Melmond Manor, Twenty-five Years Ago
The coughing fit went on so long that Redden, sitting on the edge of the bed, almost rang for the white mages who waited downstairs, but Bram clutched feebly at his sleeve to keep him in place. Redden stayed, and the cough faded a moment later. Bram lay back against the thick pillows, exhausted.
Redden sighed in relief, turning his attention back to the aether diagram he'd been studying, drawn by Bram's shaky hand. A teardrop landed on the page and Redden quickly wiped it away, swiping a hand over his face to clear others before they fell.
"The aether," Bram said, his words choked by a little cough. He was breathing so hard, he could barely speak. "I know you... can't see it... but can... you... understand?" He motioned toward the diagram.
Redden set the paper aside and placed a hand on the old man's chest, casting the strongest Cure he could manage, though it had only been an hour since the last one. As before, he could feel most of the spell slipping past the man and away: Bram's soul was too weak to take more. "I understand it well enough to know I'll never cast it on my own," Redden said. "Please rest, Father. You need your strength."
Bram shook his head, but his words came easier. He spoke in a rush, as though anxious to get it all out before the cough took him again. "You must find another white mage. One like me, with ties to earth. The earth sense is more important than either experience or power. Father Ladimer has a few candidates, but you must help them understand the spell."
"I will. Please, rest."
Bram nodded, breathing deeply, and Redden blinked back more tears at the rattling sound each breath made. He looked up as Bram squeezed his hand. "I believe in you, Redden. Not as a son of Titan. Just you."
He was still there, staring at the diagram without seeing it, listening to Bram's labored breathing as he slept, when the door creaked gently and Cid peeked in. Redden stood, careful not to disturb the old white mage, and joined his brother in the hall.
"You said you wanted to know when Argus returned," Cid said quietly.
"Yes. Where is he?"
Cid made a sour face. "Dead. Only two of the men came back. Those creatures are still there, they said. Argus… He didn't make it."
"Damn," Redden said, so angry that he was shaking, but he kept his voice low. "Damn it. If we had gone back two moons ago..."
"Don't blame yourself," said his brother. "We thought it worked. All of us did. And Bram couldn't have made another trip, not even then." He gripped Redden's shoulder and steered him toward the stairs. "Come on. Arthur's here."
Redden shook his head. "I can't train with him today. I… I just can't."
"I know. I told him to come. I thought you could use a friend."
They stopped by the sitting room at the bottom of the stairs where the white mages waited. Lord Westen had insisted Bram be cared for by the best the Cathedral had to offer. Cid had a word with them, and one went upstairs to take Redden's place.
Cid pulled Redden along. "Are you any closer to understanding that spell?" he asked.
"No. Maybe. It's like Protect, but… not. Protect guards against physical effects, but this… It only guards against aether. I can't explain it." He looked back toward the stairs. "I was going to ask him about that earth spell I found, the black magic one. I forgot."
"Don't worry about it," said Cid. "You can ask him when he wakes up."
But Bram never did.
Melmond Manor, Present Day
Kane moved upstairs, his steps feeling as though bricks were tied to his ankles. He'd been given only a stub of candle to light his way, and he wondered if it would last him to his room. The guards posted at the bottom of the stairs to the third floor looked first at him and then at each other with a confused expression that Kane found immensely satisfying but they let him pass. He grinned as he heard them whispering behind him.
Leiden had not been pleased when they returned to the manor well after midnight with Orin and Shipman in tow. Kane and Harvey and the sergeant had suffered through a tongue-lashing the likes of which Kane thought his father would have envied, a tirade about responsibility and duty that managed to encompass all parties present so that when he finally said, "Is that understood?" even Shipman nodded.
Quincey said little in his own defense, but explained, with Orin's assistance, about the dead man in the alley. The monk then spun a tale that, while true, left out a number of important details: They had set out together from Cornelia to pursue a threat against the kingdom, Orin said. Word of the Rot had spread, and thus they were here. Nothing about the prophecy of the Warriors of Light. Nothing about the dangers they had faced so far.
Kane wondered what time of night it was by now, and thought how very thoroughly he was looking forward to laying out upon that huge bed. He was, therefore, mildly annoyed to find Jack sleeping there. The tall black mage slept on his side, curled up like a child, fully clothed as though at any moment he might have reason to leap up and run away.
Kane grumbled as he went through the connecting door to the next room, slamming it somewhat behind him, not caring if Jack should be disturbed.
Someone muttered.
Kane raised the candle high, one hand going to his sword as he heard movement from the bed, but it was only Lena, smiling as she blinked against the candlelight. "You're back," she said.
