But when Dagona reached the last dune overlooking the sea, she saw the great serpent washed ashore, his wounds dripping scarlet upon the sand. She trembled, but her fascination overcame her fear, for his scales glittered like jewels in the sunrise and to her healer's sight it was clear the beast lacked the strength to do her menace.
Slowly she approached, but the serpent, longer than a fleet of ships, did not move. She knelt beside the head of the beast, beside the jaws that could have swallowed her whole, and still she did not fear, for the creature opened its eyes at the sound of her steps and she saw the gentle intelligence within them.
"Lie still, poor beast, for I mean you no harm," she said, and the great eyes closed once more, a sign of trust.
She laid her hands upon the extensive wounds, sensing the serpent's pain, and her heart moved to compassion, struck by his beauty. And so she healed him, fearing not his wildness. And the healing lasted through the day and the night and the day again before she felt the creature's breathing ease.
She healed him, and she stayed by his side, pausing only when she grew too tired to continue, when she lay down beside the creature to sleep and he filled her dreams with the wonder of the sea.
And after the moon had waxed to full and waned dark again, Dagona sat back, her healing complete, and the great serpent moved, no longer a serpent but a man of staggering grace, perfect but for one small scar across his belly, where the serpent's wounds had been greatest.
Dagona trembled once more, for she knew men to be capable of violence beyond that of any wild beast. But the man said, "Fear not, for I have seen inside your heart and it is pure. For your service, I am yours, bound to you by love eternal." So saying, he offered her his hand.
And she saw in his eyes that same gentleness that she had seen in the beast before, and she knew this being was her beautiful serpent in another form, and she loved him in return. And so she took his hand without even asking his name.
From "A Spell to Heal Injury", The Ars Paladia, as translated by Melanie the Wise, Queen Consort of King Titus VI of House Plein.
"It's this way!" Shipman said, circling back to him before running ahead again. "Come on! Come on! They could be in trouble!"
"Just once," Kane grumbled, quick-marching after the boy as they wound through the sleepy village. "Just once, I would like to go someplace without our white mage getting lost, or kidnapped, or... well, anything! Just once!"
His father, marching beside him, nodded vigorously. "What were they thinking, going off like that?" he wondered aloud.
Orin, walking behind them, chuckled. "Do you really have to ask?" The old monk moved swiftly, with no trace of the limp he'd shown for much of his stay in Melmond. That had all been an act, making him seem weak and unthreatening in that strange city. Now, he seemed more concerned with keeping up.
Kane bit back his knee-jerk response, momentarily thoughtful. Yes, he imagined if he were in Jack's place he would have taken the opportunity to have a moment alone with the girl he loved. That at least made sense. But while Crescent Lake had been Jack's home, and while the black mage might feel perfectly safe there, surely their shared experience over these past months had proven that nowhere was truly safe for any of them, particularly for Lena.
"At least the two of them went off together," Kane groused. "You, though?" he said, cuffing the back of Shipman's head. "Sneaking off without telling a single person? How dumb are you?"
The boy made a rude face at him. "If I hadn't snuck off, you'd still be asleep and no one would know where Jack and Lena were!"
Kane cursed under his breath. He'd been unhappy about being woken up so early, but once the boy explained himself, Kane had leaped to action, strapping on his armor and his sword, rousing his father. He'd been close to rousing the rest of the crew as well, but his father had talked him down. According to Redden, Thad's description made it sound like Jack and Lena had been taken by the circle of sages, the governing body of the village, a group of scholars who were unlikely to do them any immediate harm.
Scholars and mages, Kane thought. Jack hadn't said as much, but Kane knew his friend had been afraid to return here. A whole village of mages who may have grief with Jack... "How's that spell coming?" he asked.
"I'm working on it," Redden said. "It'd be easier if you would stand still a minute."
"No time," Kane said.
The morning was well underway as they passed through the sizable village. Only a few people walked the streets. Most of them wore the traditional robes of mages, both black and white, but all of them, mage or not, stared at Kane and his companions. None of the villagers stopped him, or even approached him, though some seemed to be following, if at a distance. Though their gazes made him nervous, Kane tried to ignore them.
Shipman led them to a large, steepled dome of stone, the largest building Kane had seen in the town so far. Made by magic, he thought. "There," the boy said, pointing. "They're in there!"
"Of course they are," Kane groused, seeing that it was the only building with guards on the door, a pair of mages with thick staves. Kane didn't know much of magic, but he suspected the weapons made better clubs than focus objects for spells.
His father grabbed his shoulder, and Kane felt a warm sensation spread over and through him. "The spell?" he asked.
"Done," Redden said, nodding.
"Alright," Kane said. He rolled his shoulders, took a deep breath, and strode forward.
The men at the door stopped him, stepping in front of him to bar his way. "The Circle is in session," one said. "Return to your ship. An envoy will be sent-"
"I think we can skip all that, don't you?" Kane said. "I'm here to see the sages. You can tell them I've arrived."
The two guards looked at each other, then back at Kane. The one who'd spoken before repeated. "Return to your ship. An envoy-"
Kane sighed, stepping forward to slip between them. He pushed on the door, felt it give. He could hear voices inside. But then the guards crossed their staves in front of him, using the weapons to push him back.
"Sir! Return to your-"
Kane raised his hands. "I come in peace," he said, "but my friends are in that chamber, and I will be going in there."
The other guard, a larger man, nearly Kane's size, spoke for the first time. "You can try," he said in a low, gruff voice. His eyes lit with a corona of fire as the tip of his staff glowed orange.
Kane smiled. "Thank you. I believe I will." He stepped forward again.
The guard hesitated. Clearly, he'd expected the show of power to intimidate his opponent, but Kane had been travelling with Jack for some time now. He knocked the glowing staff aside with his bracered forearm and laid his hands on the door again. The guards cried out in protest. The smaller one grabbed Kane's shoulder, but the larger man cast a spell.
The spell hit Kane and broke, shattering against his father's Shell.
Kane turned to face the large mage, who gaped at him. Then Kane punched the man right between his flame-licked eyes.
