtains not entirely closed, threw a beam of light toward her, like a beacon guiding her forward. "I can do this part on my own."
Elleth bowed her head in acknowledgment. When Lena stepped inside, the elf closed the door behind her.
The bed at the room's center was not large, but it seemed to dwarf the man in it. Dressed in a light, plain cotton tunic, he lay on top of the sheets, with the blankets folded down to the foot of the bed in deference to the day's mild warmth. Neither blankets nor sheets were the least bit rumpled, as though the sleeper hadn't moved an inch since his slumber began. Someone had kept both the prince and the room clean, and Lena respected the amount of care that had gone into his keeping, but he was eerily still, wan and thin, with only the steady rise and fall of his breath to show that he was still alive.
His soul was the pale green of a fresh-sprouted seedling, the palest soul she'd ever seen. She wondered if that was a consequence of the curse or if that was his aura's natural color. One healing, she thought, moving closer, considering how best to begin.
It wasn't until she placed her hands on his chest, extending her power into him, that she found the curse. Her breath caught as her power brushed against it, for it stung like a scraped knee after a fall. Not that way, she thought, shifting her focus around to come at the healing from another angle, but the curse seemed to follow her, like a flower moving to face the sun. For a heartbeat, she almost thought there was something tangible there, but it faded when she focused her attention on it.
A soul reading, then. What could hide from soul sight couldn't hide from a soul reading. She'd always thought of her soul sight as coming from her eyes - it was something she saw, and she had never learned to do it with her eyes closed - but a reading was different: it was something she felt, and the ability seemed to her to come from a place inside, down beneath her heart, a closed fist that she could relax and allow to open.
She opened that place now, reaching out from it toward the man in front of her. Placing her hands on either side of the prince's face, she closed her own eyes, and tried to see that place beyond seeing. It was more difficult to read a sleeping person; the eyes were the quickest path to the soul, but not the only one. It was like gazing into a dark room, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the lack of light.
What she found was more darkness: the curse wound around and through the prince's soul like a creeper vine, an angry, brown sludge that seemed to drown the green of his aura. Sweet Leviathan, be with me now, she prayed.
This was going to take more than one healing.
"This will never work," said Kane. He stood with Orin and Shipman as, ahead of them, his father spoke cordially to the guards at the castle gates. Kane had been on gate duty plenty of times in his short career. He knew how it worked. No amount of sweet-talking would get them inside.
"Have faith, young master Carmine," said Orin.
His father told the guard, "Thank you. I'm sorry for the trouble," and walked back toward them. One of the guards stepped into the gatehouse, emerging moments later with another who walked briskly toward the castle, a messenger of some sort announcing their arrival. "And now we wait," Lord Redden said, a satisfied smile on his face.
"How did you do that?" Kane asked.
"I'm the court bard, son. Talking to people is what I do."
It was yet another thing Kane hadn't inherited from the man: his father's talent for manipulating conversations. They'd spent the past hour crossing Elfheim, with Redden stopping every now and again to ask after their companions. His methods seemed random: here he spoke to a shopkeeper and there a street urchin, asking sometimes if they had seen a tall black mage and other times if they had seen a thin man in a yellow shirt, but Kane had picked up on the fact that his father never once asked after a white mage, as if not wanting to draw attention to her presence in the city. Several of the people he questioned, however, had mentioned seeing her.
Soon, the messenger guard returned, accompanied by a liveried servant, a tall elf maid who curtsied before them. "Master Gollor will receive you. This way, my lords."
She led them through the castle yard, but not toward the grand front doors, where more guards stood vigil. They followed a path that led around the side of the building, towards a service entrance. Back home, this path would have led to the training yard, Kane thought. There were other differences: where Cornelia castle was built of a blue-gray stone, Elfheim's castle was white, and the stone glittered in places. The windows were wider, the towers higher, but still, Kane was struck by how similar this castle was to what he had known all his life, the sights and sounds very much the same.
The smells, too. As they passed the kitchens, Shipman turned that direction, seemingly drawn toward the scent of the unfamiliar elvish spices that wafted out into the hall, but Kane placed a hand on top of the boy's head and steered him away.