"What are you doing here?" he asked.
"Your father said I should sleep in here. Closer to you two," she said, yawning around the last word.
"Of course he did," Kane said, looking back at the door behind him. "Am I supposed to sleep in the floor?"
"Here." She smiled sleepily at him, holding out the thick blanket from her own bed. "To lay on. I won't need it."
He thanked her, but he wasn't sure she heard. In the time it took him to check that the door to the hallway was locked and secure, she was asleep again. He slipped through the connecting door to the room he would share with Jack, taking care, this time, to close it quietly.
Jack clawed his way out of the nightmare with a stifled cry. He could still feel the heat of the flames, could see the after-image of his mother's spell against his eyes. When the image faded, leaving him in darkness, he panicked anew, worried the blast had blinded him, before he remembered where and when he was.
Melmond. I'm in Melmond. Fifteen years since the fire, since his mother had sacrificed herself to save him, but the dreams were coming more often now.
He lay fully clothed atop the lavish bed in the room that had once belonged to Lord Redden's brother, his skin tingling and his shirt damp with sweat. Not the heat of nightmare flames, then, but the heat of Melmond at Midsummer. The city on the swamp was legendary for its heat; it was one of the first things travelers remarked on, even when the year was not as hot as this one was shaping up to be.
He reached for the aether, half driven by instinct as he formed the familiar ice spell and held it inside him, a rush of cool relief. He could have sworn he had formed it before he settled in for the night, but perhaps he hadn't; with the way the aether had been troubling him these past few weeks, he hadn't needed the spell, and he had fallen out of the habit of casting it.
Jack closed his eyes and opened his aether sight, letting the colors seep in. The room appeared around him as shapes and outlines against the complete darkness. Kane was stretched out in the floor, his yellow aura glowing like a lantern as he slept in front of the room's entrance. If he focused, Jack could just make out Lena's pale blue through the wall behind him. He turned his concentration out farther still, through the curtained window to the sky beyond it, and he found the aether currents there calm and placid. Still the middle of the night then, hours from dawn.
He curled his soul around the ice spell as he curled his body onto his side and let sleep take him again.
His aether sight hadn't even faded before he woke once more, his scarred skin pricking against the heat. He felt the edge of his ice spell slipping back into the raw aether, like a fish escaping a net, and he growled in frustration. Out of practice, he thought. He could hold it in his sleep, had done so for years. He called it up again, this spell he had done thousands of times, and found himself wondering if he was doing it wrong. Ridiculous. He was too tired for this.
He sat up. He was no stranger to midnight awakenings - back at the Lake, he would have taken a walk to clear his head - but this wasn't Crescent Lake, and he doubted Leiden would appreciate his "guests" roaming the manor at all hours. Instead, he went to the window, parted the curtains, and looked out at the clear night sky, glittering with stars.
Even with the aid of his aether sight, his gloved hands fumbled with the latch in the dark, but the window opened soundlessly. Jack wanted to breathe the night air, to feel the breeze on his face, so he pulled his scarf off and tossed it to the bed. After a moment's consideration, his sweat-soaked shirt followed.
Just for a little while, he thought, leaning on the sill, gazing up at the stars. Just until I cool off a bit.
He chose the brightest star he could see, a blueish one, hazy about the edges, and he said, "Hello." His voice seemed loud compared to the night noises drifting in from the swamp beyond the manor's grounds, and he glanced back to make sure Kane hadn't stirred. "Were you watching us today?"
The star seemed to wink in answer.
"I guess you saw what a mess we made of it. I keep wondering if there's something I could have done differently that would have avoided all this." He sighed. "I've thought of a dozen things I could have said to Leiden in that office." He tested a few of them out now. Then he tried out the things he wished he had said to Victor Quincey at the party, and to the sergeant, but when he thought about the things he wanted to say to Lena, he couldn't get the words out. "Anyway," he said. "Thanks for listening, but it's late. Or early. I don't know."
He knew he needed more sleep, but exhausted as he was, his mind wouldn't let up, buzzing from thought to thought like a bee in a flower garden. He grabbed his shirt and sat on the edge of the bed, but he didn't put it on. A little longer, he thought. The ice spell was working, and the breeze was pleasant. He laid on his side again, eyes to the window, to the stars, and let his mind wander as it seemed inclined to do anyway.
He didn't notice when his grip went slack and his shirt slid to the floor.
There was a knock at the door. Kane grunted and tried to ignore it. It was too early. He didn't know what time it was, but that made no difference. He was certain it was too early.