Jack tried not to shuffle his feet, aware that his wet boots squeaked every time he moved. He hadn't had a chance to dry them as he and Lena had been escorted to the circle chamber. It had been Wrede who found them, Master Randell's son. The white mage had seemed reluctant to report him to the Circle, but Jack understood that Wrede could hardly have carried on with his day, pretending he hadn't seen Jack in that square. Not when Jack was who he was.
Despite the hour, Jack had been surprised to find that the Circle was already in session, meeting to discuss a quake that had hit in the early hours of the morning. Wrede, himself one of the sages, had been on his way there. While not all of the sages were present when Jack arrived, most of them turned up shortly after, and the sages had quickly sent a messenger to fetch the rest.
"This is exactly what I was talking about!" Master Graham said, pounding the arm of his chair with one bony fist. The chair beside his, the one belonging to Master Lukahn, stood empty, but the other chairs that stood in a circle around the room were all occupied by sages in various states of dress who had come as soon as they'd received Wrede's summons. Wrede, in his forties, was the youngest of the twelve sages. Graham was one of the oldest. He shook his finger at Jack as he spoke. "As good as foretold we weren't rid of you! If the stars are accurate-"
"Doubtless the stars are accurate," Master Randell said. "It's your interpretation of them I doubt."
Jack chuckled at the rise that got from the other sages, but he stopped when Lena pressed herself more firmly against him. She was trembling, standing barefoot before the gathered sages, listening to them argue about Jack's presence there, about his intentions. He had been in the process of telling them why he was there when the argument started.
He slipped an arm around Lena's shoulders and tried to project an air of confidence he didn't feel. "Don't worry," he whispered. "They're always like this."
He felt her nod against his ribs, but her trembling didn't cease. He wondered if she was cold, nestled up against him like that. He wasn't exactly a reliable source of warmth. Lena's tunic should be dry for the most part, but her hood and shoes had been left behind at the fountain. Jack wondered if the tile was cool beneath her feet.
However Lena might feel, Jack knew he, at least, was cold. Though he doubted it would help with the underlying problem, for Lena's comfort, he cast a warming spell. He tried to be subtle about it, but as the spell resolved, Master Myron exclaimed loudly in surprise, "He's casting a fire spell!"
"No!" Jack said, lifting his hands in a gesture of surrender.
"For Sisters' sake, Myron, anyone can see it's only a heating spell," Wrede said. "Would it really be too much for you all to speak to the young man before you go accusing him of anything?"
"Please!" Lena said, her arms tight around Jack's middle, squeezing him. "We mean you no harm! If you would just listen-"
The chamber door slammed open, silhouetting the hulking figure of Kane against the sunlight outside. Redden, Orin, and Thad followed him as he stomped inside, dragging two men by their rumpled robes, one in each of his hands. One of the men squirmed, protesting. The other was out cold. The Circle grew quiet as Kane tromped past Jack and Lena to drop his burden in front of Master Randell, who sat opposite the door. "You in charge here?" Kane asked, crossing his arms. "I'd like to lodge a formal complaint."
"What is the meaning of this?" Myron said, rising to his feet.
Jack sighed.
Orin stopped just inside the door, as though he were admiring the carved panels there, but Redden and Thad stopped beside Jack and Lena. "Everything alright here?" Redden asked quietly.
"Sure," Jack said. "We were just getting around to telling them we mean them no harm."
Redden chuckled. "Sorry about that. Boy's got a temper."
"This one threw a spell at me!" Kane was saying, pointing at the unconscious guard. "After I told him I came in peace! I think he meant to do me some serious injury!"
"No!" the other guard protested. "It was only a defensive-"
"Don't give me that poppycock!" Kane interrupted. "I know a fire spell when I see one! And I also know the Black Oath. It has some very definite things to say about using magic to harm people. How do you lot explain yourselves?"
"Now wait just a minute!" Graham exclaimed. "You can't just come barging in here with these wild accusations!"
"Really? Because I've just done it," Kane argued. "If this is how you treat guests to your village, then it's no wonder mages have the reputation they do back home." He began to count on his fingers. "You attack me with spells, you kidnap my friends, you-"
"Kidnapping?" Mistress Fiona squeaked from her chair to Randell's left. "But we haven't-!"
Kane pointed behind him, where Jack and Lena stood in the chamber's center. "I wouldn't be here if you hadn't, madam!"
Jack sighed, rolling his eyes. The sages all began to talk at once, even Wrede, who Jack was almost certain sided with him.
"Enough!" Randell shouted over the noise. "Enough, all of you!" He speared Kane with a steely glare. "Why you're here is exactly what we were discussing. You may not be aware, but your friend Jack is at the center of a very serious prophecy. His purpose in returning to Crescent Lake could have dire ramifications for this village."
Kane nodded. "Yes. Thank you. That's exactly what we came here to say." He drew his sword. A few of the sages gasped, cringing defensively, their eyes lighting as they summoned spells, but in one fluid movement, Kane drove the blade point first into the marble-tiled floor. It sank down a few inches, cutting the stone as easily as butter. "We're the Warriors of Light," he said as he stepped back, pointing to the glowing jewel in the hilt. "And that's the orb of the earth. We woke it up. We need to know how to wake the others."
It was late morning, nearly lunchtime, before they got out of that chamber. Lena was starving by then. She and the others walked behind Jack as they followed the head sage, Master Randell, toward his house on the edge of town. The town wasn't large compared to Cornelia, even compared to what she'd seen of Pravoka, but compared to Lena's home village of Onlac, Crescent Lake was practically a city. However, Randell assured them it was a short walk. And that there would be food at the end of it.
The day had turned out warm enough that she carried her robe over her arm. She'd left it by the fountain when they'd been taken before the sages, but Thad had handed it to her, along with her shoes, when they started their walk to Randell's. He'd startled Kane doing it - none of them had noticed him leaving to fetch them, and his return had been sudden indeed. She held Thad's hand as they walked, feeling his restless energy. The boy was as hungry as she was, and their normal, unhurried walking pace seemed to wear on his patience.
