Keystone (Gatewalkers) (16 page)

“Technically you brought one,” Charlie said.

“
I
brought one?” Now he seemed horrified.

“That’s how we tracked you here,” Charlie said. “You mean you didn’t follow Lallia here to me? How did you find me?

Rhys held out his hand palm down, the one with the contract wrapped around the wrist. “Charlotte,” he said. The contract’s dark “tail” unlaced from the inky bracelet to slide out onto the skin of the back of his hand. Pointing at Charlie. Rhys passed his hand back and forth, showing that the “tail” still indicated her.
 

“Rhys,” Charlie said, but her contract showed no inclination to unravel and point to him.

“It requires one’s True Name,” Rhys said. “Most are intelligent enough not to give it.”

“Hey!” Charlie said indignantly. Now that she thought of it though, when Jack introduced himself, he’d said “I’m called Jack Danielson,” and Rhys hadn’t actually told her a name at all. Not once in Seinne Sonne had anyone said, “My name is….”
 

“So…” Charlie said slowly. “Should I be worried about this?”

Rhys gave her a level look. “Have you spoken your Name to anyone aside from Scatha and I?”

Charlie paused, thinking about it. “No. I guess not.”

“Well, then,” Rhys said, and left it at that.

That didn’t really answer her question.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Twilight and Shadow

The bustling common room of the mage guild seemed to serve as dining hall, living space, and practice room. Tables with benches took up most of the room, a few of them set up with arcane equipment, but it seemed there was no rhyme or reason to the table arrangement - anyone could claim any table. Mages – and apparently a few non-mages – packed in almost elbow-to-elbow in the windowless space, the earthen walls melding conversations and chants into a deafening roar, punctuated with the odd crackle or pop.
 

The three of them claimed a table toward one of the far walls. The packed earth wall (the better to absorb spells?) had no windows, of course, but it disconcerted Charlie more than she thought. Maybe she was a touch claustrophobic after all. At least the thatch roof was reasonably high, but something about the space seemed odd, dimensionally. Maybe it was bigger inside than out; it was a mage guild, after all.

Charlie pulled out her pocket comp and made a panning video of the cramped space. Come to that, it was brighter than a windowless room should have been. More magic to get used to.

“What is that device you carry?” Jack said.

“This? It’s a pocket computer.” Charlie turned the screen toward him. “It’s….” How to explain? “It’s sort of the army knife of gizmos. It has lots of functions, see?” She showed him the menu screen. “In fact.” Charlie opened her photos and showed him a snapshot of
 
himself. “Look here. I took that earlier. And here.” She pulled up a picture of Eva and her kids from one of their many day-trips. The beaming kids were perched on an ancient iron cannon. “That’s my sister, Eva, and her kids James and Laura.” She flipped through more pictures. “That’s their dad, Eva’s husband, Harry. He’s an accountant. That’s my dad. He keeps talking about retiring, but he’s a bit of a workaholic so I don’t think he’ll ever actually do it. That….” Charlie paused, caught off guard by an unexpected eye misting. “That’s my mom and us.” Eva and Charlie sat on either side of their mother in her hospital bed, their mother looking thin and fragile between them, but that was when they could still manage to smile. “She died of cancer my senior year of high school.” Long enough ago that she thought she’d gotten through hurting every time she saw her mom’s picture. Apparently not.

Charlie cleared her throat and clicked through to a different picture. Any picture. “This is from last Christmas.” Eva, Harry, and both kids in front of the tree. All of them faced the camera, but James’ hand slunk toward one of the brightly wrapped presents.

“This is what you are fighting to return to.” Rhys’ murmur in her ear made her jump almost clear of the bench.

“Yes,” Charlie said firmly, recovering. She impulsively elbowed him in the chest, but he didn’t budge. “This is what I want to return to. My
family
.” And her world. Her job - if she still had it. Her life.

Rhys offered no other comment, but returned to the other side of the table.

“May I?” Jack said, reaching eager fingers for her pocket comp.

“Sure.” Charlie pulled out the stylus and showed him how to work it and how to open programs. “Just don’t move anything to the trash.
Anything.
”

Jack nodded vigorously and took the pocket comp from her hand with unexpected delicacy. He set it on the table in front of him and studied the menu intently.