The knock came again, and the lock rattled as the insistent visitor tried the door handle. That was enough to make Kane open his eyes, but before he could reach for his sword, he heard his father calling, "Son, it's me."
He groaned as he sat up, stiff all over from the hard floor. How early must it be? The window was open but it faced west; the only dawn that crept in through it was gray and shadowy. He used the meager light to find his pants, for he'd slept in only his underclothes.
"Kane?" his father said, knocking again.
"A moment," he replied, standing as he pulled his pants on.
Jack murmured at the noise, stretching in his sleep. Kane glanced over at him, distracted by his search for his shirt, but when he realized what he'd seen, his eyes snapped back to the sleeping mage.
From his chin to his waistband, Jack was scarred. On his left shoulder and along that arm, the scars were so bad that he almost didn't look human. Save for one small section along his ribs on his right side, Jack was a patchwork of discolored and misshapen skin, strange ridges forming senseless patterns.
Gods, no wonder he covers himself, Kane thought with a pervading sense of guilt, not only for thinking such a thing but for seeing what his friend worked so hard to keep hidden. The mage was never undressed; Kane had barely seen him without his scarf on, let alone a shirt. He must have thought he'd wake before I did.
The door handle rattled again. "Kane, I've no time for this!"
"Hold on already!" he grumbled, unlocking the door, opening it only as far as was necessary for him to slip out into the hall and trying his best to block his father's view of the room as he did so. "What is it?"
Lord Redden stood in rough traveling clothes, a large pack on his shoulders and serious boots on his feet. He arched an eyebrow as he looked his son up and down.
Kane, barefoot and shirtless, detected disapproval in that look. "It's hot, alright?"
"Yes, it is," said Redden. "But they're used to it here, and they can be funny about modesty."
"It's not as if I'm on my way to breakfast dressed like this!"
"I didn't mean-" Redden sputtered, cutting off mid-sentence and visibly composing himself. "I didn't come to argue."
"Fine," said Kane, trying to keep his tone neutral but aware he'd done a poor job of it. "Why did you come?"
"I need my sword," Redden said, reaching for the door.
Kane pushed in front of him. "I'll get it," he said quickly, closing the door behind him as he hurried inside. He forced himself not to look at the mage as he fetched the sword leaning against the wall by the head of the bed and rushed back out.
Redden looked the blade over when Kane handed it to him, then, seeming satisfied that all was in order, he nodded. "I never did ask what he was doing with it. What were the two of you up to?"
Kane shrugged, wondering if he should tell his father how much the black mage relied on focus objects, but remembering how Jack had begged him not to tell the others. Not my place, he thought, hoping Jack could hold up without one for however long his father was gone.
Redden seemed in no hurry to leave, however. "That wasn't the only reason I came."
"No?" Kane asked.
"I came to see you. To say…" He reached out, grabbing Kane's shoulder, squeezing hard. "To say I'm sorry."
Kane waited. His shoulder ached where his father gripped it, but he made no move to get away.
His father gazed intently at his face. "You look like we did at your age, my brother and me. He died in that cave. I've never told you."
Kane blinked. "The one you're going to? But Leiden said it wasn't dangerous."
"Leiden's a fool," Redden snapped. "Ignoring the problem that's right in front of him, pretending nothing's wrong. Every nightmare I have stems from that cave."
"But then… why are you going back there?"
"Because that's where we found the sword: your sword, the one that declared you a Warrior of Light. There's something in that cave, son, and it's tied up in this prophecy somehow." Redden pulled him closer. "I would never have brought you here. I need you to know that. This place has taken so much from me already. You're all I have left. I would have moved continents to keep you from this place if I'd had any choice."
He released Kane and turned away, and he was nearly to the stairs when Kane called, "Father!"
Redden stopped, looking back at him.
He had so much to say, but here, in this place, in this moment, the words seized in his throat like a stone in an hourglass, too big, and time flowed around them. Instead, Kane only asked, "How long will you be gone?"
"Three days," Redden said.
Kane nodded.
His father walked back to him and hugged him quickly. "When I return, if I return, I will tell you everything. I swear."
He watched as Redden walked away, stood staring long after his father was out of sight. He didn't turn at the sound of the lock clicking open, or at the creaking of the door to the next room as Lena joined him in the hall. He did look down at her rumpled curls when he felt her move in beside him. "Were you listening?" he asked.
She shook her head. "I could feel you." She reached up, her fingers light and gentle on his shoulder as she healed the ache his father's grasp had left behind. "Do you need to talk about it?"
He shook his head, jaw clenched, determined not to cry in front of the white mage, but he felt the tears stinging his eyes when she stood on her toes and pulled him in for a tight hug as warm and soothing as any Cure.
