The Earth Cave, Twenty-four Years Ago
The air was cold and smelled of ice, a sharp, crisp scent layered over the Rot. It stung Redden's nose as he breathed it in. It stung his lungs more. The sight of the old mine stung as well, but in a different way.
"So this is it?" Scarlet said when they were looking down on it from the top of the hill.
Behind them, Cid was already barking orders to the men to set camp and prepare a meal, but Redden was never expected to help with that. Cid and the others seemed to think he needed time to mentally prepare himself for the ritual ahead. They weren't wrong.
"I know it doesn't look sinister," Redden said.
"No," Scarlet agreed. A wind tugged her white hood down; she pulled it back up. "But I feel it. It's not right."
There's a wrongness there, Father Bram had said. That had been nearly a year ago, but Redden still remembered the old white mage's low, gentle voice.
Scarlet went on, "What happens now? We wait for dark?"
"Moonrise," Redden said. "But the moon will be up early tonight. We won't have long to wait." It was the middle of winter, though the longest night was past. They'd set out from Melmond when it was still dark that morning and walked through the short day. The sun was low in the sky now.
Scarlet nodded. She slipped her pack from her shoulders to her hand, letting it swing at her side as she walked back into the campsite. She nodded to Cid as she passed him, and he nodded back. Redden had been surprised at first that the two of them got along, but Scarlet had made it clear from the outset that she wasn't interested in their father's affection. Scarlet didn't care for anyone, except for Sarda.
The madman sat cross-legged on the bare earth, chattering happily at Arthur as the boy laid wood for a fire. A few of the men going about their own chores looked sideways at him, the way his mage's robe hiked up around his knees - he wasn't wearing any pants today - but Arthur only looked amused. Redden caught the end of Sarda's tirade. "The whale loves the moon," he was saying, motioning with ink-stained hands. "Because the moon is like water, but it rains monsters instead of rain. And whales catch them up in their sieve of teeth like the little creatures that live underwater."
"That's enough, brother," Scarlet said. She smiled, a real smile, and she was almost lovely when she did, enough that Redden wondered if the cathedral had been right to turn her away. She loves herself too much, they'd told him. He wondered how the white mages could consider that such a crime when it was clear she loved her brother more.
"Oh, but I haven't got to the part with the witches!" Sarda said, brimming with excitement.
"You can tell the boy on the way home," she said. "He has things to do now."
"Not a boy!" Sarda said. "This is Arthur! He's a very important man!"
"I've told you I'm not," Arthur said, chuckling.
Sarda reached out to pat the boy's knee. "You will be." He sat up straight suddenly, snapping his fingers as though something had just occurred to him. "That man with the handkerchief! He has to tell the blond woman he loves her, before it's too late! I have to let him know!" He stood, flashing himself at all of them before his robe fell into place.
Scarlet rolled her eyes, but the smile remained. "Young man, I'm sure you've better things to do than babysit my brother."
"I don't mind, miss," Arthur said. "I'm used to it. He's a bit like my great-uncle. That is, if my uncle were a few decades younger." Sarda and Scarlet were only a little older than Redden, twenty-four or twenty-five years old. He hadn't asked. Arthur's smile slipped away. "He… um… he seems to know things. He asked me about my dog, the one I had as a boy. He knew its name."
Scarlet nodded. "He does know things. He's a black mage," she explained. "Technically a black mage. He can't draw the aether, but he sees it. Sees the past and the future in it. He seems to forget how to see the present sometimes." Arthur frowned, and she hastened to add, "Don't worry. He's harmless."
"I'm not worried about that, miss - about him being a black mage, as you say. But if that's the way of it, then… Do the things he says come to pass?"
She laughed as though Arthur had said something foolish. "Why? Did he tell you something you wish were true? Did he say you'd be a great lord someday, or that you'd find true love?" The boy blushed. "Oh, you needn't be embarrassed by it. He does tell some very pretty stories. He tells me I'll fall hopelessly in love with a dark-haired boy, one who makes flowers grow in the Rot. He says Titan's Cathedral will remember my name for generations and that they'll rue the day they ever tossed me out. Pretty stories, all. But he also tells the story of the moon whale - often! - and he speaks of a rabbit in a cave that will give you a new name if you find it. I doubt there's any truth in those tales."
Arthur nodded, but he seemed sad.
Scarlet sighed. "He isn't always like this. It comes and it goes, but it's worse now than it was." She turned toward the edge of the camp on the side farthest from the Rot. "I'm going to review the ritual one last time," she said.
"I'll come with you," Redden said.
"No, you won't." She stepped away without looking back.
"Are you sure she's a white mage?" Arthur asked, watching her go.
"She can do white magic," Redden said, for it was the truth. When they'd practiced together, he'd seen her perform the spell as well as Bram had done, better than any other white mage who had made this journey with him before. He actually believed they could pull it off this time, cast it well enough and deep enough to end the Rot once and for all. But he agreed with the cathedral on one point at least: It pained him to think how much more someone as powerful as Scarlet could achieve if only she cared about people.
Later, as Redden sat alone by the fire, the other men eating dinner or preparing their gear, Sarda came and sat beside him. "I thought you should eat something," the madman said, handing him a bowl of broth with a hard biscuit soaking in it. His knees were showing again; Redden wondered how he wasn't freezing.
"Thank you," Redden said. He sipped at the broth, careful not to tip the biscuit into his face.
They were silent together by the fire for a moment, until Sarda said, "You're like me."
"What?"
Sarda waved toward the bowl. "I like to leave the biscuit until last. Scarlet says it's barbaric. 'You're meant to eat them together,' she says. Argumentative woman."
Redden chuckled. "That's what Cid always says."
"He's argumentative, too. I can tell. I think if we weren't meant to be related, those two would have been friends," said Sarda. Redden watched his face, but he seemed normal as he looked into the fire. Sarda caught him staring. "You're thinking I seem remarkably lucid for someone without pants on."
"Yes, actually," Redden said. "You were spouting nonsense less than an hour ago."
"Nonsense?" Sarda said, feigning indignation. "I'll have you know everything I said made perfect sense from where I was sitting!"
"Forgive me," Redden said, smiling as he sipped his broth. He noted the man's hand, the left one, smudged with ink on one side as though he'd rested it carelessly against a fresh page. "Do you write?" he asked, motioning toward it.
Sarda looked down at the hand. "Draw, actually. Sometimes the only way to explain what I see in the aether is to show it."
Redden picked at the sopping biscuit, breaking off a piece and popping it into his mouth to stop himself from asking the question he wanted to ask, worried it was rude or intrusive.
"It's a mirror, but the reflection's not really there," Sarda said.
Redden chewed his food, wondering if the man had gone loopy again in the space of one bite.
Sarda laughed. "You're wondering what it's like. I'm trying to tell you. I, uh, forget that people need to hear the questions before they answer them." Though he was darker than Redden, with tanned skin and black hair like his sister's, in the firelight, with that half-smile on his face, the resemblance to Lord Carmine was striking. "But picture a mirror. Everyone has one. You see the present in it, your world reflected back at you. But my mirror… mine's not a mirror at all. It's a window. Clear glass. Sometimes I see my reflection in it, if I look hard enough. But who wants to look at their reflection when they could look through it and admire the view instead?"
"You mean the future?" Redden asked.
Sarda nodded. "And the past. Sometimes one's prettier than the other. History can sound like a bedtime story. Prophecy can sound like a poem."
At the mention of prophecies, Redden thought of his own, the Founders' Prophecy. He couldn't help it. The sons of Titan would be reborn of Melmond nobility to heal the rifts and restore the city to the glory it held in the days of the founders… Is it me? Is it talking about me? About Cid? Or did our father lie? Is it all a lie? He didn't know which possibility frightened him more.