Charlie wasn’t alarmed until he brought out his chalk. “Um. Jack?”

Jack drew a circle around the pocket comp then made marks that started looking suspiciously similar to his gate spell.
 

“Um. Jack?” Charlie stole a glance at Rhys, but he looked mildly amused. No help there. Magic wouldn’t mess up her computer, would it? “That’s not going to affect anything, is it? Jack?”

“Oh, no, it won’t affect the device,” Jack said in an offhand manner that she didn’t trust at all. “I’ve used this spell many times; I have it completely memorized.”
 

Was that supposed to be reassuring?

Jack hovered his hand over the pocket comp and the marks he made. “Ancient mysteries, reveal yourself to me.” The chalk marks did a slow spin and turned into ordinary lettering.

“Hey, I can read that!” Charlie craned her neck around. “‘Secrets revealed’?”

Jack rubbed his chalky hands together in glee, dispersing white dust. “A basic reading spell. Now I can understand what is written in your device!”

“Woah!” Charlie caught his wrist before he could scoop up her computer. “Dust off those hands
thoroughly
. Pretend that it’s a delicate book.”

Jack did so.

“So you can really read it now?” Charlie said as he picked up her pocket comp.

“Yes. Oh, look! The temperature of the room is 76 degrees! How marvelous! What is ‘wallpaper’?”

Charlie showed him how to change the background picture. “So this is why I could read things in Taryn’s shop? There was a spell on things? Because I couldn’t read anything at the mercenary guild.”

“Ah,” Jack said smugly. “That’s a pretty bit of mind magic. This spell I used was for learning an individual kind of script, but Taryn has an enchantment over her shop that convinces the mind to understand all written script, no matter its origins. You see, her wares come from all corners of the kingdom - some of them from beyond our borders - and so do her clientele. It would be impractical to write labels in every sort of script there is. The mercenaries probably don’t bother to read their books. I tried to get Taryn to tell me who cast it for her but she threatened to use my eyes in her next potion.”
 

Jack’s expression turned distant and a little wistful, telling Charlie he’d wandered into the maze of his own thoughts. “It’s a funny thing, mind magic,” he mused. “Very rare these days. After the Wars it sort of… faded away.”

“Vampires work mind magic,” Rhys said, breaking his silence. Charlie hadn’t thought he was paying attention. “Few have defenses against it anymore.”

Fright flashed across Jack’s face. “Which is why you must never meet their eyes. If you do, they’ll have you offering up your own throat.”

Charlie couldn’t help it. She glanced at Rhys, and her gaze went straight to his colorless eyes. Was that how he hunted? With those eyes? He met her gaze full on. His mouth twitched in a hint of sardonic smile before he broke the contact.

“Ok,” Charlie said. “Here’s another one for you: How am I understanding the language here? I think it’s a bit of a stretch to think that Seinsonnian-or-whatever-it’s-called just happens to match mine.”

“Simple.” Jack’s eyes sparkled. “It’s a function of the Great Gates. The Gate imprints the dominant language on your mind so that you can understand common speech. If the regional dialect is distinct enough, you’d be imprinted with that. For example, you speak with a categorical Alta twang.”

“What?” Charlie said, her face flushing instantly crimson. She thought she’d just been talking normally!

“Jack is putting you on,” Rhys said. “You only have a touch of coast. Fish tang is more marked.”

Charlie punched Jack in the arm.

He gave her a chagrined smile as he rubbed the bruise. “I must say, though, you still won’t understand, say… ancient Rya – they died out during the Nightmare Wars.” A stream of words with a lilting, sing-song rhythm flowed from Jack’s mouth. “That’s a line from one of their only surviving ballads. ‘I have been where Llachau was slain, brother of Llyr, marvelous in songs, when ravens croaked over blood.’ Beautiful poetry.”

“Mmm, yeah. Beautiful.” Blood. Ravens. Lovely.

Jack held up a finger. “But I must say, my favorites are in middle elven, especially the ‘Death of the King.’ It describes High King Gwalchmai’s final battle, but you see, he was never buried despite his mortal wounds and giving his final life’s blood to seal Ard Ri’s Great Gate. This gave rise to the myth that he would return to Seinne Sonne in her greatest hour of need, when Ard Ri also rose again. And when High King Gwalchmai calls for his sword, but none will bring it to him because his men refuse to acknowledge his mortality; simply powerful.” Jack sighed dreamily. “
Those
days had
adventure
!”