Thad peeked through the training yard fence, watching the men conduct their morning exercises. They used blunted steel, not wooden practice swords like Thad was used to, and they wore thick padding for protection. He thought how hot it must be, even this early in the morning. He watched closely, hoping to learn something new that he could use against Kane later, but the Melmond guards' routine was a familiar one, the same memory-building drills Kane had been teaching him since Cornelia.
He'd been all over the house and grounds this morning, looking, as instructed, for something Orin didn't know, a vague objective since Thad didn't know what the monk already knew. He'd snuck around, looked behind a few locked doors, watched, listened. He'd seen evidence that the manor grounds had once been surrounded by a wall, but that was gone now, leaving only a crumbling foundation that marred the otherwise lush lawn. It reminded him of home, of the iron gates rusting at the bottom of Pravoka's canal. He wondered how long it had been since anyone had bothered to attack here.
He'd followed the guards on their patrols, and that at least had been a fun challenge as there was no cover anywhere, but Thad knew how to be quiet. The patrols were spread thin, and it seemed to Thad that none of the soldiers on duty at the house really expected anything to happen. They weren't as observant as they could have been to miss him so easily.
Not that they were useless. As far as Thad's amateur eye could tell, all of those in the training yard were competent swordsmen. Better than him, at any rate, which wasn't saying much. He could see that man, Sergeant Quincey, among them, and if he was tired from their late night out, he gave no sign. His sword rang like a bell as he blocked his opponent's oncoming strike and followed it up with a twist that tore the other man's sword free.
He won his next match as well, but when the drill instructor set them to fighting in teams, two on two, Quincey excused himself.
"Bring the Cornelians around next time, Quincey!" one of the other men said. "I'd love to see them in action!"
Another said, "Aye, they say the sons of Titan could take thirty men between them! I wonder how the young ones compare to their father?"
Quincey didn't respond, but he scowled as he freed himself of the thick padding and put it away in a small storage shed.
Thad followed him back to the house, keeping his distance. He could see Orin waiting on the porch, sipping a cup of tea as he sat in the warm morning sun. Quincey stopped to have a word with him, but Thad was too far away to hear it. He waited until the guardsman went inside.
Orin smiled as Thad climbed the porch steps. "Tea?" he said, motioning to the pot on the little table beside his chair.
"No, thanks," said Thad. It was too hot for a hot drink. He didn't know how Orin could stand it.
Orin shrugged. He gestured to the empty porch in front of him. "Sit. Tell me what you have learned today."
"Well, Sergeant Cranky there is pretty good with a sword. I watched him training."
Orin chuckled. "I suspected this. Leiden would not have made him a watch dog, otherwise. Do you think you could beat him?"
Thad shook his head. "He wears tall boots. Hamstrings are right out."
Orin laughed. He sipped his tea. "What else?"
"I memorized the guards' patrol patterns."
Orin shook his head. "Too easy."
"Did you know there used to be a wall here?"
"That is old news."
Thad frowned, wondering what else would impress the old man. "I found where Leiden keeps his files," he said, but the uncertainty in his voice made it sound more like a question than a statement.
Orin sighed, cradling the teacup between his hands. "Did you listen at the kitchens as I asked?"
"Yes!" Thad said, rolling his eyes. It hadn't been much of an achievement. Thad had walked right up to the kitchen door, turned on the charm, and begged for a biscuit. The cook's assistants had exclaimed over how cute he was and given him two. They kept talking, silly gossip about Kane and the others, as he sat in the corner to eat. When they'd turned the conversation to market lists and chore assignments, he'd slipped out.
"What did you hear?" asked Orin.
"Mostly girl stuff." He made his voice go high in imitation. "'Oh, Kane's so handsome! The other one's so hideous! What does that girl see in him?'"
"They discussed Lena and master Jack?"
Thad nodded. "I guess they really are pretending they're betrothed." Leiden had mentioned something to that effect last night, only an off-hand comment full of unspoken disapproval, but Orin had silenced Thad before he could question what he'd heard.
"And how did the kitchen staff view the match?"
"I don't know." Thad shrugged. He tried to remember exactly what they'd said. "One of them said it was romantic, the way she stood by him at some party last night, but the other said, 'Who cares? If it keeps her hands out of the dishwater, more power to her.'"
"Hmm… Interesting." Orin pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Such information could prove useful." He bowed his head to Thad, toasting him with the teacup. "You did well, young master Shipman."
"Really?" Thad said, crossing his arms. "That's it? You don't care what I found in Leiden's papers?"