He looked up to find Sarda watching him in the firelight. Though the madman couldn't draw the aether, there was a subtle glint of it in his eyes; all black mages had that, if you knew what you were looking for. Those eyes were full of pity. Sarda said, "I could tell you… The thing you're afraid to ask. But it won't matter. Stories and poems both can be rewritten, if a man is creative enough."
Redden's heart sank. Lord Gaian Carmine was a very creative man.
Sarda patted his shoulder. "I was talking about you. Write your own history. Or your own prophecy. Sod everyone else."
"Redden." They both turned at the sound of Cid's voice, and Redden saw his brother standing just on the edge of the camp with the moon rising behind him. "Come on. It's time."
Melmond Manor, Present Day
"Yes, but then what happened?" Lena snapped, impatiently waving a pair of garden snips to hurry his narrative along.
Thad fidgeted in frustration. He'd already gone through it all as fast as he could. "That was it. We followed Noah to his house, and Orin looked at the sick girl. Can you hurry up?" They were alone in the garden now, just the two of them, as Lena continued to menace the plants. Thad wanted to get her into town before anyone thought to talk her out of it.
"The time for hurrying was yesterday!" she grumbled as she cut off a few more specimens of big, pink mallow flowers. "You should have sent for me! You know they say the second night is critical for night plague victims!" She shoved the flowers into her basket with the others. Thad knew they were all healing herbs, but anyone else might have taken them for a bright, mismatched bouquet, all pinks and whites and yellows in different shapes and sizes. "Can you tell me anything else? Was she pale? Was she lucid? Did she have a fever? Did she describe her symptoms?"
Thad shrugged. "Orin made me wait in the hall. All I know is she was asleep."
"Asleep or unconscious?" Lena asked.
Thad rolled his eyes. "I don't know. I'm not a white mage!"
"Exactly! You're not! Orin's not! I am!" Lena said, punctuating each statement with the snips, cutting off more flowers. "Why didn't he send for me?"
Thad shrugged again. Truth be told, Orin's behavior had been a mystery to Thad as well. All the rumors said the night plague was rarely fatal if the victim lived through the second night, but the old man hadn't sent for Lena. Instead, he and Thad had spent the night at Noah's house. Thad had slept on the floor of Noah's tiny attic bedroom; the monk had kept vigil over the sick young woman. When they had returned to the manor that morning, Orin had gone straight to bed. Thad knew Jack was waiting for the old man to wake up, and he suspected the black mage wouldn't approve of Thad pulling Lena into the investigations.
Just then, Thad saw movement at the garden's arched entrance and, as if his thoughts had summoned them, both Orin and Jack came in. "Great!" Thad said, throwing his hands up. "Now we'll never get out of here!"
Lena turned. "Jack! What are you doing out of bed? I thought you were unwell today?"
Jack strode determinedly toward them, his yellow scarf all bunched up in places as though he'd dressed in a hurry. Corporal Clyne was hot on his heels, but Orin trailed some way behind them, limping again and leaning heavily on a walking stick; another of Jack's ever-present guards walked with him, a hand on his elbow to keep him steady. The guard helped Orin take a seat on the edge of the fountain.
Jack didn't stop until he was in front of Lena. He glared at Thad a moment, then focused on her. "Orin said I'd find you two together. My lady, I-" He stopped abruptly and turned to Corporal Clyne, looming over his shoulder. "Would you give us some space, already?"
The big man didn't budge. "It's the full moon today. His lordship says I'm not to let you out of my sight."
Jack motioned at the plants around them, raising his voice. "It's a walled garden, Nicholas! Where am I going to go?"
"Corporal," Lena said, "we only need a moment."
Clyne looked between them, considering, then he nodded and headed back toward the entrance, waving the other guard ahead of him. When they were through the archway, out of earshot, Lena smiled weakly. "I'm glad to see the two of you getting along."
"We've come to an uneasy peace," Jack said. He looked between Lena and Thad, then his eyes homed in on Lena's basket and his frown deepened so much that it was visible even through the layers of his disheveled scarf. Jack knew about potions, of course; he would know exactly what Lena was planning based on what he saw there.
Thad turned to Orin. "You told him! Why'd you have to tell him?"
"If we cannot be honest with our friends, we are no better than our enemies," Orin said.
"We have enemies enough in this city." Jack's tone was serious. "Let Lord Redden handle this."
"Lord Redden isn't a white mage," Lena said.
"No, he's a red mage," Jack said, nodding. "And the whole of Melmond knows it. If anyone discovered what you are-"
"I'll be careful," said Lena.
Thad smiled. Maybe he'd been wrong. Lena could be stubborn when she made up her mind to be. Maybe she wouldn't be as easily swayed from their plans as he'd feared.
But then Jack took a deep breath and said, "Don't go. I'm begging you, please don't go," looking at Lena with sad, pathetic eyes. Thad knew that look - he himself had perfected that look on his grandmother.
Lena sighed. "I have to go. I can't just leave a victim of the night plague untreated. If it spreads-"
"It could spread to you as easily as anyone else. The night plague is supposed to be deadly to white mages. Please!"
"The person who told us about it is a white mage and he's fine," Thad said.
Jack glared at him. "You stay out of this. You've said enough."
"Jack! There's no need to be short with him!" Lena said, clearly struggling to hold her patience. "Besides, disease doesn't work that way. There's no way it can be more deadly to white mages than to everyone else - we're not another species!"
"Yeah!" said Thad. "Kane and Redden both think it's not a plague at all. Kane thinks it's something the Brotherhood cooked up to cover their tracks. It's connected to the missing people!"
Jack looked down at him through narrowed eyes. "Is that what they say?" He turned to Lena again. "And what did Lord Redden say when you told him you were heading off to investigate this fake plague?"
Lena blushed, stuttering. "I didn't… That is, I haven't…"
"Because you know he'd stop you!" Jack said, putting his hands on her shoulders. "Lena-"
"Oh, don't do that!" she said, interrupting him, shrugging him off. "You only ever call me by my name when you're cross with me! Did you realize? It makes me feel like a naughty child!"
Jack stopped, confusion in his eyes. "Not… not cross. I'm never cross with you. I will admit to occasionally being utterly mystified by you. I don't understand why you would intentionally endanger yourself like this. My lady… Lena… I couldn't bear it if anything happened to you."
Lena looked down at her feet, a shy half-smile stealing over her face. Thad sighed. He knew she couldn't stay angry at Jack. If the black mage asked her again not to go, she would give in. He knew he should have hurried her along.
"This is really important to you, isn't it?" Jack said quietly. He reached up to straighten his scarf then let out a long sigh. "Fine. But I'm going with you."
"You can't!" Thad said. "You'll never be able to slip away from your guards!"
Jack arched an eyebrow at him. "You think so?" He turned to Orin behind them where he sat on the edge of the fountain. "Lord Orin, might I have a private word with you?"
Orin nodded, rising slowly, and together the two of them went deeper into the garden, though Orin did throw Thad an unreadable look over his shoulder. Thad wondered if the old man was disappointed in him for telling Lena where they'd been. Lena went back to cutting flowers, though with less vigor than she'd had before.
"Do you really need all those?" Thad asked. "Isn't that way more than you need for a potion?"
"I might," Lena said, shrugging. "I don't know what kind of potion I might need to make. I'd rather have everything, just in case."
Thad started to ask how many kinds of potion Lena could make, but then he felt the aether move. He called up the aether sight, but when he looked towards the disturbance, whatever it was had passed. He saw only Jack, coming back alone. "Did you cast a spell just now?" Thad asked.
Jack ignored him, speaking to Lena. "Wait for me on Main Street, by the pastry shop with the blue shutters. I'll meet you there. Don't go to the lower town without me. Promise."
Lena nodded. "I promise."
