It was full daylight when Jack woke again, groggy and confused from oversleep, sweltering beneath a heavy blanket. Odd, he thought, for he was sure he remembered being too hot in the night. He'd cast his ice spell - he remembered that. Perhaps it had worked too well and he'd pulled up the blanket in his sleep. There'd been the window, and the stars, and the breeze on bare skin. Bare skin… My shirt!
He sat bolt upright, holding the blanket in place, but a quick survey of the room showed that Kane had already gone. It wasn't Kane that concerned him, though: the door connecting his room to Lena's was wide open.
Ramuh, strike me down, he thought, mortified beyond imagining. Someone had covered him with that blanket. The thought that it might have been her, that she would have seen what he really looked like, filled him with such horror that he buried his face in the blanket and moaned.
He rose slowly, wondering if it was worth the trouble. Putting on his boots seemed to require a heroic effort, considering his life might as well be over. What would he say to her? What could he say to her? It wasn't as if he could change it.
It was only after he'd dug out a clean shirt and put himself back together that he realized Redden's sword was not where he'd left it. I've already lost what dignity I had. I can't have lost that too, he thought, bringing up his aether sight. There by the bed were the red traces of Redden's aura that the weapon had left behind, as well as the fading evidence that Kane had taken the sword. The question of why could wait - the aether was still calm from Jack's foolishness the day before - more importantly, the aura trails revealed that Lena had not come in. When he stood in the doorway and read the aether in her room, he saw she'd explored no farther than the bed, which was situated on the wall opposite. "Thank the gods," he muttered.
Lena and Kane had left together, it seemed, so he followed, planning to find a servant or two and ask for directions - it would be suspicious if he walked right to them in the unfamiliar house - but he was spared the trouble. A lone guard waited on the second floor landing, the same guard who had lent Quincey his jacket the evening before, the one with the unusual nose. "Clyne, wasn't it?"
The man nodded, but made no other reply.
That silent gaze made Jack uncomfortable. "Did the others come through here?" he asked.
Clyne grunted, motioning Jack to walk with him. It occurred to Jack that the man might be taking him anywhere, to a place, for example, where no one would ever find his body, but the guard led him in the same direction as his friends' aether trails, down to a dining hall on the first floor, then stationed himself outside in the hall.
The room was dominated by a long, gleaming table set with eight chairs, though it could have held twice that. Lena and Kane sat on the side nearest the door with an empty chair between them. Ruby and Leiden sat at either end. Across the table, however, sandwiched between Leiden and Sergeant Quincey, were two figures Jack did not expect.
"Good morning, Jack!" Thad called cheerfully through a mouthful of food.
"Remember your manners, young master Shipman. Swallow before you speak," said the monk. He hardly looked up from what appeared to be a map of the city in front of him.
"Good morning," Jack said, keeping his confusion to himself.
"Ah, the scholar lives," said Leiden, before tucking into his breakfast once more.
Ruby laughed. "Be nice, father! He's up before noon, which is more than Harvey's ever achieved." Quincey murmured agreement beside her.
Lena looked over her shoulder, and she smiled so brightly when she saw him that Jack could have died a happy man right there. Kane, his mouth full, only nodded in greeting, gesturing to the empty seat.
As Jack slid into the chair, he noted the murmurs of the servants who hovered at the edge of the room. Leiden wryly said, "Do sit down," and it occurred to him that he should have waited for his host's invitation. Jack sighed. So far, maintaining the illusion that he was an ill-mannered bastard was taking no effort at all.
He turned to Kane, keeping his voice low. "What are they doing here?"
Kane huffed out a small laugh. "Orin and Thad? I ran into them last night and they came back with me. As far as why, your guess is as good as mine."
"I see," said Jack. He took a long look at the map, noting that it had been marked in several places, mostly in the lower town: sites of dark mage activity, perhaps? News of events in the lower town didn't often reach the Blue Quarter. If all of the attacks were focused there, it would explain how Jack hadn't heard about them during his last stay in Melmond.
He felt a tug on his sleeve and turned to find Lena looking anxiously at him. He bent his head toward hers and quietly said, "Good morning, my lady."
She blushed. "Jack, I-"
A servant appeared at his elbow as if by magic and placed a heaping plate in front of him, eggs and sausage and some manner of biscuit smothered in peppered gravy. It looked amazing. He ignored it, turning back to Lena.
Her eyes darted to the plate and then back to him. "Aren't you going to eat?"
He felt again the surge of panic that had gripped him that morning when he thought she had seen him without his shirt. As silly as it was, no matter how many times she had seen his face, he felt embarrassed to reveal it to her now. "Eventually," he said.
"Please, Jack. You barely ate anything last night."
Her hand rested on his arm. He felt the aether stir like a gentle breeze against the back of his neck, but it didn't move through him, not yet. "I know," he said, moving his arm on the pretense of unfolding his napkin. "I am hungry. I'm just… working my way up to it. Give me a moment."
She nodded. "Alright." She folded her hands in her lap but she seemed to be watching him. "Jack, this morning, Orin said-"
Just then, Orin spoke to Leiden, and his quiet words drew Jack's attention like a shout. "The dark mage attack yesterday. You say it was unexpected. You expected the others?"
Leiden nodded. "To an extent. Their other attacks have all occurred on the full moon."
Jack froze. He knew of at least one dark magic ritual that required a full moon: the one he himself had learned, however reluctantly, at Elfheim's Western Keep. Was that what the Brotherhood had been doing here?
"That is curious," said Orin. "Moreso, the location is curious. These others in the lower town," he said, gesturing to the marks on the map. "So widespread. No two victims on the same street. And yet now they have struck Farplane Avenue twice in one day."
"Twice? I only-" Jack said before he could stop himself. "I only heard about one."
Leiden glared. "Yes, twice. Perhaps if you had risen at a decent hour your brother might have apprised you of current events." He turned back to Orin to continue the conversation Jack had interrupted, pointing at the south side of the map. "Most of our investigation has been centered on this area. You can see it's the most often attacked." He turned as Gilbert, the elderly manservant, approached him with a tray full of letters.
"What's over there?" Kane asked, pointing to a place that seemed clear of incidents despite being in the heart of the lower town.
"That's the White Quarter, where the Cathedral is," said Quincey. "The investigation team is stationed at the guardhouse near there. I can take you around later."
"You are not on duty," said Leiden without looking up. He thumbed through the stack of envelopes, setting most of them aside. The others he put back on the tray, dismissing Gilbert with a wave. "And need I remind you, we're meant to be safeguarding our Cornelian guests in their father's absence. You can hardly imagine I'll let any of you wander around the lower town."
Gilbert bowed, crossed the room, and offered the tray to Ruby. "But father," said Ruby, taking the remaining letters. "If the dark mages are extending their reach, is anywhere safe? Perhaps we shouldn't go out at all?"
"At Midsummer?" Leiden shook his head. "No. Yesterday's events were unusual, but they aren't necessarily an indication of things to come. We can't let fear drive us. If the other high houses see that we're afraid, it could cause a panic. We have social obligations," he said, gesturing with the letter he'd just opened. "But I'm not suggesting you go out unguarded. Gabriel can arrange a suitable escort to take you wherever you wish to go."
Ruby shrugged. "If you think that's best."
She turned to Quincey, asking him about a play tomorrow. Orin spoke quietly with Thad, showing him something on the map. Jack looked at his food - even through his scarf, it smelled delicious - but still he hesitated. Idiot, he thought. Everyone at this table has seen you already. Besides, no one was paying him any mind. He glanced toward the gaggle of servants clustered by the door to the kitchens; none seemed to be looking his way.