In short order, they came to a quiet corridor, well-kept but unadorned, the sort of quarters that might be given to a state official, someone a step above a servant but below nobility. More and more like home, Kane thought. The servant they followed opened a door for them, standing aside to let them pass.
It was some manner of study - a mage's study, if the jars and bottles in the cupboards were any indication - and the old man who stood to greet them seemed to be the owner. He wore a hat even more ridiculous than Jack's, dyed blue and with a pattern of stars tooled into the leather, and a mage's formal robes, frayed and fading at the hems but otherwise of exceptional quality. This was a man who had once been favored by the crown but had, perhaps, been forgotten in recent years. "Some refreshment, please, Gail," he said to the servant girl, who bowed and left.
Jack and Refial were there too, standing among a circle of chairs near the hearth - unlit, despite the draftiness of the room - but Lena was conspicuously absent. As his father made polite introductions to the old man, who said his name was Gollor, Kane approached his friends.
"How did you know we were here?" Jack asked.
Kane gave him a withering look, jerking his thumb toward Refial. "That shirt wasn't tough to track. What in Bahamut's name are you doing at the castle of all places? And where's Lena? Don't tell me you've lost her again. I thought for sure Refial at least would keep a tighter grip."
Jack glared. "He did, right up until another woman smiled at him."
"I beg your pardon!" Refial said, seeming taken aback by the mage's icy tone.
"We haven't lost her," Jack continued. "She's off doing a healing."
"Of course she is," Kane sighed, trying not to roll his eyes. "Listen, we learned there's some danger to white mages here. We need to get her back to the ship before she walks right into it."
Jack and Refial shared a guilty look. "That's not going to work out," Refial said.
"Are you kidding me?" Kane hissed.
"Boys," Redden said sharply. "Quiet." He turned back to Gollor. "You say she's free to leave as soon as this healing is done?"
"Of course," Gollor replied.
The servant girl returned some moments later, leaving a tray on the table at the other end of the room. The older men ignored it, continuing their conversation, but Shipman and Refial immediately went for the food. Kane wanted to hear what Gollor had to say, but he was growing hungry again already - the lunch of roasted vegetables had not gone far.
The tray contained a pot of tea, several cups, and a plate of fruit and cheese, nothing that looked particularly filling, though the tea at least was hot, a welcome distraction from the unpleasant coolness in this room. He poured some for himself and grabbed a bit of the cheese, taking a place by the door where he could lean against the wall, close enough to hear his father's questions but not so close as to be in the way. Jack stood quietly beside him.
"The devouts have done all they can for him," Gollor said.
"But if they can't heal the prince, why keep them in the castle? What good does that do anyone?" Redden asked.
"I cannot say," said Gollor, his face pinched in obvious frustration.
His father seemed to take it in stride, inquiring instead about some other aspect of the curse, a technical white magic question Kane didn't understand, but Gollor's evasive answers bothered him. "It's that Divine Right of Kings mess again," he muttered.
"Divine what?" Jack asked.
"Father says it's some kind of spell that forces the elves to obey their king. He thinks the king has ordered them not to speak about the situation here." Now that he knew more details, it made sense. If their enemies knew how poorly the prince was faring, they'd find some way to use it against them, he thought.
A chill ran up his spine; it was so cold in this room. And it was such a warm morning. That's spring for you. He considered going back for more tea, but when he glanced toward the table, he noticed Jack silently staring at the older men. "What is it? You look like you've seen a ghost."
The scarf covering Jack's face shifted slightly, as though his mouth moved but no words came out. Finally, he said, "She knew. She said they wanted to tell us more, but they couldn't." He rubbed his temples with one hand, as though his head ached. "I should never have let her agree to this."
There were a number of things Kane could have said in response to that, none of them flattering, but he held his tongue. Jack was shaken, and though he hadn't known the mage for long, he knew Jack was a hard man to shake. Instead, he said, "She doesn't seem to be in the habit of asking anyone's permission."
As he spoke, his words came out in a fog of breath. Not just cold, he realized. Freezing.
"What…" Kane began to say, but that was as far as he got.
The older men's conversation cut off abruptly, whatever they'd been saying forgotten as both Redden and Gollor turned to face him - or rather, Jack. The mage still stood at the wall beside him, hands clenched into fists at his sides.