Jack left through the archway, and Thad could see Clyne and the other guard joining him as he headed toward the house. A moment later, Orin came back, his movements shaky. He sat on the edge of the fountain again. "Miss Lena, perhaps you could spare a Cure for an old man?"
Lena, who had been watching Jack leave, looked over at him and gasped. "Of course, Orin! Are you alright?"
"Only a long night, and another in store, I suspect."
She went to him, set her basket down, and touched him with glowing hands. Thad watched the way the aether moved through her and into him, the way Orin's dark green soul drank it up greedily. The Cure subsided, and Lena stood looking over the monk. "If… If you need us to go later…"
"That will not be necessary," Orin said. "I need only rest a moment before we go on. Pick your herbs, but quickly. We have tarried long enough."
It wasn't sneaking, not really. At least, that's what Lena told herself as she walked with Thadius and Lord Orin. The three of them practically sauntered out of the manor; the guards at the door and posted around the yard didn't bat an eye. Still, it seemed so dishonest. By the time they reached the West Gate into Melmond, her nerves were unravelling. "Oh, I don't like this!" she said. "It seems wrong!"
Lord Orin chuckled. "What could be wrong? We are simply three friends out for a stroll."
She kept looking behind her, down the road toward the manor, but there was no sign of Jack.
"Keep your eyes forward, Miss Lena," Orin admonished. As they entered town, he smiled and nodded at a few passerby who ignored him so completely that it was clearly intentional. Orin was dressed plainly, perhaps too plainly for this part of town. The west gate was near the business district, and the well-dressed people here seemed busy with urgent affairs, with no time to spare for the old man tottering slowly along with his cane.
Thadius didn't seem bothered by the pace, bouncing and catching a rubber ball in the street as he followed along. On his back he carried the satchel where Lena had stored her herbs, and on his head he wore a cap that was too large for him. Lena had never seen the hat before and wondered if he had stolen it.
She looked back again, but Orin put his arm through hers and pulled her around the corner that led to Main Street. "I must insist you stop looking over your shoulder," he said. "You will draw the gate guards' attention if you seem worried about pursuit."
"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm not accustomed to sneaking about."
Orin chuckled, smiling so broadly that his eyes seemed squeezed shut. "Who is sneaking? We are not sneaking."
True, the house guards weren't interested in her - she could come and go about the manor as she pleased - but the boys were another matter altogether. So many people had gone missing in the past few days that Leiden had insisted that Jack and Kane and Harvey remain under guard wherever they went. Though she was pleased Jack had offered to accompany her to the lower town - she did feel safer with him - she couldn't let the guards see her doing white magic. Even if she had befriended most of them, she couldn't be sure their friendship extended that far.
They came to the shop where Jack had told them to wait. As they positioned themselves in front of the alley between it and the next building, Lena looked back the way they came, watching. She wondered how long they would be waiting. Jack was neither stealthy nor swift. She wondered if the gate guards would recognize him, his tall figure and his scarf-covered face, and if they would stop him when he arrived. "What if he wasn't able to get away?" she asked.
Orin shrugged. "Then we will proceed to the lower town without him."
"That won't be necessary."
Lena screamed before she could stop herself. She recognized Jack's voice, but she hadn't expected to hear it from behind her.
His hands were on her shoulders, squeezing reassuringly, and when she craned her neck to get a good look at him, to assure herself that it was indeed him, she saw that her reaction had startled him as much as he had startled her. "I'm so sorry!" he said, his voice breathy with alarm. "I didn't mean to frighten you!"
"Where did you come from?" she asked.
He hiked a thumb over his shoulder, pointing farther into town.
"Ahead of us? How? You were still at the manor when we left!" She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. Her heart was still hammering, and her voice sounded shrill to her ears.
He shifted his feet guiltily, like a child caught stealing plums from the pudding. " I, uh, I Teleported. It was the only thing I could think of."
She took another breath, forcing herself to hold it a moment, and let it out slowly. "Oh," she said, more steadily. "I never would have thought of that." She should have, she realized. She knew he was capable of the spell - both Kane and Thad had told her about it after Elfheim - but the very nature of it was so out of the ordinary that it had never crossed her mind. Disappearing from one place and reappearing somewhere else entirely? That was the stuff of children's tales! But still, what had she expected? She tried to picture Jack climbing out a window as Kane had done, or quietly ducking behind the furniture as Thad often did, and the thought was so preposterous that she laughed. That wasn't Jack's way.
Her laughter didn't soothe his look of unease, that pinched expression around his eyes. She gave him a quick hug then stepped back again. "I'm alright. You just surprised me."
He nodded and his eyes relaxed somewhat, but when she took his arm, she could feel the tension in it, how tight and stiff those lean muscles were beneath his gray linen sleeve.
The two of them followed Orin and Thad deeper into the city, a straight course into the area known as the lower town. The streets were muddier here, the buildings more crowded together. It was a bit like Cornelia's lower town, now that she thought about it. The architecture was different, and Cornelia's streets were stone, but the bars on the windows, the shabby shops, the man running a shell game on the corner, none of it would have seemed out of place there.
Thad ran ahead, still playing with that rubber ball, chasing after it when the unlevel street sent it bouncing away from him. Orin called him back, moving a little faster, as fast as his cane would allow, but when Lena would have hurried her pace as well, she found that Jack wasn't paying attention. He was looking around at the lower town much as she had been, his steps slow.
She cleared her throat to get his attention, and his eyes flicked over to her, noticed her staring. "Is something wrong, my lady?"
She giggled. "I could ask you the same thing. What are you worried about?"
He raised an eyebrow at her - just one. "I thought you couldn't read my emotions?"
"I can't," she said, shrugging. "Not usually. But I can read your face well enough, even when you do keep half of it covered. When you're worried, you get a little line…" She pointed to the space between her eyebrows. "Just there."
He made a sound that was unmistakably a "harumph". "I still think this is a bad idea. The..." He spoke quietly, eyes roving up and down the street as though he worried someone else might be listening. "The Brotherhood are out here somewhere. They strike on the full moon. Tonight."
"Yes," Lena said, nodding. "Tonight. Not during the day. It's broad daylight, Jack, the middle of the afternoon. We'll be back at the manor well before dinner, let alone sunset."
"Even so, I would feel better about this situation if you would agree to visit the patient tomorrow instead."
Lena shook her head. "This disease only lasts for two days. If we go tomorrow, the woman might be fully recovered and I won't be able to learn anything."
"You won't be able to catch it either," Jack muttered, but not so quietly that she couldn't hear him.
"It… It does frighten me," she said. "But I also know how frightening it can be when someone is sick. If that woman has friends or family waiting at her bedside, if she's hurting and wondering if it will ever stop… I can help. I have to help. But I am scared."
He nodded, but that line between his eyes only deepened. She found she could feel his worry now, perhaps because she knew it was there or perhaps because he was no longer working to keep it hidden from her. Whatever the reason, she didn't try to block it out, instead assuming from experience that he would pull it back himself in a minute or so.
She could still feel him when they passed a street vendor selling palm-sized meat pies for a gil, could feel the flood of longing starting in Jack's stomach and surging out from there. "You're hungry," she said, not bothering to ask. "When did you last eat?"
"...Breakfast," he said quietly after a long hesitation, and then, quieter still, he added, "yesterday."
"Yesterday?" Lena exclaimed. "A full day ago?" She half-dragged him back toward the pie seller, not even stopping to consider if she had brought enough coin. "Will you take Cornelian money?" she asked the man.
The vendor shrugged. "If that's what you've got."
"My lady!" Jack protested. "You don't need to-"
"Two, please," Lena said. "No, three."
The man passed the pies over, each wrapped in a square of thin paper. Lena made a little stack of them then said to Jack, "Come on, Orin's waiting for us." When they'd left the vendor behind, she held one of the pies out for the black mage. "You eat this. All of it. Right now."
