Chasing Bloodlines (Book 4) (11 page)

Chapter 12

Nolen kept his head down and quietly chopped carrots, using his fingers to see for him. The burns on his hands had been lifted slowly, leaving faint lines of scars where his body healed before Maxine could. Though his cheeks were nearly free of the burns, he kept his eyes covered with gauze to prolong the ruse. He could see plenty well.

He kept his gaze on the woman in front of him as she bent over to stir. After three weeks he had developed the talent of chopping without looking, allowing his eyes to wander from one cook to the next. They all wore high-necked gowns of brown, and if they leaned just right….

He pushed the carrots into a bowl and reached for more. It was hard work keeping Kilkiny Palace fed. He had never appreciated it until he was the one working hard for the nobles. He still did not appreciate it much.

It had taken him a week to study Marya, the Mistress of Kitchens, to see what she sent up to Queen Robyn. While the food usually varied, Marya used similar casks of wine that he was able to douse with bloodroot, his slow-acting poison. Soups were another of the Queen’s favorite, and it was very easy to slip a few drops into a cauldron. Sure, a few others were poisoned along the way, but it was worth the chance.

The Queen’s poison-taster had yet to show any symptoms, but the man did not consume as much as Robyn would have by now. She should start to show the signs of poison any day if not already.

Derise stood beside him, his constant watcher. The plump little cook had made it her mission to help him wherever necessary. She would always walk him to his room or to the washroom, or even outside now and again for fresh air and sun. He repaid her with more than a few kisses, but she was reluctant to follow him into his bedchamber. No matter; he still saw Maxine every night.

“Nicely done,” Marya suddenly said behind him and offered a swat of her spoon. He resisted the urge to draw Air and swat her back, for there was at least one weak Water Mage in the kitchens who could see. “Your skills are coming along right nice, my lovely. How are the eyes?”

“They still burn,” he replied, as always. He would need to wear the gauze if he was to keep the ruse going. There were a few markers of his person servants would recognize: the slight scar to his upper lip, his thick lashes and dark green eyes, his curly hair, broad shoulders and slender waist, but when these attributes were broken up, he could be anyone. He walked with stooped shoulders, covered his face, and cut off his hair. His digestion, while always unstable in the palace beforehand, had been unaffected, and he had been able to maintain his usual slender weight.

Marya swatted him again and bustled off to a storeroom. “Are we out of nutmeg?” he heard her yell after a while.

One of her assistants perked up. “Prince Balien hasn’t ordered us any in a while.”

“He doesn’t need it anymore,” Marya called back. “I will have to order our own now.”

Nolen turned to Derise. “Why would the Prince order food for the kitchens?”

The girl looked up from her rapid slicing. “Oh, he would only order us nutmeg.”

“Why?”

“For Prince Nolen.” She swiped the onions into a bowl.

“Do explain.”

“We would dose all his food with it. Too much causes intestinal discomfort, along with calla-lily and foxtail, a few others.”

“You
poisoned
his food?” Nolen breathed, seething.

“And his wine.”

“Everyone here knew?”

She tittered an amused tune. “Oh, aye.”

Nolen went back to chopping. The knife collided sharply with the wooden cutting board leaving slitted divots behind.

‘I am going to kill Balien.’

Shaun accompanied Gabriel and the Council to their inn before the sun set, and they changed into less elaborate clothes. Gabriel thought the meeting with Shaun’s companions had gone quite well. The men were eager to find a way out of Tintagaelsing, but some were still wary. Though oppressed, this city was their home, culture, and way of life. Gabriel promised to talk with them more in the morning.

None of Gabriel’s coats were demure, so he pulled on a vest and threw his cloak over it. Shaun sat in a corner patiently waiting, the gray pattern constantly revolving. Lael sat on his bed with a book, his clothes unchanged.

“Want me to fix those clothes up?” Gabriel asked Shaun.

Shaun raised a brow. “You can do t’at?”

“Sure, stand.” It was painfully obvious Shaun was a Gaelsin Mage, especially with the wretched collar and simple linen. Gabriel made short work of weaving the clothes to make a long gray coat over his loose garments. He popped the coat’s collar to hide Shaun’s and drew a bit of black from the wool blankets to felt designs into the shoulders and down the center of the torso. He could not manage buttons, so he left it open, giving him a black belt instead. The coat was as close to Gaelsin garb as he could remember.

Shaun tightened the revolving pattern to feel the coat. “I’ve never had somet’in’ so fine. Do all Jaden Mages dress t’is way?”

“We…are a more affluent people,” Lael replied tactfully.

“If a sell-out recognizes me, you will have to vouch for me.”

