Unleashed Fury (BloodRunes: Book 1) (9 page)

“You’d be surprised how many people have
latent talent, or a small enough amount of it never to have been
required to do anything about it though,” Gryffon informed her,
much to her surprise. “That’s why there’re so many people that can
activate the old spells if they know how, but very few who can
actually make those spells anymore. And even fewer who are allowed
to do it on their own.”

Anyone who displayed even the tiniest level
was required to report to the priests to be tested, and if it was
determined that you had any discernable amount you had to enroll
either in the training classes or with the Priesthood. Since the
price of being trained was so outrageous, only nobles could even
dream of affording it, and even then it was hardly worth the money.
Gryffon, though a noble, admitted that it had been a struggle for
his father to come up with the sum, and after having been trained,
Gryffon was not all that impressed with what it had bought him. He
told her that other than the showier spells like those seen at the
temples, the priests couldn't - or wouldn't - teach their pupils
much more. Layna was happy to note that despite being noble,
Gryffon thought that the practice was unfair since the extravagant
cost essentially forced any commoner into the service of the
priests.
Not that it's probably much different from serving a
noble household, but at least you would have a choice
.

“I wonder if I have a latent talent,” Layna
speculated fancifully, “Then maybe you could spell the rock so I
could heat it when you’re not with me.”

Gryffon’s eyes darted towards her and he gave
her a strange look, which quickly converted to an impish grin. “Now
why would I want to do a thing like that?” She wrinkled her
forehead in confusion until he continued, “And take away your
reason for spending time with me?”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Yes,
that’s
why I spend time with you.” He grinned. She quickly
steered the conversation back towards magic. “Do you think that the
priests know more spells than they are willing to teach?”

“Could be.” He looked thoughtful. “There are
definitely some spells that I have seen performed that I was never
taught. But, it is possible either that someone came up with a new
one, or that they were simply activating one of the old
spells.”

“You can do that?”

“Mmm-hmm. And actually, I just thought of
another possibility; it may just be that I wasn't able to wield
that much talent, or that there wasn't enough power available at
the time, so they didn't bother teaching me that particular spell.
Even so, I don't see the Priesthood parting with all their secrets.
They probably have a few that they keep to themselves anyway.”

“That hardly seems fair, but unfortunately it
sounds very likely.” Layna absorbed the information for a moment,
trying to organize her thoughts. “I've always known that there are
old spells around, like Lady Jezebel has the snakes that come to
life and her voice enhancement, but are those something that can be
done anymore or has all that knowledge been lost?”

“A lot of it has been lost, though there are
some people who have figured out how to copy them by studying how
they are activated and how they work. A lot of the application of
magic is imagination and creativity. Coming up with a new spell is
like creating a recipe. You have to have the basic knowledge of the
ingredients, and then you can try putting it together to make
something new. Except with magic you have to be a lot more careful
since you could end up blowing yourself up, or transporting
yourself to a different plane, rather than just a bad batch of
soup.”

Layna's eyes widened in amazement. “Are you
serious? You could go to another plane? What does that even
mean?”

Gryffon laughed, and shrugged noncommittally.
“Supposedly it used to be possible, but it would take a whole lot
more power than people normally open themselves up to on a daily
basis. So it's unlikely that I would transport us to Gamoland just
by trying to start a fire, for example.” As an afterthought, he
added, “Though working with the elements is tricky, so you never
know.”

“What was it you said about the priests not
teaching you because of....why?”

“Because I may not have been able to wield
enough power for a particular spell, or the necessary power may
just not have been available. As you might imagine, it takes less
magical energy to do something small,” he accentuated the point by
flicking his thumb against his middle finger and starting a flame,
“than to do something big, like if I were to try to set the whole
forest on fire.” He waved his flaming hand outwards, as if throwing
the fire which simply went out. “In order to do a spell, you have
to open yourself up to the power.” He searched for the words to
explain it to her. “Imagine a big barrel of wine. If you wanted to
fill a cup, you would open the spout just enough to let a small
flow out until your cup was full. If you were trying to fill a
pitcher, you might open it a little more so it flows out more
quickly and it fills faster. But if you open it too much for your
container, it will fill too fast and overflow, making a big sticky
mess. It's like that, only if you open yourself up to too much
power the big sticky mess would be you. Some people have cup-sized
talent, and others have pitcher-sized talent.”

“So, the really powerful mages both have to
have a larger amount of talent naturally and also either be really
well trained or be really imaginative to have created a whole bunch
of spells for themselves.”

“Precisely.”

“Wow. So are you cup-sized or
pitcher-sized?”

“Hard to say the exact amount I have, I was
definitely better than any of those who were being taught with me,
but since there aren't a lot of the more difficult spells left, I
don't know that I've reached my limits in order to know what they
are.”

“I bet you're a pitcher.”

Layna spent as many stolen afternoons with
Gryffon as she could, growing more and more impressed with him each
time. She approved of his acceptance of the lower class as equals,
and appreciated his knowledge of the outdoors and of history. He
was much more enjoyable company than most that Layna had ever
talked to, and her initial fear of consorting with him wore off
slowly as more and more time passed without incident. Layna found
herself seeking Gryffon's presence whenever she could, and taking
advantage of the escape that the rides offered her. There was still
that persistent voice in the back of her mind telling her that she
was getting lulled into a false sense of safety, but it was easy to
ignore with Gryffon around.

Back at the manor, Jezebel was rarely seen by
any of the servants. Since the day she had been sick, she seemed
preoccupied. Other than Devon's comings and goings, she seemed
content to whittle away her time in her suite and in the library
poring over the documents that Devon brought her.

