The Wellspring (6 page)

“Oh, charismatic and now charming as well,”
he teased. “Maybe I should ask how he escaped from you.”

“As if someone like Magus Teomond would take
a second look at someone like me,” Yule scoffed.

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

She gave a small shrug. “You know, he is—who
he is and looks how he looks and I’m just—me.”

“I don’t want to hear any of that from you,”
Hermes chastised. “Don’t let elitist spell-casters make you feel
unimportant. And when you take the time to polish your surface,
you’re completely presentable.”

“I’m presentable?” Yule smiled.

“Well, I’m no expert on female beauty, but I
recognize jealousy when I see it and Brenna’s eyeballed you with
nothing but green in her eyes when I’ve seen her watching you
talking to Marc.”

“I think you’re reading too much into
nothing,” she dismissed this.

“Hon’ if I were a straight man or a lesbian I
would seduce you in a minute.”

“You’re a confidant lesbian,” she
allowed.

“You’re stupid-pretty.”

“How sweet of you to say,” she drawled.

“What I mean is—you’re attractive, you must
be aware of it, but you have no confidence in it. And you don’t
know how to use it,” he detailed.

“Even if you didn’t mean it that way, I’m
going to take the last of that as a compliment,” she announced,
glancing at her dainty wristwatch. “Do you need the Lex?”

“No, I’ll be in Monte for the morning,”
Hermes informed her and Yule was wise enough to simply assume he
meant this geographically. “Where are you off to, at this
hour?”

“I’ve got to drop around Marc’s office to
tell him about Magus Teomond,” she explained. “He’s going to be so
happy.”

“You have to drive across the city for that?”
he queried. “We have phones, or I could power up the mirror.”

“I’ve got to run some errands anyway, before
my Retreat, and I want to see his expression in person.”

“You want to throw it in Brenna Nova’s face,
you mean,” he challenged.

“Oh, I doubt she’ll be there,” Yule
contradicted his accusation.

“Liar,” Hermes countered with a smile. “Have
your fun, the entitled bitch deserves a dose of humility, but don’t
rub her spell-sculpted nose in it. She’s vindictive enough to toss
a spell at you.”

Yule grinned mischievously. “Do you really
think so?”

“A magical attack is hardly something to
scoff at,” he scolded. “You haven’t any real defenses.”

“Not that,” Yule dismissed his frown and now
her grin became conspiratorial. “Do you really think she had a nose
job?”

***

Marc’s offices occupied the second floor of
what used to be a modest hotel during the late 1920’s and early
1930’s. Seven small charitable organizations looked out from seven
of the ten floors that faced the quiet, oak-lined street with its
art deco façade. This architecture was repeated and mimicked almost
exclusively in the bedroom community of Aruhama, an area favored by
trust fund spell-casters eager to be counted among the
philanthropists who’d passed this way before them. Yule didn’t
bother with the well maintained, vintage elevator, ascending the
carpeted stairs to the second floor then knocking on the door to
Marc’s offices with the brass-and-enamel, stylized lily
doorknocker. After a brief moment the door opened.

“Yule!” Marc smiled and stepped back from the
open door. “I didn’t expect to see you here so early.”

“I had good news,” she began, suddenly under
the impression that she was disturbing him, that he had company.
“But it can wait, Marc.”

“Don’t be silly, there’s always time for good
news—come it.” He motioned her into the bright, welcoming inner
offices where two young men with titian mops of hair and light
sprinkles of freckles clearly declaring their sibling status stood,
introducing, “Alan, Alex this is Yule, she helps out around here
too.”

The brothers nodded a friendly greeting and
Alex smiled. “Marc’s been telling us about your work on the Grove
project.”

“And everyone else’s, including his, I hope,”
she noted with a return smile, recognizing the Falmont brothers’
names from their exemplary work with a number of successful
organizations. “I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she continued, “I just
couldn’t wait to tell you what happened—Marc—” her full attention
focused on him and her story of her encounter with Magus Teomond,
but kept to details of the incident not oddities, restrained by the
presence of the brothers. “And he’s taken it under consideration
and will have a meeting with you arranged,” she finished. “I don’t
want to sound overly confident, but I really think he intends to
endorse the Reclamation Project.”