He looked down at the food then around him at the people in the street. "If… if I show my face, it will attract attention." His voice sounded dry and cracking. She could feel his embarrassment, and she would have relented had his stomach not loudly rumbled at just that moment.
"Not as much attention as I'm going to attract if you don't eat," she told him. "You're still recovering from your… your ailment." She hadn't pried into whatever it was with the aether that troubled him, that problem he'd said he'd had since birth, but she knew it was why he'd felt poorly that morning. She wondered now if his aetherial struggles weren't perhaps connected to his physical well-being. "You have to take better care of yourself."
He took the pie, but they'd walked several more steps before he pulled his yellow scarf down just enough to expose his mouth. Though the pie was small enough to eat with one hand, he held it with two, right up by his face like a squirrel, hiding himself as much as he could. Though she knew how hungry he was, he ate slowly, and with such meticulous self-control she lost that sense of him, of his emotions, that she had been feeling.
When they caught up with the others, Lena handed Thad one of the pies. Orin declined the other, as she'd known he would. She tried a bite of it herself, and it tasted as good as it smelled, but she wasn't terribly hungry. When Jack finished his pie, she gave him the rest of hers. He took it without a word, eating it just as slowly as he had the first one.
He nearly choked on the last bite when Orin said, "This is the place."
They'd stopped up the street from a large, ramshackle building with a sagging roof. It had two floors, and two front doors, one on top of the other, with the second one opening onto a balcony with a wrought-iron railing that stretched across the front of the house. All of the windows were dark, covered from the inside by heavy curtains. Heavy red curtains.
Jack coughed, looking up at the building, and Lena could feel his embarrassment rising fast and fresh. "You hadn't mentioned that the victim lived in a house of ill repute," he said.
"What does that mean?" Thad asked.
"We will talk about it another time," said Orin, patting his head. "This will not be a problem for you, Miss Lena?"
"It's fine," she said, though she could feel herself blushing. "These people need healing too."
Orin nodded. "Come. Mrs. Gainsborough is expecting us."
He motioned Lena ahead of him, but she'd only gone a few steps when a voice down the street called, "Lord Orin?"
"Ah, Inspector Lamontagne! How pleasant it is to see you again!" The monk turned and shuffled off toward the inspector, a man in his thirties in a black and gray uniform. Two other guards stood with him.
"Act natural!" Thad said, before zipping off after Orin.
Act natural? Lena thought. What was the natural way to act when one was caught visiting a brothel in the middle of the day? Lena stared after the boy, but then Jack stepped in, cutting off her view of Thad, Orin, and the uniformed men. He kept his back to them all, put an arm around her shoulders, and pushed her gently forward. "Keep walking," he said quietly. "I don't think the guards realize we were with them."
She nodded, but she glanced back. "One of them's looking at us."
Jack grumbled a short Leifenish word. "I wasn't fast enough. I think he saw me." His hand drifted up to cover his face, still exposed from his hasty meal.
"What should we do?" she asked. "If he drags you back to the manor and tells Lord Redden he found you at a brothel…!"
"He won't," Jack said. "The inspectors don't work at the house. He might send a messenger, but he won't bother with me himself. Just keep walking."
She looked back again. The guard was still watching them, though Thad was doing his best to distract the man.
"Stop looking at him," Jack whispered.
She whipped her head forward again. The door was right in front them now, only a few steps away. "We can't go in there while he's watching, Jack! What if you're wrong? What if he wonders what we're doing here? What if he follows us? If they find the night plague victim… or the little white mage who lives here-"
"Lena," Jack sighed. "Believe me: he's not going to wonder why we're here. There's only one reason anyone ever visits a brothel. I think at this point it would be more suspicious if we walked away."
"But we could come back later," she said.
He shook his head. "I can't do another Teleport. It's not an easy spell."
She started to look back again - she couldn't help it - but Jack reached his other arm around her and pulled her in close. "Stop looking," he said. "You came all this way, my lady. Don't back down now." He bent his forehead to hers and murmured, "Though I must admit this isn't how I imagined my day would go."
She laughed, but it was forced. Her heart was beating so hard she worried he would feel it, as close as he was. "I don't think anyone's imagination is that vivid," she said.
He whispered, "I'm sorry."
"For wh-"
He stopped her with a kiss. His lips were smooth and gentle, but they covered her mouth and lingered there. She could feel his arms around her, his hands against her back. It lasted so long, but not long enough before he broke away, grasping her arm and pulling her through the door.
Inside, out of the sunlight and away from prying eyes, he let Lena go. He found a wall and he leaned on it. Around him, the aether raged. No, no, no… Not here. Not now. Not while she's watching… It shouldn't be doing this! He'd just drawn from Orin, hadn't he? Little more than an hour ago? He'd spent most of it on the Teleport, but that shouldn't matter - using black magic didn't seem to affect the hollow once it had been filled.
When he calmed down - marginally, for his heart was still racing from the kiss - he was able to see that he was right about that, at least: the surging aether remained on the outside. In fact, a quick glance through his aether sight showed that the aether wasn't raging, wasn't actually moving at all, no more than normally. The problem was him: the urge to draw the aether was too strong. Every current, every slightest stir of it felt as heavy as a landslide as he struggled to push it away. It's me. It's been me all this time. How could I not know?
It felt like hours later when he regained control, but it could only have been moments. Lena was staring at him, wide-eyed. What should he say? The only thing that immediately came to mind was to apologize again. "M-my lady," he began. "I, I'm…" Damn this nervous stutter. He took a breath and tried again. "I'm sorry. Oh, gods…"
"It's alright," she said, but she sounded flustered.
"It isn't. I wasn't thinking," he said, though he had thought of it many times. He hoped she couldn't feel his guilt. "I'm so sorry. I should have asked your permission. That was-"
"You have it."
He stopped. "What?"
She looked at her feet as she stood there with her flushed face and her red lips. "I… I mean to say, if it should happen again… It was all a show for those guards, wasn't it? I know you're uncomfortable pretending, Jack. Please, don't worry on my account. I don't mind... if it's you."
His mouth had gone too dry to speak. He ran the words through his head, but they made no sense. Permission to kiss her? The aether pressed on him again as he tried to comprehend it, and again he struggled for control. How long had he gone without drawing from Orin? Three days? That's not very long, he thought. But then again, he hadn't drawn much - only enough to get by. And Orin seemed fine. If he were to draw more...
A woman's voice said, "How long are you planning to wait in the entryway?"
He'd drawn the aether before he realized he'd done it, held it ready though it was immediately clear the woman wasn't a threat. He knew she must be the woman Orin had met before, Noah's mother, for she was just as Orin had described her. A doughy woman of average height, all soft curves and long, wavy hair, she stood with her arms crossed as she watched them from beside a darkened doorway farther down the hall.
Lena stepped forward, putting herself between Jack and the woman, and he knew she did it to set the woman's mind at ease - he could feel the corona in his eyes, knew that was why the woman was looking at him nervously. "Are you Mrs. Gainsborough?" Lena asked.
The woman nodded. "Sure, and I been waiting half the day for you, girl. But the old monk didn't mention the black mage…"
"He's my friend," Lena said.
"Yes, I saw how friendly he was. Saw it through the window."
Jack looked at Lena, but Lena looked at the floor. As red as her face was, he knew by the burning in his cheeks that his own must be ten times worse. He busied himself with getting his scarf back in place.
Lena cleared her throat. "Your son… he's a white mage? Can I speak with him?"
Mrs. Gainsborough narrowed her eyes. "Thought you was coming to heal the girl?"
"Yes, I will! I'd just... I'd like to talk to him."
"Well, he wouldn't like to talk to you. It's your kind what tossed him out of that church."
