The next morning, Lena woke slowly, mind and body swirling together in a pleasant fuzz as the sunlight streamed through the open window. She'd drifted in and out of wakefulness several times before it took, before her thoughts finally penetrated the fog and came back to her. Oh! The rain stopped…
The night before, they'd been at the Quinceys' townhouse in the Blue Quarter less than an hour when the storm started. Lena had felt the change in the air, the steady hum of rain on the roof pounding at her soul like a drum, shaking loose the emotions that had caked over her own like so much dried mud. When the sergeant finally felt it was safe, they'd walked back through the pouring rain to Melmond Manor. Lena had turned her face up to let it wash over her, feeling more like herself than she had in days.
She'd have stayed out in it for hours had it not been so cold. The others had all remarked on it: at this time of year, they said, even the rain should be warm. Poor Jack had been shivering by the time they reached the manor. The fire mage hardly ever seemed bothered by heat, but he appeared to have no tolerance for the cold. It struck her as funny that even in this weather he might be longing for his coat.
She rose to shut the window, left open last night so that she might listen to the rain as she slept, and only then realized how late in the morning it was. As bad as Harvey, she thought. Well, not quite that bad; both Ruby and the sergeant had said the young Lord Leiden never rose before noon, and it surely wasn't midday yet. Still, she and Jack were due at Seward's again today, so she got dressed.
Her soul sight showed her that Jack was in the next room, still in bed. That's twice I've been up before him since we've been here, she thought. He was usually an early riser. She considered knocking on the connecting door, but that seemed too intimate. Instead, she went out to the hall and rapped on the door there. "Jack? Are you awake?"
She heard movement, footsteps approaching the door, but he didn't open it. It muffled his voice as he said, "Good morning, my lady," but even that couldn't account for how raspy he sounded. "I'm afraid I'll have to cancel our plans today."
"You sound awful!" she said.
"No worse than I feel," he replied. She knew, from his tone, the exact slant of his eyebrows at precisely that moment. It made her smile, despite her worry.
She composed herself before she asked, "What's wrong?"
"An old complaint. It's… It's something I was born with. It's been giving me trouble."
An honest answer, yet it bothered her: the fact that he suffered from some lifelong affliction that she didn't know about only served to remind her that she didn't know him as well as she would like. "Well, come out. I'll fix you up," she said with forced cheerfulness.
After a long delay, he said, "I doubt it's anything you've seen before."
"I've seen a great many things, Jack. I have been at this for seven years, you know!" She tried the doorknob, but it stuck fast. He held it from the inside, keeping her out.
"I'm sorry, my lady! I don't mean to… to cast aspersions on your education. It's just that this thing… this particular affliction… it's magical in nature. A problem with the aether."
She let go of the knob, considering. She had to admit she had no experience with aetheric maladies. She'd heard of a few, but only vague descriptions. They rarely troubled white mages, and she knew so few black mages. "At least let me try!" she said. "You can't mean to stay locked in your room all day!"
He stuttered, sounding embarrassed, but she couldn't sense him through the door even with her soul sight engaged. He'd locked himself inside in more ways than one. "A-actually, yes. That was sort of my plan."
"Jack-"
"Lena, please!" he said, and that stopped her, for he hardly ever called her by name. She thought she could count the times on one hand, and none of them had ever been good. "I'm not hurt. I'm not sick. I'm just not well. Please. I need time alone."
Is that really what you need? she wondered. Once upon a time, she had read his soul and found a loneliness there she couldn't even fathom, a need, a longing, for a friend. She had decided in that instant that she would be that friend, but the closer she got to him, the more he pulled away. He was right there, only a door between them, so why did she feel as though they were miles apart from each other? "Alright," she said. She had to trust him, trust that he knew what was best for himself.
She headed downstairs, passing Corporal Clyne on the landing. He only grunted when she informed him he would be guarding a stationary target today. She got a small breakfast from the kitchens, but then she didn't know what to do with herself next. After a moment's thought, she remembered the pretty fountain in the garden behind the house where she might sit and watch the fish. Her head was still clear from the rain, but more water was always better.
Outside, the grounds seemed unchanged by the storm the night before, no more muddy than usual. The morning was already warm, the air just as humid as it had been since the day they arrived and rich with the smell of wet earth. Lena went through the arched entrance in the garden wall and found her way to the fountain without incident. She sat admiring the view, perfect save for a single wilting rose bush battered by the rain. There were several plants she recognized from her childhood that seemed to grow well here; Onlac wasn't as hot as Melmond but it also lacked Cornelia's cold winters.
She listened to the burbling of the fountain, the songs of birds and frogs, the meowing of a cat somewhere, and eventually she heard Ruby's voice. "-more careful next time. I won't always be around to rescue you. It's luck that I was there when you needed me."
Lena stood, following both her soul sight and the sound of Ruby's voice, and inside a circle of waist-high hedges, she found the girl kneeling over a small, lidded basket. "Ruby?"
Ruby screamed, turning quickly, then laughed when she saw Lena there. "You scared the life out of me!"
"I'm so sorry!" Lena said. "I… I heard you speaking."
"I didn't know anyone was out here," Ruby said, turning back to her basket and peeking beneath the lid. "No one else comes here but me. It is my garden, you know."
"I didn't realize," Lena said. "You care for all of this?"
"Well, only the portion nearest the house. I'm afraid I can't keep up with all of it. Our gardener, Moore, died last winter." Lena noted Ruby's grief, sensed that the gardener had been a friend to her, but the other girl kept on in that cheerful tone as though she wasn't bothered. "Father's hired several replacements, but I'm afraid none of them have been a good fit. I fired the last one only a month ago. Father was furious, but he trusted my judgment. He can't tell a daisy from dandelion."
Lena smiled, trying to ease the conversation away from the topic of the deceased gardener and the pain it seemed to cause. "Why were you talking to a basket?"