Gabriel nodded. “Why is it you need permits to lay patterns?”

“We are only permitted to use a few in public, but when working for non-Mages, we can use whatever we please.”

“What happens if you are caught?”

“We get a whiplash for every pattern used unlawfully.”

Gabriel gritted his teeth. “How often does this happen?”

“Not very—unless you don’t give a care.” He tied up the coat, then untied it and left it open. “I’ve walked away with more t’an one.”

“Are you permitted healers?”

Shaun shook his head and faced the door. “Lady Mikelle is ready for us.”

A moment later she knocked. With a flick of his wrist, Shaun flipped the latch with an Elemental strength Gabriel had never seen in Air except with Maxine.

Mikelle smiled when she saw Shaun. “I see Gabriel got at you. You look very fine.”

“What color is your dress?” Shaun asked as he stepped into the hall.

“Dark blue.” She took his offered elbow. He smiled faintly as they passed from Gabriel’s vision.

Lael stepped up alongside Gabriel as they went into the hall. “I spoke with several men today, and I am under the impression these Mages have attended no proper school. The patterns they know are passed from parent to child, not shared among others. If your plan is to bring them to Jaden, we will need a system to train them.”

“I know,” Gabriel nodded. “I’ve given it some thought as well. But if the only thing standing between these Mages and high Classes is their knowledge, then it is a simple thing to teach.”

“I have no doubt we can Class them with the patterns they
do
know. We will have hundreds if not thousands to Class though.”

“Thankfully it is the heart of winter, and the castle is slow.”

“We will need thicker clothes, more food, timber, coal. An influx of several hundred would be enough to upset our balance, but several thousand?”

“Lael,” Gabriel said and clapped the man on the shoulder. “Castle Jaden was built to hold over ten thousand Mages. It is not even half-full. If Jaden could survive with full rooms once, we can do it again. Imagine the possibilities of having previously-extinct Class Sevens or higher in the Castle.”

“I share your enthusiasm, I just reign mine in.”

Gabriel slapped his shoulder and laughed as they stepped into the street. They abruptly stopped in silence. Night had fallen in short order, but the streets were illuminated with bright lights. While Jaden had their blue-green lanterns, light here came from glass bowls the size of a melon. They dotted every street corner and above shops. Smaller ones even hung from the roofs or strung across the street.

Shaun felt them all stop. “Is somet’in’ alarmin’?”

“The lights,” Markus breathed.

“Oh, aye,” Shaun sighed. “T’ey
would
be alarmin’.”

“No, they are beautiful.”

“No t’ey aren’t.”

Gabriel sensed tension in Shaun’s voice. “How do they work?”

“T’ palace harnesses energy and stores it in vaults beneat’ ground. It supplies the bowls with energy by night. It is t’ same energy in t’ whack-sticks you were hit wit’ today. Scientists work daily to put t’ energy into new inventions, but we don’t see much of it in t’ slums.”

“Do they harness lightning?” Gabriel asked.

Shaun met his eyes. “No, mate, t’ey harness Mages.”

Silence fell, and all love for the glowing bowls awkwardly vanished.

“
What
?” Lael breathed.

Shaun pointed west to the palace peeking out between the buildings. “T’ey abduct Mages off t’ streets, and most are never seen again. T’ose who are freed are broken people. Non-Mages worked out t’at our power comes from our chests, deep within, so t’ey hook Mages up and take t’at energy wit’out any regard for t’ person.”

“How long has this been going on?” Mikelle asked.

“Only a few years…t’ey had to work out where our power came from first. How do you t’ink I lost my sight?”

“No,” Mikelle whispered, which was the only appropriate thing to say.

“T’at’s why I started t’ revolt.”

“How many Mages are in that palace?” Gabriel asked, his fury rising to his voice.

“T’ere’s no tellin’.”

“I’ll be right back.”

Shaun threw up his hand. “Stop! You’ll not come out if you go in. T’ entire palace is built wit’ incanted stones.”

Gabriel laced a hand through his hair. What had started as a gathering mission had quickly become liberating an entire people. “I will wait.”

Shaun began to walk, leading them deeper into the city. “I heard Brigit when you entered her shop. Do you remember she was concerned you would take her daughter? Palace guards took her son a year back, her husband a few years before t’en.”

“Did she take you in?” Gabriel asked as he stepped up beside.

“She found me after t’ey wrecked my eyes, nursed me until I could feel t’ world wit’ my Element. She’s been family ever since. I’ve seen her lose two people she loved. It’s been terrible.”

“We’ll get you all set up in Jaden, and I will go back for the people in the palace,” Gabriel stated with resolute conviction.

“It will take a lot of convincing for t’ese broken Mages.”

