Blood Reunion (10 page)

The clay dried his hands when he worked with it this way, but he was afraid to ask Redbird or Corent to approach Mother Rose for some of the lotion she made. He imagined that Mother Fern had some somewhere, but it hadn't been offered to him and he couldn't bring himself to ask.

After pounding the lumps of clay and pulling out the largest bits of roots and detritus, Toff placed an empty, wooden box beneath the large screen before dipping out handfuls of dried clay. He then began to shake and rub it back and forth, allowing the clay to fall through while the screen kept tiny rocks, roots and other stray bits out. Preparing the clay for use was a painstaking process and Toff couldn't decide which he hated more—digging up the clay or sifting it afterward.

Once it was sifted through the smallest screen, he would add water to it, allowing any stray bits of organic material to float to the surface. He could pour that off and begin working the lumps out of what was left. Then he would lay the clay in a thick layer on top of porous stone and allow the excess moisture to dry out of it. The clay would then be wedged by pounding it and rolling it slightly with the heels of his hands to get the lumps and air bubbles out. As a result, Toff went home with sore muscles on most days.

A natural rain was falling outside when Mother Fern let him go and Toff shivered as the cold drops hit him in the face on the way home. Finer weather had greeted him that morning, so he'd only taken his light jacket. Now, covered in clay dust and muck, Toff didn't want to put the jacket on if he could help it—it would have to be washed, just like his clothing if he did so. Instead, Toff held the jacket over his head in an attempt to keep the rain off. The wind was whipping some of it in his face anyway, making the long walk home a miserable one.

Temperatures were falling, too; Toff could see his breath blowing out before he reached the back door to the cottage. His shoes had to be removed before stepping inside and his shoulders slumped at the amount of mud and bits of clay that clung to them. He'd be forced to give them a thorough cleaning. Thunder rumbled overhead as he poured water into the wash pan to clean his hands and face. He could clean his shoes after dinner.

* * *

"Laral's uncle suffered a brain hemorrhage," Corent said, taking his seat at the dinner table. He'd come home later than usual while Redbird and Toff waited patiently for him to appear.

"Will he be all right?" Toff asked. A brain hemorrhage often meant death; Mother Rose couldn't fix something if it were damaged badly enough.

"I don't think so, son. He hasn't wakened since he collapsed after chasing after one of Willow's heifers." Toff stared at Corent, his eyes wide. He couldn't help thinking that he could have chased after Father Willow's heifers just fine.

"He was old and this is his time—he had no power," Redbird said callously, dipping peas onto her plate. "He was one of the Vionnu and in his fifties when he joined us." Toff jerked his head around to stare at Redbird, but she hadn't realized what she'd allowed to slip out—that there were others of Toff's race right there in the village.

She'd never told him that before—he thought he was the only one. Now, Laral's uncle Barthe was dying and Toff wouldn't be able to ask questions. Then something else hit him. If Barthe was Laral's uncle, then Laral was part Vionnu. Toff knew for sure that Laral wasn't missing any important body parts—he'd seen that for himself.

"Do you think he will wake at all?" Toff turned back to Corent.

"I doubt it, son. When it is this bad, sometimes that's for the best."

* * *

"Nissa, I expected better from you." Nissa hung her head as she sat in one of the chairs that Great-Grampa Glendes had in front of his desk. She hated coming into his study—every time she'd been there she felt as if she were in trouble over something, or was being scrutinized by the Eldest of Grey House. She was never allowed to talk or laugh with her great-grandfather. Nissa felt, and not for the first time, as if she were under a microscope. Great-Grampa was frowning at her now, as if he were terribly disappointed. She knew why—it took her too long on the daggers. A First-Tier Wizard had been forced to help her finish the last two—she didn't get to them in time.

"I'm sorry, Great-Grampa." Nissa didn't want to look at Glendes of Grey House, so she kept her eyes down, staring at the rug on the floor instead. Thick and beautifully crafted, the Serendaan carpet was worth much. Nissa had no idea how old it was and couldn't put a true value to it, either. Everything in Great-Grampa's study was expensive, though, and Nissa knew the rug wasn't any different.