He reached up, slowly so as not to attract attention, and pulled his scarf down to his chin. It was a struggle to keep his movements slow as he scooped up a forkful of eggs; his stomach told him to throw manners aside and shovel every last morsel into his mouth. He was so hungry that he nearly moaned at the first bite.
Beside him, Lena giggled. When he glanced at her, she was smiling, but she kept her eyes down. "How is it?" she asked.
"Good," he said, taking another bite. Across the table, Quincey looked over at him, but quickly looked away again. Jack tried not to let it bother him.
"I'm glad," Lena said. She picked up her fork and took a bite herself, and it was only then that Jack realized he hadn't seen her eat since he sat down. Had she been waiting for him?
I don't deserve her, he thought, and then he frowned, for he didn't know where the unbidden thought had come from.
He was still pondering it when Lena set her fork down again. "Jack, listen. I have to tell you something. I spoke with Orin this morning and-"
"Well," Leiden said loudly, making Lena jump. He tossed the letter he'd been reading onto the table with the others. "It looks as though the Carmine brothers are in high demand."
"What, both of them?" Quincey said, before crying out suddenly in pain.
"I'm sorry! Was that your foot?" Ruby asked, blinking innocently over the the letter she'd just opened.
Leiden grinned, looking much like his son for an instant. "Yes, both of them. There's an invitation here for master Jack as well." He reached over Kane, passing one of the letters down the table to him. "Lord Unne wishes you to dine with him this afternoon."
"Seward?" said Jack, surprised, but he recognized the handwriting. "How did he know I was here?"
That earned Jack another glare. "Lord Unne," said Leiden, putting special emphasis on the title, "sent a letter to ask after your well-being yesterday, shortly after Sergeant Quincey escorted you from his home. I took the liberty of telling him you were staying as my guest." He tapped a finger to his lips in thought. "This is good. I hadn't thought what to do with you. I could hardly send a bastard along to the other high houses, you understand. But if he's invited you..." He chuckled. "Gabriel?"
"Sir?" said Quincey.
"Assign a guard detail to accompany Jack and his young lady to the Blue Quarter this afternoon. Choose another to accompany you and Kane. I'm sending Harvey with you, so plan accordingly."
"Of course, my lord. Where are we going?"
"You're to introduce Kane to the other high houses. Beginning with yours." He laughed as Quincey swore in Leifenish with what Jack thought was more than passable pronunciation. "If you call on them first, Sergeant, you can cite your other engagements as reason to leave."
Quincey strode for the door, grumbling under his breath.
Leiden chose three letters from the pile left in front of him then held them up for his manservant. "Gilbert, send an affirmative reply to each of these and then get Harvey up. And find the Carmines something suitable to wear. Something that fits," he added, with a slanted look at Jack. "I trust the two of you won't do anything to disappoint your father." He stood. "Lord Orin, I expect the chief inspector to arrive within the hour. I shall send for you then."
"I will await your summons," said Orin.
At his parting, a few servants moved in and began clearing the table. Jack tried to be subtle about bending over his plate once more, hurrying through his meal. He'd taken three bites in rapid succession when Ruby spoke. "He actually enjoys winding Gabriel up like that. Could you tell? He told me so himself once. I think it's because father can't get that kind of reaction out of Harvey, no matter what he does." She shrugged, picking up one of the letters and skimming its contents, nodding absent-mindedly to the girl who offered to take her plate. She said, "You know, I think I'll just invite a few ladies over here. Father may not be concerned about dark mages, but one really can't be too careful."
"That seems most wise," said Orin, grinning.
Ruby smiled back at him. "Well, I suppose I should go and respond to these invitations." She stood, brushing out her skirts with her hands, then said, "Come with me, Miss Lena. You can choose something to wear to Lord Unne's house. If we're quick about it, Flora should have time to take up the skirts before you have to go."
"Alright," Lena said, setting aside the napkin from her lap as she rose. A servant whisked it away almost as soon as it hit the table.
"Wait, my lady," Jack said, turning to her. "What was it you meant to tell-"
He stopped. She'd leaned down, and she was close to him, impossibly close to him, her green eyes only an inch away. He could feel the warmth of her skin, could feel her aura sparking against his, the aether swirling between them. "I'll tell you later," she said. She darted in, planted a kiss on his cheek, and moved away before he had time to realize what she'd done.
One of the servants tittered but was shushed by the others.
He turned in his chair, watching her go. He could still feel it, the brush of her lips right at the corner of his mouth. She walked arm in arm with Ruby, looking back, only for a fraction of a second; he could see her blushing before she turned her face forward again. The aether seemed to bubble around him like a pot on the boil; if it had wanted in, he couldn't have held it back.
"Come, young master Shipman," said Orin. "Bring the map with you. I would have you memorize it before lunchtime."
"Lunchtime?" Thad whined. "But this map is huge!"
"I would not have you getting lost. Again. Come, come." The two of them left by the same door Lena had. It swung shut behind them.
What just happened? Jack thought. He turned back to the table. It was clear save for the fork he still held in his hand; the busy servants had already taken his plate. He could hear a bustle through the kitchen door, but otherwise he was alone with Kane.
Kane swatted him sharply on the side of the head and snapped, "What was that?"
Jack blinked, rubbing the spot Kane struck. "How should I know? She kissed me!"
"Not the kiss, stupid! Your reaction! Damn it, Jack! You two are supposed to be betrothed! No one's going to fall for it if you panic every time she touches you!" He pushed his chair back and strode for the door.
Jack tossed the fork to the table and hurried after him, adjusting his scarf as he went. "Kane!"
Kane shook his head. "You were so cool and collected when we met in Cornelia! You didn't even flinch when those imps attacked us! Now look at you! Gaping like a landed trout!"
Jack grabbed his shoulder, stopping him at the door. "Where's the sword, Kane? I can't do this! I need the sword!"
Kane ran a hand through his hair. He looked sheepish. "Father took it with him."
"He what?" Jack nearly yelled. He slapped a hand over his mouth, startled by his own outburst. He could still feel the aether agitating around him, and it was like standing on the edge of a high cliff and knowing the fall was inevitable. He pulled his hand away, and his voice was a harsh squeak. "Kane!"
Kane rolled his eyes. "I'm sorry! He thinks he's heading into a fight. I couldn't exactly tell him you needed it more, could I? Not without telling him you have no control!"
"You could at least have woken me! I could have spoken to him! I might have thought of something!"
"I know," Kane said, sighing. "That occurred to me afterward. It's just… Look, he would have seen you. I didn't think you'd want that. I had to make a choice. I'm sorry if it was the wrong one." He pulled the door open, revealing Quincey and Clyne in the hall, standing at ease and talking with one another. They both straightened at the sight of their charges.
Quincey nodded at Kane. "If you're ready, we've things to do."
"Alright," Kane said.
Jack grabbed his arm. He whispered, "I can't do this, Kane! You know I can't!"
"I do know." Kane patted his shoulder. His eyes looked sincerely apologetic. "But you have to. You said there were things you could do to get by. I know you said they were unpleasant, but it's only for three days."
He walked away with Quincey, leaving Jack behind with Clyne. The hulking guard regarded him with one eyebrow raised, as though Jack had failed some arbitrary inspection.
"Are you with me today?" Jack asked him.
Clyne nodded.