The woman spoke harshly, angrily, and Jack could see the hurt on Lena's face. "Hey," he cut in sharply. "We're not from that 'church'. We're here to help."
"Sorry," Mrs. Gainsborough said, sounding more angry than contrite. "You're right, and I do appreciate you being here for the girl. It's just that you didn't have to see how heartbroken my boy was. He wanted to learn the healing so bad."
"I understand," Lena said. "You've a right to be angry - any mother would be."
Mrs. Gainsborough nodded, seeming mollified. "Well, at any rate, he ain't here. Left when he heard you might be coming." She turned down the hall, motioning for them to follow. "Best come along before that inspector decides to come in and have a chat with your young man."
She led them through the house, up a set of narrow, creaky stairs, down a hallway to the room where the night plague victim lay. The room was small, with only a bed, a stool, and a short chest of drawers. A woman, one of the house's other residents, sat on the stool, mending a dress and keeping an eye on the younger woman who slept in the bed.
"Give us a bit, Constance," Mrs. Gainsborough said.
The woman on the stool nodded and left. Jack kept a hand on Lena's arm, holding her back until the other woman was gone. He didn't know if she knew what Lena was. The door had scarcely closed behind the woman before Lena was at the sick girl's bedside, hands glowing as she examined her patient.
Mrs. Gainsborough didn't react to the sight, just as Jack would have expected from someone who lived with a white mage. As she watched Lena, she said, "Her name's Shelley. We found her yesterday morning, with those sores on her neck like they say is the night plague. Noah tried his spells, but we haven't been able to wake her."
Lena stared at the girl, and Jack suspected she was looking through her white mage soul sight. Though he viewed the room through his own aether sight, could see that Shelley's aura seemed pale and sickly, he could not tell what ailed her. Lena sat on the edge of the bed, covering her mouth as she gasped. "She's been drained…"
"Drained?" Jack said. "A dark mage did this?" His mind conjured up an image of Orin lying in a bed like this one, unconcious. Hadn't he only just been thinking of drawing more from the old man? What if he caused something like this?
As he dwelled on that horrible possibility, Lena said, "No, not like that. Not her aura. I mean physically drained. Like she's bled half to death, but… there's no blood anywhere." Lena looked around the bed, the pillow, the sheets, then tilted the girl's head, looking at the sores: large, blotchy bruises that covered one side of Shelley's neck completely. "I've never seen anything like this before," she said, leaning in close. "When I heard the night plague caused sores, I was expecting boils or buboes or pustules… This…" She ran her thumb over a scab in the center of the bruised area. "This looks more like a puncture wound… Like a snake bite."
"Noah said the same, as there's a pair of them," Mrs. Gainsborough said from the doorway. "He said he'd treated it like one, as it seemed the right thing to do."
"Do you know which treatments he used?" Lena asked.
Mrs. Gainsborough pointed to a wrinkled paper on top of the dresser. "He's left you a list."
"Jack, would you?" Lena asked, for she was on the opposite side of the bed. Jack picked the paper up, skimming over it before he passed it to her. The handwriting was unmistakably a child's, but Jack recognized the names of several healing herbs. There were, however, many more that he didn't know.
Lena's eyes widened when she read the list. "This is…! Some of these are quite advanced! For a child to Cure with these… why did the cathedral ever send him away?"
Mrs. Gainsborough shrugged. "I suspect they found out he's the bastard son of whore."
Lena seemed stunned. "But why should that matter? White Hall - that's in Cornelia - they'll train anyone so long as they're capable of magic! A talent like this… why, the priests would be lining up to teach him!"
Mrs. Gainsborough rolled her eyes. "Well, we ain't in Cornelia. And I'm unlikely to afford us passage there at my age. What of the girl? Can you do anything for her?"
Lena shook her head. "Not much. She'll be alright in time. She's just weak. I can leave your son a list of potions to give her to help her regain her strength. If you've some bone broth…"
"I'll send one of the girls to the market."
Lena looked down at Shelley once more, smoothing the girl's hair with a gentle hand, then she stood. "We should go."
"Wait," Jack said. "Thad said you had reason to think the night plague was connected to the missing people."
Mrs. Gainsborough sighed. "That we do. Shelley wasn't alone the night she got sick. The young man what was with her, he's gone. Nobody seen him leave. We'd've heard him on those stairs, as you may have noticed. He can't have climbed out the window either; there's nothing out there to climb on. It's as if he vanished into thin air."
"Do you think he might be sick too?" Lena asked.
"It did cross my mind. I worried he might carry the disease away with him. He said he was a sailor, you see. I sent word to his ship, but they said he hadn't returned. If he ain't plague-ridden in a gutter somewhere between here and the harbor, he may be one of the missing."
"We'll look for him!" Lena said. "Which ship did he come in on?"
"That would be the Sahagin Prince."
After lunch, Kane followed Harvey through town from one tavern to another. He felt he could have followed the route blindfolded, as often as they'd visited them all. Harvey wasn't a drunkard - as far as Kane had seen, the young lord hardly ever had more than one drink at a time, and favored weak beers - but the taverns seemed to be where all of his friends were, and Harvey had friends in abundance. Kane tried to tally up the hours they'd spent in taverns, talking and laughing over dice or cards, in the few days since he'd arrived in Melmond, but the tally grew so large he couldn't keep up with it.
"What are you thinking of?" Harvey asked as they turned onto Farplane Avenue.
"Just trying to add something up."
Harvey laughed. "Sums? I hate sums. Never had a head for them. Lay off all that! You're starting to make the same face as Gabriel."
"I am not making a face," Sergeant Quincey said from behind them. Kane glanced back briefly to where the sergeant followed them, accompanied by another guard. Two others walked ahead, making one guard for each of them, a full escort on account of it being the day of the full moon. Leiden hadn't permitted them to leave the house with anything less. Gabriel seemed to be watching the streets for potential threats, but Kane noted that he was indeed grimacing.
"You see it?" said Harvey, pointing. "I think he's still upset about your match yesterday. I wish I had been there! I can't believe I slept through that!"
Quincey scoffed. "I, on the other hand, have no trouble believing such a thing."
Harvey only laughed again. Across the street, a man selling pies shouted his wares. Harvey smiled, waving at the man. "Carlos! What are you doing on this side of town?" He wandered over, and one of the two guards in the lead veered after him.
Kane waited where he was, having no desire to be introduced to yet another random townsperson. He leaned against the wall of the nearest shopfront. Gabriel leaned beside him. "He really is friends with everybody, isn't he?" Kane asked.
"Near enough," Gabriel said, frowning.
"Listen, about the match yesterday-"
"I'm not mad about the match," the sergeant said, shaking his head. "Harvey doesn't know what he's talking about."
"I feel bad about it. It was-" Cheating, Kane thought, but he could hardly tell the sergeant Jack had used magic to gain an advantage. He sighed, rephrasing himself. "If Clyne hadn't lost his footing, you would have had me."
Gabriel looked sideways at him, an assessing look, then looked back toward Harvey again. "I don't know that I would have. You're good, Carmine."
"Still," Kane said. "Perhaps a rematch is in order?"
The sergeant chuckled. "I'm sure Clyne would love another shot at your brother."
Kane tried not to frown. "Let's leave Jack out of it."
Gabriel's expression softened. "You two fighting?"
"Not really," Kane said. The fight, if it could be called one, had been entirely one-sided. After the events in the training yard, when Kane realized that, more than simply reading the aether, Jack had actually cast a spell in front of all those people, Kane had yelled at the mage until he was blue in the face. While Kane's father would have yelled right back at him, Jack hadn't even tried to defend himself. He sat there as if waiting for Kane to dish out more abuse, looking so forlorn that Kane had felt guilty for yelling at him. And why should I feel guilty? he thought. I was in the right! Regardless, the guilt remained. Kane sighed. "I'm just disappointed in him."