“That’s something I know a lot about.”

Chapter 13

Ryker surveyed the city from a tall roof. The chill wind blew over him. Maxine’s curls lifted in the wind, cascading with the scent of peppermint. She was smiling faintly and pointed. “There he is.”

“What do y’ think he is doing outside his castle after all this time?”

She shrugged a cloaked shoulder. “Seeking new Mages.” It was the first time in weeks Maxine had searched the Head Mage to find him out of the castle and across the mountains no less. “We should do the same.”

Ryker raised a brow. “How now?”

“If we are going to amass a force, this is where we should start. These people are already molded to take orders without arguing, they are powerful, and no one will mind if a few go missing.”

Ryker drummed his fingers on his arm. He had been amassing a force for a while now, but it was difficult to break them all. Mages from Parion, Aidenmar, and Anatoly were fighters. Mages from Cinibar were relentless. Mages from Arconia gave in much earlier than Mages from the Reglajae far north, but none would be as easy as Gaelsin Mages.

“Go after the ones he wants.” He ordered smoothly.

“I will fetch the pretty ones first,” she replied. “The one on the girl’s arm is
rather
handsome.”

“Those, ac the strong ones.”

She suddenly looked east. “Nolen calls. Farewell.”

Ryker checked the state of the moon and shifted to outside of Jaden. He tucked under the same outcropping they used before, and slipped a searchers-pattern into the wristlet he wore. He felt the boy coming closer.

Dimitri rounded a boulder, a pack over a shoulder, and tucked under the outcropping, breathing heavily.

“Did y’ find where mine Dorian is buried?”

Demi smiled. “Yes.”

Ryker grinned slowly. “Where?”

Demi unslung the pack from his shoulder. “In Castle Jaden.”

Ryker’s eyebrows reached the stars as the bag cracked with the familiar sound of shifting bones. “Well done, lad.”

Rather than pleased, Demi looked concerned. “He’s all here but for his skull. He was not buried with it.”

That presented a problem. “What do your books say?”

“I believe the Head Mage knows where the skull is, but he is away. Please, let my mother go.”

“But Anabel is such a good cook,” Ryker stated disinterested.

“If I bring you Dorian’s head, will you give her t’ me in exchange?”

Ryker stared, and Demi held his breath. “Very well.” He slipped a ring off his finger and set a pattern within. “Put this on when y’ want to summon me. Do ne keep me waiting.”

Gabriel woke to miss the comfort of his own plush bed. The beds here were threadbare and too short for his long legs. He stretched, feeling the bones in his back snap into place. As much as he desired a hot bath, the inn was not drilled for plumbing, so he resorted to a ‘lazy-bath’ as Mikelle called it. He drew water from a basin and ran it over his skin depositing it outside.

He shook Lael awake after dressing, meandering to the salon downstairs and found nothing appealing for breakfast. The strange looks patrons gave him still made him feel uneasy. Finding nothing appealing, he returned to the room to find something in their rations. The sound of heavy steps on the stairs paused him, and the sudden shill of “Gabriel!” made him bolt for the door.

“Here!” he shouted and rushed in the direction of the voice.

Brigit the baker met him on the stairs. “It’s Shaun! T’ sell-outs took him!”

“Why?”

“Impersonating a lord, t’ey said.”

“Where?” He grabbed her hand making her cry out in alarm.

“T’ere’s a square up t’ street from my shop.”

Gabriel seized Void, and shifted them out of there. He slowed the shift as much as possible and rotated around the street, into an open market square. A tall column stood in the center with a large marble statue on top, and at the bottom was Shaun. His arms were bound hugging the column, fingers tied in leather gloves to keep them from moving, but he was not defenseless. The rotating pattern moved around him as always, and he had also raised a shield to protect him from the several black-coated guards who carried whips and the electrical sticks. Shaun looked angrier than a cornered cat.

“Halt!” Gabriel called, and to his relief, the men turned to look. More than one gave a start at his white hair and eyes. The throng of Mages in the square directed their attention to him. “This man is under my protection.”

“You are not t’ King,” a guard replied. Gabriel swiped him away with an icing pattern, freezing him to the cobbles on his back. The other guards raised their weapons. Gabriel drew creeping-choke vines from the ground and bound two of them together with a crack as their heads collided. He set the coattails of the fourth on fire and casted a net of Spirit around the fifth that threw him into the fetal position, unable to move.

“All these Mages are under
my
protection,” he shouted and climbed onto the column’s plinth to cut the ties. Shaun dropped his shield, and Gabriel untied the leather gloves, burning them to ash with a snap of his fingers.