Ahead of them, Randell spoke familiarly with Jack, but more respectfully than the other sages had done. Lena knew Randell had been Jack's teacher for years - that information had come up before in his lessons to Thad - but Lena didn't know how the other sages fit into things, nor did she know why they spoke to Jack with such hatred. So much hatred, in fact, that following Kane's truncated retelling of their adventures so far, the room had devolved into angry shouting. Randell had convened the meeting to resume again the next day.
"They'll want to speak with you one at a time," Randell was saying. "Hear each of your stories. They'll have a lot of questions, I'm afraid. It could take days."
"Great," Jack said bitterly. He seemed less nervous now that they were out of the Circle Chamber. He had put on a brave face - for her, she imagined - but she had felt the cold dread in the pit of his stomach as they stood before the sages.
"There's no call for sarcasm," Randell said. "You surely knew this was coming when you returned here. The sages thought they were free of you, and here you come waltzing back and tell them you were the cause of that aether burst two moons ago."
"Hey, we helped!" Thad said. "He didn't do it by himself, you know!"
"I'm not sure that makes it any better for your friend here," Randell said. "At any rate, you've certainly given us something to think about. We all felt the burst, though no one could discern its source. We scryed every way known to man. For now, we'll need information, and that means thorough interviews. How you came together, where you've been. We'll start with the others, save you for last. See if that gives the Chamber time to adjust to your presence."
"As if fifteen years wasn't time enough," Jack grumbled.
Randell shrugged. "No one said they were a charitable lot." He turned up a path that led to a log house with a well-kept garden. A modest home, by no means huge, it was still a larger house than Lena had expected, the sort of home a real family lived in, not a lone old wizard. Maybe he has a family, Lena thought, suddenly realizing she knew nothing about the man save his name. "Come in and be welcome," Randell said, opening the unlocked door and walking in without a backward glance.
Inside, the house opened onto a large room, the parlor, kitchen, and dining area all combined in one homey space. On one wall, a small hallway led to several closed doors that must have been rooms, while another door near the stove led out back, the window beside it revealing more gardens. Beside the hallway was a cold fireplace, and above the mantle a painted portrait showed Randell when he'd been about Redden's age, along with an unsmiling woman and a young man. Lena recognized the young man - much older now - as the white mage who had conducted them to the Circle Chamber, one of the sages, though she'd forgotten the man's name in the confusion that followed.
She jumped at a rumbling growl, but it was only Kane's stomach echoing the sentiments of her own. Randell chuckled, motioning them toward the table. "I skipped breakfast myself," he said. "Rushed off as soon as the sun rose. That quake this morning was the worst we've had yet. Woke me out of a sound sleep." Randell pointed toward the kitchen area. "Well, help yourself to the bread box. I'll see what Dahlia's left in the larder."
The bread box contained muffins, and the larder held fruit and cheese. Instead of handing out plates, Randell placed it all on a single platter in the middle of the small table, which only had four chairs. Jack pulled one out for Lena and sat beside her, though he seemed to have gone shy again around his old master, keeping his hands close to his face as he ate. Randell sat as well. Orin took the other chair, while Redden and Kane remained standing and Thad copied them, the three of them reaching over the table to take what they wanted.
No one spoke as they ate, aside from Randell commenting that his wife, Dahlia, was likely in her garden out back. "She'll have sensed us by now," he said.
Sure enough, shortly after that, through the window, Lena saw the woman from the painting coming up the path toward the back door. Her hair, completely silver, was pinned up in a bun on top of her head, while the sleeves of her black mage robe were pinned up to her shoulders. The front of the robe was cut short, mud-speckled hem showing rough trousers underneath, muddy at the knees.
She came in like a whirlwind, slamming the door open. She flung a basket onto the counter near the larder, spilling a few tomatoes onto the work surface. "You bring guests today? Didn't I tell you I had work to do? If we don't get that soil turned, the pumpkins aren't going to ripen in time for the autumn moon." She looked from her husband to his guests, first to Thad and the others standing up, then to Lena and Jack at the table. When her eyes settled on Jack, they widened. "You!"
"Me," Jack said ruefully, but Lena detected amusement. He was happy to see this woman, and she was happy to see him, though she pretended otherwise.
The woman wagged a finger at him. "We've had two moons of dry here, Jack Ashward. One spark from you, and my entire bean patch is going up in smoke. And I'm not done harvesting those seeds! If you set my fields on fire, I shall tan your hide for a new ritual drum, so help me!"
Jack nodded, lifting a muffin to take another delicate bite. He seemed remarkably unphased by the woman's threat.
Kane, however, couldn't feel the things Lena could. He bristled as he stepped forward, drawing the woman's eye. "His name's not Ashward anymore," he said. "It's Carmine."
The woman sighed, rolling her eyes. "Capital. I shall be sure to chant it as I bang my new drum." She turned on her husband but she pointed at Jack. "He's too pale. See that he eats a decent meal."
Randell nodded, face blank. "Yes, dear."
Dahlia turned her back on them, facing the counter. She emptied her basket, sorting and stowing the vegetables in various cubbies in and around the larder and placing the tomatoes in the sun on the kitchen windowsill. She faced her husband again as she turned back toward the door. "How much longer are you going to yammer on? I need that soil turned yesterday."
Randell scoffed. "Hire Stokely and his boys to do it. I'm busy here, woman."
"Stokely? That peacock couldn't carry his own ego in a wheelbarrow!"
Lena smiled. She's a hedgehog, she realized. Prickly on the outside, but only on the outside. "Kane could do it," she said, pointing at her large friend.
Kane looked at her as if she'd just offered to cook him up for dinner, but Mistress Randell looked at Kane appraisingly.
"Hmm," she said. "You do look big enough to manage it. Strong, are you? Ever shoveled mulch before?"
Kane cocked his head, confused. He looked at Randell, but the man didn't look up, seeming intent on his food. Finally, Kane looked back at Dahlia. "Can't say I have."
"Hmm. Well, I'm sure I can explain the concept in simple enough words for you. Come on," she said, striding out with her newly emptied basket on her arm, leaving the door gaping wide behind her.
Kane stood stunned for a moment, but then followed, almost in a daze.
"Would you mind getting the door, boy?" Randell said.
Thad walked over and closed it.
"She's an earth mage, then?" Redden asked.
"How could you tell?" Randell said dryly.
"I've met a few," Redden said.
