The Enchanter Heir (17 page)

A sign had caught Jonah’s eye:
Swordplay demonstration
—
Try your Hand
. Gabriel was still talking with Mercedes, so Jonah cut between two small tents to where a battered set of bleachers had been dragged alongside a fencing strip. Two fighters were going at it—a boy and a girl. Sweat ran down their faces and dripped off their bodies, spotting the piste as they thrust and parried, attacked and retreated. A small crowd of onlookers cheered them on, shouting advice, abuse, and encouragement.

The swords were not fencing blades; these were huge, heavy, and seemed to be of similar vintage to Jonah’s Fragarach. But the two combatants handled them easily, and with deadly precision—as if they were an extension of their limbs. It was more of a dance than a battle. Each seemed to know where the other would be at any given moment.

Though the swords were edged, these fighters were not padded or armored; they were not wearing medieval dress at all, but had stripped down to shorts and T-shirts that showed off their muscular bodies.

“Come on, Jack!” someone shouted from the stands. “Wrap it up and give somebody else a chance.”

Jonah circled the piste and sat down on the bleachers, next to a curvy girl with a mane of black curls and a wizard’s glow. “Who are they?” he asked, nodding toward the fighters.

“Jack Swift and Ellen Stephenson,” the girl said, without taking her eyes off the action. “You know, they’re the ones who . . .” Her eyes fixed on Jonah, and her voice trailed off. “Oh—my—God. Where did YOU come from?”

“I’m from out of town,” Jonah said.

“You are from
way
out of town,” the wizardling breathed, her eyes alive with interest. She stuck out her hand. “I’m Leesha Middleton.”

Jonah shook it with his gloved hand. “Jonah Kinlock. You were saying? About the fighters?”

Leesha studied him, eyes narrowed. “Excuse me, but what guild are you in?”

“I’m undeclared,” Jonah said. “I thought I’d try them all out first. Right now I’m thinking warrior.” He nodded toward the sword fighters. “Are they warriors, then? They don’t seem all that serious about killing each other.”

“Jack and Ellen? They’re crazy in love with each other. Disgusting, if you ask me.” She paused, and then continued in a low, brittle voice. “Anyway, haven’t you heard? We’re at peace. The Weir don’t kill each other anymore.”

Her grief stabbed at Jonah, fresh and hard-edged.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” he blurted without thinking.

She blinked at him. “How did you—?”

“Lucky guess. Looks like they’re finished.”

Jack Swift and Ellen Stephenson were walking toward them, the swords safely stowed in their baldrics, arguing. “I don’t see how they could call it a draw,” Ellen was saying. “I had you on the ropes, Jack.”

“We were
supposed
to fight to a draw,” Jack said, rolling his eyes. “Wasn’t that the point? It was just an exhibition fight. It doesn’t count.”

“They
all
count,” Ellen argued.

“I’m fine with a draw,” Jack said, sliding out of his harness and setting his sword down on a blanket on the sidelines.

“Why can’t you be?”

“You’re fine because
you
were on pace to lose,” Ellen said, shedding her sword also. “Let’s get something to drink before we start the open tournament.”

The two warriors walked toward the concession stand. Jonah heard more raised voices, some kind of argument, spilling down on them from higher in the stands. Leesha twisted around to look, then swore under her breath. “It never stops.” Pushing to her feet, she began to climb. Jonah turned to look. Four mainliners—a man and three women—had converged on a young wizard and appeared to be berating him about something as Leesha charged in for the rescue.

Curious, Jonah loped up the bleachers until he was within hearing distance.

“We want to know what’s going on with the investigation,” one of the mainliners was saying. “It’s been two weeks, and we’ve heard nothing.”

“You’ll be informed of any progress, Ms. Hudson,” the wizard said, raking one hand through his tumble of curls. “Ms. Middleton and Ms. Foster update me regularly.” He nodded at Leesha, who’d entered the target zone.

“You should be updating
us
,” Hudson said, turning her fire on Leesha. “
We’re
the parents.
We’re
the ones who—”

“Did you have a specific question, Ms. Hudson?” Leesha asked, her voice rich with snark.

“Who approved the field trip to Cleveland?” another parent demanded. “What were they thinking?”