“Wonderful!” Marc favored her with a smile
that had captured innumerable reluctant philanthropists’ assistance
with a number of causes he’d undertaken. “Did he give you a
time-frame?”

“Not exactly, but he’s leaving for an
extended period of time shortly so I’m sure it will be fairly soon.
I left your card with him.”

“I am too, so it’d be great to sew it up by
the end of the week,” Marc casually mused aloud.

“You are too?” asked Yule. “Are too,
what?”

“What? Oh, leaving for an extended period of
time, I meant,” he explained.

“But—where?” She was dismayed.

He nodded at the brothers. “With them.”

“In fact, we thought you were one of the
apprentices arriving,” Alan put in. “We’re meeting here today to
finalize departure plans.”

“Departure to where?” Yule felt oddly
disconnected from the conversation in which she was
participating.

“Shangrilonn.”

“
Shangrilonn
!” the exotic, far-flung
name seemed to numb her lips. The remote Pacific island continent
nearly half the size of Australia was one of the few wholly magical
places transported entirely from the realm of magic and not created
by a blending of two places, one from each world. Of course, like
all places in the magical realm, it had begun on Earth, but it was
one of the rare places where only the magically inclined dwelled
before the Sunder and after the Merge.

He might as well have said the Moon. “I
didn’t know—you never talked about going,” she stammered.

“I’m sure I did, now and then,” Marc casually
contradicted. “I’ve had so much to do, you understand, I’ve lost
track of the people I’ve told.”

“I wasn’t one of them,” she remarked, hoping
she didn’t sound petulant.

“Well, We’ve only settled the details over
the last few days,” he explained. “So there hasn’t been anything
definitive to talk about—much.”

“But there is now?”

“A lot,” he confirmed with the kind of smile
Yule felt compelled to return even though she didn’t feel like
smiling.

“When are you leaving?”

“Not for a while,” he told her, running a
hand over several information crystals before choosing one.
“Probably a week, maybe ten days?” He glanced at the brothers for
confirmation as he handed the crystal to Yule and they nodded. “You
should be able to absorb that one,” he told Yule without
condescension.

“Thank you,” she spoke with automatic
politeness, accepting the easy reader crystal created for children
an low aptitude magic workers to access. Information regarding the
source mining going on in Shangrilonn flooded her mind, but all she
could think was, Marc is going to Shangrilonn! The concept
fluttered around in her mind like an elusive butterfly while Marc
greeted a handful of new arrivals who retired to the conference
room with the Falmont brothers. Yule barely registered Brenna
Nova’s beautiful, smug face among the newcomers except to think, it
figures she would know. Her annoyance was eclipsed by her
bewilderment at the news. Source mining was important work
requiring skilled, powerful volunteers who culled magic from
natural sources to distribute among the spell-casters. But
Shangrilonn—!

“What do you think?”

His question startled her from the mental
maze of panic and she realized they were alone in the room.
“Think?” she echoed vaguely.

“About the source mining,” he elucidated,
motioning at the crystal she held.

“Oh.” She looked down at the crystal, having
forgotten it in her dismay. “It’s all so—overwhelming.”

Marc nodded enthusiastically. “That’s exactly
how I felt when the Falmonts approached me with the offer.”

That wasn’t what she meant, but Yule didn’t
correct his assumption. “It’s a tremendous opportunity.”

“And an honor to be invited directly,” he
added buoyantly.

“A great honor,” she agreed, forcing cheer
into her voice. “I confess, it’s going to be quiet around here
without you.”

“Oh, I doubt that. Did you and Magus Teomond
talk about anything else?” he inquired suddenly.

“Not particularly.” In truth, the Magus had
taken a back seat to this new information. “Marc, do you have any
indication about the time you’ll be there? How long will they need
your assistance?”

“I don’t really know,” he admitted, gazing
evenly at her.

“I’ve heard a year is considered
average.”

“That sounds about right.”

Her eyes fell to the crystal in her hand.
“Will Brenna and Jory be going with you?”

“Yes, they are. They’re leaving even sooner,
actually.”