Randell smiled then. He hadn't eaten much, but still he sat back, apparently finished, lacing his fingers over his belly and regarding Jack critically. "I can understand her surprise though. I must say, I never thought I'd see you again."
Jack nodded. He covered his face with his hand as he spoke, though his mouth wasn't full at all. "I hadn't planned to come back."
"You're sure you're the Warriors of Light?" Randell asked.
Jack shook his head. "I don't know. I've had this talisman since the day Iris found me." He patted the pocket of his coat where Lena knew he kept the orb of fire. "You've studied it - you've all studied it. I know you all concluded it wasn't magical, but..."
"You did once tell me you'd seen your mother use it in a spell," Randell said.
Jack nodded. "I know you never believed me. But something's changed. It reacted to the other orbs. The four of them work together somehow. And... us with them. If killing that necromancer did..." He hesitated. "Did something to Kane's sword - to us - then..."
"Then there must be more to the rest of them," Randell said nodding. "I agree." He gestured toward the table. "Eat your fill. We'll need to plan our next move, but we can do it with full bellies."
Orin said, "If I may suggest, Master Randell, perhaps we could go and see your fabled archives. I am anxious to reconnect with my old friend, Alistair Pearl."
Randell stopped in the act of reaching for another muffin. He sneered. "Pearl? He doesn't have any friends."
Jack nodded vigorously. "That's what I told him!"
"You are mistaken!" Orin said, chuckling. "I am sure he will be most pleased to see me again."
"Well," Randell said, doubtfully. "We do need to search the archives, you're right. But Pearl's been in one of his moods lately. I'm not sure we should go to him until our interviews with these four have given us an idea of where we should begin our search."
"Nonsense," Orin said, waving his hand dismissively. "I have not seen him in twenty years, and I'm sure we neither of us have another twenty left. Besides, I am no stranger to Alistair's 'moods', as you call them. I should very much like to go."
Randell shrugged as if to say, "It's your funeral," but aloud he said, "Very well. I shall take you after our meal. But he stays here." He pointed at Jack.
Jack snorted a humorless laugh. "What? You don't think Pearl will be happy to see me?"
"I think he would happily beat you to death with Wilke's Aetherial Primer."
"He's right," Redden said. "Given what I saw in that chamber this morning, I think it best if you're not seen walking around town."
Jack nodded, nibbling the last of the muffin he'd been working on and reaching for a piece of fruit. It was all the same to him, Lena thought, as he clearly hadn't wanted to go anyway.
He was still eating the same piece of fruit, in that slow, deliberate way of his, when Randell finally stood, pushing his chair in behind him. "Shall we?" Randell said.
Orin stood as well. Redden and Thad, already standing, moved toward the door. Thad looked at Lena expectantly, but Lena shook her head. "I'll stay," she told them.
"You don't need to," Jack told her. "I'm alright here."
She shook her head. "I've had my fill of other people this morning. Particularly if anyone's going to be having 'moods'."
Orin nodded. "Yes, it is best to let me go to him first and smooth things over. We can introduce you to him another day."
"And use your copy of the Ars Paladia as a shield," Redden added.
They left then. Lena heard Master Randell exclaiming over what Redden had said, about the existence of her book, pressing him for details as the door closed behind them. She and Jack sat at the table in silence as he continued to eat. She glanced at him, saw the blush in his uncovered cheeks, then kept her eyes away from his face. She picked at the contents of the platter, helping herself to a second muffin, though she only ate half. She offered the rest to Jack, and was heartened when he accepted it and ate it all. When he'd finished, he put his scarf back up, and Lena sighed, wishing she had looked at his face as he ate after all.
"Would you like to sit outside with me, my lady? The weather seems nice today."
"Actually," she said. "I thought we should go and help Kane with whatever he's doing. I feel a bit guilty for throwing him to the wolves, as it were."
Jack's eyebrows drew together in concern. "I don't know that Miss Dahlia would welcome my help. You heard what she said about that bean patch."
Lena laughed. She'd heard the woman's words well enough, but she'd also heard what the woman hadn't said in words. Dahlia liked Jack. He needs more time around people who like him, she thought. "I'm sure it will be fine," she said, taking his hand. She grabbed another muffin from the platter, for Kane, then led Jack out the back door. He followed willingly enough.
The path from Randell's house back to town was a winding one, past trees and overgrown areas. Some of the plants looked familiar to Thad - he thought he'd seen them in Ruby's garden, or in Titan's Cathedral - and he wondered if what he'd taken for a part of the forest was actually a garden. A wild one, he thought, overgrown. As if someone had cast a handful of seeds along the sides of the path and hoped for the best.
When the trees gave way to buildings, Thad admired those as well. He'd been told that Crescent Lake was smaller than Pravoka, where Thad had grown up, but it was natural in a way that Pravoka, with its stone streets, wasn't. The buildings were nestled in among the trees and hills, as if the builders had left the land exactly as they'd found it. Thad could tell that some of the buildings had been constructed by magic, seamless stone walls with patterned carvings, too perfect, that would have taken centuries to create by hand. And these are just the houses, he thought.
They reached the area where the circle chamber was, the part of town Thad thought of as the main square. The buildings here, of course, were more impressive, domed and carved, with great windows of colored glass in competing patterns. Randell pointed out a smaller one, overshadowed by the circle chamber: the library. The old sage marched up its wide stone steps and pushed open the doors, releasing the shouting within.
"Hmm," Redden said, following him inside. "Completely soundproof."
Orin chuckled. "Alistair always did prefer silence in his library."
"Your friend?" Thad asked.
Orin nodded. "The one who is shouting, yes."
Thad stepped in after the monk. He could see the source of the noise now, a spindly man, bald as an egg, in a faded black robe, his voice seeming too loud for someone with such a small frame. "I'll not have it!" the man, Alistair Pearl, was saying at top volume. "The lot of you marching in here, making your demands? And who's left to put the books back in order? To clean up your mess? I am!" He threw a stoppered inkwell at the sources of his ire, the two white mages Thad had seen in the circle chamber before. The inkwell flew true, though without much force considering Pearl's apparent age - his face was almost as wrinkled as Orin's.