“Ms. Morrison, that decision was made by the staff at the preschool,” Leesha said. “For
some
reason, they thought the children would enjoy a concert at the aquarium.” She paused for a beat. “I assume that you signed a permission slip?” This is about the Flats, Jonah thought, skin prickling.

That
would
be a hot topic here in Trinity.

“It should never have been allowed,” Hudson fumed, turning on the young man. “You should have intervened, McCauley.”

McCauley looked up, startled. “What?
I
should have intervened? I don’t run the preschool. I have enough to do as is.”

“The safety of our children should be your highest priority,” Morrison said. “If you and Ms. Moss don’t have time for that, then you need to delegate. My daughter Olivia was totally traumatized.”

“From what I’ve heard, your daughter Olivia was totally a hero,” Leesha said.

It took a few moments for Morrison to get her mouth running again. “Well, I must admit, Olivia does demonstrate natural leadership qualities; she takes after me in that regard.

Certainly, in a time of crisis—”

“No doubt my son Alistair was of great comfort to the other children, too,” Hudson broke in. “But I don’t believe that defending against zombie attacks should be within any four-year-old’s skill set.”

“Zombies?” McCauley rolled his eyes. “That’s the kind of talk that fans the—”

“Where is Madison Moss?” the man demanded. “Shouldn’t she be here, in a time of crisis?”

“She’s in school,” McCauley said. “In Chicago. She’ll be back in a week or two.”

“If Ms. Moss wants to be in charge, she should
be
here,” the man said.

“That’s just it, Mr. Scavuzzo, she doesn’t
want
to be in charge.” McCauley turned away and pretended to focus on the field, which was difficult to do since nothing was happening.

Morrison leaned in, putting her face in front of McCauley’s. “How was it that the children were so poorly supervised that they ended up on top of a bridge in the Flats?”

“That’s what the investigation is for,” McCauley said. “To find out what happened and who’s responsible. The police are looking into it, too.”

“It’s
obvious
who’s responsible,” Hudson said. “You’re the only one who doesn’t see it.” The other three parents nodded vigorously in support.

McCauley sighed. He seemed to already know the subtext. “Where’s your evidence? Where’s your proof ? It doesn’t make sense to spread rumors and innuendo before we know what we’re dealing with.”

“Don’t you think it’s suspicious that the children were found within a mile of Mandrake’s school?” the man demanded.

Jonah stiffened.

“Not at all, Scavuzzo, considering the fact that they were also within a mile of the aquarium,” Leesha said.

“Really?” Scavuzzo sneered. “The preschool sponsors field trips all the time without a problem. And yet, the first time they visit
that
neighborhood, our children are kidnapped. Who else could it be? We’re not talking mainline magic here, after all. We’re talking monsters.”

It’s true, what Gabriel said, Jonah thought, resentment smoldering in his midsection. Mainliners blame us for everything.

“The fact is, they shouldn’t put that kind of institution right in the middle of a city,” Morrison said. “It should be in a remote area, where it doesn’t present a danger to normal people.”

“The Anchorage has been there for ten years,” McCauley said. “There’s never been a problem before. How can you—?”

“Just because we haven’t heard about any problems doesn’t mean there haven’t been any,” Hudson said. “Who knows what goes on there? I’ve seen photographs from Thorn Hill, and let me tell you, they were bloodcurdling.”

McCauley stood up and said, “Look, this isn’t really the time or place to discuss this, all right?”

“If not now, when?” Morrison sniffed.

“If you have a complaint, bring it to council,” McCauley said. Turning his back on Morrison, he walked away.

“I’ll tell you one thing, McCauley,” Morrison shouted at his back. “I’m going to hold you personally responsible if anything happens to my daughter.”

Chapter Eighteen
Interguild Play

After listening to that exchange, Jonah just wanted to go somewhere—anywhere—to get away from mainliners. Being a diplomat was harder than he’d thought.

He was thinking he’d go find Gabriel, but as he was descending from his vantage point in the bleachers, Jack Swift and Ellen Stephenson returned to the field and faced the stands.

“All right,” Jack said. “Now it’s time for the audienceparticipation part of the program. If you’ve ever wanted to try your hand at swordplay, now’s your chance. No experience necessary.”

Unable to resist, Jonah sat down again, in the far left seat in the bottom row. A minute later, Leesha Middleton plopped down next to him.