Layna was in the hallway one morning when a
knock sounded at the front door, and she hurried to open it. She
pulled the large wooden door back to reveal a stodgy little man
whose balding head made him look far older than the lines in his
face would suggest.

“May I help you, sir?” Layna asked when he
did not present himself right away.

He looked at her, startled for a moment,
before replying. “Oh. Yes, of course. Please inform Lady Jezebel
that she has a caller. You may tell her that my name is Jonathan,
and that I am a friend of a friend with some information she may
find interesting.”

Layna nodded to him, and held the door wider
so that he could step inside, out of the inclement weather, while
she went to relay the message to her mistress. He stepped inside
with a nod of thanks, and brushed off his cloak, which was heavy
with the early winter snow that had started this morning. Layna
held back a cringe as the snow hit her newly scrubbed floor, and
excused herself to go inform Jezebel of her visitor, raising a hand
to shift her necklace which was starting to stick to her skin with
sweat. She knocked at the library door and opened it just wide
enough to announce the visitor at her mistress's sharp query of
“What is it?”

Jezebel put down the book that she had been
reading and turned to face the door. “Very well then, what are you
waiting for? Show the man in.”

Layna curtsied, and went back to the front
door to fetch the man into the library. His wet shoes squeaked on
the floor, and inwardly Layna sighed. She presented him to Jezebel
in the library and then hurried off to gather refreshments from the
kitchen. Moments later, she returned with tea and crumpets. These
she set on the table between the two.

“You certainly have an eye for detail.” The
man was complimenting Jezebel on an elaborate painting of none
other than Jezebel herself that hung above the fireplace.

“Indeed,” Jezebel replied. “I find that no
matter how much I look there's always something else to find.”

Layna glanced at Jezebel who gave her a
slight dismissive nod, and she left the two of them to their
discussion to mop the front hall and entryway.
Again
.

CHAPTER 7

Jonathan was pleased as he finished the
spoken code. “That is the truth.” He would have hated to have had
to postpone the meeting if Jezebel had made an outward sign of
recognition of the code, or had forgotten it altogether. This was
one of the first tests for those newly initiated into the Order,
and one that many people failed on the first try. It was imperative
for the secrecy of the society that outside of sanctioned
activities, its members did not display any recognition of each
other, or their codes. The servant girl who had showed him in
closed the door behind her, and Jonathan relaxed. She was a
beautiful woman, and that made him nervous.

Jezebel was watching him expectantly now that
she recognized him as a member of the Order, so he got right to the
point. “As I told your maid, I am a friend of a friend, whose
identity I will leave to you to infer for yourself. Suffice to say,
we would like to invite you to join us in a very special mission.”
By becoming a member of the Order, Jezebel had agreed to take on
any assignment that they wanted to give her; Jonathan made sure
that she caught this nuance of this ‘invitation’ by his tone.
“Details will be sent to you shortly, and I will be in contact with
you for you to report your findings. We shall have to arrange a
reason for my frequent visits so that no suspicions are raised.
Though I come and go through court, none will recognize me, so
other than explaining to your ‘friends’,” he said the word with a
silent snicker to himself, “you needn’t concern yourself. Next time
I come, I will expect you to have this done.”

Jezebel's lips tightened and Jonathan could
tell that she was not used to taking orders, and she was not at all
enjoying it. He smiled to himself.
She'll have to
get
used to it
. She was useful to Master for sure, but not so
important that if she forgot who was in charge that she would be
above reprimand. She surprised him by admirably holding her tongue,
though she did answer through clenched teeth.

“I'll make sure that it is.”

Jonathan rose abruptly and gave her a
half-bow, “Then I will take my leave of you. I can find my way
out.”

He showed himself out of the library, and
hurried past the girl who was busy cleaning the hallway, careful
not to meet her eyes. He smiled to himself once he had reached the
safety of his carriage. He had startled Jezebel by his swift relay
of information and unexpected departure before she had been able to
ask any questions. She needed to learn that questions were not
something that was permitted in the Order, only obedience of
commands. Master may think she was useful, but Jonathan had no
intention of treating her with any undue respect because of it. He
did not like the woman and planned to make that fact known. Master
wouldn't care as long as he continued to gather the information
that was required of him.

He had now fulfilled the first part of his
plan by introducing himself to Jezebel as her contact within the
society. Jezebel would soon realize that he was the only contact,
and if she wanted to remain an active member, she would have to
learn to deal with him. The instructions he was sending her were
worded in such a way which implied, perhaps not so subtly, that it
was actually Devon who was worth something and that she was not.
Jonathan hoped that she would pick up on it.

He had arranged another little message for
her as well and had no doubt that this one would hit home with
her.

*

Jezebel was caught off guard by the man's
hurried exit, and he was out of the library before she could
respond. Her temper flared at his attitude of superiority and
obvious assumption that she was completely in the dark about the
Order. She rose from her chair to pace the room.
Well, he might
be surprised to find that I have quite a few secrets myself. And
not all of them are pleasant.
She let herself have a momentary
daydream about unleashing Devon’s ‘skills’ on the horrid man.
I’ll bet even when he broke he wouldn’t be able to tell me much
more than I already know. I know about more of their secrets then
he realizes.

She grumbled to herself. Someday she would be
the one with all the power and then she would crush all those
people who had done her wrong.
I wonder what kind of guise I
could give him for coming to see me that would embarrass him
,
she wondered with a sudden inspiration. He had not presented
himself with any title, so she was unsure of what his actual rank
was. He acted like higher nobility and certainly thought that he
was better than her.
I'll prove to him how wrong he is
, she
thought to herself. Already she knew far more about the Order than
he could possibly suspect, and she had every intention of setting
Devon to the task of learning the real reason behind this
assignment she was being ‘asked’ to do.