"Calebert is upset that he had to pull one of his First-Tiers off another project to help you finish. We could have lost the commission if they'd been returned late."

"I know, Great-Grampa." Nissa toed a pattern in the rug with a rubber-soled shoe.

"We're putting you with Killien for the next month or two. You'll be cleaning paint off brushes," Glendes said. Nissa raised her eyes to her great-grandfather, then. Glendes showed no emotion as Nissa almost broke down in front of him.

Removing old paint from paintbrushes was what they started the six-year-olds on in the Art Department. Killien was a Master Artist and his workshop turned out paintings, sculptures and worked gold leaf for plaster columns and other architectural elements. Nissa couldn't speak—knew that she'd weep if she tried. She nodded and lowered her eyes again as Glendes excused her. She was halfway to her father's suite before the sobs came. She began to run as she wept.

* * *

"Nissa?" Shadow called out after hanging his blue vest on the peg just inside the door. There was no answer. "Nissa?" He called louder the second time.

Nissa heard her father, both times. She was huddled on a corner of her bed, wedged as it was against the wall. Her room was windowless—Grey House had been hollowed out of a mountain and only the Master Wizards and a few First-Tiers had windows allowing a view of the mountainside. "Nissa." Her father stood in the doorway to Nissa's room, staring at her. "Why didn't you answer me?" he demanded.

"I don't feel good, Daddy."

"You're not sick—I know your great-grandfather is sending you to Killien until you sharpen your skills and cut down on the time it takes to do simple tasks. This is for your own good, sweetheart. You're better than this." Shadow Grey raked a hand through thick, black hair. Nissa didn't give her father a reply. "Did you have dinner?" he asked. Nissa didn't answer that question, either.

"I want to see Mom," she muttered instead.

"You cannot run to your mother every time something doesn't go your way," Shadow snapped. Nissa's lower lip trembled.

* * *

"Take this." Gren handed the knife to Laral. Laral's eyes grew wide as the handle was placed in his hand. Clover, standing nearby, gulped as a similar weapon was handed to him.

"Where did you get these?" Clover almost stuttered.

"I borrowed them from Laral's uncle Barthe—he used them when he butchered his pigs. He doesn't need them anymore. Now, we wait near that old streambed where the eunuch gets the clay, and I'll jump out of the tree to get him running. You're going to wait behind those two trees that are growing close together farther down. One of you should be able to get him." Gren sounded grimly purposeful and Clover and Laral stared at him—they were about to commit murder.

"Come on, you're not about to back out on me now or I'll place a mind restraint." Mind restraints and mind commands were only two of the tricks Zellar the god had given to Gren, in order to accomplish his purposes. Laral and Clover's faces paled. They had no desire for a mind restraint—those made their heads hurt for days afterward if their parents placed them. "Let's go," Gren ordered, when neither of his soldiers said anything. "Remember—get him in the chest if possible, that way we won't have to keep stabbing him." Gren began walking toward the old streambed to put his plan into action.

* * *

Nissa removed the paint from another bristle in the brush she was working on. She wasn't allowed to hold the brush in her hands—it was locked in a vise in front of her and Killien had placed a wizard's barrier between her and the vise. It was impossible for her to touch it with anything other than her mind. White rice paper was set out beside the vise holding the brush and each bit of paint had to be carefully laid on the rice paper, ready for Killien's inspection later.

Cleaning brushes was mind-taxing work. At least she'd been able to hold the daggers in her hand to remove the rust and make them like new, as Calebert had asked. This brush was nearly finished—it should take someone with sufficient power an hour to finish it, and she was working at a pace slightly faster than that. Killien instructed her to get all the paint off the bristles and she was even going below the crimping line in the metal ferrule to remove all the paint. She hoped Killien would be satisfied with that.

Nissa was down to the last three bristles on this particular brush when the replacement protection jewel she'd made for herself tingled against her skin. She'd managed to connect it to the one Toff wore so she'd know if Toff's was preparing to activate. Nissa jumped from her seat in alarm.

