The Wizard Heir (17 page)

“What do you mean, he's gone?”

“He left this morning. His guardian picked him
up.”

“His guardian? Who?”

“A lawyer named Linda Downey. She said she was
representing Ravenstock. The boy acted like he'd never laid eyes on her
before.”

“Linda Downey,” D'Orsay repeated. “I
remember her. She was at the tournament last summer. An enchanter.”

“An enchanter! ”The glass shattered in
Leicester's hand and he stared down at the blood that ran across his palm. It
was suddenly clear to him why she had been so hard to resist.

D'Orsay was still going on about Linda Downey.
“She was unforgettable. Bewitching, really. I wonder what her connection
is to the Dragon.” He was quiet for a moment. “So she charmed you
into giving up the boy?”

“Never mind how she did it. How was I supposed to
know who he was?” But looking back, he had trouble remembering how she'd
persuaded him to relinquish something he wanted to keep so badly.

So young. So powerful. So resistant to persuasion. He
should have suspected from the beginning that the boy was a spy. But why would
the Dragon have risked his son in such a scheme when he had gone to so much
trouble to hide his identity?

“I think we can assume that by now the Dragon
knows all about the Havens,” D'Orsay said. “You're going to have to
vacate.”

“I'll reinforce the perimeter. We were leaving
soon, anyway. There's no reason to change our plans. The boy declined to link
to me, so he doesn't know much. And if we can find him, we can use him to lure
the Dragon out of hiding.”

“Did they say where they were going?”
D'Orsay asked.

“No.” Probably not Portland, Maine.
“Where is she from?”

“I don't know where she lives, but I could find
out. She has some connection with the Sanctuary that was established after that
disaster at the tournament last spring. Some little town in the Midwest. It
might be a place to start.”

“Let me look for them. I'll try to intercept them
before they get into the Sanctuary.” Leicester had his own, personal
reasons for doing so. “I have video of Joseph, and I may have some still
pictures. I'll e-mail them to you.”

And so it was agreed.

The
Weirweb

Seph alternately watched the scenery and dozed in the
brief, intensive catnaps that had become his custom at the Havens. He was like
an animal for whom a moment of inattention could be the difference between life
and death.

Linda watched him when she thought he wasn't looking.

They followed the long circle of I-95 around Boston
before taking the turnpike west across Massachusetts.

They stopped at one of the plazas on the turnpike
where the restless traveling public can buy whatever they need. He picked out two
Toronto Maple Leafs shirts and a Blue Jays sweatshirt, two pairs of sweatpants,
underwear, and a toothbrush. The sum total of his possessions at the moment. He
changed his ruined shirt and carefully cleaned the blood from his face in the
washroom, his skin stinging from the nasty dispenser soap.

They left the highway at Stockbridge, Massachusetts,
just across the border from New York. Linda drove into the hills, high above
the town to an inn she knew. They ate dinner in a small dining room overlooking
a tumbling stream, and took two rooms under the name of O'Herron, because she
happened to have identification in that name. He didn't question that, nor did
he bother to call Denis Houghton to verify Linda Downey's story. There didn't
seem to be any point.

Seph didn't use the portal stone when he climbed
between the sheets that night. He was apprehensive, though, wondering if
Gregory Leicester could still reach out to him over the distance between them.
He slept restlessly, but his dreams were the natural kind.

The next morning, they left before the sun rose, while
the inn was still clothed in the shadows of the mountains. They struck out
across the state line into the long corridor of New York State, crossed the
Hudson, and joined the New York Thruway near Albany.

Linda could tell from the way Seph moved that he was
stiff and sore. He kept his elbows down, close to his sides, as if guarding his
midsection. His lip was cracked and swollen, and the entire right side of his
face was bruised. He didn't complain, though, and shook off Linda's questions.

Linda liked being able to look over at him after so
many years of watching him from a distance. She studied the dark curls, which
were longer than usual, and ungelled; the eyebrows that would be heavy when he
grew to be a man, the bones of his face as the light changed. He needed
healing, she knew, but she didn't know the remedy for what ailed him. She would
ask Nick Snowbeard about it when they reached Trinity.

She wondered how she could keep the gathering darkness
away from him. The Sanctuary would be safer than anywhere else, but it might
also bring him to the attention of those who had overlooked him up to now.

Hastings would know the news from the Wizard Council,
but she would have to be careful with him, what she asked and how she asked it.

Leander Hastings didn't need to know about Seph
McCauley.

They left I-90 west of Cleveland. By now it was after
seven, and Seph's stomach was reminding him that they hadn't eaten lunch. Linda
glanced over at him. “We're close,” she said. “Do you want to
stop and eat, or wait till we get to town?”

Seph shrugged. “Let's just get there.”