The one called Wrede caught the bottle out of the air, inches from his colleague's head. "Yes, well, that is your job, isn't it?"
The other white mage ducked behind Wrede as the archivist tossed the closest item to hand, a cup of quill pens. The mage's white robe was already stained black down the front where he'd apparently taken another inkwell to the shoulder. "It's an archive, Alistair, for Sister's sake! Not a museum! We need those books!" He cowered as Alistair found a wooden ruler and lobbed it at him.
"What you need is to learn to file things properly!" the scrawny elder said, face twisted in anger. "That aether burst was two moons ago, and I'm still trying to put the shelves back in order! And did you even find the answers you sought? No!"
"Alistair!" Randell barked.
The archivist stopped, hand raised to throw what looked to Thad to be a decorative paperweight. He regarded Randell with undisguised suspicion. "If you're here to ask for books as well, Liam, so help me-!"
"Is that any wait to treat visitors, Master Pearl?" Orin said, stepping forward.
Alistair squinted. His hand with the paperweight in it fell to his side. "Master Tantal?" he said, using Orin's family name. He smiled. "Bless my eyes! It is you!" He stepped forward, hand outstretched to shake Orin's hand, though he still held the weight and had to transfer it awkwardly to his other side before he could complete the gesture.
"Father!" Wrede snapped to Master Randell. "Talk sense into him! We need those prophecies!"
"Yes, yes," Randell said, waving a hand dismissively. "Second row, fourth - no, bottom - shelf. Start there. Honestly, if you'd learned the filing system as I told you, you wouldn't need to ask permission every time you needed a book!"
The white mages scurried into the stacks.
"What? Hey! You come back here!" Alistair shouted, lifting the paperweight once more, tossing it at Wrede's fleeing back. With a flash, it cracked against a Protect spell and fell to the carpeted floor with a thud. The archivist growled, facing Master Randell. "Confound it all, Liam! I've told you, if the sages need something researched-"
"I'm afraid it is not only the sages who require this information, old friend," Orin said. "Though I will be more than happy to help you put your library back in order when we are done. Why, I still use your methods to organize my own library at home!"
The archivist grumbled. "I still don't think-"
"Alistair," Randell said, shaking his head. "We've no time to worry about the filing. Jack has returned."
The man stilled. His eyes went wide. "He has?"
"He claims he was the cause of the burst. He, and the Warriors of Light."
The skinny librarian paled. He moved to a nearby study table and sat down heavily. "Well," he said, licking his lips as if they'd gone dry. "Well, I suppose you had better get on with it then."
The white mages, searching the shelves, muttered to each other. Randell moved to join them, motioning Redden to follow, but Orin moved to the chair across from Pearl, and Thad stayed close to him.
Pearl sat limply, like the wind had gone out of his sails, arms hanging down at his sides. "Jack could be lying," he said. "Silas says he can't be trusted..."
Orin shrugged. "In this case, he most certainly can be."
Pearl shook his head. "I suppose… Why else would he come back here, after all?"
"Why, indeed?" Orin said. "It is good to see you, old friend, though I wish circumstances were better. We require your knowledge of these prophecies."
Pearl shook his head again. "I suppose one wasn't enough for him. I believe I could use a drink." He looked questioningly at Thad. "Boy, that globe in the corner there. It's hollow. Open it up and bring us the bottle you find inside."
Thad wandered over to the indicated corner, and though he had no trouble finding the globe's hidden latch, knowing it was there, it was stiff and hard to open. Still, he managed it, and he returned to the table with what looked like an ancient bottle of wine.
"Master Pearl, this is my apprentice, young master Shipman," Orin said.
"How do you do, boy?" Pearl asked, though without enthusiasm, focused only on the bottle in Thad's hands.
"Thadius, if you would excuse us, please? My old friend and I have much to discuss."
Thad nodded, leaving his master behind as he ventured toward the library's many shelves. He had never seen so many books in one place before. Some were bound in leather, others in cloth. They had names stamped into their spines, some in Leifenish. Thick books, thin ones, some with scraps of paper sticking out between their pages, others with ribbon bookmarks. Some of the shelves held scrolls and ledgers.
As he browsed, running his finger over the heavy-looking tomes, he nearly ran into the two white mages. "You, boy!" Wrede said. "Be useful!" He plopped three thick books into Thad's arms, nearly knocking him over.
Thad looked down at the topmost cover. Embossed in the leather, in curving script, were the words, "Aetherial Theory."
She'd done the right thing, Lena thought, keeping Jack with Kane, with Dahlia. The gruff, no-nonsense witch had put them all to work in her garden, though she had warned Jack in no uncertain terms to keep his spells to himself, thank you very much. It was evening, just growing dark, before they marched back to the Randell house with dirty hands and dirty knees, smelling of earth and sweat.
"Wash up," Dahlia said. "It's zucchini for dinner tonight. You'll all be staying for it."
"Yes, ma'am," Jack said, sighing as though it would be a chore, but Lena felt his delight.
"And no complaining!" Dahlia snapped, sounding annoyed. She glowed with maternal warmth.
What a strange relationship they have, Lena thought, smiling as she and the boys washed their hands at the water pump behind the house. Dahlia brought out some rags for them, and a cake of soap that smelled strongly of citrus.
"The white mages keep a hothouse in town," Jack said when Lena commented on it. "They've a lemon tree."
"I like it," Lena told him. "It reminds me of home."
After dark, when the four of them had already settled around the table and begun their meal, the others returned. Dahlia fetched more chairs from elsewhere in the house, and though she grumbled about having to "feed all these people," Lena could tell she enjoyed hosting them.
"Did you find anything useful?" Jack asked.
Master Randell shook his head. "There will be no easy answers, I'm afraid. We spent weeks researching the aether burst already. Knowing it originated in Melmond leads us no closer to finding the cause."
"But we know what caused it!" Kane protested.
"We don't," Jack said. "Yes, we killed a necromancer, and yes, the orbs are connected to it somehow, but how does that cause a shift in the life force of the entire planet?"
Kane made a face, looking daunted, but Thad kept talking, chattering on and on to Lena about the magic library, about the books he'd seen there. "And there was another book," he told her excitedly, "that had these charts in it - aether diagrams - on huge pages that unfolded, taller than I am!"