"This?" Ruby said, seeming shy all of a sudden. "Oh, it's just… I found this injured bird, but he seems better now. I was going to release him."
"A bird?"
"'Found' isn't the right word, really. More like 'rescued'. It was in the behemoth's mouth at the time."
"You have behemoths in Melmond?" Lena said, recalling the illustrations of the Stone Coast beasts she'd seen in her studies of animal anatomy at White Hall.
"Ha! Just the one. Behemoth is what Gabriel calls his cat. He found it as a kitten and got the idea it wasn't happy in town so he brought it out here. Now it's a great hulking monster that eats all my songbirds. Gabriel dotes over that thing."
Lena tried to picture the strong, stern sergeant doting over a cat, even a monstrous one, but her imagination failed her. She shook her head. "Are you sure the bird is alright? Cat bites can be very nasty."
"I think so. Moore taught me a few things about healing herbs, so I made a salve."
She wanted to ask what kind of salve, which plants. She wanted to open the basket and check the bird for herself, but she knew she couldn't risk looking like she knew too much, not even in front of Ruby. Instead she knelt beside her. "Well, shall we see if it worked?"
Ruby nodded. She took a deep breath and removed the basket's lid. A bluebird blinked up at them from a handkerchief bed, beside Ruby's garden tools, a small hand shovel and a pair of clippers, along with a ledger and a stoppered inkwell. The bird shook itself off and flew to the nearest hedge, landing on a branch and flapping experimentally a few times before it launched into the sky and away. Ruby smiled in satisfaction. "I'd say that's a success." She gathered her basket and stood to go. "Come on, then," she said, holding out a hand to help Lena up. "I've that luncheon to get ready for, and I know you and your young man have places to be."
"Oh, no, actually. Jack isn't… He isn't feeling well today."
"No! Really? I told Gabriel someone would catch a chill if we walked back in the rain! Just had to get away from his brothers, didn't he? Now look what he's done! That's awful! Summer colds are the worst. I'll tell Berta to make him some soup."
They were passing the fountain now, making toward the exit. Lena slowed her steps.
Ruby said, "And what of you? If you've no plans, you could join me for that luncheon. The Ladies' Charitable League can be dull, but they always put on a nice meal."
"No, thank you," Lena said. "I thought I might sit by the fountain today."
"What, all day?"
"I find the water soothing."
Ruby smiled, shifting her basket around to dig out the ledger. "If that's the way it is, do you know where you should go? There's a frog pond, deep in the garden. It's a hedge maze, you see, and that's the middle, all lily pads and water hawthorn. It's gorgeous. The path is dreadfully overgrown, but I'll draw you a map."
"I'd like that," Lena said.
They sat by the fountain as Ruby flipped through the ledger - sketches of plants with notes in the margins - to the first blank page and drew a path through a complicated design, blowing on it to dry the ink before she ripped it out and handed it to Lena. "There you are. The path is worst just here," she said, pointing, "but nothing too perilous."
"Thank you," Lena said. "I look forward to seeing it." She headed toward the back of the garden and the entrance to the hedge maze, but stopped when she noticed another familiar plant, though not one from back home. Musk mallow! The catalyst for crafting Remedy. She would know those broad, pink flowers anywhere. The priests grew huge swaths of it at White Hall; apprentices practiced their potions by crafting the simple curatives over and over. She could craft one for Jack. It might not help, but she would feel better for trying.
She looked back to see if Ruby had gone, but the girl was still there, fussing over the rain-beaten rose bush, pruning it with the clippers from her basket. Lena waited, not wanting to be caught harvesting the plants. She could always say she was picking the musk mallow for the flowers - it would have been mostly true, as the flowers were the most effective part - but even the implied lie made her uncomfortable.
There was a flash, what Lena thought at first to be the clippers catching the light. Only a brief flash, she would have missed it had she not been watching Ruby the whole time. Ruby turned, replacing the clippers in the basket that hung on her arm, nestling the lid back down. In her other hand, she held not stray clippings, but three of the most beautiful blooms Lena had ever seen, whole and perfect. Ruby walked away back toward the house; behind her, the bush stood tall in the mid-morning light, its remaining blooms no longer wilted.
The day after the storm was hot and bright, the sort of day where Kane didn't mind staying inside with a cool drink, yet even when he was doing just that, he had trouble relaxing. The dozen or so people in the tavern talked around him, a steady background noise that Kane didn't even hear anymore. As he sipped at his drink, a bitter local brew that was clearly an acquired taste, his eyes kept drifting to the windows, searching.
"Hello?" said Harvey, startling him back to the present. "Are you still with us?"
"I'm sorry. I wasn't listening."
Harvey grinned at the men down the bar from him, the ones he'd been speaking to before, and they laughed. He turned back to Kane. "I'll say! I asked who you were hoping to see. It's clear you're waiting for someone. Is it a girl?"
"No!" Kane said quickly. "I was… I was wondering if my father was back yet. He's due back today."
"You ought to go back to the house and wait for him," Gabriel grumbled. It was the first statement he'd addressed to Kane all day, though Kane didn't know what he could have done to make the man angry with him.
"Oh?" said a man Harvey had introduced as Aiden, one of Pollendina's accountants. "Are they staying with you in town, Gabriel?"
"Titan, no!" Harvey answered for him. "He means my house! Gabriel's been staying with me! His brothers were in town for the revels. He never stays at the Quincey house with them."
"I imagine you'll soon be looking for your own place then?" said Aiden. "Now that Logan will be living in town?"
Gabriel choked on his drink. "What?"
"You didn't know? He was in at the Chocobo yesterday to see Lord Pollendina. His lordship offered him a position with the firm. Didn't he tell you last night? He said he had plans with you."
The sergeant only stared.
Harvey cleared his throat, speaking into the awkward silence. "We were somewhat preoccupied with other matters. The play, you know."
"Heard about that. You were there?" said Aiden.