"Lovely." Jack sighed. He could feel a headache forming between his eyes and he rubbed the spot. "Do I have anywhere to be right now?"
Clyne shook his head.
"Back to bed, then," Jack said. He strode off, leaving the guard to follow as he traced his own aether trail back through the huge house.
Alone in the room he shared with Kane, it took several minutes before Jack began to feel calmer. He sat cross-legged in the floor, focusing on his breath as Orin had taught him, trying not to think about the aether rioting around him, knowing that had he not drawn from Quincey the day before he would be powerless against that onslaught now. It terrified him, what one kiss, only one brief kiss, could reduce him to.
What if there were more? He wanted there to be more. I have to learn to control this, he thought. He went back to the emotion-suppressing exercises Cedric had taught him years ago, picturing his feelings as a thing separate and distinguishable from himself. They were still there, but he didn't have to feel them, not now. The point of the exercise was to put them away, examine them later with cool, critical logic, but more and more Jack had trouble separating himself from what he felt. He wondered again if he might find a solution in the book of dark magic he had taken from Astos. Perhaps Seward's library would give him the tools he needed to read it properly.
There was a soft knock on the door, and Jack felt his neck and shoulders tighten. Was it her? She had been trying to tell him something, he remembered. He pushed to his feet as the door opened, and, at the sight of Orin there, felt equal parts relief and disappointment.
"Master Jack, I must speak with you."
"Um," Jack muttered. "Very well." He gestured toward the room's only chair. "Sit, please."
The old man nodded, making himself comfortable.
Jack sat on the freshly-made bed, wondering absently when the servants had come to the room and how they had known he was gone. Orin sat straight and regal with his hands folded in his lap and he watched Jack without speaking, long enough that Jack began to fidget. At last, Jack prompted, "What did you need?"
"I require a black mage's perspective. You have ways, do you not, of identifying one another through the aether sight?"
"Yes," said Jack. "A black mage's aura interacts with the aether around him. Others are more calm. It's not always accurate, but it's usually a sign."
"This is what you see when you look at young master Shipman?"
Jack nodded. "It's more obvious now than when we first met. I imagine that will only continue."
"I feared as much." The old man turned to the window, gazing out thoughtfully, his brow furrowed in worry. "The dark mages in Cornelia, they have been known to take children, one or two a year. We have long suspected these children might have black magic abilities. Only twice have we known for sure. Yesterday, I encountered a dark mage in the city. He was tracking Thadius."
"Gods," Jack breathed.
"You understand my concern," said Orin.
Jack nodded, thinking hard. That was all he needed, another thing to worry about. As if it wasn't enough that they were taking white mages and that Jack was sick at the thought that they might learn of Lena's presence somehow. Wait… Lena! A horrifying thought struck him: Thad wasn't the only one with a black mage's aura. "Orin, if they take children... What would the Brotherhood do to an adult black mage?"
"You must exercise caution as well, master Jack. The Brotherhood have little use for black mages who do not share their cause. Once they know you are here, if they have reason to believe they cannot convert you, they will kill you."
Jack groaned.
"I am afraid there is more," Orin said. "Thadius has learned aether sight."
"Oh?" said Jack. "That's… I mean, it's not entirely unexpected. It was bound to happen eventually."
The monk nodded. "He will need training."
"Of course," said Jack. "I'll see to it. Once we leave Melmond, I can start teaching him the-"
"No," Orin said, cutting him off with a raised hand. "You will begin tonight, when you have concluded your business with this Lord Unne."
"Tonight?" Jack said, choking a little. "Here? Orin, we can't be mages here. If I'm caught teaching him - gods, if he's caught learning it! - we don't know what these people would do to us."
"And what will the people of Melmond do to young master Shipman if he loses control of his abilities in a crowded street?" Orin asked.
"As long as he doesn't try anything, that won't be an issue. I'll talk with him. He's smart enough not to risk-" Jack started to say.
Orin interrupted him again. "The aether wants to be drawn. You told me this in Elfheim. You, with your years of training, lamented to me the impossibility of keeping it at bay."
Jack pinched the bridge of his nose. "That's not-"
The monk talked right over him, his tone firm. "You are an oath-sworn black mage, yet you are uncomfortable without your pretty staff. Is this not so? What chance does Thadius have?"
The aether swirled around him. It didn't rush into him, but it was a distraction nonetheless. Jack couldn't stop his soul from tensing in response to it, the reflex of years. He raised his voice, trying to get a word in edgewise. "Look, the problem I have with the aether… it's rare. Thad doesn't have it."
"How can you be sure? Less than two turns of the moon ago, we had no reason to suspect he was a black mage at all." It was the loudest Jack had ever heard Orin speak.
He's really worried, Jack realized. He had never noticed before how much the old man truly cared for the boy. "I never had to learn to draw on the aether. I had to learn not to. If he hasn't drawn on it at his age, he's safe."
"You say this!" Orin said, on the verge of shouting now. "But if he draws on it - when he draws on it - what if he cannot stop? How can you know he is not like you?"
"Because he's not a dark mage!" Jack snapped.
The room went deathly silent. The fear Jack had felt before he spoke, in the instant he knew he would say the words, was nothing compared to the fear that gripped him afterwards, a horrible sinking feeling. He couldn't breathe. He squeezed his eyes shut, ashamed to look at the old man.
"You… are a dark mage?" Orin asked, his voice quiet once more.
"Oh, gods," Jack muttered. He sat forward on the bed, pulling his scarf free as he hung his head between his knees. "Gods, I'm going to be sick…"
"All this time, you have been a dark mage?"
"I'm sorry," Jack said. He tried to think of something else to say, some way to explain himself, but all he could muster was to repeat, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."
"So…" Orin took a long, deep breath, sighing it out slowly. "So the boy will be alright?"
Jack looked up. Orin sat looking at him with such expectation, such hope, that Jack could only nod in answer to his question.
The monk sighed once more. "Thank you. You have set my mind at ease."
"Orin," Jack said.
He didn't know what he meant to say next, nor would he ever know. At that moment, there came a knock at the door, and Lena's voice calling, "Jack? May I come in?"
Jack leaped to his feet, looking at the door in abject horror. Orin stood and stepped toward it.
"Don't," Jack whispered. "Orin, don't tell her. Please. Please, don't."
The monk stopped with his hand on the doorknob and he looked at Jack awhile, his head cocked to the side like he was watching a bug on a window, but then he turned back to the door. He smiled at Lena as he opened it for her.
"Oh! Lord Orin!" She looked past him, toward Jack, then looked between them, eyes worried. "Have I interrupted something?"
"Jack and I were just discussing dark mages."
She gasped, and her eyes went wide. That response, that instant fear, tore at Jack's heart. She hadn't known he was a dark mage when she kissed him. After Orin told her, she would never kiss him again.
Orin patted her shoulder, motioning her into the room. "Do not fret. Jack was simply explaining to me a fundamental difference between black mages and dark mages. Come. Sit. I would speak with you both together." He returned to the chair, sitting primly, hands folded in front of him. He smiled as Lena sat upon the bed, then looked up at Jack, waiting.
Jack was still wrestling with the realization that Orin hadn't told Lena his secret. He looked over at her sitting on the bed. She looked concerned. Doubtless, she could feel his inner turmoil. Jack eased down beside her, stuffing his worry into the back of his mind and concentrating on the situation in front of him.
When Jack was settled, Orin nodded, turning his wrinkled smile on Lena. "I must say, you did very well this morning, Miss Lena. The kiss was a nice touch."