"The Teleport spell?" Jack said. "Pearl let you look at that?"
Thad nodded. "He was the one who showed it to me! He said it was my reward for figuring out his filing system so fast!"
Jack gaped. "But I memorized his filing system ten years ago! He never let me near that book!"
"How'd you learn the spell then?" Kane asked, spearing a slice of baked zucchini on his fork and shoveling it into his mouth with apparent relish.
"Jack tends to sneak into the library when Alistair isn't looking," Randell said. "But he'll have to tolerate you for a time, at least. You do know the filing system, as you say, and you're a fine scholar. We'll need your help with the research."
Jack's mouth quirked up at the sides, as smug a grin as Lena had ever seen on him. "You used to complain about my research skills," he said.
Dahlia barked a laugh. "Didn't know a good thing when he had it! That new apprentice, Alphi, he's a nice boy, but not a scholarly bone in his body. Liam here says he's hopeless."
Jack cocked his head. "A new apprentice? I haven't been gone a year! It took me that long to convince you to take me on to begin with!"
"I guess I got used to having students," Randell said, chuckling.
"Oh, don't let it bother you," Dahlia said. "It's all down to politics with this one. The boy's mother is proper Circle material. Liam wanted to get on her good side."
Randell blushed slightly. "Yes, I'll admit to an ulterior motive there. She's said she's not interested in joining the sages, but I think I can talk her around."
"Not as long as her children are still at home, I reckon," Dahlia said with a snort.
Randell shrugged again. "They are getting older. Anyway, Alphi's a good boy. Not terribly bright, but a good grasp of fire magic, I'll give him that."
"The boy's interested in glass," Dahlia said, pulling a pendant she wore out from beneath the collar of her black robe. She pulled the cord over her head and held it out to Lena. "He made this. His mother brought it 'round to thank Liam for taking him on."
"Oh, it's lovely!" Lena said, looking closely at it in the lamplight. Inside a clear sphere, a drop of red glass swirled into a drop of black glass in a shapeless dance, tiny bubbles floating around them, frozen forever in the hard surface.
Lena held it out so that Jack could see it, but after only a cursory glance, he turned his head toward the front of the house. Dahlia and Randell did likewise, as did Thad, and Lena realized they had sensed something in the aether, someone approaching the house. "Speak of Bahamut," Randell said, rising and going to the door just as someone knocked.
The boy who stood outside was perhaps a year or two older than Thad, just broaching his teens. He was all arms and legs and acne, with close cropped hair that made his ears seem larger than they should have been. He was worried about something, and Lena quickly realized it was the strange man waiting on the path behind him.
Sarda grinned widely, waving at Lena and the others, and she knew from his expression that his mind was far from the present. "Found you!" he said.
Kane groaned, covering his face with his palm.
"Excuse me," Alphi said, in a voice that still sounded like a child's as he looked in at his master's guests. "Does this belong to you?"
"Yes. Yes, it does," Kane said, as though he were speaking of a lost dog.
"Who's this?" Dahlia said. "Bring him in and make him a plate."
Kane stood, escorting Sarda inside. The prophet looked about the room with a dopey smile.
"At least you're wearing pants," Kane muttered, guiding the man to a bench beside the back door before fetching him some food.
"Alphi, would you like some?" Dahlia called from the table without rising.
"Yes!" the youth said, but then added, "Well, no. That is, I've already had dinner. It's just I've got a message for him." He pointed at Jack. From his pocket, he pulled a folded letter, lightly crumpled, which he passed to Master Randell. "I've gotta go," he said, hurrying away as soon he'd handed it off.
Afraid, Lena thought. Of Jack?
Randell shut the door, then returned to the table, wordlessly passing Jack the note. Jack looked at the front, at the single word, "Ashward" written there in a messy scrawl. Lena felt her stomach go cold with Jack's seething anger as he opened it and read its contents. "Master Lukahn says he's pleased to offer me and the mages with me rooms during our stay in Crescent Lake."
"How nice of him," Dahlia said, without much warmth. "No word on the rest of your friends, I suppose?"
"Lukahn always has been a bit of an elitist," Randell said, sighing. He glanced at Redden. "That invitation won't include you, I'm afraid. Lukahn's of the old ways."
Lena cringed. She'd known only a few white mages in Cornelia who held to the belief that red mages were inferior to themselves; it was widely regarded as an outdated way of thinking. A red mage's spells worked as well as - or sometimes better - than a born mage's.
Redden seemed to take the remark in stride. "We don't require accommodations," he said, shrugging. "The docks aren't far; our ship will suffice."
"Nonsense," Randell said. "We don't get many travelers here at the Lake, but there are rooms above the tavern, and proper beds. Surely Bayard mentioned it?"
"Bayard had the privilege of traveling on the interests of a very fine patron in Melmond," Orin said. "Unfortunately, we are traveling on a tighter budget."
"I'm sure we can work something out," Randell said.
"I'd rather stay on the ship," Jack said.
"I suspect Lukahn would rather that as well," Dahlia said.
"It would be a terrible breach of etiquette," Randell said, shaking his head. "For both of you. Lukahn is your guardian."
"Neither of us chose that," Jack snapped.
Dahlia snorted. "Funny how the universe doesn't seem to care."
Jack glared down at his plate. Lena felt the riot of his emotions. She reached for his hand under the table, worried he would pull away from her, but to her surprise he accepted her touch, taking her hand in his, squeezing it hard. She picked out his fear then among the other jumbled feelings, the fear of a beaten dog when a hand is raised. "I'll be with you," she said quietly.
Dahlia sighed, and though she frowned, Lena felt the woman's dissatisfaction with the arrangement. Dahlia didn't want Jack to go any more than he did. "You need only sleep there, for form's sake. You'll take your meals with us here, of course. And every waking moment of the day is your own."
Randell nodded agreement. "Your other friends can stay with us, so you'll have more reason to come here."
"Do you even have extra beds?" Thad asked.
"You're being rude again," Kane pointed out.
"We'll make it work," Randell said, chuckling. "Besides, you'll be going with Jack."
"I will?"