"A mess!" said the second man, another accountant, though Kane couldn't remember his name. "The crowd did a number on the Saucer! Thousands of gil in damages. It's a wonder nobody died."
Harvey nodded. "Yes, it's lucky there were so many guards around, else it would have been worse. They had their work cut out for them, from what I hear. How many did you say were there, Gabriel?"
"Thirty-two," Quincey said. Under his breath, he added, "Not counting myself." Kane thought he might have been the only one who caught his grimace as he tossed back his drink. The sergeant had tried to go back to the theater the night before, after he'd seen the others to safety at his family's home, but had relented when his brother and Harvey had argued against it.
"Thirty-two," Harvey affirmed. "Both on duty and off, including Commander Malcolm himself, all there to see Diana."
"It almost seems like they planned it that way. Do you think that's why they cast her in the lead?" said Aiden.
Harvey laughed. "Don't be ridiculous! They cast her because she's brilliant! You should have seen it!"
As Harvey recounted the details of the play, Kane looked to the sergeant. "You alright?" Kane asked him quietly.
Gabriel nodded but didn't answer.
He feels like a failure, Kane thought. It was written all over the sergeant's face. "Look, last night... There was nothing more you could have done. You can't have known-"
Quincey cut him off with only a glare. "If not for you and your brother, I could have done more."
Kane returned the glare, but bit back his own anger. He knew the sergeant was only lashing out at a convenient target. "You know that's not true," he said, keeping his voice even. "If we hadn't been there, Harvey still would have been. You wouldn't have abandoned him."
The sergeant scowled down at his empty cup. "Why are you here? Do you really think anyone believes you came to investigate the Rot? I don't understand why Lord Leiden didn't send you back to Cornelia the day you arrived. The sooner your father returns and takes you off my hands, the better."
Kane nodded. He couldn't disagree. His gaze turned to the window again.
It was hours before they went back to the manor, but still, his father hadn't returned. Kane ate dinner at the Leidens' table, but his father didn't return. Likely delayed by the storm the night before, Leiden said. Kane sat in the parlor half the evening, waiting, until at last Lord Leiden shooed him off to bed.
That night, he dreamed he was back in Asura's Tomb, after Astos's men had drawn from him. He struggled to rise from the cold stone floor. His father lay motionless just beyond his reach, and Kane knew, with the certainty that one sometimes has in dreams, that his father was dead. He woke with the horror of it, the panic still fresh in his mind, so cold that he thought at first that he was still there, but then his eyes adjusted to the gray predawn light and brought him back to Melmond Manor.
Across the room, Jack shivered in his sleep, huddled in the corner under the blanket from the bed. Kane, in the bed, had nothing but a sheet. The night had been warm and the sheet had been enough when he fell asleep, but the mage was getting worse. He needs that sword, Kane thought, and I need my father.
He would find him, he told himself as he rose and dressed. He'd been so focused on it that he forgot about the guards on the landing. He had no excuse prepared, couldn't explain what he was doing up at such an early hour, but they didn't stop him. Sure, one fell into step behind him, and Kane wondered what the man would do if - when - he tried to leave the manor.
He didn't make it that far, however. When he reached the first floor, he heard Leiden shouting at someone, something about the importance of doing one's duty. Kane stopped, surprised that the lord of Melmond was already awake, but then he heard his own name. Following the sounds of raised voices, he reached the hallway he knew contained Leiden's office. He stepped toward the door, but the guard who shadowed him stopped him with a hand on his shoulder and a terse shake of his head.
"-times I have to tell you to do as you are told?" Leiden said, his voice echoing down the hall.
The words reminded Kane so much of the arguments he often had with his father that he was surprised to hear it wasn't Harvey in the room with Leiden, but Gabriel Quincey, shouting back with firm vigor. "But you're being unreasonable! I'm useless to you here!"
"What do you think you can achieve on the streets that your comrades can't? You're not the only member of the investigation team!"
"I'm one of Malcolm's best men and you know it! He needs me! Instead, you send him Lord Orin?"
"I've already told you, as long as the Cornelians are here-"
Quincey interrupted him. "The Cornelians aren't a threat! You could set any guard in the corps to watching them!"
Leiden growled, "Yes, I can! And I've set you!"
"To what end? We're days from the full moon! We have every reason to believe the Brotherhood will kill again, and you have me playing nursemaid to pair of pampered lordlings while you test the abilities of some wrinkled old man!"
"That's quite enough!" Leiden roared, but Quincey kept right on shouting.
"If you want to compromise the safety of Melmond just so you can prove you're better than Redden Carmine, you can leave me out of it!"
There was a loud crack - a slap like a peal of thunder - and then silence. Kane shook off the hand of the guard behind him and stepped toward the door, but stopped when he heard Leiden's voice again, quieter now, cold and hard. "My son may call you brother, but I am not your father. I am your lord. Don't forget it again."
After a long beat, Quincey replied, "Yes, sir."
Without hesitation, Leiden said, "You're dismissed, sergeant."
When Quincey emerged scowling, his cheek red and inflamed, he seemed surprised to see Kane in the hall but he kept walking. "Thank you, Bentley. I'll take it from here," he said to the other guard. He pushed Kane lightly to get him moving. "Come on."
"Where are we going?" Kane asked.
"The training yard," said Quincey, idly rubbing his cheek. "I need to hit something."
"Something like a pampered lordling? Afraid I haven't seen any of those around."
Gabriel smirked. "Haven't you? Feel free to prove me wrong."
Thad had been hiding in the parlor when Lena found him. The room was abandoned in the middle of the day and he had gone there to be alone, but she'd been so concerned for him that he hadn't the heart to tell her to go away. "I felt your sadness all the way upstairs! What's wrong?" she asked, looking like a fine lady in one of Ruby's dresses, leaning over him in his hiding place behind the sofa.
What isn't wrong? he wondered. "I don't want to talk about it."
She reached down to pull him up. "Then we won't. Come on. Come with me."