"Why didn't you tell us?" Jack said to Gollor, his voice just as quiet and level as it had ever been. "When you told us how the king had turned against his own white mages, had ordered them imprisoned, even executed… Why didn't you think to tell us that no elf in the entire kingdom could oppose such an order?" As he stared at the old man, his eyes glowed white as a rime of frost on a windowpane.
His father snapped, "Jack!" and the mage started, squeezing his eyes shut, shaking his head.
"Wait in the hall," Redden said.
Kane would have protested, had it been him, but Jack strode out without a word. The temperature in the room rose as soon as the door slammed behind him, the sudden contrast making the mild air seem almost too warm by comparison. Still, Kane couldn't stop shivering. What did I just see? he thought. Across the room, near the table, both Shipman and Refial gazed warily toward the door.
They're afraid. He tried not to give too much thought to the way his heart pounded in his chest, telling him he wasn't as calm himself as he might like to be. No, that's ridiculous. It's only Jack.
He reached for the door handle but his father said, "Kane," quietly, but it echoed in the chill air. "Don't."
"But, father-"
A chair scraped the floor with startling loudness, making Kane leap in alarm - Shipman yelped in fright - but it was only Orin. "I will go," the monk said. "I believe young master Ashward requires the company of one who is capable of speaking in a very calm voice. Please, excuse me." He left, the door closing behind him with a soft click.
Gollor shifted in his chair, as though embarrassed. "I apologize. I do not mean to keep things from you, but it can be… difficult to navigate the intricacies of the Divine Right. As soon as this healing is done, I will personally see you and your young white mage safely on your way, you have my word."
Lord Redden shook his head. "I don't understand the need for this secrecy. Why hasn't Eldarin sought aid from Cornelia? White Hall would gladly have sent their best mages. Why did he let it go so long?"
Gollor sighed. "There are those who say that the curse may have been of Cornelian origin."
Jack squirmed. His legs were falling asleep. He sat cross-legged on the cool stone floor outside of Gollor's study, his hands resting lightly on his knees and forming the sign of the spirit: thumb and first finger joined to make a circle. It was not a sign often used in black magic. And clearly I'm an expert on black magic, he thought, his face burning with shame. Letting his feelings manipulate the aether like that… it was a childish mistake, one he was making far too often since they'd left Cornelia. He normally prided himself on his control. "How long am I supposed to sit like this?" he asked.
"For as long as need be," said Orin. The old monk sat across from him in exactly the same position, though his eyes were closed. He seemed to be perfectly comfortable despite the way the hard floor had to be digging into his ankles.
Jack sighed.
"Focus," said Orin.
"I've told you, I'm fine now. It was a momentary lapse of concentration. If I'd had my staff, it never would have happened."
"And if you learn to focus, you will not need a staff."
"Right," Jack scoffed as he unfolded his long legs, rubbing his tingling calves. "It's not that simple. It takes… I mean, it's constant. Like trying to hold back the tides. The aether…" He groped for an apt description. "The aether wants to be drawn."
"And do you want to draw upon it?"
"No, not always."
"Then I do not see the trouble," the old man said, opening his eyes long enough to wink at him.
Jack rolled his own eyes in response, making Orin chuckle. "The trouble is that it's everywhere - literally, everywhere! Telling me not to draw on the aether is like telling a man to walk between raindrops, or to only breathe the air from one side of the room. It's impossible."
"And while you are telling me how impossible it is, you are not focusing."
Jack grumbled, but he took up the uncomfortable position again. He had not yet settled into it when he heard footsteps. He glanced down the hall just as two figures turned into the end of the corridor: Lena, followed by Elleth. "My lady!" he said, pushing up to his feet. He winced as everything below his waist twinged at the motion.
"And if you are distracted by a pretty face, you are not focusing," Orin said quietly from his place in the floor.
Jack considered kicking him - lightly, of course - but then Lena drew close enough for him to see that she'd been crying. "You weren't successful," he said.
"No," she replied, eyes downcast.
Orin stood in one fluid movement, pushing between them to open the door. "Come in and sit down," he said, steering Lena inside.