"What?" said Jack. He turned on the bed to face Lena better, but she was looking at the floor. She shifted nervously, her skin blushing the brilliant red of a severe sunburn.
"I spoke with Lena before breakfast this morning," Orin said. "I instructed her to behave more affectionately toward you."
"Is that so?" He still watched Lena. He'd kept his voice low, but he saw her flinch at his question as if he'd yelled it. So it was true. Suddenly, he had no trouble separating himself from his emotions, for the disappointment that flared in him at her contrite expression was so sharp and keen that he couldn't process it. He shoved it down, closing it off in a corner of his mind and walling it in. "I see. Might I ask why?"
"I understand there is real danger to white mages here in Melmond," said Orin. "I agree that you must keep her close. But while Kane's ploy to pass Miss Lena off as your betrothed is clever, it is not enough to stand before Melmond and announce that this is so with words alone. You must behave as a pair betrothed if you are to uphold this premise."
He watched her the whole time, hoping for some reaction other than embarrassment. "I see," he said again. "Is that what you were trying to tell me this morning?"
Lena nodded.
"Well," he said, turning to face Orin again. Remembering his scarf was down, he pulled it back up. He tried to keep his tone light, as if he didn't care. "That's one mystery solved. I'll admit I was feeling rather confused about that kiss."
"Your confusion was apparent," said Orin. "And that will not suffice. You must try harder to maintain this illusion, master Jack."
"She caught me off guard," he said. "It won't happen again."
Orin nodded. "Good, good. But that is not what I wished to discuss with the two of you. Kane and Thadius already know, but you must be made aware that the Brotherhood is using white magic to aid their cause."
From the corner of his eye, Jack saw Lena look up sharply from the floor. "That shouldn't be possible. White magic can't be used by evil," she said. "Their souls won't take the spells."
Orin shrugged. "Not everyone who joins an evil cause is evil," he said. "People's lives take strange turns. It is possible that the Brotherhood has acquired a white mage who does not understand what sort of organization he has allied himself with. For now, we must discuss the spells you can use to defend yourself against them. In your studies, have you come across Dispel?"
Lena shook her head. "I haven't studied spells. I only know Cure and Protect."
Jack turned to her again. "Really? That's it? How is that possible?"
"It is sadly not unusual in Cornelia," said Orin.
"But… only two?"
Lena said, "Honestly, Jack, there are mages at White Hall who never learn more than that! Father Todd only knows Cure, and he's a high priest!"
"But you told me you've been an apprentice for seven years! What were you doing?"
She blushed once more, sputtering, "C-cure is the biggest white spell there is! You can't- you can't just learn it and… and move on! There's the Curing of humans, the Curing of livestock - they're completely different! Curing poison versus Curing disease, Curing muscle versus Curing bones, Curing-"
"Yes, yes," said Orin. "It is a wonderful spell. Hush now." He went to the room's desk and rummaged in the drawers, coming up with a scrap of parchment and a short charcoal stick. "Ah, here we are." He leaned over the desk, sketching. "I am no mage, but I have worked with them long enough to have memorized the aetheric design."
As he drew, Lena said, "But Orin, I… I can't read an aether diagram."
"You can't?" Jack said.
"I learned once," she said defensively. "But I haven't looked at one in years. No one's ever stopped me in the middle of a healing and asked me to diagram what I was doing!"
"But how do you learn new sp-" He trailed off. She didn't learn new spells. She'd just said that.
"I don't know!" she wailed. "My father taught me Protect! And I've known Cure longer than I can remember!"
Orin finished his drawing and held it up for them. "I will rely on Jack to remind you how it is read."
"What does it do?" Jack asked.
"It does nothing. It undoes. This spell can be used to reverse any beneficial white spell."
"I've seen that before," said Lena, reaching for the diagram, pulling it in for a closer look. "It's in my book."
"What book? You never told me about any book," said Jack.
She nodded. "Hold on. I'll get it." She hurried through the connecting door into the next room. Jack could hear the sounds of her digging for something and then she reappeared carrying a small book bound in a white cover. She flipped it open, searching for a particular page. "Here it is."
Jack stood to see it, and she passed it to him. The illustration appeared to be the legend of Saint Ffamran fighting the five-headed dragon, not a simple drawing, but a work of art in full, vibrant color. The dragon's scales seemed to sparkle. A trick woven into the warding, perhaps? Jack could feel the wards on the book, spells against time and the elements keeping it looking as new as the day it was made, wards of extremely high quality. The saint's raised sword glinted, while his free hand made the sign of the staff; in front of that sign, keeping the dragon at bay, was the same design as Orin's hasty sketch in shimmering gold paint. Adjacent to the picture, the spell was described and several practical applications listed in stylized Leifenish calligraphy.
Jack flipped through the book. Though most of the pages contained text, he did find a number of aether diagrams in shining gold, as well as more illustrations depicting stories from legend. There was Dagona healing Leviathan, and on her hands, an aether diagram. There were the knights of Bahamut warding the citadel, and on the wall behind them, another diagram. Teaching through stories, Jack thought. It was so stereotypically white mage as to be laughable: how better to teach a spell to white mages, who thrived on their love for people, than to describe how people had used that spell in the past?
It was also an exceedingly old-fashioned method of teaching, one that had fallen out of favor more than a century ago, and an indication, perhaps, of the book's age. He wondered if he would know the title. He turned to the front of the book, seeking a title page, but he found only a Leifenish inscription: With all my arts, I gift this book to the world. He read it twice over, and when he realized what he held in his hands, the Leifenish word he spat was not a word he read there.
"I believe Lord Redden has lectured you on the use of such language, young master Jack," said Orin.
"Chusgino," he swore. "Lena! Do you know what this is?"
"A white magic tome?" she said.
"This? This is an Ars Paladia! An original Ars Paladia!" One of only eight in existence. The Paladin Arts were each hand-written by a white mage known only as David, whose extensive talents had not only been in perfecting the spells but in the painting arts as well. If the stories were true, David earned more wealth than he could ever give away, and in his old age had created these books as his masterpieces, each one taking him years. The paints in the illustrations were made of powdered gemstones, and the golden aether diagrams of real gold.
Lena shook her head. "I've never heard of it."
"Ramuh guhnasdi ayu! It's- It's extremely valuable! Where did you get this?"
"It was a gift," she said, shuffling her feet.
"A gift? Lena! This book is worth more than the manor we're standing in! No one just gives that away!"
"Aryon did," she said, shrugging apologetically.
He clamped his jaws shut to stop another curse word from escaping. Aryon had given her an Ars Paladia. The prince. Jack had given her a festival mask that cost eight lousy gil. No wonder she had only pretended to kiss him.
She went on, "I meant to ask you to translate it for me, but you've been so busy studying that other-"
"Wait," he said. "Translate…? You mean to say you don't know any Leifenish either?"
Her eyes flashed. She stomped up to him, snatching the precious book from his hands. "I'm dreadfully sorry my education hasn't been up to your exacting standards!" she cried, storming through the connecting door and slamming it behind her.
He stared at the closed door, the sound of the slam echoing through the room, until Orin began to chuckle. Jack turned to the twinkle-eyed monk and snarled, "I'm glad you at least find this amusing!"
Orin nodded. "It is good to hammer out these quibbles before the wedding," he said, his chuckle transitioning into a cackle as Jack continued to glare. He took a moment to compose himself, but he could not entirely hide his smile. "Forgive me. I should not joke. Clearly, you were on edge."
"You didn't tell her," Jack said. "I was certain you would tell her."