"You're a mage, aren't you?" said Randell. "You heard the invitation. Jack and all the mages with him."
"Master Lukahn doesn't like children," Jack said.
"Or company," Randell said, nodding. "But I think it only fitting he should be as uncomfortable with your stay as you are." He turned to Thad. "Tell me, boy. How are you at annoying your elders?"
Thad grinned.
From the bench beside the back door, Sarda said, "I'm a mage..."
"Oh, good!" Kane said. "He can be Lukahn's problem. See, Jack? The old man won't have time to bother you."
Jack smiled wanly, nodding, but beneath the table, his grip on Lena's hand remained firm.
It was dark by the time Lena walked back to town, but the road was bright enough. The rough dirt path was bordered by a wooden fence on one side, and every other fence post held a small lantern. Jack would light them with a wave of his hand as he passed by; the lanterns would glow and flicker with a brief flame that lasted just long enough for them to reach the next one. Lena wanted to ask him how they worked, but she could sense enough of his mood to know he didn't want to talk.
She held his arm, listening to Thad and Sarda chatter at each other behind them. Redden and Kane had stayed with the Randells. Orin walked with them for a time, but shortly after they left the town's forested outskirts behind for a row of houses, Jack pointed one out. "Pearl lives there," he said.
"Excellent," the monk said. "I hope he is up for a late night chat. Thank you for lighting my way." He began to totter off toward the house.
"Do you want us to wait for you?" Lena asked. "In case your friend doesn't want company?"
Orin chuckled. "He may not want it at the moment, but I am confident in my powers of persuasion." He gestured to Thad with a wave of his hand. "Remember your manners, young Master Shipman."
"I will," Thad said cheerfully.
"Yes, yes," Orin said as he walked away. "But remember to use them as well."
They watched as he knocked on the door, as the man called Pearl opened it and greeted him cheerfully, then Jack led them on.
The village was quiet, almost disturbingly so, in a way that Cornelia had never been. Lena had lived in Cornelia's White Hall, in the heart of the city, for nearly seven years. There had been taverns and restaurants open at all hours, even some shops in the busier areas, though Lena tended to avoid those, especially at night. Onlac, though, had been like this, still and quiet at night. Yes, people in Onlac would gather at Auntie's tavern for wine and music at the end of the day, after their work was done, but the music stopped well before midnight, always. The boats had to go back out at sunrise, after all.
They passed through the quiet town, seeing no one else, hearing nothing but their own footsteps and Thad and Sarda's whispered conversation. The two kept a few steps behind Lena and Jack, speaking just quietly enough that Lena could barely hear them. Thad was asking about the buildings they passed, the oddly shaped ones. Sarda was telling him about their history, how they were constructed by magic, and the details of the spells that made them. The prophet seemed incredibly knowledgeable of Crescent Lake's past for someone who hadn't been there at the time, for someone who had never visited this place before.
"Is all that true?" she asked Jack.
"Hmm?" he said. "Oh, yes. It's visible in the aether to those with the skill to see it. Though Sarda is more skilled than most in that regard."
She nodded, tuning back into Sarda's whispered histories. For the first time, Lena really considered what it must be like to go through life completely disconnected from the present, able to look at a thing and see what it had been ten years ago, twenty years ago, more. Can he see my past? she wondered, remembering Onlac again, missing her aunt and uncle, the coves and beaches where she'd spent her childhood. She wondered how much of that childhood was visible in the aether around her, if any piece of Onlac clung to her aura for all to see.
And what of Jack's childhood? she thought. She knew it had been traumatic - she saw as much when she read his soul - but she knew no details. He didn't speak of his past. As Lena thought about it, she realized she knew very little of where Jack had come from.
She was deep in thought, pondering this sudden realization, when she noticed Jack had stopped. Their path had led them through the village and out the other side, onto another forested path. Ahead of them, a house loomed out of the dark, tall but narrow, its lower windows gleaming faintly with light from within.
"This is it," he told her.
She sensed his distaste, the gut-twisting dread that had stopped him from going the rest of the way, from marching up to the door of the house where he had once lived and knocking. "We're with you," Lena whispered, patting his arm reassuringly.
"Why have we stopped?" Thad asked impatiently from behind them.
Jack sighed but didn't move, so Lena took the next step for him, pulling him on, step after step, until they stood before the heavy oak door. Jack knocked only once, softly, and a voice within called, "Enter."
Though the evening was cool, scarcely edging into autumn, the room Lena stepped into was uncomfortably warm. A fire crackled in the hearth, providing most of the room's light; the rest came from fat, flickering candles. The candlelight and the dancing flames almost made the room appear to be on fire. Master Lukahn sat in a threadbare armchair near the hearth, his skin seeming to glow in the orange light, while his eyes glowed with a green tint. Lena knew the green corona came from holding the aether in order to read it better - perhaps to better read the auras of his guests, or to aid failing eyesight - but Lena could feel Jack's discomfort with this man, and she couldn't help but think Lukahn meant it as a threat as well. I'm ready to defend myself, that corona said, by any means necessary.
"Come in and be welcome," Lukahn said, though he didn't rise from his chair.
Lena flinched, reacting to the lie. Welcome indeed, she thought. It was only the old man's strict adherence to manners that made him invite Jack back into his home, she knew.
Jack stepped closer, pulling Lena with him, Thad and Sarda following. Lukahn squinted at them, specifically at Lena in her white robe. "I had heard you brought a white mage with you," he said to Jack. "Step forward, child. Let me see you."
Lena hesitated, uncertain, but then Thad pushed past her, walking right up to the old man, grabbing his hand and pumping it in a rough greeting. "Master Lukahn!" he said excitedly. "I've heard so much about you! It's a pleasure to meet you! My name's Thad. Thadius Josiah Shipman. How do you do?"
Lukahn's eyes widened.
Oh, Sweet Leviathan, Lena thought, cringing at the overdone politeness.
Beside her, Jack winced. "Thad," he snapped. "What are you doing?"
Thad turned an impish grin on them. "Remembering my manners, of course!" He winked, then turned back to the old man in the chair, resuming his vigorous handshake. "Thank you so much for opening your home to us!"