His casual reply reminded her of something
Alan Falmont said. Apprentices. A sudden impulse burst in Yule’s
mind like a colorful fireworks display.

“Marc!” She held up the crystal. “Do you
think the Falmonts are still looking for applicants?”

His eyes narrowed with curiosity. “I imagine
they’re always looking for applicants, it’s hard to convince people
to work in such a remote location even for a good cause. Why do you
ask?”

“I’ve been wondering about taking on a new
project, something unusual. I’m not kidding you,” she defended when
he made a disbelieving noise. The whole thing sounds so—exciting.
I’ve always imagined travelling to some exotic place and
accomplishing some—important thing. Marc, what about me tagging
along with the group to Shangrilonn? Oh, I know I couldn’t
contribute magically, but surely there are other positions that
require filling? I’m not fussy, I can handle any clerical work,
data entry, even physical labor.”

“Just a minute, Yule!” Marc exclaimed. “Are
you serious?”

“Certainly I am.”

He gazed at her. “I believe you are, but do
you have even a vague idea what it’s like out on the Shelf? There’s
spell-debris everywhere, including pits, pools and even traps left
over from the War. A lot of the old buildings were restored, but
conditions are still pretty rough.”

“I’ve participated on expeditions before,”
Yule, probably unnecessarily, informed him. “I’m a very good
outdoorswoman, and spell-traps won’t be any danger to me—because,”
she trailed off and gave a small shrug with one slim shoulder.
“Well, most of those traps require much more potent magic than I
possess to trip them.”

Marc leaned against the desk observing her
with a contemplative demeanor that cast shadows on his pleasant
features giving him a weary appearance. His eyes remained bright
and sympathetic as he regarded Yule’s perseverant countenance.
Finally he spoke deliberately: “I don’t remember you expressing
such an avid interest in source mining.”

“Oh? I’m sure I must have mentioned it at one
time or another, casually at least.”

“Maybe you did, but I can’t say I recall any
of those times.” He smiled gently. “You’re what—twenty now?”

“Twenty-one,” she corrected him. “But what
has my age to do with it?”

“Hermes is your guardian. What will he
say?”

“It doesn’t matter what he says. He was my
guardian until I was eighteen, but legally that ended. Now he’s a
good friend and confidante, but he can’t keep me from doing
whatever I want.”

“I see,” he acknowledged her assertion
without seeming convinced. “I hope you’re not offended, but I
really think you should spend more time considering your options.
Why not have a discussion with Hermes? He’s always had a reputation
as a—wild card, but he’s worldly and I know he’ll give you the best
advice he can.”

“Hermes won’t be interested in a discussion,
he’ll just say no.”

“He cares about you.” The man paused, his
expression enigmatic as he retrieved the crystal from her
hands.

Yule’s eyes followed his movements
optimistically, her whimsy unveiling a panorama of possible future
adventures and outcomes on the Shelf, working side-by-side with
Marc as she proved her value to him.

“You know you could volunteer for an
expedition closer to home,” he posed the suggestion thoughtfully.
“Maybe a little seasoning someplace less remote where you could get
your feet wet with no fear of sharks would prep you for a place
like the Shelf.”

She lowered her gaze. “I’d rather go to
Shangrilonn.”

“Yule, do you understand what you’re
suggesting?”

“I understand perfectly,” she assured him,
hoping she didn’t sound petulant.

He finally shook his head. “I’m pretty sure
you don’t,” he said firmly. “You’re suffering from a stroke of
altruism, but you’ll recover.”

“Why do you say that?” His certainty
stung.

“I don’t think you’ll like me if I explain,”
he replied ruefully.

“That couldn’t happen!” she declared with
dismay, bringing the shadow of a smile to his lips. “I know exactly
why you’re trying to talk me out of going. You don’t think I’m
capable of contributing anything to the expedition. You’re worried
I’ll be a liability. Why aren’t you willing to let me show you I
can be an asset?”

"Don’t be so melodramatic, Yule. I’ve never
considered you incapable of anything that matters. The problem is
you can’t seem to decide on precisely what matters,” he explained
quietly. “When you choose a project or a cause you put everything
you’ve got into it, but your choices don’t seem to come from
any—passion for what you’re doing.”