She led him to a door at the back of the house, across a manicured lawn, into a garden. She said not a word, merely led him along by the hand. Though Thad had said he didn't want to talk about his troubles, he found himself talking about them anyway to fill the silence. "But he said I couldn't go with him! And when I said, well, what did he expect me to do all day? He said I was clever enough to come up with something, and then he left for town without me!"
Lena tutted under her breath. "I'm sorry he did that to you, Thadius. No wonder you were upset." She frowned down at a piece of paper she held. "Hold on. I think we were supposed to turn back there."
Thad looked around, suddenly aware of the height of the bushes, the way they closed in around them. He'd been so busy complaining that he hadn't watched where he'd been going. "Wait, is this a maze? Are we lost?"
Lena grinned at him. "Yes, it is. And no, we're not. I have a map, see?" She held it out for him. "Ruby gave it to me yesterday. There's a wonderful little place at the center, but the Leidens have been without a gardener this year so the path is a bit wild." She pulled Thad after her through a gap in the hedges that didn't look like much of a path at all. "I'm surprised you didn't follow Lord Orin into town anyway. It's unlike you to give up so easily."
He tried to pay more attention as they walked - a good thief didn't go in strange places without memorizing exits and escape routes - but all the bushes looked the same to him. Besides, he wasn't supposed to be a thief anymore. "I did follow him, but he caught me. And he said if I didn't do as I was told, then I couldn't be his apprentice, and if I wasn't his apprentice then he didn't need to stay with us and he would go back to Cornelia!"
"I see," Lena said, nodding. "I know it sounds mean, Thadius, but Lord Orin is only trying to keep you safe. The Brotherhood is dangerous. If his investigations have uncovered something, I understand why he would want to leave you behind."
"They're not just his investigations!" Thad snapped, frustrated. "I've been helping! I thought I was doing well! I'm the one who found those healing potions! I'm useful! Aren't I?" He stopped on the weedy path. He could feel his lip quivering, but to his shame, he couldn't control it.
"You are!" Lena said. She wrapped him in a hug. "Don't you remember how you freed Princess Sarah when she was all chained up? Or how you and Jack went to get Oscar when Aryon needed the elixir? You've been so useful, Thadius." She wiped the tears from his face. "Come now. We're nearly there. It's just ahead."
They followed the overgrown path, passing several other trails that looked more or less identical, but Lena's map proved true, and they soon came to a break in the hedges, a latticed archway where climbing roses had taken reign. "Watch for the thorns," Lena said, leading him through. Inside, the hedges formed a wide ring. Opposite the archway sat a perfect little pond, a miniature lake as clear as window glass all the way to the pebble-strewn bottom. A lone turtle sunned itself on the mossy bank like a king on his throne, and the little white flowers that grew in the water smelled strongly of vanilla.
It was easier to talk there, sitting beside Lena in the sunshine, their shoes off and their feet in the water as the frogs croaked in the background. He told her everything he'd seen around Melmond since their arrival, glossing over the parts where he had been sneaky or lied to people, as he suspected she wouldn't approve of such behaviors. She seemed startled when he recounted his trip to the cathedral, telling her about the sad woman whose son was missing and about the guard on the street who feared white magic. "I met a boy who said there was no such thing as bad white magic. He said it was only a story. But if there's no such thing, why is there a word for it? He called it nep… nepromancy?"
"Necromancy," Lena corrected. "It's no story, Thadius."
"But what is it?"
"It's what happens when a white mage goes mad," Lena said. "If a white mage loses someone, someone they would give anything to bring back, if they're driven to madness by it…" She shook her head. "It always ends badly. Bodies can be revived, but not souls. Once the soul is gone, it's truly gone. The thing that comes back is never a real person."
"Like a monster?" Thad asked.
"Yes," Lena nodded. "Terrible monsters. But the white mage becomes the worst monster of all. It takes a piece of the mage's own soul to revive someone who has died. If they try too many times, they're left without a soul of their own. Eventually, they become… something else. Something inhuman. I don't know that there's even a word for it. It's very rare, Thadius. I do know this much: if there were a necromancer wandering free in Melmond, we would know it." She shuddered, and Thad shuddered with her. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you. What happened after that?"
Thad shrugged. "We asked about that woman's son, but we didn't find anything. I mean, we found out about other people going missing - people go missing all the time! - but nothing about the woman's son. I feel bad for her."
"It is very sad," said Lena. "I would be sad if anything happened to you, Thadius. You know that, right?"
"I know," he said, embarrassed by the affection in her voice.
"Promise me you'll be careful while you're in town. Don't go wandering around on your own."
He kicked his feet in the water, startling a few dragonflies. "You sound just like Jack. He said the same thing last night."
She didn't say anything. She was quiet for so long, that he looked over at her, but found her staring into the water. "You had a lesson with Jack last night?" she asked at last. "I thought he was ill."
Thad nodded. "He has a cold or something. He says I won't catch it. We mostly talked the whole time, 'cause he says he can't do spells right now." It wasn't how he had imagined learning magic would be when Jack had given him that first demonstration on the way to Matoya's cave. He'd come so far since that long ago day - he'd read the Adept's Grimoire twice over, could read an aether diagram, could see the aether - but he still had so far to go. "I don't know how to do anything yet. I thought I'd be able to do it by now."
Lena shrugged. "Magic takes time."
"What if I'm one of those black mages who never learns any spells?" he asked. They did exist, people who could see the aether but couldn't do anything with it. Such people were technically black mages. The idea that he might be one of them worried him. No matter how hard he tried to draw the aether, nothing happened. He could see it, and he could feel it, but it felt to him the way water did when he was swimming: the press and flow of it around him, the feel of it against his skin, but he couldn't grab it, couldn't shape it. He also couldn't see the colors Lena had described for him. Jack had told him it was because he relied on his eyes too much. Although it was called "aether sight", it was more feeling than seeing. Thad couldn't figure out how to make it work. "What if I'm not a good enough mage?"