"I know what that's like," Gabriel said, nodding. His eyes were on Harvey again, as across the street the young Leiden laughed at something the pie-seller said before passing a few silver coins to the man. Quincey continued, "I love Harvey like a brother - better than my brothers, as I don't get along with any of them. But it does grate on me, the way he doesn't do his duty. Sometimes I almost think he would disappoint me less if he were one of my brothers - I'm used to it from them."
Kane didn't reply. He himself had commented to Jack on the fact that Harvey didn't take his duties around the manor seriously.
Gabriel looked between Kane and the remaining guards, who stood quietly on either side of them. "If any of you repeat a word of that…"
"I wouldn't," Kane said quickly. The guard to his right swiftly agreed.
Quincey looked at the guard on his other side who hadn't answered. "Constable?"
The guard, who had been looking farther down the street, turned back to them. "Hmm? Sorry, sarge. I wasn't listening"
Sergeant Quincey sighed. "Hector, we've talked about this. You have to focus when you're on duty."
The slim guard shrugged sheepishly. "Yes, sarge."
"Was he daydreaming again?" Harvey asked, returning at precisely that moment, his hands full of the little paper-wrapped pies. He grinned, motioning for Kane to take one of them. They smelled delicious.
"For Titan's sake, Harvey. Did you buy the man out?" Gabriel said, rolling his eyes but nevertheless taking a pair of the pies for himself.
"So what if I did? At least we won't starve to death while we're at the Chocobo. You know my opinion of the food there."
Gabriel snorted. "No, my lord," he said with exaggerated interest. "I don't believe I've ever heard you mention the subject. Pray, enlighten me."
"Oh!" Harvey said, as though he'd just remembered something. "Kane! Carlos told me the most curious thing! You know how you said this morning that Jack had taken ill again and told you he was staying in bed? It seems he was faking it!"
"How do you mean?" Gabriel asked before Kane could get a word in.
The guard who had gone over to the pie-seller with Harvey said, "The merchant says he saw the other young master Carmine heading into the lower town not an hour ago. Him and his red-haired lady. Without an escort."
"The man's sure it was him?"
The guard nodded. "Yes, sir, without a doubt. He showed his face."
The sergeant grimaced again, turning to Kane. "Do you know anything about this?"
Kane shrugged. "It's news to me." Though he might have been willing to cover for Jack under other circumstances, today was the day of the full moon. Perhaps Leiden's paranoia was rubbing off on him, but Kane couldn't think of a good reason for any of them to go wandering off alone and unguarded when the Brotherhood might be planning their next attack. And for him to take Lena with him… Kane thought, frowning.
Gabriel clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry," he grumbled. "We'll get to the bottom of this. Hector!"
"Sir?"
"If you can't concentrate on your duties when you're guarding a stationary target, perhaps you'll focus better while hunting one down. Don't come back to the manor without the bastard. I mean it, Hector."
Hector nodded, gulping out a choked, "Sir!" before saluting smartly and heading off to question the pie-seller himself.
"I should go with him," Kane said.
Gabriel shook his head. "Not on your life. Lord Leiden may - may! - let it slide if I lose track of your bastard brother, but not you! I know for certain he'll have my hide should anything happen to Redden's appointed heir." He addressed one of the other guards. "Chad, go back to the manor and ask Corporal Clyne what the hell he's playing at. Those exact words, constable."
As the second guard strode back through the streets, Harvey let out a long breath. "Well, that was exhausting! Watching you do all that work has put me in the mood for a drink. Shall we?" He whistled a jaunty tune as he walked on toward the Chocobo with the confident steps of a man who knew his companions would follow.
Kane hesitated a moment, looking back at the guard Hector, still questioning the merchant, but Quincey motioned him forward after their lordling friend. He sighed. It was easier to go along without arguing. He caught up with Harvey. Gabriel, dressed in full uniform today as was his habit, fell in behind them with the remaining guard as though the sergeant were simply another member of their escort and not Harvey's best friend. As they traversed Farplane Avenue and the big tavern with its huge front windows came closer, Kane asked, "Why are we going to the Chocobo anyway? I thought you didn't like it."
"Gabriel wanted to," Harvey said, acting put-upon. "It's not that I don't like it... If not for the food, this place would be perfect! It's clean, the service is impeccable, the drinks - oh you can't beat the drinks! Just because Vince has no taste in food…" He shrugged. "'Never trust a skinny man with kitchen matters,' Berta always says."
Kane nodded. Berta, he knew, was Melmond Manor's head cook, a generous soul when it came to things like slipping extra food to strapping young lads who had just put in a full morning at the training yard.
"You know, I'm not even sure I've ever seen the man eat," Harvey was saying as they approached the tavern door.
It opened as Kane was reaching for it, and the woman who was rushing out in a huff inadvertently rushed right into his arms. His mind immediately went back to the first night of Midsummer, to the revels, when he had run into a woman in almost this exact spot, a woman in a mask who had kissed him and given him a flower. Ridiculously, he wondered briefly what had come of that flower, for he hadn't given it a moment's thought since that night. He had remembered the kiss, though, remembered that the woman had been tall, as tall as him, with hair just as dark as that of the woman who stood before him now.
"Beatrix!" Harvey exclaimed. "You're still in town!"
Beatrix Hornwood, for it was her, blew a lock of that dark, wavy hair out of her face as she stepped away from Kane. He had heard her mentioned in the kitchens that morning. Though she and her family had supposedly come to town for the revels, Midsummer was over now, and the lot of them were still here. Berta and her staff had tossed their speculations back and forth without seeming to care that Kane listened nearby. The rumors said the Rot had reached the Hornwood and that Beatrix might not have a home to go back to.
"Yes," Beatrix said, seeming frustrated. "Though presently I'm not finding it as pleasant as I was this morning. The quality of this establishment in particular has certainly fallen."
Her eyes flashed before she began to walk away, dark eyes. Kane was trying to remember what the eyes of the woman in the mask had looked like when the door to the Chocobo flew open again, hitting his shoulder. "Beatrix!" Logan Quincey called after her.
The Hornwood girl didn't even turn around. "Good fortune to you, sirs," she said over her shoulder, which was exactly what the woman at the revels had said to them before she parted.
She couldn't be the flower girl? Kane thought. He turned back to Harvey, about to say something, though he didn't know what. "Remember that girl who kissed me? Kissed both of us? The one who was wandering the revels without an escort like some street waif?" It was ridiculous when he thought of it. Beatrix Hornwood was a noble. To even mention in passing that she could have behaved so would be an insult, and the way Logan Quincey stood staring after her with his fists clenched at his sides suggested that insulting the Lady-Heir of Hornwood would not be a good idea.
Logan sighed, only then seeming to notice the small crowd their group made in front of the door. He looked at Sergeant Quincey in surprise. "Hello, little brother. I wouldn't have thought to see you here."
"Oh, really now, Logan!" Harvey said, laughing. "Everyone knows this is Gabriel's favorite tavern, though only the gods know why! Say, do they still have any of that peach beer from Half-Moon?" He pushed past the larger man into the bar without waiting for an answer, followed by their lone remaining guard.
Kane waited, but the sergeant made no move to follow them. Nor did Logan step aside. The brothers stood looking at each other, tension thick between them. Eventually, Logan said, "I hear you're looking into that gray house on Main."
"So what if I am?" Gabriel snapped.
Logan raised an eyebrow. "There's no need to be hostile. You came to my place of work, remember? You can hardly take offense when you run into me."
"You work here?" Kane said. "At the tavern?"
"More specifically, the accounting office upstairs," Logan said.
"I didn't realize," Kane said.