"Yes, well..." Lukahn said, brimming with uncertainty. "It was the least I could do..."
"Oh, excuse me!" Thad said, as though he'd just remembered something. "Introductions! Jack you know, but this is Sarda - Sarda Carmine, of the West Hills Carmines."
"A pleasure," Sarda said.
"And this is Lena!"
"Hello," she said, stifling a laugh. Lukahn's confusion mingled with Jack's. The old man had been so ready for a fight, and Jack so ready to defend himself against one, that Thad's show of manners had put both of them entirely out of sorts. Kill them with kindness, she thought, remembering one of Father Branford's favorite sayings. Smiling, she stepped forward, away from Jack, to rescue the old man from Thad's continued handshake by taking his hand herself. "We do appreciate your hospitality," she said. "But it is late..."
"Yes, of course," Lukahn said. Lena felt the uncertainty she heard in the old man's voice, but that tone immediately became dismissive when his next words were addressed to Jack. "You can put the girl in Iris's room, Thadius in yours. Take Sarda to my own."
"Oh, I couldn't take your bed!" Sarda said, politely.
Lukahn waved Sarda's concerns away. "I usually sleep here these days, in this chair. It's easier on my old bones." So saying, he settled back against his cushions, smoothing the blanket across his lap. "You may inform Jack if you require anything. He knows where everything is." Then he closed his eyes.
Jack seethed, but said nothing. He treats him like a servant, Lena thought. She stepped to him, putting her hand on his arm again, squeezing it.
He sighed. "Come on," he said, taking one of the candles and leading them all upstairs.
When they reached the first room at the top of the stairs, he opened the door and gestured Lena inside. He held the candle out for her, and only then did Lena realize he'd taken the candle for her sake. Sarda and Thad, both black mages, wouldn't have needed one. Access to aether sight meant they didn't need light to see. Jack hesitated at the door, a strange longing in his heart, and Lena knew he had loved the owner of this room, loved and mourned him... Her, Lena corrected, surveying the furnishings, for it was very clearly a woman's room. Iris, Lukahn had said.
"Wait here," Jack said, and Lena nodded, knowing he meant to come back.
She could hear Jack putting Sarda in the room down the hall, could hear him and Thad going up the stairs. Jack's room, she thought, imagining him growing up in this place.
She looked around the room she'd been given, small, but cozy rather than cramped. Like the room downstairs, it was over-warm, so she went to the window and opened it, admiring the little wreath of dried vines that hung nearby, tied with a rainbow of ribbons that drifted in the slow night breeze. The furnishings were simple, but well-made, the mattress thick and soft. Lena sat on it, running her hands over the patchwork quilt that covered it, as colorful as the wreath.
She heard steps on the attic stairs coming down, felt Jack come to the door behind her. He stopped there again, and Lena turned to see him staring about the small room as though he were scrutinizing every inch of its walls. "It's just as she left it," he said after a time.
"She?" Lena asked.
"Iris," Jack said, meeting her eyes. "The woman who raised me after my parents died."
"Oh," she said, feeling awkward as she felt the brief flash of his grief for that woman again. For a moment, she'd been jealous, and that was ridiculous. No matter what she felt for Jack, they'd made no promises to each other. What business was it of hers if he'd loved someone else? She looked away, feeling foolish.
"Is something wrong?" he asked from the doorway.
She shook her head. "I've only just realized how little I know of your past."
She was somewhat surprised when he came into the room and sat on the bed beside her. He held his gloved hand out to her, palm up, in invitation, and she put her own hand in his. They sat that way for a time, neither of them looking at each other as he caressed the back of her hand with his thumb.
"She was a white mage," he said at last. "Lukahn's daughter. She found me - after the fire - healed me. Took me in. I don't remember much of that time - I was… very hurt. Like… like Ruby, in a way. Iris healed that, too." He looked about the room again, sighing heavily. "She died five years ago."
"I'm sorry," Lena said.
He shrugged, but she felt the pain he tried to hide. "She was the only one here... the only one who didn't hate me."
"Hate?" Lena asked. "No, they don't all hate you."
Jack shook his head.
"I mean it," she told him. "I can feel them. It's not hate, not all of it."
"Then what was that reception downstairs?" he asked quietly.
Lena thought about it. "Fear. Lukahn, some of those other sages... They're afraid of you."
He nodded, as though he'd suspected as much. He sat in silence, then asked her, "Does that change how you feel about me? Knowing I'm feared by the most powerful mages in the world?"
She shook her head. "No."
She felt his doubt, and it stung.
"No," she said again, more firmly. "The day we met, when you shouted at Thad... You summoned a fireball, do you remember?"
He cringed. "I remember."
"I was afraid of you then," she said, then went on quickly when she felt his shame. "That was the only time I've ever been afraid of you. I could never be afraid of you now, Jack." She reached up to touch his cheek, turning him to look at her. "Not now that I know you."
He looked away, then he stood, turning his back on her altogether. "Thank you," he said, his voice smooth, calm. Still, she felt his doubt. "Try to get some sleep," he said as he left her there.
She listened to the sound of his footsteps ascending the stairs, the creak of the attic floorboards above her. She heard his voice and Thad's drifting down through the ceiling, then settling into silence. She blew out the candle and laid down on top of the patchwork quilt, feeling the pleasant night air through the window, but feeling oddly discontent. No, she didn't know much of Jack's past, but she felt she knew him. She'd read his soul, after all. She thought she knew everything about him she needed to know.
Apparently, Jack disagreed.
Author's Note: 6/5/20 - So, I don't know if you guys have noticed, but there's been a lot going on in the news lately. A lot. I'm good. I'm coping. I still have a job, and it's reasonably secure. I was able to work from home when everything here closed. My family is alright. The garden's looking great this year. I've more or less been able to maintain my mental health through it all, but my writing ended up on the back burner. I apologize to the faithful readers who wait so anxiously for new chapters. I see all these prolific authors out there producing multiple giant novels a year (cough Sanderson cough cough) and I don't know how they do it.
Probably none of them took a week off to play Final Fantasy VII Remake. But, man, that was a good week. The pull-up mini game was a crock of shit, but the rest of the game was gorgeous and fun.