Lena put her arm around him and squeezed. "You're still a Warrior of Light. Just like me. Just like Kane and Jack. I don't think the gods would have chosen you for something you can't do. If you're not a good mage, then that just means the gods chose you for some other reason. Maybe they needed a thief? Maybe the thing that saves the world is locked away somewhere and only you can find it?"
He nodded, skeptical, but oddly comforted. He had been trying since Cornelia to learn how to be a Warrior of Light. That he could be one of them just as he was, with the talents he already possessed, was an idea he hadn't considered before.
"Are you ready to go back to the house now?" she asked.
He almost said yes. It had to be nearly lunchtime, and he was hungry, but what would he do there, with Orin gone to town? "Can we stay a little longer?" he asked. "It's private here. I could practice my magic things, couldn't I?"
Lena smiled. "Of course. I need practice too. I spent hours here yesterday trying to learn a new spell myself. We'll stay as long as you like."
Thad closed his eyes, calling up the aether sight, trying to view the frog pond through the aether alone, trying to feel the color of Lena's aura beside him. He watched as Lena formed a spell and the white wall of Protect sprang up around her. She attempted a second spell, shifting the aether first one way and then another, never quite getting the spell to come together.
Watching her shape the aether, he tried to do the same, but it was like smoke, intangible. Discouraged, he wandered around the pond instead. He rolled up his pant legs and waded, chasing the tiny fish that lived along the pond's stony bottom. He looked closely at the sun-bathing turtle, which didn't even move when he approached it. He sniffed at the little white flowers that grew in the water, and then investigated the plants that grew in front of the hedges that surrounded the pond. He recognized the spiky leaves: this was the plant he had picked with Noah at the cathedral garden, the weed. He knelt and began idly plucking the tiny shoots.
He felt the aether change as Lena stopped attempting her spell. "Oh, Thadius! Don't pick those! Those are important!"
"These ones?" he said, holding one up for her. "Aren't they a weed?"
"Well, in a flower garden, yes, but not to me!" She walked over and knelt beside him, gently sticking the little plants back in the ground. "This is Aegir Root. It's used in healing potions."
"Oh," he said. His heart sank as he thought of Noah, trying to be helpful, to be useful, by keeping the cathedral garden in order but picking the wrong plants by mistake. He thought of all the things he had done to try to be useful to Orin, wondered what he might have got wrong himself. "I'm sorry! Did I hurt it? Is it… Is it hard to grow?"
"No, it's fine. It's very hard to kill, and very easy to grow. Look." She scooted some dirt aside near one of the stalks and pointed out an oddly shaped tuber. "The bulbs come up in the spring. You get the seedlings in the summer and they tend to be delicate - that's why the plant makes so many of them - but the bulbs can survive almost anything."
Thad nodded, relieved. There had been a lot of seedlings at the cathedral, many more than he and Noah had been able to pick in their short time together. Maybe he would see the boy again and could tell him to leave the plants alone.
Lena kept a couple of the seedlings, slipping them into a pocket of her dress. "I'll use these," she said. "I made a Remedy for Jack yesterday. I'll add these to the next one."
"You can do that?" he asked. "With the little ones? It's not just the big roots?"
Lena nodded. "The smaller stalks are good for single use potions. It's less effective, but also less work. I can't exactly wander into the kitchens and brew a big batch. But Cure is scalable. You can cast it bigger or small…" She trailed off, and her eyes grew wide. "Wait… smaller! That's it!"
She pushed to her feet and hurried around the pond to the turtle. It had been asleep until she picked it up. It squirmed in her hands, swimming through empty air. Thad felt the aether move, saw it through his aether sight, and the turtle shimmered as Protect formed over it. Lena squinted, moved the aether somehow, and the Protect shattered. "Oh!" she cried. "I did it!"
"What?" Thad said. "What did you do?"
"Dispel! I've learned Dispel! I had to make it smaller, don't you see?" She set the turtle down - it plopped into the water and settled on the bottom - then she fiddled with the aether again, this time on the Protect she had cast on herself. After only one false start, the Protect dissolved. She squealed in delight. "I did it!" she said again.
She ran over to Thad, dropping to her knees in front of him. She reached for his face, stopping to ask, "May I?"
He nodded. She placed her hands on his cheeks and closed her eyes. He tried to follow the flow of aether, but without success. The Protect formed around him seemingly from nothing, like a glass breaking in reverse. He noticed, though, that the spell she cast after that, the Dispel, was smaller. It pierced the Protect like a sewing needle through silk, unraveling the whole thing. He felt it dissipate an instant before Lena's cry of excitement.
"It works!" she said. "Oh! It works!" She stood, pulling Thad up with her, dancing him in a circle. "I did it!"
He smiled, happy for her, but even before her excitement faded, his own worries came rushing back in. She'd learned a new spell, but what progress had he made? None. What good am I? he wondered. Hot tears stung his eyes.
She must have felt it. "Oh, Thadius," she said, stopping her dance as she hugged him tight and kissed the top of his head. "It will be alright. I promise."
She held him as he cried.
They had stopped for the night in a field west of the estates. So close, but after the day's march north through the Rot, Redden couldn't have gone another step.
He could hear the clash of practice swords as he and his men approached the house. This early, the guards would still be training in the yard, but one of those left on duty soon spotted him. Redden heard the man shout the news. A few guards rushed out to them, offering aid, but Redden waved them off. He'd come around the side of the house by then, and he could see the training yard, could see the red-headed figure of his son out there practicing with another soldier. Kane was safe. Redden breathed a sigh of true relief for the first time since he'd left five days ago.
The guard's shout went down the line. Men in the yard turned to see what the fuss was about. Kane turned, and even from that distance Redden could see his smile, the same smile he'd had as a child, unchanged by the passing years. The boy threw his sword down and ran, jumping the training yard fence, shouting, "Father!"