The others were all seated when Jack re-entered the room, though Thad immediately jumped up to embrace Lena, saying, "You're alright!" As she patted Thad's head reassuringly, her hand shook, a sign of how much the healing had taken out of her.
"Jack," Redden said. "Perhaps you'd care to continue waiting in the hall?"
"That won't be necessary," Orin said, claiming the chair Thad had vacated. "I believe he has quite recovered from his earlier episode."
"Episode?" Lena said, looking toward him with concern. "Are you alright?"
"I'm afraid I lost my temper," he said, hoping the others wouldn't go into too much detail.
Her red curls bounced as she cocked her head in surprise. "You have a temper?"
Kane snorted with scarcely suppressed laughter.
Jack sighed. "Only on days ending in y."
Thad pulled Lena toward the empty chair beside Refial, staying close to her as she took it with a wan smile. Kane offered his seat to Elleth, then motioned for Jack to stand with him against the wall by the door once again. "Did Orin make you sit in the floor and meditate on your anger?" Kane asked quietly.
"How did you know?" Jack said.
"He's done it to me before," Kane said. "Many times."
Gollor spoke to Lena, saying, "Were you able to do anything for him?"
Lena shook her head. "I've only bought him a few days at most, long enough for your people to say their goodbyes."
"Days?" said Gollor. "I don't understand! The last devout to check him over said he could linger through the summer at least!"
Lena hunched her shoulders as though trying to make herself smaller. "I can't speak for what that devout saw, but all I saw was that curse. It's wound through his soul like a snarled ball of twine. It was all I could do to work around it. I'm sorry."
Gollor and Elleth exchanged a look of confusion, then focused on Lena. "You mean to say you can see this curse?" the old man said. "Our finest mages have tried without success for nearly five years!"
"I…" Lena began, but stuttered. "I don't…"
Soul reading, Jack realized. She couldn't tell Gollor the truth without revealing what she was. "She's better than most white mages at seeing souls," he said, quickly. Not a lie, but still Jack noticed that Lena blushed furiously over the misleading statement.
"At any rate," Lena said, "yes, I can see it. And even if I work for a hundred years, I'll never untangle it. He'd die a natural death long before I'd make a difference."
"You did your best," Thad said, sitting on the floor beside her chair.
"Thank you, Thadius," she said, ruffling his hair lightly.
Gollor's head bowed in apparent despair, but Lord Redden said, "How long can you keep him alive?"
Lena seemed taken aback. "I've… I've just told you..."
"You say you've given him a few days more. Could you do the same again tomorrow?"
"Yes, but… it would be cruel. He's on the brink of death as it is - I can do nothing but keep him from falling over the edge. It's practically necromancy."
"Do it," said Redden. "And keep doing it for as long as you can."
"What?" Jack said, but his voice was drowned out by Lena's.
"Necromancy is the foulest sin a white mage can commit. What you're asking of me is vile," she said.
"If you don't do this, thousands die," Redden said. "The king blames Cornelia for this curse. If Aryon dies, it could mean war. I tell you now, Cornelia is not prepared for an elven invasion. They'll roll over the kingdom like an ill wind." He rose from his chair. "I'm not asking you to bring him back if he dies, only keep him alive long enough for me to send word to White Hall and get some help for these people. Are you willing?"
"Willingly and with pure intent." Jack knew that was part of the White Oath. The first line, called the Proclamation, ran: "The grace of my soul I share, willingly and with pure intent, serving life until life's appointed end." Did Redden know it as well? Had he invoked the Oath on purpose to guilt Lena into agreeing to his request? He wouldn't go that far, surely. Not after Provoka…
Regardless of Redden's intentions, Jack had no doubt that Lena saw the Oath in his words. She nodded uncertainly, eyes wide. "Serving life until life's appointed end…" She's already told him the prince is as good as dead. That had to be the source of her misgivings.
"Good," said Redden, stepping toward the door. "Orin, come with me. I'll need access to your contacts in this city. You two," he said to Kane and Refial. "Remember what I told you."
"Yes, father," said Kane. Redden and Orin left without another word.
Gollor turned his chair to face Lena. "I am sorry to ask this of you. But it's only for a few days. I'll see that you're taken care of. You'll stay in my granddaughters' old quarters."