He turned in time to see the guard with the smoldering coattails fling a leather whip at them. In previous circumstance, Gabriel would have flinched at the mere image of a whip. One lash at him would have buckled him to his knees. But not anymore. He did not realize how strong he was until strength was the only option. He raised a forearm and caught the lash around it, jerking the whip from the man’s grip.

“Did you not hear me?” Gabriel asked.

Shaun threw together a pattern and put it to Gabriel’s lips with a wink. “These Mages are under my protection.” His voice boomed through the market square, and if anyone was not already watching, he secured their attention. “And we will no longer tolerate the injustice your leader shows them. Run back and tell him.” He straightened as the scorched man rushed off. He released Void to show his humanity. “I am Head Mage Gabriel of Jaden, and if any of you would have me, I would very much like to welcome you to my castle where servitude is a word we only see in books.”

Shaun dropped the pattern. “Well done, mate. Perfect timing.”

“You got a shield up with your mind?”

Shaun nodded.

“And what was that last one? I’ve never seen the like.”

“Dad always called it t’ amplifier-pattern.”

Gabriel wanted to discuss more, but Mages timidly approached, stepping around the incapacitated guards. He stepped down from the plinth and began to answer questions. Shaun added details when necessary. They repeated themselves to every collared Mage who approached until the rest of the Council showed up with bewildered expressions.

“Where have you been?” Mikelle whispered as she filtered her way through the crowd. “We were so worried until Brigit found us. Shaun! What happened to you?”

He moved to answer when several women swarmed her asking a dozen questions. Any alarm she felt never reached her smile as she rapidly answered, offering as much consolation as possible.

Gabriel took a better look at Shaun as the Mage crouched on the plinth, his gray pattern extending far into the crowd. “How far does that pattern go?”

Shaun raised his brows and faced Gabriel. He bore a bloodied lip Gabriel had missed before. Without moving his hands the pattern extended another twenty yards, brushing the tops of the buildings far across the square.

“That is quite impressive.”

Shaun grinned, then winced.

“Let me mend that.” Gabriel quickly sealed the wound and delved for others. “Stars, Shaun, they did a number on you.” He lifted bruises from the stomach and ribs grumbling about injustice.

“Tell me, Gabriel, if we come wit’ you, can Brigit have a bakery?”

“Actually, yes she can. We have a whole wing of the castle uninhabited.”

“I would want her to have prime space in a busy location.”

“I could see if we have space available in the main shopping road.”

“Speaking of bread, I could use a bite.” Shaun hopped off the plinth and wove through the crowd gracefully to snatch Mikelle by the arm. Gabriel was just about to follow when a family of five blond-haired, blue-eyed Gaelsins stepped up carrying a few bundles.

“Head Mage? Gabriel? What do we call you?” the man asked. He looked worn, unshaven, with tangled hair and dirty knuckles. The rest looked no better.

“Head Mage is fine.”

“When can we go?”

Gabriel raised his brows. “To Jaden? Is that all you’re bringing?”

“It’s all we have.”

Gabriel gritted his teeth and picked up the youngest boy. “Now. We’re going right now.”

“Should we summon Gabriel?” Aisling asked in a worried tone.

Robyn waved a hand and put it back on her brow. “He cannot heal illness.”

Prince Balien folded his arms over his chest and fixed her with a serious gaze. “Nothing I sent you helped? Are you sleeping well?”

“I sleep too much as it is.” Robyn rose that morning with a splitting headache and a dry mouth. As soon as she stood, she became so lightheaded that she was forced back into bed, where her counterparts now doted.

“What are the other symptoms?” Aisling asked. “Dry mouth, headache, fatigue, weakness. Are you vomiting or passing blood?”

She eyed Aisling with a grimace. “Not in front of Balien. He has a sensitive stomach.” Balien did his best to maintain a straight glare.

“If you experience either of those, I need to know.”

“Gabriel can easily shift himself here. I know he has been absent for days, but it would not take a few minutes for him to arrive,” Balien urged. “He also owes me three gold squares for a Tiles game he lost.”

“He never loses—he lets you win. He
always
lets people win.”

Aisling put a hand on Robyn’s brow. “Delirious.”

“I am not. I can think perfectly fine. Now, let me rest. The Eventide celebration is in a month, and I have to be well to sail to Arconia.”

“I am going to check in to see if Marya has added something new to your diet. An exotic cheese or new wine perhaps.”

“Maybe I should just have water for a while. I cannot think of stomaching anything else.”

Balien stepped up, wiping something bitter-smelling on her temples and swiping lavender on her wrists. “I will speak with herbalists in town.”

“If this persists much longer, I will summon Gabriel myself,” Aisling stated and swept out with Balien, leaving Robyn to rest.