Not a boy, Redden thought as Kane's unreserved embrace nearly bowled him over, as the strength of that hug momentarily lifted him off his feet. A man. When had his son grown up?
Leiden came out to meet him, told him he would expect a full report that evening at dinner. Leo, Gus, the others who had gone with him, all departed. Redden went inside. He wanted a meal and a bath and to sleep for a week, but all of that had to wait. Jack was ill, Leiden said. Jack, who was supposed to be his other son. He'd all but forgotten. That was the trouble with lies: you had to remember them. A concerned father wouldn't rest until he'd assured himself his son was alright, so despite his weariness, he trekked up the stairs to the room that had once been Cid's and he knocked quietly on the door.
He closed his eyes a moment, drifting off there on his feet, before a commotion from the other side of the door startled him awake again, the sounds of someone rushing forward, tripping, hastily fumbling against the lock.
Jack pulled the door wide, a blast of cold air surging into the hall. The mage was covered head to toe with the embroidered blanket from the bed, his aether-tinted eyes above his scarf glowing out from beneath the makeshift hood. "Redden!" he said, the relief palpable in his voice. "Thank the gods!"
"What are you doing, fool boy?" Redden asked, looking down the hall to be sure no one had followed him, then shoving Jack back into the room and closing the door behind them both. "Magic? What if someone had seen?"
"That's why the door was locked! I read the aether before I opened it. We're the only ones on this floor."
Redden plopped into the room's only chair, then stared at the young man. "Are you treating a fever? I know it's hot outside, but this-"
"I've been unwell," Jack said simply, sitting on the bed.
"So I've heard. Leiden tells me you've been holed up in here for two full days. You and I both know Lena would have Cured you if you were actually ill, so it can only be something else. Out with it, then. Has Leiden mistreated you?"
Jack rolled his eyes. "No more than he would any other bastard in his care."
"It's a little late to object to that premise now, you realize?"
"I know," Jack said, huffing in frustration. "I know it's silly, but… It bothers me, being called a bastard. I don't remember my parents well, but I do know they were happily married."
Redden tried not to glare at him. "So was I," he said.
Jack hunched his shoulders. "I'm sorry. I hadn't thought how you must feel about it. I'm glad you're alright, Redden. We were worried for you."
Redden nodded in thanks, too tired to voice a response.
"Now that you're back," Jack said, "will we be able to go soon?"
"Go?" said Redden. "Go where?"
"Back to the ship. Away from here."
Redden only shook his head.
"But…" Jack said, looking at him with wide, glowing eyes. "But you said we were only here for the cave. You've been to the cave. What else is there?"
Was that panic in the mage's voice, or was he shivering? Redden couldn't tell. He himself was starting to feel uncomfortably cool, and he'd just arrived. "We're not going anywhere," Redden told him. "The Brotherhood had been in that cave. We know they're here in Melmond. Whatever they're doing in this town, it's connected. We can't leave until I know why."
Jack shook. Definitely shivering, Redden realized. The corona in the mage's eyes glowed a little brighter. "I can't stay here, Redden! Please," he said, struggling to get the words out through chattering teeth.
The room was colder. Redden saw his breath fogging in front of him. "What is this?"
"I can't control it. I need a focus object. That's why I took your sword - I had to leave my staff on the ship. But I can't hold it back anymore, Redden! If we're staying here, I won't make it! Please."
Redden stared. The young man shook hard, like a leaf in a stiff wind, seeming to curl in on himself with the force of it, seeming smaller, helpless. "Is this a joke?" Redden said, his jaw stiff and tight. "Is this supposed to be funny?"
Jack shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut.
"You're supposed to be a Warrior of Light!" Redden snapped. Jack flinched. "With Kane! My son! You're supposed to have his back!"
"I do!" Jack said.
"I trusted you!" He stood, looming over the quivering boy on the bed. Redden couldn't have stopped yelling if he tried. "When the mage council named Kane a Warrior of Light and sent him out into the world with only a white mage and a tailor's apprentice, I thought at least he had you! One capable black mage!"
"Redden-"
"And now you tell me you can't even control the raw aether unaided? One of the most basic skills a child mage can master?"
"Yes," Jack said, his voice a low hiss, his teeth chattering. He stood, leaving the blanket behind, though he shook terribly. His eyes, blazing white, narrowed in anger. "Yes, that's w-what I'm telling you. I c-can't control it. I couldn't control it when I saved your son from Garland's last spell. Or f-from the pirates in Pravoka. Or from Astos. But I saved him anyway. I will keep s-saving him, and everyone else I care for." He went to the door, opened it. "I'll thank you to leave now."
The mage was so quiet, so calm, even as he stuttered from the cold, that Redden was ashamed. Not for any particular thing he had said - at that moment, he believed every word - but that he had shouted it. He was done shouting now. What more could he say? He headed toward the door, but he stopped before he went through it. He unbuckled his sword belt, shoved weapon and belt together into Jack's chest, hard enough he knew it must have hurt. He didn't say anything as he left.
Days passed, each one colder than the day before. At sunset, when the light came in hot and bright through the room's west-facing window, Jack would stand in the sunbeam and imagine he stood before the largest fire he could create; the aether surged around him with such violence, he didn't dare attempt a flame big enough to light a candle.
On the morning of his seventh day in Melmond, seven days since he'd drawn power from Quincey on Farplane Avenue, the day after Redden's return from the cave, he opened the window to the warmer air and stood near it but felt no relief.
Someone knocked. Jack knew it was Kane, not only because he could clearly see the guardsman's yellow aura, but because Kane was the only one who ever checked in on him. The servants left trays of food outside the door for him at mealtimes, but they never knocked. Jack knew they found it odd that he had taken to locking himself in. Lena hadn't spoken to him, not even through the door, since that first time. Thad only came by in the evenings, but Orin never came with him. After yesterday, Jack doubted he would ever see Redden again.