"With you?" Lena said to Elleth.
The mage girl shook her head. "I live behind my shop now. Segeth lives in the barracks. You'll have the rooms to yourself."
As Refial said a few quiet words to Lena, Jack turned to Kane. "We can't stay at the castle," he said. "The longer we stay here, the more likely we are to run afoul of the king."
Kane shook his head. "We're not all staying here. Father said he'd find us a place to stay in town."
"You're not proposing she stay here alone?"
Kane raised his hands to ward off Jack's argument. "I'm not proposing she present herself to king and court, either. But one human girl in servant's livery is far less likely to attract the king's attention than a gaggle of foreign guests."
"She's to pretend to be a servant? You seem to have this all figured out."
"You missed an interesting discussion," Kane said, nodding.
"Did you even consider the possibility that she can't pull off the charade?"
"No," Kane said simply. "She may not be able to lie directly, but she's been hiding her soul reading abilities from the Cornelian court for years. That took cunning. She'll handle it."
Refial stood and joined them. "Ready?"
"Where are you going?" Jack said.
"Back to the ship. Gollor agreed to fund the repairs in exchange for Lena's aid, in case we have to leave here quickly. We're to take word to the captain," Kane said.
"You could come with us," Refial said.
Jack looked over to where Lena spoke quietly with Thad, as Gollor and his granddaughter sat in conversation beside them. "I'll stay," he said.
"Jack, there's nothing you can do here," Kane said.
"I'll stay," he repeated.
"Suit yourself," said Kane. "We'll be back before nightfall. "
When they'd gone, Jack made his way toward the chairs. Lena was smiling at Thad, saying, "It is a pretty pendant, Thadius, but I don't want it if you stole it."
The boy grinned sheepishly as he stuffed something small and silver back into his pocket. "I didn't really steal it! I found it!"
"Oh, you found it. In someone else's possession?" Lena said. She looked up as Jack approached, still smiling at Thad's antics, but also still pale from the healing she'd attempted. She patted the chair beside her, motioning him to sit, watching his face as he did so. "What are you thinking of?" she asked.
So many things, he thought, but what he said was, "Serving life until life's appointed end."
"Huh?" said Thad, seated on the floor between them.
Lena seemed surprised. "You know the Oath?"
Jack nodded. "I did tell you I thought about becoming a white mage. I would have been terrible at it, but I did consider it." Technically, there was nothing stopping a black mage from performing white magic, but all white spells originated from the aether of a mage's own soul. Though black mages could draw on the aether around them, the aether reserves they carried within were pitifully small compared to a white mage's. His own power was less than a quarter of Lena's. If she ever learned to draw on the aether… He shuddered to think of a mage with that much power. He went on, "My lady, the prince isn't dead yet, close as he may be. If all it takes to prevent a war is keeping him alive, I don't think you can get any more pure-intentioned than that."
She bowed her head in acknowledgement. "Thank you," she said. She reached out to ruffle Thad's hair again. "Thank you both. I'm glad I…" She stopped, stifling a yawn. "Excuse me. That healing was… difficult."
"You should rest," Jack said.
"I believe I'd prefer to eat first," she said.
"Ooh! Me too!" said Thad. "Can we?" He turned toward Gollor and Elleth, who stopped talking to look at the boy.
"What's that?" Gollor said.
"Food?" Thad repeated.
With the toe of his boot, Jack poked the boy sharply in the backside. "Rude," he muttered. Thad glared at him.
Gollor laughed. "Of course! Forgive me, I should have offered sooner. Elleth, would you escort miss Lena and this young man to the kitchens, please? I would like to have a word with master Jack."
Lena looked at Jack. "You should eat, too. I know you skipped breakfast."
"I will," he said. If I can find a moment alone, where strangers won't stare at my face, he thought, not wanting to consider how long that might take. His stomach chose that moment to gurgle; he hoped Lena didn't hear it.
"I'll see to it personally," Gollor said, seeing Thad and the two girls to the door. When he returned, he sat across from Jack, pulling his chair closer so that their knees were no more than a foot apart. Something tells me this isn't going to be a friendly little chat between black mages, Jack thought. The old man folded his hands in his lap and sat staring at Jack for some time. Jack held his gaze, waiting.