"Hmph. Neither did the Lady Hornwood," Logan grumbled. "You, though," he said, addressing Gabriel again, "were fully aware of that fact. So what brings you to the Chocobo?"
A valid question, Kane thought. Harvey said the Chubby Chocobo had been Gabriel's idea; Kane knew Harvey would never have visited the place otherwise. But Kane also knew the young sergeant couldn't stand the mere mention of his older brothers. Why would he have risked running into one?
"I have my own business," Gabriel said. "What can you tell me about the robbery two nights ago?"
Logan scoffed. "Two nights ago? You couldn't possibly be investigating that little dust-up."
Gabriel crossed his arms and glared. "Investigating is my job, Logan. I actually earned my job, you know. I wasn't handed it."
Logan's face went stiff and still, but Kane caught the hurt expression he hadn't been quick enough to suppress. "That's unfair," he said quietly. "I only meant I heard you aren't on duty."
Gabriel, looking very official in his uniform, grabbed Kane roughly by the shoulder and pointed at him. "I'm guarding him, aren't I? Do you see another escort around?" He said it with such conviction that Logan seemed to be considering it.
"Just because I'm off duty doesn't mean I stop being a guard." Quincey had said that once. Kane remembered it suddenly, and just as suddenly, he knew why they were there. A robbery, here? He knew what Pollendina was hiding here. "Healing potions," he said. Both Quincey brothers turned to stare at him aghast.
"I beg your pardon?" Logan said, recovering first.
"If we weren't investigating the robbery, we wouldn't know about the healing potions, right?"
Gabriel stared at him, but Logan didn't notice, looking up and down the street as though to see if anyone had heard them. No one nearby seemed to be paying them any mind. "Let's talk inside," Logan said.
Mrs. Gainsborough told them the whole tale again, sparing no details, then she left them alone. Lena sat unmoving on the bed beside the sleeping girl, her face blank. Jack went to her and sat beside her, but said nothing, waiting.
"They're my crew, Jack," she said eventually. "I chose them. If anything's happened to him-" She stopped, covering her mouth with one hand to hide her suddenly quivering lip.
He hugged her. "It isn't your fault. We don't even know for sure that anything has happened to him." It wasn't a lie, but even as he said it, Jack knew how unlikely it was that Lena's fears were wrong. The "him" in question, the young man who had vanished from Shelley's room, fit Felder's description to the letter.
"We have to go to the harbor!" she said, her voice tight with emotion. "We have to look for him!"
He sighed, pulling her close, patting her hair. He wanted to tell her no. It was too late in the day for it, really. If they headed back to the manor now, the sun would be setting by the time they arrived. They wouldn't make it before sunset if they went to the harbor first, and tonight there would be a full moon. He wanted to tell her so, but he felt her shoulders shaking as he held her, heard her breath hitch as she cried in that quiet way of hers. "We'll go straight away," he said. "Please, don't cry."
He was still holding her moments later when he heard Thad yelling from across the house. "Lena! Lena! Come quick! Orin fell down! Lena!"
She pushed away from him, wiped her eyes, and hurried downstairs toward the sound of the boy's voice. They found him by the front door, supporting Orin while one of the girls from the house brought him an ugly upholstered chair. "I am fine," Orin was saying as they made him sit. "It was only a dizzy spell. It is very hot outside."
"Get him some water," Lena said, kneeling beside him as she placed a glowing hand on his forehead. The woman who'd brought the chair left. Lena frowned, looking into Orin's eyes, though her own were unfocused, as they tended to be when she used her soul sight. "You don't seem to have heat stroke."
"I never said I did," Orin said in a tone that Jack thought sounded short. "I am only a little tired."
Lena ignored him. She turned to Mrs. Gainsborough, who was coming down the stairs. "Where does your son prepare his potions?"
The madam pointed. "Back of the house, second door on your right."
Lena said, "Thadius, bring my bag," and the two of them headed that way.
Mrs. Gainsborough took one look at the monk and nodded sharply. "Best bring him in here," she said, moving toward the doorway she'd been standing in when Jack and Lena arrived.
Jack moved to help Orin up. He didn't consider himself strong, but he found it took next to no effort to lift the monk, as skinny and bony as an old stray cat. When he got an arm around Orin's shoulders and hauled him to his feet, he was so light, so very light. Orin grunted as Jack led him into the room Mrs. Gainsborough indicated; he groaned as Jack laid him in the bed there.
"I'll go see about that water," Mrs. Gainsborough said, leaving them alone.
Jack looked down at the old man in the bed. How fragile he seemed, how very like the image Jack's mind had conjured up in the room upstairs. "Did I cause this?" he asked, the barest whisper, afraid to voice it out loud, but the old man heard him.
"No, master Jack," Orin said. "This was not you." He closed his eyes, and said nothing more. Jack wondered if he was lying.
When Lena returned some time later, carrying a teapot that did not contain tea, Orin roused and drank a cup, seeming somewhat better afterward. "We must return to the manor," he said. "It is late in the day."
"You don't seem in any condition to go that far," Jack said.
"There is a guardhouse near the cathedral, not far from here. We can send word to the manor from there. Perhaps they can spare an escort for us."
Lena looked at Jack, and he saw the conflict in her face.
"You go with him," Jack said. "I'll go to the harbor."
Orin shook his head weakly. "You cannot! The full moon-"
"He has to, Orin," Lena said. "I'll explain on the way. But, Jack, please be careful."
Jack nodded. "If I'm not finished by nightfall, I'll stay on the ship. Surely the Brotherhood aren't planning to attack a full pirate crew."
"I'll go with you," said Thad. "That way you won't be alone, and I can check on Oscar. Come on!"
The old man protested feebly, but Thad was already out the door. Jack looked at Lena, and her eyes held his. I have permission to kiss her, his mind whispered, and for a moment he hovered in indecision between stepping toward her and stepping away, toward the door, but his cowardice won out in the end. He ducked his head in farewell just as Thad called for him from the front hall.
Thad wandered toward the harbor district with Jack behind him. The mage cursed as he was jostled by the citizens who thronged the streets, as though he didn't know how to move in a city. Maybe he doesn't, Thad thought, weaving casually between a street vendor and the customer he was ripping off. Jack was from Crescent Lake; Thad didn't know what kind of place Crescent Lake was. Lena had told him about the small village she was from, how few people lived there compared to Melmond or even Pravoka. Maybe Crescent Lake was like that.
"Do you know where you're going?" Jack said.
"Yeah. Orin made me memorize that map, remember?"
"Excuse me," Jack muttered as he bumped into a woman who glared sharply at him but kept walking. "At least don't get too far ahead. I've no idea where we are."
Thad slowed down to walk beside the mage, who moved so slowly through the crowd that Thad was immediately bored. He pulled his rubber ball from his pocket to entertain himself. They walked in silence for a time, the steady, rhythmic popping of the red ball adding to the noises of the street. They'd gone a few streets over, the seedier shops giving way to more warehouses. Thad pointed and said, "You can see the ships from here, between those buildings."
"Hmm," said Jack. "I guess you did know the way after all."
Thad frowned, wondering if Jack meant to be insulting. He thought about saying something sarcastic in reply, but decided against it. Jack seemed distracted, and likely hadn't meant anything by his comment. "What did you need to visit the harbor for anyway?" he said.
"We think Felder's missing."
"Oh? Kane won't like that. Felder's his friend."
"Lena didn't like it much either," Jack said.
The mage blushed when he said her name. It was hard to tell with the scarf on, but Thad still noticed. "So you and Lena are kissing now? I saw you kiss her."
Jack stumbled, tripping over nothing. "I… that's…"
They turned a corner, and there, coming out of one of the shipping offices, locking it behind him, was Patch Bayard, the captain of the Strahl. He was alone, plainly dressed, without his tricorn captain's hat and with a simple, inconspicuous bandana covering his bald head. He took the key from the door and slipped it into his shirt, looking around cautiously as though he suspected an attack. He looked right at them.