"No," Orin said, serious now. "Nor will I."
"Thank you."
"It is not for you I do this, but for her. Should anyone suspect you, they will question your friends. Would you have her lie for you?" He stood and went to the door. "I will send Thadius to you this evening," he said, bowing as he left.
Jack sat on the bed, rubbing his temples, wondering how his life could go so very wrong.
Lena wondered what was different today as she and Jack walked through Melmond's streets escorted by four armed guards. Yesterday, when the lot of them had been taken under guard to Leiden's manor, their passage had left the citizens of Melmond staring and whispering. Today, people only stepped swiftly out of their way; few looked twice at them.
As far as she could tell, the only difference was in how they were dressed. She walked through the muddy streets in a red dress that stopped at mid-calf: a popular fashion among the other ladies she saw, as were the carved wooden clogs that fit over her regular shoes, making her taller by a few inches. Jack walked with her, dressed in a black and red jacket that looked over-warm for the weather but on close inspection proved to be made of thin, lightweight material, more like an extra shirt. It matched her dress, and Lena suspected Ruby had had a word with Gilbert to make it so.
Even Jack's covered face was not unusual today. Though Ruby had explained that it was tomorrow, the last day of Midsummer, when it was traditional to cover one's face, Lena was finding that it was common enough to see masks on the first two days, moreso on the second. Jack's new scarf, also red, seemed little different from the colored cloths many other people wore, as some men and women prefered such informal disguises to the whimsical masks.
Lena wore her own mask, the one Jack had bought her, hoping he might notice, hoping he might say something about it. Ruby had despaired that its green feathers wouldn't match the rest of her outfit, but Lena had worn it anyway, a sort of peace-offering to the agitated black mage. Though they walked through town together, they might as well have been miles apart for all the attention he paid her. He had not offered her his arm as he usually did, had scarcely looked her way.
They reached a corner, and he turned, paying no mind to either her or the guards who walked with them. The largest guard, a man with a highly unfortunate nose, said, "Lord Unne's house is this way." He added a hasty, "My lord," when Jack turned those expressionless blue eyes on him.
"I'm aware. But the harbor is this way, and I need to fetch something from our ship." He walked on.
Lena stepped quickly to keep up with him, her shorter legs taking two steps for each of his. He's still angry, she thought, wondering if it was because of that kiss. She had known when she did it that he was uncomfortable with such displays, but Orin had been very convincing, arguing that not only her safety but Jack's was on the line. She should have spoken with him first, to warn him, to ask his permission. Or… Maybe it wasn't that at all. Perhaps he thought her dull? He valued learning so highly, he must have been disappointed to learn how lacking her own magical education had been compared to his.
All she had was speculation; she couldn't read anything from him. She could feel the guards, though, quite easily. Her soul sight told her they were good men - or they tried to be, which was good enough for her. Three of them she recognized as having been among those who escorted them to the manor the day before. One was daydreaming, distracted by the festival decorations they passed; the other two were alert, professional, guarding her and Jack because they'd been ordered to and only there to get paid.
The last, the large one, was more complicated. He didn't seem to care about Lena one way or the other, but he regarded Jack with deep suspicion, following him with what Lena could only describe as morbid curiosity, as if he were certain Jack would do wrong and that he was only waiting to learn when. Well, her White Hall education had been good for something: there were entire lessons on putting irascible patients at ease. Lena summoned up a disarming smile and stepped closer to the guard.
"What's your name?" she asked.
He seemed startled, confused. "Clyne, miss. Corporal Nicholas Clyne."
"A pleasure, Corporal," she said, slowing her steps to a more normal pace. "How did you get stuck with us today? Did you draw a short straw?"
"No, miss. Just following orders."
"Oh. And here I was hoping it was because you prefered our company to Kane's." He cracked a smile at that. She'd surprised him, but it hadn't been much of a stretch to imagine that if he mistrusted Jack so, he might feel the same toward Kane and that a remark at Kane's expense - even one that was only lightly disparaging - would earn her some favor. "Are you from Melmond, Corporal?"
"Yes, miss."
She kept on in that way, a series of idle questions. The guard kept his answers short, which Lena suspected anyone else would have found discouraging, but she could feel that he enjoyed being asked - he was simply unsure of his words. With his large size and flat, prominent nose, she suspected he didn't often have the opportunity to converse with people who weren't intimidated by him. The other guards, including the daydreamer, listened. When she felt that she had their interest, she worked the conversation around to learning their names as well: Chad, Hector, and Bentley.
By the time they'd reached the harbor, Jack walked several paces ahead of them, probably still irritated, if Lena had to guess. The guards didn't seem to care until they reached the docks, when Chad and Bentley rushed forward to take the lead. They stopped Jack at the Sahagin Prince's gangplank, waiting for Clyne, although Cole and Felder stood at the top calling friendly greetings.
"Tell us what you needed, and we'll get it," Clyne rumbled.
"Afraid I'll sail away?" Jack said, staring the guard down. Despite how shy he usually was, she'd noticed he could be downright confrontational when facing a bully.
Or someone he views as a bully, Lena thought. Clyne didn't answer, but it was clear to Lena he only found Jack's attitude annoying and was prepared to be stubborn. She touched Jack lightly on the arm, smiling at the hulking guardsman. "How would it be if I went aboard? Would that be acceptable?"
Clyne nodded.
She turned her smile to Jack, but had trouble holding it in place when he looked at her with that same flat gaze. He said, "If you would please bring me the old book I've been studying. I believe you know which I mean."
"Yes," she said, knowing he couldn't describe it in more detail in front of their guards. "Anything else?"
"There's a ledger, brown leather cover, about this big," he said, holding up his fingers. "It's with the book."
"Alright."
She hurried aboard, welcomed by Cole and Felder, who seemed pleased to see her, if confused by her armed escort. Cole continued to stand guard, making faces down at them, while Felder crossed the deck with her. "What's this about you staying at some mansion?" he asked.
"Melmond Manor," she said, her wooden clogs clacking against the deck boards as she went below. "It's a long story."
"Aye, we've heard some of it. Redden sent word."
He followed her to the little table where Jack had spent so much of their journey from Elfheim. She picked up the old book that she knew had once belonged to Astos and gathered it up along with the journal Jack had described. She noticed then how quiet the ship was. "Are you and Cole the only ones here?"
Felder frowned. "Biggs is in the Galley. Captain's on an errand. Captain says we're stuck here 'til the revels end. Our punishment for walloping the landsmen in that fight. Load of bollocks."
"You did cheat," Lena pointed out. "So the others have gone into town?"
"More or less. Redden came by at an unholy hour this morning. Gus and Leo left with him. Think they're going south somewhere."
"They did? Gus and Leo?" said Lena. The big man who often steered the ship was watchful and careful, while the younger Leo, not much older than Jack, was both calm and capable in a fight. They would take good care of the bard. "Oh, Kane will be glad to hear that."
Above decks again, she checked on Oscar - the baby ochu snored contentedly in a sunbeam - and bid the two youngest pirates farewell. Cole planted a sloppy kiss on her cheek just before she descended the gangplank, making her blush. The Melmond guards didn't so much as bat an eye though their amusement was a palpable thing. Jack's face betrayed no emotion at all. He glanced at the books she handed him and slipped them into the pack he carried over his shoulder, where her copy of the Ars Paladia already rested, a flash of white leather that seemed to gleam before he closed up the pack. Then he reached for her hand and firmly pulled her arm through his. She felt something from him at the physical contact that she couldn't name, an unpleasant feeling, like the hiss of a snake, but it faded quickly.