They were driving close to the lakeshore now. Seph saw
signs for wineries, bed and breakfasts, and Trinity College. When they rounded
a curve, he saw the town itself, across a small bay, like a scene from a
postcard. Quaint storefronts and Victorian houses clustered along the water,
the stark white steeples of churches rising behind, a picturesque harbor and
marina lined with boats. More sailboats were anchored just offshore.

The town shimmered in the slanting sunlight, as if
there were an iridescent veil draped across it, some peculiar trick of the
light. The car slowed, and Seph glanced over at Linda. She was frowning, head
tilted, as if seeing something she didn't like. She removed her sunglasses and
leaned forward, squinting through the windshield, then took a quick left at the
next intersection and headed south.

“What's wrong?” Seph asked.

“I don't know.”

They detoured south for a few miles, then cut west and
back north so that they approached the town from the south. They came over a
ridge, perhaps an ancient shoreline of the lake, and once again, the town lay
glowing before them with the lake beyond. Indistinct, purple-pink, like a poorly
printed illustration in a pulp magazine. Linda shook her head, muttering to
herself, made a sudden right turn into the parking lot of a small diner, and
jerked to a stop.

“Let's eat here,” she said. “Go in and
get us a table. Get whatever you want, and order me a salad. I need to make a
phone call.” She pulled out a cell phone and waved him off.

Baffled, Seph went on into the restaurant. It was
nearly empty, maybe because it was a weeknight. The only employee in evidence
was wiping off glasses behind the bar. He motioned Seph to a back table,
staring at his bruised face with frank curiosity, as if hoping his guest would
pay for his dinner with a story about his recent beating.

By the time Linda came in, the food had already
arrived. “Who'd you call?” he asked.

“My nephew. Jack,” Linda explained.
“He's going to meet us here. My sister, Becka, is a lawyer. She also
teaches literature at Trinity College. Jack's her son, a little older than
you.”

Seph shrugged, puzzled by the change in plans.
“Okay.”

“He's a warrior,” Linda went on. “One
of the Weirlind.”

Seph stopped chewing and looked up. Jason had said
warriors were exceedingly rare. Like an endangered species. “A warrior?
Are you expecting trouble?”

Linda shrugged. “I don't know. I hope not. He
might bring some other people along.”

“What's wrong?” Seph asked.

“There's a magical barrier around the town—a
Weirweb. I want to know how long it's been there and who put it up.”

A Weirweb. A cold finger ran down his spine. Seph
recalled the barrier around the Havens, with its smudgy, iridescent appearance.
The veil over Trinity was similar. Could it be a coincidence?

They finished their food, and Seph ordered a piece of
apple pie a la mode. He was dissecting it, consuming it in a hundred small
bites, when the door opened and three people walked in.

One was an old man, very thin, with a trimmed white
beard and bright black eyes. He leaned on a staff with an intricately carved
bear's head on it. Although wizards couldn't readily recognize their own kind,
he seemed to be a prototype.

He was unlike the other wizards Seph had met. There
was something kind and reassuring about his face, in the laugh lines around his
eyes.

The other two were about Seph's age. One was a tall,
athletic-looking teenager with bright red-gold hair and blue eyes that reminded
Seph of Linda's. He was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt that revealed his broad
chest and shoulders and muscular arms. He grinned when he spotted them in the
corner and crossed the space between the door and the table in a few long
strides.

I've never seen a seventeen-year-old built like that,
Seph thought. This must be Jack, the warrior. He glanced down at himself,
ashamed at how gaunt he looked.

“Aunt Linda!” The red-haired boy put his
hands on her shoulders, leaned down and kissed her cheek.

The third member of the trio was a girl, almost as
tall as the boy, though her hair was chestnut brown. There was a certain
physical grace and confidence about them. Their raw physical power seemed to
push everyone else to the periphery. If Jack's a warrior, Seph thought, then so
is she.

“Hullo, Aunt Linda.” The girl embraced Linda
Downey also, a little more shyly. Seph was beginning to feel left out amid all
the meeting and greeting. But he felt the wizard's eyes upon him, and in a
moment, the warriors noticed him too. Jack rocked back on his heels, and the
girl's right hand crept to her belt as if she might find a weapon there.

Seph stood up. “I'm Seph,” he said, sticking
out his hand to the wizard. Seph sensed well-controlled but elaborate power
behind the grip. He had the feeling the old man already knew exactly who he
was.

Linda nodded toward the wizard. “I'm sorry, Seph.
This is Nicodemus Snowbeard,” she said. “And my nephew, Jack Swift,
and a friend, Ellen Stephenson.” She put her hand on Seph's shoulder.
“This is Seph McCauley.” She didn't qualify him in any way.

Jack Swift, Seph thought. Where have I heard that name
before?