He opened the door for his friend. Kane sighed as he stepped into the cold. "Ah, that would be wonderful if it wasn't so disturbing," he said. He carried a tray which he set on the desk before stripping off his sweat-sodden shirt and tossing it in the corner. "Hell, it's wonderful anyway. Sorry. How are you holding up?"
"F-fine," said Jack, teeth chattering. Lonely, he thought. All his life he'd sought solitude, and now that he had it he was lonely. He stood wrapped in not only the blanket from their bed but the one from Lena's next door, as well as every scarf he owned. "Were you training with Quincey again?"
"Mmm," Kane said by way of affirmation. "And it's already roasting out there." In the washbasin, the pitcher was coated in frost. Kane poured the water over a rag and held it to his face a moment, clearly trying, for Jack's sake, not to show how nice it felt. He motioned toward his father's sword, which Jack had left on the bed. "That sword's not helping, is it?"
Jack sat on the bed beside the weapon, shivering. "Better than nothing," he lied. The room was so cold that Kane no longer slept there, but had taken the servant's room down the hall that had originally been given to Lena. Jack knew that some of her things were still in that room, just as some of Kane's were in the room next door, enough to fool the servants who cleaned the rooms. It made their mornings interesting. "What have you brought me?"
Kane ran the cloth over his neck and shoulders before wetting it down again. "Ruby sent that for you. Apparently she has an herb garden. 'Special tea blend,' she says. It's supposedly full of healing herbs."
"Supposedly?" said Jack.
Kane shrugged, smirking as he slipped on a fresh shirt. His mood had improved dramatically since his father's return; he was his old, joking self again. "Maybe she means to poison you. I hear poison is a woman's weapon."
Jack went to the tray on the desk, removing the cover to reveal a small teapot, a single cup, and a plate of what looked like plain toasts alongside a little jar of honey with a spoon in it. "Hmm," he said, squinting at it. "It seems healthy enough." He worked at pulling his scarves down, the act taking more effort because they outnumbered him.
"I didn't know the aether sight could detect things like that," said Kane.
"It can't," Jack said, pouring a cup that steamed all the more for the coldness in the room. "But it's hot, so I'll risk it."
Kane grinned, trying for a casual tone. "If I come back later to find you dead, I'll avenge you."
Jack cracked a smile. "Don't strain yourself." He sipped the tea. "That's good," he said, downing the cup.
"Can I try?"
Jack blocked him as he moved toward the tray. "My poison. Get your own."
Kane laughed. "Speaking of poison, here." He pulled a small, glass bottle out of his pocket and tossed it lightly.
Jack caught it out of the air. It glinted with captured aether. A Remedy. He grimaced. Remedies were bitter and terrible, and he knew he didn't need it, but Lena didn't know that, and she had made it for him. He pinched his nose shut and gulped it down, coughing after. "Ugh. That's awful. You tell her I drank that."
"I'll tell her," Kane said, rolling his eyes. He opened the wardrobe and fished out one of the jackets he'd been given. Jack considered grabbing one for himself. Or two. He pulled the blankets around him tighter.
"You'd better," Jack said. He poured himself another cup of tea, drank it slower than the first one. "Are you going out with Harvey again today?"
Kane frowned into the mirror as he ran his fingers through his hair. "I think we're supposed to go to the dog races."
Jack made a noncommittal noise over his tea.
Kane sighed. "I don't get it, Jack. Harvey's supposed to be the next Lord of Melmond, but I haven't seen him do anything lordly since the day we arrived!"
"Sergeant Quincey did mention as much our first night here," Jack said, his words clipped as he tried not to stutter.
"I thought he was exaggerating! Do you know what we did yesterday? We spent all afternoon at his favorite tavern. Just… just sitting around! And the day before that, we did the same! Surely he has some duties? Some obligations?"
Jack shrugged. "You'd know more about that than I would. You grew up in a castle. I'm an orphan from Crescent Lake."
After Kane had gone, leaving him alone again, he passed the time huddled up with a thick book Lord Unne had sent by, a treatise on high Leifenish. He'd been at it perhaps an hour when Orin knocked on his door. Jack didn't know why he should be embarrassed to have the monk see him shivering, but he was. He set the blankets aside, shrugged off one of the two jackets he wore, and held Lord Redden's sword firmly in his mind before he let the monk in.
"Young master Jack," Orin said, smiling. "I have come for a report."
"Report?" said Jack, sitting on the bed again to be closer to the sword, trying to keep his hands clasped in his lap rather than pick up the blade. Even without his aether sight, Orin's dark green aura beckoned to him from the doorway.
"Indeed. I wish to know how Thadius is performing." Orin closed the door, locking it behind him.
"Fine, I guess," Jack said, shrugging. "We're still working on reading the aether."
The monk nodded. "And drawing on the aether?"
Jack shook his head. "He's not there yet."
Orin came and sat beside Jack on the bed, but Jack picked up the sword and crossed the room to get away from him. Orin said, "Lena tells me the boy is most discouraged by his lack of progress."
Jack chuckled. "He needn't be. Mages mature at different rates. I'll talk to him tonight."
"Please, do," said Orin. "But you say he has not drawn on the aether? Nor completed any spells?"
Jack shook his head. "It could be weeks before he gets there. Months. There's no way to know."
The monk nodded. "Then it is unlikely anyone here will suspect him of being a mage. It is only you we have to worry about."
"Me?" Jack said.
"It would seem that Lord Leiden and his friend the secretary have been keeping secrets. I overheard a private conversation between the two of them this morning. Leiden keeps a file in his office, in a warded drawer, a file detailing the comings and goings of a certain ship and its cargo. That file is now missing. The wards, which seem to have been placed by the Lord Secretary, are no longer in place. Leiden suspects a mage spy, perhaps of the Brotherhood."
Jack's grip on the sword tightened, but he felt the cold rising nonetheless. "Here? In the house?"
"Clearly, you did not take this file, young master Jack."
Jack shook his head.