"I imagine, were it important, you would have opened with that information."
Thad grumbled. The old man was right.
Orin chuckled. "Spying is not only about ferreting out secrets. It is about playing a role. If you can befriend your enemies, they will tell you their secrets of their own accord. You have seen this before, yes? When you play at being a sweet child in order to get your way, hmm?"
Thad frowned but couldn't deny the accusation. He nodded reluctantly.
Orin nodded as well. "Yes, you understand this. Lena and Jack are playing a role now. What you have learned today will help them do it." He looked past Thad, toward the side of the house, then waved at someone.
A young woman had just come around the corner, tall and blonde, in a flowy dress with more lace trim on it than Thad thought was necessary. She looked confused for a moment but then smiled and rushed toward them, a basket of fresh-cut flowers bouncing on her arm with each step. "Lord Orin? Is that you?"
Orin rose slowly and stiffly, as though his back pained him - an act, Thad suspected, for there was nothing weak about the low kick the old man aimed at Thad's leg when he remained seated on the porch. "Miss Leiden, it is a pleasure to see you once more."
Leiden? Thad thought, rising. The lord's daughter? He could see the family resemblance now that he knew. He suspected it would have been impossible to miss if she and Harvey had been side by side.
She hurried up the porch steps to hug the monk. "Lord Carmine didn't mention you were here as well!"
Orin chuckled, patting her cheek like a doting grandfather. "He does so love his surprises." He beckoned to Thad with a shaky hand. "Miss Leiden, I would like you meet my apprentice, Thadius Shipman."
Thad hesitated, but only briefly. Befriend your enemies, the monk had said, and Thad was sure Lord Leiden was an enemy. Though Orin's smile for this girl looked genuine, the frail-seeming old man was playing a role, just as he had said before. It didn't take long for Thad to settle on a role for himself. He smiled, and when he bowed he twitched at the end of it to make it seem awkward. "My lady!"
"Aren't you adorable!" She giggled, then turned back to Orin. "Oh, I can't believe neither Kane nor his father mentioned you! Are you joining us for breakfast? Say you are! We've a little time before then. Will you sit in the parlor and talk with me?"
"Of course," Orin said, placing a hand on Thad's shoulder as though he needed the support.
Inside the house, Miss Leiden handed her flower basket off to a servant before leading Orin and Thad down the hall, toward a pair of leaded glass doors that Thad assumed led to the parlor. Beyond the doors was a staircase, and they were just in time to meet Kane and Lena coming down, accompanied by a uniformed guard who remained a few steps behind them. Thad called out an enthusiastic, "Hello!" to the pair of them.
Lena stared, clearly surprised. "Thadius? And Lord Orin?"
Kane sighed. "Sorry. I guess I should have mentioned."
Orin's face wrinkled up in a broad smile. "Good morning, Lena. I wonder, could I have a word?" He didn't wait for Lena's stunned nod before turning to Miss Leiden. "If you would excuse us, Ruby. We will not be long."
"Of course," the girl said. "We'll wait inside."
Orin tottered the few steps toward Lena, shuffling his feet as he went, feigning frailty so well that Lena hastened to support him. Playing a role, Thad thought. Which was only another way of lying. Thad smiled. He was good at lying. He turned his smile on Ruby Leiden as he opened the door for her, bowing with calculated awkwardness. "After you, my lady!" he said. He knew he'd done it right by how she laughed.
Author's Note: 5/5/17 - The number one complaint I've received about my story so far is Not Enough Thad. Omg, you guys love that little thief. I'm glad of it.
A lot of Thad's character comes from the little boys I've met in my career as a youth services librarian: the clever, plucky sort who visit the library often, read chapter books of questionable quality, and forget they're supposed to be quiet while they're laughing at YouTube videos on the library computers. I love these boys, and love recommending books to them, as they read the same things I enjoy myself: lots of action and space ships and dragons!
But even more of Thad's character is taken from another source: my brother. Not the older one who has passed on and inspired me to write this story to begin with, but the younger one. He was twelve when I left home, and some part of me always expects him to still be twelve. The fact that he's a grown man now, getting married this fall, doesn't seem to want to stick in my brain.
But, yes, readers, I agree. I skimp on the Thad scenes. There are more to come, but you have to be patient. I'll tell you a secret: this is Thad's book. Out of all the characters, he is the one who needs to change the most before the story ends. Kane is already a warrior, Jack and Lena are already mages; they only get better at what they already do. Thad is a kid. This is the story of him growing up to be… whatever he's going to be. A great hero, perhaps? He's not one yet; he's still learning. Be patient. Watch it happen.