“You never said he was a wizard,” Jack said,
not bothering to hide his surprise. They were all three looking curiously at
Seph's cut and swollen lip, his battered face. “Since when does a wizard
need sanctuary?” There was a degree of challenge behind the question.

Seph lifted his chin and looked Jack in the eyes. He
was almost of a height with the warrior, though Jack probably outweighed him by
half. “Why? You the gatekeeper?”

“Jack, you of all people should know it's not
difficult to make enemies, no matter who you are,” Linda said quickly.

That was it. Jack Swift was the warrior who'd played
in the famous tournament at Raven's Ghyll. The rebel behind the change in the
rules. And he was Linda Downey's nephew.

Seph remembered what she'd said in the car. My
nephew was in trouble, and … well … I got distracted. Seph studied Jack
with new interest, like he'd suddenly discovered a celebrity sitting next to
him in a movie theater.

The newcomers pulled more chairs around the table.

“How did you get through the barrier,
Nicodemus?” Linda asked.

Snowbeard nodded at the two warriors. “Jack and
Ellen brought their blades. They were able to cut a path for us.”

“And before we were through, we had
company.” Jack stretched his long legs into the aisle. “Four wizards
showed up, all excited at first, but they lost interest when they saw who we
were.”

“The wizards who put up the web can detect any
disturbance in it. Rather like a spider waiting for its prey,” Snowbeard
said. “Whoever did it has a real talent and an excess of power. It's
incredible that it went up that fast.”

“What did the wizards look like?” Seph
pushed aside the remains of his pie, no longer interested.

“They were all pretty young, maybe a few years
older than us,” Ellen said.

“They asked about an enchanter and a young
wizard, matching your descriptions,” Jack added, fixing Seph with a gaze
that conceded nothing. “They were typical wizards—arrogant and pushy—but I
guess they decided they didn't want to get into it.” The warrior flexed
his hands and rested them on his knees, as if he wouldn't have minded getting into
it.

“They ordered us to leave the web alone,”
Ellen added.

“How does a Weirweb work?” Seph asked.

The old man stroked his beard. “It's a soft
barrier that selects for Weir, for people carrying a stone. Anaweir can pass
through it without even noticing. For us, it's a very sticky trap. It will hold
you fast if you touch any part of it. Given enough time, I could force an
opening. But it's made to be resistant to spellcasting.”

Barber had put up the wizard wall at the Havens. But
how could they have tracked them here so quickly? And why let him go, only to
come after him here?

“The Weirweb is an interesting choice of
weapons,” Snowbeard said thoughtfully. “It was commonly used in the
wizard wars back in the sixteenth century. Wizards would trap Weir from the
opposing houses in the web and then pick them off at their leisure, or take
them prisoner. It's fine work. I haven't seen anything like it in several
hundred years.”

Seph blinked at the wizard. How old could he be,
anyway? Jason had said wizards lived almost forever, but Seph had thought he
was exaggerating.

“Well,” Snowbeard continued. “We're
going to have to assume that someone wants to keep you from reaching the
sanctuary. Their use of the web suggests they want to take you alive. Otherwise
they would have set a different kind of trap.”

“So,” Jack said, leaning across the table,
speaking directly to Seph. “Did you piss somebody off, or what?”

“Will you relax?” Ellen said, frowning at
Jack. “Can't you see he's had a hard time?”

Seph shoved his chair back. “Hey, if we can't get
in, I'll just go somewhere else. I don't want to inconvenience anyone.”

Linda put her hand on his arm. “No. I want you in
the sanctuary.” She glared around the table, daring anyone to disagree.

“What's so special about the sanctuary?”
Seph asked

“Attack magic is not allowed within its
boundaries,” Snowbeard replied. He covered Linda's hand with his, and
murmured something to her. “Now, then. It will take some time to get
through the web, and I don't think we want to have to entertain four wizards
while we are doing it. So I suggest we create a distraction.”

He leaned forward. “We'll spread out. Jack and
Ellen will cut a path through for Seph. They're familiar with your car, Linda,
yes? So you and I will create a diversion with the car. With any luck, they'll
come after us. By the time they discover their mistake, you're in.” He
paused. “Hopefully. At least it will split them up. I can create a rather
spectacular diversion, if I do say so. I'm the most likely to succeed and come
out alive, and if I don't, I'm nearly four hundred and ninety-two years
old.” He turned to Linda. “Is there anything you would like to get
from the car?”

Linda paid the check, and they walked out to the
parking lot together. A black Subaru stood in a secluded spot in back of the
restaurant. Jack opened the trunk and lifted out two ornate swords, handing one
hiltfirst to Ellen.

The weapons illuminated the parking lot, bright sparks
in the gathering dusk. Jack's was the larger of the two, and it had a large red
ruby set into the hilt. Jack handled it as though it weighed nothing. He
buckled on a leather harness with a scabbard that slanted across his back.