Orin clucked his tongue. "I thought as much. You seem distraught. You said before that the aether responded to your emotions. Have you tried the meditation exercises I taught you?" He stood, walking toward Jack. Jack found himself backed into the corner.
"Among other things," Jack said, gripping the sword.
"It would seem these other things are no good to you. Am I correct?" The monk's eyes never left his.
Jack nodded, too ashamed to speak.
"You told me this is a problem of dark magic. Why did you not tell Lord Redden? You let him believe you were incompetent as a mage rather than tell him the truth."
Jack flushed. He had almost told Redden. He'd been so close. But when he'd admitted his failings, when he'd begged to leave, Redden had responded in anger. "I trusted you," he'd said. Jack couldn't break his trust any further.
Orin went on, "I have fought dark mages for many years. I have never seen this lack of control before. Why do you suffer where these other dark mages do not?"
"Because," Jack said, his voice cracking so much that he had to start again. "Because I won't draw from people."
Orin's eyebrows rose. "It is necessary?"
"I don't know," Jack said, forcing his way past the old man, toward the water basin to pour himself a drink. "At any rate, I haven't found a way around it. I can't control it, Orin. Even with the sword. Gods, I've tried. I've tried! It's gotten so much worse!" He drank the glass down, immediately poured another. He leaned against the basin, steadying his breath, before he turned to face Orin once more. "It's like a hole has opened up inside me, and the aether pours into it. When I've-" He choked on the words. "When I have drawn from someone else, it fills the hole. Temporarily, but it works."
Orin nodded, as though he'd reached a decision. "Then your path seems clear," the old man said, crossing the room to him. "You must draw from me."
Jack tried to step away, but the monk grabbed his arm and held it. "Orin-"
Orin shook his head. "We cannot risk these people knowing about you. Anyone who sets foot in this room will know you for a mage - you cannot hide it as you are! Do you think they will stop to ask you if you are the spy?"
"If I could just learn to control it-" Jack said.
"But you cannot," said Orin. "Do not be so selfish as to endanger our mission here for the sake of your own pride."
"It isn't pride," Jack said, quietly. "It's shame."
"Ah, young master Jack. It is the same. Where do you think shame comes from?" The monk loosened his grip, patted Jack's arm. "There is no shame in seeking help for our weaknesses. Let me help you."
Jack's mind ran in circles. He couldn't do it. He had to do it. He couldn't do it. He had to do it. He hated it. He wanted it.
Orin sat in the chair by the desk. "You will not hurt me, master Jack. Remember, I am familiar with the sensation."
He stared. The old man was so matter-of-fact about it.
"Do not take all day. I have promised Miss Leiden I would join her for brunch."
It was such an absurd thing to say that Jack laughed. This was absurd. The entire situation was absurd. He was a dark mage, and his victim sat calmly with his hands folded, worried more about missing his social engagements than about being drained of life-sustaining aether. He laughed, and he couldn't stop laughing. Cold moved through the room.
When he finally gained control of himself some minutes later, he looked over to Orin, who smiled his wrinkled smile. "Are you ready?" Jack said.
Orin dipped his head. "I am ever ready."
He counted down from three, and then he drew. The aether calmed instantly, so quickly that he staggered from the lack of it. It was as if he'd been standing in an earthquake for days and now the world was still. He fell back against the wall, breathing hard, and Orin was there, steadying him.
"Are you alright, master Jack?"
"Me? What about you?"
Orin waved a hand dismissively, but Jack noticed that it was shaking. "I have told you. I am no stranger to dark magic. Though, when you are recovered, perhaps you would not mind helping me down the stairs."
"Of course," Jack said, surprised to find that he was nearly recovered already. He straightened. "Thank you."
Orin smiled wider, patting his arm.
He guided the old man down the stairs, marveling as the aether remained calm all the while. He sent his senses out toward it, revelling in it, surrounded by it. It was like sinking into a warm bath rather than drowning in a turbulent sea. It remained calm even when they reached the parlor, where Ruby waited for Lord Orin and Lena waited with her. It remained calm when Orin said, "Lena, look who I have found," and she turned and smiled.
"Jack!"
The aether didn't stir. Even when she rushed over to him. Even when she caught him in a tight embrace. He held her and said, "Hello, my lady," and his heart sang but the aether didn't stir.
Author's Note: 8/4/17 - The dreaded Summer Reading Program ends tomorrow and not a moment too soon! I, librarian extraordinaire, have survived against this great foe, reaping loads of EXP. I might even level up from this one… I'll let you know after my next Performance Review.
Recently, a friend and I had a conversation along the lines of, "Tinygaia, you can't really expect me to believe Jack does everything he does while wearing gloves and a mask. That's not possible." And I said, "Yes, it is. Let me tell you how I know."
Readers, I garden. And in my garden, the poison ivy grows rampant. My house was vacant for many years before I bought it, and in that time the poison ivy spread wild and free. In one corner of the yard I haven't got to yet, there's a fricking poison ivy TREE. It's as tall as the house, with a trunk as thick as my thigh. The tiny "leaves of three" shoots crop up EVERYWHERE, and, because I prefer not to use chemicals, I have to pull them out by hand.
So when I go out to weed my gardens (several hours per week in the spring and summer), you bet your ass I'm covered head to toe. I'm out there in a long-sleeved, high-collared shirt, a scarf around my neck and face, gloves, long pants, thick boots, and a ridiculous floppy hat. Even when it's 107F outside (which was the average heat index in my area for the month of July). When I describe Jack's layers, please know I speak from experience.
You'd be amazed at the things I know for a fact Jack can do with gloves on. Yes, he can write in those gloves. He can button his shirt. He can turn pages. If he had a cell phone, he could text with it. He can breathe in that scarf, and he can do all manner of bending and hauling and lifting without losing his hat. Trust me on this.
Honestly, Phil. You're reading a story about magic and black mages and prophecies. You can't suspend disbelief over Jack's gloves? Really?