* * *

"Run, you pathetic little eunuch!" Gren chased after him. Gren's legs were longer, his pace faster. Toff was terrified and breathing hard already as he ran through the drifts of autumn leaves in his attempt to escape the larger boy. "You can't get past the barrier, baby face," Gren continued to taunt Toff as he closed the distance between them, their labored steps crunching through dead, crisp foliage.

"Leave me alone!" Toff shouted the words over his shoulder, but they sounded weak—he was tiring. They were almost at the barrier and Toff was searching for a space among the tightly crowding trees to veer off. He panicked as nothing appeared; there was no safe place to hide. Toff couldn't outrun Gren forever—Gren's legs were too long and they were too far away from the village for anyone to hear Toff's cries for help.

Was Gren finally going to deliver the beating himself instead of asking someone else to do it? Toff headed straight for the two trees that grew together at the very edge of the barrier. If he could get behind those, maybe he could play cat and mouse for a few moments with Gren, allowing a brief space to catch his breath before he had to start running again.

Almost there
, Toff was trying to reassure himself when the worst thing imaginable happened. Gren hadn't been alone, after all. Laral and Clover leapt from behind the twin trees and Toff barreled right into them. What was that they were holding? Toff only had a moment to glimpse the long metal blades as they were pulled out; then the brightest of flashes surrounded all of them, accompanied by the smell of ozone. Power was released from somewhere, knocking his attackers away and throwing Toff straight through the barrier that none of them were able to cross without assistance.

* * *

"No!" Nissa shouted before desperately attempting something she'd never done before—folding space. If she'd had time to think, she might have amazed herself. She transported herself straight to where Toff's protection jewel had fired, landing her amid three unconscious boys in a thick stand of trees.

Chapter 6
 

"Nissa?" Toff's voice came to her as if in a dream. Nissa was staring down at the three boys for minutes, frightened that they were dead.

"Toff!" She whirled to see where he was. He was standing feet away from her, his hands splayed against an invisible barrier.

"Nissa, I can't get back through." Toff sounded desperate.

"Toff, what happened here?" Nissa turned back to the three boys.

"They tried to kill me. I think your jewel went off or something."

"It went off, all right." Nissa was now seeing the knives in two of the boys' hands. Cautiously kneeling beside the unconscious boys, she heard their breathing as she removed the knives and tossed them aside. "At least they're not dead." Nissa breathed a soft sigh of relief.

"How can I get back inside? Maybe somebody will believe me now when I tell them what they tried to do." Toff was near tears and he didn't want Nissa to see that. He liked her and didn't want to appear weak in front of her.

"I believe you and when I tell my mother, she'll believe you, too."

"Your mother? Who is she and why will it matter if she believes me?" Toff didn't sound hopeful and Nissa wondered why that was.

"My mother is the Queen of Le-Ath Veronis," Nissa replied, a tiny bit of haughtiness in her voice. "Of course it will matter to her." Nissa watched as horror spread across Toff's face and before she knew it, he had turned and began to run away from the barrier. "Toff!" Nissa shouted. "Toff, you will be safe, I promise! Come back!" Nissa had doubts that Toff had heard her—he was already far away. She looked down at the three boys at her feet; one was moaning and beginning to regain consciousness.

Hastily she snatched up the knives again and threw them, unthinking, toward the barrier. Surprisingly, they sailed right through. "So it only holds people back," she muttered to herself. She looked around for any other weapons and not finding any, now concentrated on what to do about her current situation.

* * *

Lissa's Journal

"You're saying that someone managed to get through the barrier you have around Grey House and kidnapped my daughter." I stared in disbelief at Glendes, Eldest of Grey House, who stood before my desk inside my private study. My eyes were likely red, while claws and fangs threatened to make an appearance. Somehow, he'd let my daughter be taken and I was not only frightened, I was furious. "What the hell do you plan to do about this, Glendes?" I hissed.

* * *

Glendes felt much like Nissa had days earlier when he'd gotten onto her. He had failed to protect his great-granddaughter and even now, her life could be in danger. If she weren't dead. Glendes pulled his thoughts away from that possibility. He and Lissa had accumulated a long list of enemies over the years. Lissa's two Falchani mates, Drake and Drew, stood on either side of her as she sat behind her desk, hugging herself tightly at the news Glendes delivered.