The Blue Quarter seemed more colorful than it had the day before, though that was perhaps Lena's imagination. The festival decorations hadn't changed, nor had the brightly painted houses, but she felt more relaxed than she had then, knowing that the mysterious stranger who had followed them that first morning had only been Gabriel Quincey, and, of course, knowing where she was going. Walking through what she had learned was the city's center of art and culture was far more enjoyable when she wasn't wondering what was around the next corner. She felt safe there, holding to Jack's arm and surrounded by guards.
Seward's house, as well, was more interesting the second time. Focused on her destination, rather than on every other house on the street, she noticed more details. The jarring colors had been applied with apparent care: the purple and yellow were surprisingly complementary, while the green, which had the day before seemed so prominent to her, was, she saw now, used sparingly, a bright pop of contrast around the doors and windows. "You know, I do believe Seward's house is the nicest on this street," she said, looking about.
Jack glanced down at her, and his eyes were normal again, kind, not the cold, guarded eyes he had worn since that morning. "You should tell him so, my lady. He would like that," he said quietly.
Seward's door opened while she and Jack were still climbing the porch steps, and they were greeted once more by Liza. Remembering how roughly the woman had hugged Jack the day before, Lena reclaimed her arm, but she was completely unprepared when Liza pulled both of them into her embrace. "Oh, master Jack! It gave me such a fright to see you taken by the guards yesterday! I was that worried for you!"
"Hello, Liza," Jack said, sounding somewhat strangled.
She released her hold on them, pushing Jack out at arm's reach to look him up and down, then grabbing Lena by the shoulders for a similar check. She patted Lena's cheek. "You'll not know how relieved I was when his lordship told us all you'd only been taken as Lord Leiden's guests! Though whoever treats his guests in that way, I should like to know?" she said, glaring at Clyne and the others. "I suppose they'll be wanting to come in?"
"Yes, ma'am," said Clyne.
"It's fine," said Jack, straightening his clothes. "They're here for our safety." Lena could feel that he viewed that statement as a lie.
Liza snorted. "Well, and you're safe enough in here! They can wait in the foyer or they can go back and tell Lord Leiden hello from me." She showed Lena a short shelf just inside the door that held a few pairs of wooden clogs like the ones she wore but larger, made for a man's feet. Lena slipped her clogs off and added them to the others. Then, because it seemed silly to wear it inside, she reached up to untie her mask. Liza took it, retied the ribbons, and hung it by its string on a hook beside one of Seward's hats.
"The foyer will be fine, ma'am," said Clyne. Everything about him indicated he had expected no less. He and the other guards were clearly used to such treatment. Lena could feel that Chad and Bentley were steeling themselves for a boring afternoon, while Hector had already gone back to daydreaming.
"Couldn't you-" Lena said, stopping as Liza, Jack, and three of the four guards all focused their gazes on her. "That is, couldn't you find them something to eat? We're here for lunch, after all." Jack cocked an eyebrow at her, and she felt again the hissing sensation she had felt from him before. Was he annoyed with her? Had he really been annoyed with her so infrequently that she had not had occasion to identify the sensation until now? "They're only doing their jobs," she explained. "It's not their fault they've been assigned to guard us."
Jack nodded. "Liza, do as she says."
"Right you are." The plump maid waved her hands at the guards as though she were a mother hen shooing her chicks, directing them toward a bench along the wall that could have seated all four of them in a tight squeeze. "Over there with you. I'll have another chair brought 'round." To Jack, she said, "His lordship's in the study. Lunch will be ready in a few minutes. Head to the dining room whenever you like."
"Thank you," Jack said. He held out a hand for Lena, and she was so glad to see him do it that she took it instantly. The uncomfortable hiss faded to a muted buzz as he led her to Seward's workroom, and it vanished altogether when Seward greeted them.
"Ah, you're here! Excellent! And Miss Mateus as well!" He bowed with a flourish that would have been impressive from a man half his size. "You look radiant, my dear." He smiled, clapping Jack's shoulder. "I was relieved to learn you weren't in any sort of trouble after your dramatic exit yesterday! Is it only the two of you? It's just that I dug out some mechanical diagrams for your friend, as he seemed so interested in my machina!"
"I'm afraid so," said Jack.
"A shame!" Seward looked crestfallen, then smiled once more. "But that does leave more time for you and me to have a look at that antique journal I was telling you about!"
Jack shook his head. "I'm afraid I won't be much company either. I…" He sighed. "There's something I need to work on. I was hoping I could look at whatever you have on high Leifenish?"
"Of course! Whatever you need! I'm sure you know where I keep everything." He pointed vaguely toward one of the room's many bookcases, then turned to Lena. "Perhaps you'd like to look at that journal with me, dear? How's your Leifenish? You did say you were also a mage?"
She blushed for what must have been the hundredth time that day. "Apparently a poor one," she said.
"No," said Jack, his eyes gone sharp and bright as he looked at her. "I don't think that, my lady. Don't be so hard on yourself." He turned to Seward, unshouldering the pack he carried. "But it has come to my attention that she doesn't know Leifenish. She needs a spellbook translated. I thought you might like to be the one to help her with it."
Seward looked at Jack much as one would look at a dog that had just widdled on the rug: a scoffing, slant-eyed look. "Me? Now, Jack, you know how I feel about magic. I've no interest in spellbooks! If she must learn, I've any number of primers and-"
"You'll be interested in this one," said Jack, producing the white leather book and holding it out, open to the first page.
Seward's lips moved as he read over the inscription. "'With all my arts…'" His eyes widened, and he gasped, reaching for the book with the same soft and dreamy expression as a father reaching for his newborn babe for the first time. "Oh!" he said reverently. "Oh, dagona goweli! Beautiful!" He gasped again as he turned pages and came to one of the shimmering illustrations. "Beautiful!"
"Will you help her read it?" Jack asked.
"Of course! Of course! It would be my pleasure!" said Seward, his excitement bubbling over and tickling Lena's nose - it contrasted so sharply with her own disappointment, for she had wanted to read the book with Jack - but then worry and confusion bloomed up, like a pillow whopping her in the face. "But…" said Seward, looking up from the book he held in both hands, looking at her. "But, my dear, even I know the Ars Paladia is no black magic book. Are you… Are you a white mage?"
She tried, unsuccessfully, not to roll her eyes. "Has everyone heard of this book except me?"
"You can't breathe a word of this outside this room, Seward. Not to anyone," said Jack. "If I had any other choice, I would have kept it from you too."
"I'll swear on whichever deity you prefer if it means I can study this book!" Seward said, setting the book gently on a worktable and sitting to read it, ignoring his guests completely.
Lena watched him a moment as Jack shook his head beside her. Quietly, she said, "He won't tell anyone. We can trust him. I can feel it."
Jack sighed. "I know. But I would rather have kept it from everyone, even him." He shrugged, looking at her once more. "Start with the spell Orin told you about. It sounds as though you'll need it."
She nodded, but she must have made a face for he quickly asked, "What is it?"
"I've never learned a spell from a book before." She hated to say it, embarrassed as she already was over her lack of magical knowledge and worried that he thought less of her for it, but she couldn't lie to him. "Do you really think I'll be able to?"
He made a little "hmm" sound, as though she'd just asked a particularly interesting question and he was considering it. He looked about, spying a pen and inkwell on a nearby worktable and beckoning her over to it with him. He found a blank scrap of paper and scratched out a design which he then held out to her. "Care to guess what this is?"