“That story sounds awfully familiar,” Charlie muttered.

“Oh, it’s a common element in the recitation of the epics.”

A flash and a bang exploded from a corner of the room, spreading white powder across three tables. Shrieks and complaints rippled outward from the affected area, while the culprit protested loudly that he’d pulled off the spell flawlessly before.
 

“Never a dull moment,” Charlie murmured.

***

This would never do. Lallia pouted, sitting in the rafters of the thatch roof, looking down at Charlie and Rhys sitting on opposite sides of the table. They hardly even looked at each other.
 

Phase Two of her grand master plan was not going well. No. This situation would not do at all. Why did humans and elves have to be so complicated? Pixies were simple. They were meant to be one, so they stayed together.

Lallia twisted to look at Tom stalking spiders and mice – though he hadn’t yet strayed more than half a breath from her. She never could have imagined the aching torment of being apart from him before, and she never wanted to experience it again. It made her even more convinced of how important her plan was. It just wasn’t
right
to be without the other half of one’s soul.
 

 
“Tom,” she called. “Do you have anymore of that powdered love apple left?”

Tom smirked. “Enough to make an elephant fall for a mouse. Why?”

Lallia pointed down at the stubborn pair. “That’s why.”

Tom’s smirk changed to a frown. “We’re not supposed to meddle in mortal affairs of the heart. Remember that mess with the donkey head?”

“But this is different,” Lallia said. “For one thing, I
know
they’re right for each other, if they could just see it. Besides,” Lallia flipped her candy pink hair. “I’m a Changer, and if this doesn’t need Changing, I don’t know what does.”

Tom shook his head, but the smirk returned. He bowed, saluting with his green sabre. “I acquiesce to my lady’s wishes.”

Tom pulled a tiny vial out of his belt pouch and tossed it to Lallia. The powder inside was pale green. It was the right stuff, but that color was simply
dreadful
for a love potion! Lallia changed it to pink and nodded in satisfaction.

Now then. What would be the best way to administer it? Rhys was already wary of the pixies. She didn’t want to give him reason to suspect anything. Lallia scanned through the bustle below, and noticed the serving girl dodging through the narrow aisles, carrying a tray of drinks. That would do.

Cloaking herself in invisibility, Lallia fluttered down to hover over the tray. There were four cups on it. Just to be certain, Lallia sprinkled powder in all four of them. No sooner had she done so than one of the other patrons reached back and snatched a cup from the tray.

The server fussed that he’d need to pay for the pilfered cup, but she didn’t take it back. The burly man laughed and downed the cup’s contents in one long swig.
 

Chagrined, Lallia thought quickly. She didn’t think the serving girl would appreciate the big lug’s affections if she were the first female he saw.

Tom thought faster.

A large ginger tabby cat fell from the rafters into the man’s lap. It hissed and spat, indignant that her mouse hunting was so rudely interrupted, and clawed her way onto the table. The burly man chased after the cat, crooning promises of his undying love.

Lallia snickered and fluttered after the retreating serving maid, quickly weaving the suggestion that the remaining cups should be delivered only to a certain table that had been waiting ever so long for their drinks.

The girl plunked her tray between Jack and Rhys, muttering a quick apology for taking so long. Jack looked up from his scribbling long enough to seize one of the cups. As he brought it to his lips, Lallia darted in and pushed upward on the bottom, spilling the contents down Jack’s front. He jumped up, spluttering, and tangled his long legs in the bench, spilling himself onto the floor. Charlie clapped, as if it were a show. Lallia pirouetted and bowed, even though she was invisible.

Jack picked himself up off the floor and brushed at his sodden tunic.
 

Charlie picked up her cup. She sniffed its contents, wrinkled her nose, and set it down. Disappointed, Lallia landed on her shoulder and whispered encouragements to give it at least a sip. A sip was better than nothing. Lallia even wove in a hint of thirstiness. Hadn’t it been a long, busy day?

“Did either of you notice how blue her eyes are?” Jack said, watching the serving girl dreamily. Apparently he managed to swallow a bit of the potion after all. Ah, well. It wouldn’t hurt him.