"You're worried about the girl?" the old man asked.
"She's my friend," Jack said.
"Of course." Gollor smiled, ducking his head and breaking off his stare, but Jack was unable to relax. "Your other friends tell me you're a fire mage. Forgive my impertinence, but I've never known a fire mage to call upon ice magic in a moment of weakness."
Jack sighed. Yes, a moment of weakness. Let's call it that. "Ice was my first and best spell. I can't recall a time before I learned it."
"Ice is not a basic spell. If your talents lie with that element, why train as a fire mage?"
Jack's tongue seemed to fill his mouth. I was burned. Why is it so hard to say it? Slowly, he reached up, grabbed the top edge of his scarf, and pulled it down enough to expose his crooked mouth, the puckered skin along his jaw. Gollor nodded but didn't seem surprised. Jack tucked the scarf back into place.
"This fire, what else did it take from you?"
"Besides my face?" Jack could feel himself pulling the heat from the room, but did nothing to stop it. Orin would be so disappointed, he thought briefly. "Only my home, my family, and a few fingers. Nothing terribly important," he said, biting off each word with unrestrained bitterness.
Gollor waved his hand toward the empty hearth and a fire sprang up there, sustained by nothing but aether. It burned brightly, yet briefly, only long enough to balance out the cold Jack had caused before it died away again, having nothing to burn. "That seems a good excuse," Gollor said. "A man so wronged by fire could claim he desired mastery over it, and no one would question his decision to become a fire mage." Gollor stood, turning toward the shelves along the room's back wall, running his hands over the spines of the books before plucking one down and flipping it open to a page marked by a long ribbon. "Of course, fire is the element that requires the most control. Ice is harder to conjure, to be sure, but once conjured, it is unlikely to get away from you. A mage who lacked a black mage's natural ability to control his gift could choose to study fire as a means to learn that control."
He knows. There was only one kind of mage who struggled to control the aether around him: the kind meant to draw his aether from elsewhere. "That's an interesting theory," Jack said.
"And that's a very thick coat you're wearing. But perhaps you're simply cold-natured." Gollor smiled, sitting across from Jack again with the book open in his lap. It appeared to be a grimoire of some kind. "Kane told me you're from Crescent Lake?"
Jack nodded.
"The most powerful mages in the world come from Crescent Lake, or so I'm told."
Jack huffed out a frustrated breath. "They'd like to think so, yes." He may have been one of the least powerful black mages Crescent Lake had to offer, as far as aether reserves went. It was the reason - or rather, one of the reasons - Refial's method of casting from raw aether intrigued him so much.
Gollor said, "There's a spell… No, let me start again. When this curse fell, every mage in the castle confronted it. The notes we took could stretch from here to Cornelia and back, but our search told us nothing of the curse's origin. In my research, I found a ritual spell that may shed light on this calamity, but it requires more power than any elf mage, any lone mage, can muster. None who have tried it have succeeded. Some died in the attempt. But… perhaps if you and I were to work together… Well, if we knew the cause of this curse, we might be able to break it."
The elven race shared a special connection with the aether - it was widely known - but their mages lacked the sheer power of human mages. However he might compare to his teachers back at the Lake, Jack knew he at least outstripped whatever an elf mage might have to offer. But his own power added to that of an elf mage… How many times did I promise myself I would never cross this line?
"You understand what I'm asking of you?" Gollor said.
The sooner we break this curse, the sooner Lena is safe. What was it Redden had said to him back in that ruined temple? "You're not the strongest black mage I've seen, but you are by far the most determined."
"Show me the spell."
Author's Note: 8/5/16 - Chapter 21 was a bear to write - like, a huge, angry grizzly bear. It fought me every inch of the way. My first draft, which followed my original outline, fell flat. I tweaked it; still flat. Then I said, "Fine. That thing I was saving for several chapters from now? I'll put it in here! Just because! Because obviously something needs to change!" And magically (haha), the chapter was done! And (note the sarcasm to follow) I only had to redo the story outline for the next five chapters to accommodate that change! I'll talk about that more in chapters to come.