She looked carefully and found she recognized it from her lessons years ago. "I know it's meant to be Cure, but I don't remember how that is supposed to lead to the spell."
"This is the foundation. Any aether diagram only records the first steps. The spells grow too complicated after that. You have to learn to finish them by feel, but if you start them correctly, I find the end often extends logically from there. Most of the time, anyways. It's… it's hard to explain." He pointed. "They start in the center and move outward. The drawing is flat, but the flow is spherical. Those lines indicate direction. Focus here." He covered part of the diagram with one hand, framing the center between first finger and thumb. "Try to memorize this part."
She did as he asked, concentrating, though it still seemed little more than a scribble. When she felt she could have redrawn it from memory, she nodded.
He took the drawing from her and set it aside, taking one of her hands between his palms. "You can see the aether inside me, yes?"
She nodded, her mouth going dry at the closeness of the gesture.
"Watch," he said, and she felt the aether move. His eyes went distant, showing no corona, for the aether he worked came from within. Again, he said, "Watch. I'll go slowly, but I can't hold it long."
She focused on his aura. It was weaker than normal, but she set that observation aside for now. This close, she could feel how hard he concentrated, how difficult it was for him to cast using only the blue flame of his reserves when every instinct told him to draw the aether from outside. He has less, she realized. He carries so much less than I do. It was a difference between white and black mages that she was already aware of, but she had never before considered how she personally compared to Jack. It surprised her when he formed the core of a Cure spell just how much of him it took.
And then she saw it: that twist of the aether that mimicked the diagram, the way the rest of the spell formed around it. "Oh!" she said. "That's it! I think I understand!"
He grunted as he let it go, like a man setting down a heavy burden. Closing his eyes, he seemed to stagger where he stood, his grip tightening on her hand. "Good," he mumbled. "Because that's as much of it as I can do."
She steered him toward a chair while casting a Cure of her own, seeing, with some satisfaction, how it contained what she knew of the diagram, but also seeing how effortless it was for her compared to the half-spell Jack had done. Completing that would nearly have drained him. Still, the incomplete spell should not have physically affected him so. She rested her hand on his chest and looked at his aura properly. He looked down at her hand then raised an eyebrow at her.
Her diagnosis took mere seconds. "You're not eating enough," she said, bracing herself to once more feel the harsh buzz of his annoyance. It never came. He only continued to look at her like that. Flustered, she went on, "You're going to make yourself ill; I can see it."
He nodded. "Then I suppose it's a good thing we came here to eat."
It took less convincing than Lena thought it might to get Seward to leave the Ars Paladia behind and head to the dining room. The fat scholar never missed a meal, and of course he wouldn't dream of having the valuable tome, warded or not, anywhere near a table full of food. He did, however, grab a stack of notes on the Leifenish alphabet, which was larger and more complex than the modern plain speech alphabet that had descended from it. He spread them across the table in front of Lena as the three of them ate, and he and Jack worked together to explain each symbol to her. Jack took on that lecturing tone that he got sometimes, all pretense of shyness gone, and Lena enjoyed seeing him in that way. Save for the presence of Seward, it was how she had imagined it would be to have Jack translate the Ars Paladia with her, and for an hour she was happy.
When their meal ended, however, they returned to the study. Jack claimed a table in the corner near the high Leifenish books, which seemed to Lena to be located as far across the room as possible from her and Lord Unne. Lena sat on the side of the table that faced the black mage, and she didn't have to feel his emotions to know that whatever he was finding in that strange book was displeasing him: every time she looked up from her own task, she saw him rubbing at his temples or his forehead, or pinching the bridge of his nose.
Her own task went better. Seward was a patient teacher. He enjoyed his subject and enjoyed sharing it. He did not translate for her, but guided her through the text, word by word, making her translate for herself with the aid of a Leifenish dictionary, stopping her to explain pronunciation rules and verb conjugations as they came up. He was pleased whenever Lena figured out a word or phrase correctly but undeterred when she got things wrong.
By the time she'd worked through the few pages of text that accompanied the Dispel illustration, her brain felt so jumbled with grammar rules and Leifenish spellings that she doubted she could remember how to write her own name. "You're a natural at this, my dear," said Seward. "Why, you'll be fluent before the leaves turn at this rate!"
"I doubt that very much," Lena said.
He stood and stretched, looking at the late evening light coming through the windows. "Near time for dinner, if I'm any judge. You'll stay and have another meal with me, won't you?"
"Oh, um, of course. If it's time for one," she said. He offered her his arm as Jack always did, and as she stood to take it, she wondered if Jack had learned the courtly behavior from this quaint Melmond lord. "Jack?" she called. "Will you come to dinner?"
"In a minute," he said, an automatic response. She could feel the steady, unwavering hum of his concentration on the book in front of him, and she knew he hadn't really heard.
Seward chuckled. "I've seen him like this before. Don't worry: I'll send Liza with a plate for him. She can be very forceful about standing over him until he's eaten."
They found the plump housekeeper in a small room near the front door, sitting at a table with Clyne and his men, playing a round of Over Onion Knight with a pipe between her lips. She'd a pile of Melmond guilders in front of her that was perhaps a third the size of the one in front of Corporal Clyne. Clyne held his cards close, his face blank and innocent, and Lena could feel nothing from him; he was as closed off to her in that moment as Jack had ever been. Chad, Hector, and Bentley had only a handful of the little silver coins left between them, but they smiled openly, as entertained by the game as if they were observing a jester.
"Sorry to interrupt," said Seward, "but Jack's fallen into his book again."
"Right you are, my lord," said Liza, setting her cards down. To the guards she said, "I won't be a moment."
Chad and Bentley watched her go, confused. "She's not worried we'll cheat while she's gone?" said Chad.
"I'd say she's confident it won't matter," Seward said. "If I were you, gentlemen, I should quit now. She lets you win until it suits her."
Bentley laughed. "She hasn't played our Corporal before! He's been the West Gate Guardhouse's Onion Knight champion for three years running!"
Seward chuckled. "Don't say I didn't warn you."
Dinner was a simple meal of vegetables with a roll of crusty, buttered bread. There were two sausages on Lena's plate, but she found the first few bites so spicy that she couldn't finish even one of them. Seward told her tales of his brother, Seaworth, who was another Leifenish scholar but rather more hands-on about it. Seaworth traveled the world seeking out Leifenish ruins and studying them. Seward hadn't heard from him in some months but Lena could feel that he wasn't worried. Seward told her that although Seaworth wrote home often, the rough seas had made it difficult for his letters to come through. Sometimes Seaworth would show up for a visit weeks before his letters arrived.
When their meal was finished, Seward said, "I believe I should like to go and watch Liza take those young men at cards. Would you care to join me?"
"No, thank you," said Lena. "I'm going to see how Jack's doing." He offered to walk her back to the study, but she told him she knew the way.
Jack didn't even look up at the sound of the door. In one hand, he held a pen above a page of notes, while his other held the book open on the table. At his elbow was a messy plate, empty but for the knife and fork that lay across it. That and the way his scarf draped loose around his shoulders suggested that he had eaten.
He hadn't noticed her. Lena approached him, but she slowed her steps when she was still several feet away. She could feel him. It was an unpleasant mix of emotions - sadness and frustration - but it was the most she had ever felt from him at once, and at the greatest distance. Her instinct to hurry to his side and offer a white mage's comfort warred with her fascination, and she stopped.