Go away, Jonah thought, glaring into space. I know what mainliners think of us.

When nobody spoke up, Ellen surveyed the crowd in the bleachers. “Come on, somebody step up and give it a go!

Your pick, Jack or me.”

“We’ll be using blunted weapons,” Jack said. “No worries.”

The spectators avoided eye contact, staring down at the ground. After the show Jack and Ellen had put on, nobody wanted to take them on. A couple of audience members even slipped from their seats and slinked away, as if afraid they’d be called upon.

“How about two of you against one of us?” Jack suggested. “Or we can each pair up with someone, and then you won’t be onstage by yourself.” A haze of chatter rose over the crowd as people elbowed one another and tried to get their neighbors to volunteer.

“Are there two of you who would like to spar against each other?” Ellen persisted. “We could—you know—give pointers.”

“Here’s your chance,” Leesha urged, leaning toward Jonah. “You can try out being a warrior.” She paused and, when he sat in stony silence, added, “You look like you want to whack something.”

He did, actually.

Before he could think, Jonah was up on his feet. “I’ll give it a try,” he said.

The crowd applauded madly, thrilled to be off the hook, excited at the prospect of a new spectacle, mad with curiosity about the stranger in town.

Jack shook his hand and clapped him on the back. “Thank you, Mr.—”

“Kinlock,” Jonah said, resisting the temptation to add,
Jonah Kinlock.

“What’s your pleasure, Kinlock?” Jack asked. “Me or Ellen?” He leaned in closer and said in a loud stage whisper, “I’ll give you fair warning. She’s ruthless. And she cheats.” The crowd hooted and catcalled.

Jonah tilted his head, pretending to be thinking. Finally, he shook his head. “I can’t decide. Can I play both of you?” Jack and Ellen looked at each other. “Um. Sure, if you’re up for it,” Ellen said, shrugging, “since no one else seems eager to play. Which one of us do you want to play first?”

“No. I meant both of you at once,” Jonah said. “I don’t think I’ll have time to play you separately.”

As the crowd exploded into laughter, Jonah removed his sweatshirt, revealing a tight-fitting T-shirt. This resulted in some oohing and aahing from the crowd. Leesha Middleton, for one, seemed delighted with this turn of events. “You choose first,” Ellen said generously, gesturing toward a dozen rebated weapons set out on a blanket. Jonah chose an English rapier, which was closest to the sword he was used to wielding.

“You’re sure you want that one?” Ellen asked. “A heavier sword will wear you out quicker. And it may slow you down.” Jonah tried a few thrusts and parries. It might be heavier than the others, but it felt featherlight in his hand after Fragarach.

“I’m good with it,” Jonah said. “Unless you want it.” He extended it toward her, hilt first.

Ellen shook her head. She and Jack chose rapiers as well. “Can we ditch the piste?” Jonah asked, nudging the fencing strip with his toe. “And play the whole field?” Jack and Ellen looked at each other. Jonah didn’t have to read minds to know what they were thinking. Two on one, it would be to Jonah’s advantage to narrow the field so that only one of them could come at him at a time. They probably thought he was a fool—or unschooled at best.

“If that’s what you want,” Jack said. He and Ellen rolled up the fencing strip and set it to one side.

The two warriors faced off with Jonah. “Do you want to just spar a little bit, get used to your weapon?” Ellen asked.

Jonah shook his head. “Let’s do it,” he said. “First blood, right?”

And the lopsided duel began.

Jonah soon realized that he’d been overconfident, taking on both warriors at once. He was accustomed to wielding his sword against shades and untried shadeslayer packs. While his ability to read intentions and his uncanny speed and agility gave him an edge, these two were better trained at swordplay. They were considerably more experienced than he was at fighting against somebody who fought back.

They probably practice together constantly, Jonah thought, leaping backward, arching his back to avoid Ellen’s questing sword, then spinning to avoid a flank attack from Jack. Jack’s momentum carried him past Jonah, but he nimbly evaded Jonah’s quick thrust.

Jonah was all over the field, which was, of course, the reason he’d asked for that change in the rules. It was too easy to get trapped on a narrow strip. This way, he could use his superior speed. At one point he literally leaped over the warriors’ heads, landing on the other side.

“Do you have wings or what?” Jack grumbled.