Thad stopped in his tracks, ready to bolt. His hand fell to the hilt of his little sword. His rubber ball bounced away, toward Bayard's feet. He sailed with Pappy, Thad thought, remembering the long voyage from Safe Port to Pravoka after his Pappy came for him, remembering the men on that crew, all dead now except for this man. He waited for the captain to see him, to recognize him; it was too late to hide.
But Bayard didn't look twice at him. Instead, he stared wide-eyed at the tall black mage. His face broke into a grin. "As I live and breathe… Jack!"
"Captain Bayard!" Jack said, stepping forward to meet him. The two shook hands like old friends.
"I figured you'd have sailed on by now!" said Bayard.
Jack laughed. He almost never laughed. "I did! Sort of… It's a long story."
"Tell me about it over a drink?" Bayard said.
"I wish I could, but I have business at the harbor."
"I'm heading there myself! Will you walk with me?" He bent, picking up the red rubber ball and passing it to Thad. His eyes lingered on Thad for a moment, a curious expression. "Have I seen you around town before?"
"It's likely," Jack said, motioning the captain to lead the way. "We've been here since Midsummer, guests at Melmond Manor. How long will you be in Melmond?"
Bayard shrugged, turning up the street, already dismissing Thad as unimportant. "Who knows? I thought I'd be on my way back to Crescent Lake by now, but… well, some of my business is taking longer than I expected."
The two of them walked ahead, leaving Thad behind. He stared after them, trying to recover his senses. The lord secretary had tasked this man with hunting down white mages in the lower town - with hunting down Noah. Thad had heard their conversation himself. Bayard obviously hadn't caught the boy yet. Was that the "business" that was taking up his time?
The two men chatted as they walked, like a pair of old women. Jack asked after Bayard's ship, his crew, his last trip to Crescent Lake. The captain had been there and back three times, it seemed, had even lost one ship to the voyage. When they reached the docks, passing the registrar's table, Bayard pointed out the Strahl, his new ship, commented on how she handled. Thad followed, listening, until Bayard said, "So you're staying with Lord Leiden? Did you come with those Cornelians?"
Jack chuckled. "You heard about that?"
Thad hurried to move in on Jack's other side, tugging his sleeve. "I need to talk to you."
"In a minute," Jack said.
"I hear that man Carmine is a real piece of work. Supposed to be some prophesied savior of the city?" Bayard spat to show what he thought of that. "What's he really like?"
"He's a good man," Jack said. "The prophecy is just-"
"Jack!" Thad hissed, tugging harder, hard enough that the mage was brought up short. "I need to talk to you!"
Jack looked down at him, surprised. He said, "Bayard, excuse us for a moment," then shoved Thad down the dock a few paces, closer to their own ship. "What?" he said, clearly annoyed.
"Jack! That man is a bad man! He's supposed to be dead! He's probably working for the Brotherhood! And you're telling him everything!"
Jack's brows drew together in confusion. "What are you talking about? I know Bayard. He's not with the Brotherhood."
"Then why is he smuggling healing potions?"
"Smuggling?" Jack looked back at Bayard. The captain had his back to them, speaking to a man near the Strahl's gangplank. Jack bent down, closer to Thad's eye-level, and lowered his voice. "He's not smuggling anything, Thad. I know all about those healing potions. He came to Crescent Lake looking for a way to treat the night plague in the countryside. I met him when he picked up his first shipment. That's how I got here; I came to Melmond on his ship."
"If he's not smuggling them, why is he hiding them? He's not sending them to the countryside at all! He and that skinny secretary hid them at a bar in the banking district. I saw them!"
Jack seemed to be thinking. "Orin mentioned something about that… but I never thought… Thad, listen, I know Bayard! I was there when he asked the Circle for help. He was sincere! It can't have been a trick! There must be some mistake."
"I heard him, Jack! He's supposed to be hunting down white mages! I heard him."
That won Jack over. Thad saw it in his eyes - the black mage was too protective of Lena, of white mages, to let something like that go. But while he'd been focused on Jack, Bayard had come up behind them. "So there was someone listening. I thought Vince was being paranoid."
Jack whipped around. Thad drew his sword. Bayard only stood with his arms crossed, frowning at them.
"You're him, aren't you? The Shipman boy? I almost didn't recognize you - you've grown so much."
"I almost didn't recognize you, since you're alive," Thad spat out. "What happened to the Syldra? Where's Pappy?"
"Thad," Jack whispered, shaking his head. Thad was drawing attention. Dockworkers and men from the boats were craning their necks to see why he was yelling. Jack addressed the captain in a calm, cold voice. "You don't deny what Thad says he heard… Is it true then? Are you hunting white mages?"
"We need them," Bayard said. "Titan needs them. The Rot is… Perhaps we could talk about this aboard my ship?"
"I don't think so," Jack said quickly.
Bayard seemed hurt. "Not so long ago, you trusted me enough to leave your village and sail clear across the world with me."
"Perhaps I was wrong."
Bayard nodded. "Perhaps you were. Tell me, did you happen to tell Lord Leiden you're a black mage when he invited you to stay with him? I have no quarrel with you, Jack. But this business with the healing potions? The white mages? It's big, bigger than you know. You need to stay out of it."
He turned back toward his ship.
"Wait!" Thad called without thinking. Bayard stopped, and Thad knew he couldn't let the man leave without answering his questions. "The Syldra! Tell me about the Syldra!"
Bayard turned. He looked down at Thad, and there was something in his eyes that might have been pity. "It was lost in the storm." He didn't say which storm. No one ever did. Everyone knew the storm.
"But you survived!" Thad said, his voice edging into a whine.
"I couldn't tell you how. I was in the right place when the ship went down, that's all. Ended up in a lifeboat with a couple of other men, but there was no sight of land. We prayed to Leviathan for salvation. We prayed for days. And when the others died of thirst, I kept praying. But it wasn't Leviathan who answered."
"You mentioned Titan?" Jack said.
Bayard nodded. "The gods are real, Jack. Titan is, at any rate. I've seen him. But… I don't think there is a Leviathan anymore… I think the seas rage because the sea god is dead. And now the earth rots because Titan is dying." He looked at Thad again. "Don't bother with prayers, little one. Soon, there won't be any gods left to hear them."
He started to turn and walk away, but again, Thad called, "Wait!" When Bayard stopped, Thad said, "Pappy…?"
Bayard didn't even turn around. "I don't know. He wasn't on that lifeboat. I think… I think I'm the only one."
He watched Bayard walk back to the Strahl and board it, watched him disappear below decks. He was still looking at the Strahl when Jack said, "Come on," and grabbed his shoulder to steer him toward the Prince. He let Jack pull him along; he couldn't see through his tears.
Author's note: 12/1/17 - I'm back, readers! I'm sorry for the delay. It's been a tough couple of months. It really threw off my writing schedule.
I had a minor (though probably permanent) health issue crop up in September that laid me out for several days. You know the kind of illness where you're not dying but you totally wouldn't mind if that came to pass? I was pretty miserable. I didn't start to feel normal again until mid-October. It's an ongoing problem, but I think I have it under control now. There's more to it than that, but I'll spare you the details.
If you missed me, again I'm sorry, but I'm glad you cared enough about this story to miss me! Thanks for coming back and checking for an update! I've written a lot this month and I can't wait for you to see what I've got coming up next!
I'd like to take a moment to thank my betas: Dizzy, Rabbit, Sweaterkittys, and Artemis (who I haven't mentioned here by name before). I've been relying on them pretty heavily in these trying times.
And a special shout-out to David, Zach, and Matteo. I kept telling myself, "I have to get this thing posted so they can read it!" You boys are my rock.