She had known for some time now that whatever method he used to close off his emotions was a conscious one. She had felt his fear as nightmares plagued him in his sleep, had felt his amusement seeping through when he was relaxed and happy while joking around with Kane. Now, he was distracted, too focused on translating his book to lock his emotions down. If she asked him what was wrong, he would shut himself away again. Did that mean he didn't want her to ask? That he didn't want her help?
She didn't know what to do. She had never known someone she couldn't read before, had always known right away if someone disliked her or found her annoying. She had navigated through conversations by tailoring her responses to the reactions she felt from others. Without such cues, Jack so often left her floundering.
While she stood there wondering, he sighed and sat back, tossing down the pen as he rubbed his eyes with both hands. When he finished, he looked her way, and if he was surprised to see her there, he gave no sign. "My lady," he said.
Lena could feel his frustrations shrinking, as if the sight of another person reminded him not to feel. She crossed the room toward him and sat in a chair near the worktable he used. "You seem to be having a difficult time," she said.
He laughed bitterly. "I can't decide which is worse: the high Leifenish, or this book's calligraphy."
"That bad?" She craned her neck to see the book for herself, but Jack was already closing it.
"I think I'd like to call it a day," he said. "I'm not finding what I'd hoped."
"What was it you were looking for?"
"Answers." He stood, gathering his notes into a tidy pile. "We should leave our books here, both of us. It wouldn't do for anyone snooping to find spellbooks among our things."
"Yes," Lena said. "Seward already asked me if I would leave mine."
Jack nodded, grabbing one book after another from his workspace and refiling them on the nearby shelf. He slipped his own book in among them, hidden in plain sight. If Lena hadn't known just what she was looking for, she would never have found it again. His hand hovered over the book's spine a moment, and Lena felt that same sadness from him that she had felt when she entered the room, sharper now.
She couldn't stand it any longer. "What's wrong?" she asked. "Please. You're upset about something. Was it something to do with that book?"
He sighed, still standing by the bookshelf like a child sent to the corner for misbehaving. "Part of it."
"Was it me?" she asked.
"No," he said.
Lena gasped. Lying. A white lie, meant to spare her from a painful truth, but still a lie, the first he'd ever told her.
He knew what he'd done: she felt his guilt. He covered his mouth with one hand, shaking his head. "Yes," he corrected. "But not just you. Lena, there's something I've been keeping from you." He took a deep breath, as though he were about to give a long speech, but he only said, "But I can't tell you."
She wanted to go to him, but she feared he would step away if she did. She forced herself to stay in her chair. "Jack, whatever it is, you don't have to tell me now."
He closed his eyes, still facing the shelf, like he couldn't look her in the eye. "I've told you how highly I value our friendship. That hasn't changed. But… But I can't do it. I can't pretend to be more than we are."
Ah. She had known it would come to this. "The kiss?" she asked.
He nodded. "I know what Orin said this morning. I've been thinking of it all day. Trying to convince myself I could make it work, but I can't. I know I… I know I'm no good at expressing my feelings. I never had real friends before." He turned, looking at her at last, eyes pleading. "Lena, please, what we already have has to be enough. I don't have to pretend to care for you. You know I do. But I can't give you more."
He was so desperate, so distraught. She thought she knew what he needed to hear to soothe his troubled mind. Surely, there was room within the Oath for that? And so she lied to him. "I don't need more, Jack. Really. Your friendship is enough. More than enough."
He nodded, looking at the floor. She could feel him gathering his emotions in, packing them down like tamping dirt into a hole. When he looked up again and said, "Alright," she couldn't feel anything from him anymore. He stepped past her toward the door. "We should probably head back."
I lied, she thought. She wanted to shout it after him. Jack, I lied. I need more. I want more.
When she didn't follow, he looked over his shoulder at her, blue eyes expressionless. He held out his hand, and she took it, letting him lead her along, glad that he didn't look back again as she tried to compose her features.
She wasn't fully present as they bid Seward farewell. As they walked through the twilit streets, their guards clearing a path through the earliest revelers, she held to Jack's arm, feeling nothing from him, letting the mood of the crowd take her, riding the waves of their mirth. It helped for a time, but then they crossed through the city's west gate and walked the empty path toward Melmond Manor and she was left to deal with her own jumbled feelings again. Such a change from normal, how tonight she would rather have waded into a mob than to feel her own mind.
That was perhaps, back at the manor, what drew her attention to the parlor. Chad and Hector parted ways with them before they entered the house, but Clyne and Bentley walked with them, one in front and one behind, with Clyne leading them purposefully toward the stairs. As they approached the parlor, Lena could feel the giggling as surely as she heard it through the open door. She stopped to look inside, and Jack and the guards stopped with her, though she could feel Clyne's annoyance at the sight of Ruby and her friends playing Over Onion Knight.
He must have lost to Liza after all, she thought.
"Miss Mateus!" one of the girls called, and Lena saw that it was Beatrix Hornwood.
Ruby looked up. "Lena! Come play a hand with us!"
Happy, tipsy, vapid, vain, laughing. The room was a warm, pink cacophony of sensations that Lena knew would overwhelm her in a matter of minutes. She was awful at Onion Knight - she couldn't bluff! - but she didn't want to be alone in her room with her thoughts. "Thank you. I will," she said.
She looked up at Jack to bid him goodnight and found he was watching her. His eyes flicked toward the ladies at their cards and then back to her, and for a moment she felt an edge of terror from him. It was gone in an instant. There in the doorway, in full view of all of those ladies, he pulled her hand from his arm and he held it, softly running his thumb over the tops of her fingers. Then he reached up, pulling his scarf down just enough to expose his lips, and he raised her hand to his mouth and kissed it.
It seemed to go on for quite some while. His eyes were on hers the whole time, unreadable, but she felt something. She couldn't identify it, but she was sure it came from him. She focused on it, held to it, as he held her hand to his lips.
But then one of the ladies in the parlor giggled. Another scoffed. Someone muttered, "Well, I never!" which elicited more giggling.
As if their chatter had broken some spell, Jack ended the kiss. He smiled slyly at her as he adjusted his scarf. "Goodnight, my lady," he whispered.
Regret, she realized. This feeling is regret. But as she watched him head up the stairs, the emotion she had felt from him remained, and she knew it was her own.
Author's Note: 6/2/17 - Remember how last year I had to take the summer off from posting because I'm a librarian and the Summer Reading Program is kind of a big deal? I'm not doing that to you this year! :D Yet another benefit of only posting once a month! Here's your (huge) June chapter and I have the (equally huge) July chapter ready to go! I may not have another chapter by the time August rolls around, but we'll deal with that later. If the Summer Reading Program hasn't killed me.
This month, I'd like to give a special shout-out to David, a talented artist, highly creative individual, and one of my biggest supporters on this project. He used to be my boss. One day, he happened to notice the files in my Google Drive labeled "Chapter 1", "Chapter 2", etc., and asked, "What's this thing with 12 chapters in it?"
I very shyly told him I was writing a silly, no-account piece of fanfiction and posting it online. Just, you know, in my spare time. Nothing serious. I mean, it's fanfiction.
His response? "I'm going to need a link to that." He'd never even played FF1. He expected my story to be terrible. He was just trying to be supportive.
Turns out, he liked it. I came into work the next day and he had chapter 5 open on his computer, ready to discuss, like we were in a book club or something. He's been reading each chapter faithfully since then.
So here's to you, David. I keep telling you you're a white mage. You help keep this story alive.