Warlock Apprentice, Black Lake Novel 4

Chapter Forty

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Lady Rutland said nothin’ durin’ dinner, until she excused herself with two words. The dress she donned for the meal swished in the silent room. I preferred her in her ridin’ pants—she lost none of her femininity, but gained sensuality in a way I never could have imagined. My cheeks burned, and I glanced at Nickie, who evidently didn’t notice my obscene thoughts. I refused to look at Lord Rutland, so I stared at the fancy crystal water glass instead.

“You’re favoring your right arm,” Rutland said.

That instantaneous jolt of fright that ebbs almost before it starts forced me to meet our host’s eyes.

“I—uh—hadn’t noticed, my Lord.”

“Have you come to sense your majic taking on a specialty?” Rutland asked.

Why did he wish to converse—with me! No adult I’d ever been around, well, before Selene, ever shared an interest in discussin’ anythin’ with me. Papa often recited that sayin’ that children weren’t to be heard or seen.

So why have children about at all? Milk the cows and plow. Pretty obvious.

Selene’s discomfort edged into my mind. What was he concerned about?

I reflected on Rutland’s question since Selene opted not to speak my mind for me. As though Morgan reached over and slapped me in the forehead though, it hit me. Selene didn’t wish me to speak about my—what was the word Selene used? Ah. Empathy.

Rutland’s eyes were locked on me, expression churnin’ from idle interest to piqued curiosity. I tried to give the wizard a calm smile. “Can’t say I’ve progressed far enough to see anythin’ in particular, sir. I’ve barely begun to learn my runes.”

“Just, eh?”

“Aye.”

“Rose quite the interest level when we learned there were two with the gift in the Range, not one.”

If they knew about the witch, what was her name, they might collectively have apoplexy. That made me smile.

“Unfortunately, as you know,” Rutland said, “it amused none of us.”

“Sorry, my Lord. Didn’t mean to imply it was funny. I was thinkin’ of somethin’ else.”

“Eh? Well.” He pulled out a fancy gold timepiece out of a small pocket in his vest and gave it a peek, before replacin’ it.

I let my mind return to the witch. Why hadn’t they taken note of her? I searched for her name. Del-somethin’. Delia. Should remember that, since Lucas is sweet on her. And she helped heal me from my North-inflicted wounds. She was at my family cabin when— I struggled to believe Morgan and Delia together couldn’t help Mama.

That pain struck me where the ribs curve up to meet at the bread basket.

Mama had only been truly ill for hours. Why couldn’t they help her? It was more unbelievable after seein’ how Morgan turned Avar so dramatically for the good.

The healin’. They couldn’t sense healin’. Selene mentioned only the power durin’ the goblin troubles was sensed.

“What is it, lad?” Rutland asked. “Your expression popped open like someone dashed cold water in your face.”

Again! That stupid heat in my face. So tired of that.

“Did you sense majicin’ two days ago, near the edge of the Range?” I blurted.

Rutland scowled, first in surprise perhaps, before the expression turned more curious. Selene’s face wore an edge of threatenin’ ire. So be it. What could it hurt?

“Nay.” Rutland drew the word out. “Why?”

Selene’s eyes looked as though he tried to bore a hole through my head. I considered, and decided it would be more awkward not to say what was on my mind, than any harm it could provoke. Besides, wasn’t Rutland turnin’ out to be friend, not foe? Clearly, Selene was still on the fence about him.

“Morgan and I drew from the ethereal for hours, two days ago, to heal a snake-bit goblin.” I stole a quick glance at the very uncomfortable ogre, who sat aloof and edgewise to the table since his knees didn’t properly fit under it, perched as he was on the human chair as though it were a toadstool.

Rutland’s bushy, red brows rose. “You’re suggesting healing majic—

“Interesting,” he concluded a long moment later. “Truth is, the art, if it were ever practiced by any wizard before, was so long ago it’s fallen to the status of folklore.” He looked at Morgan for the first time since Lady Rutland left. “You are the enigma, dear fellow.”

Enigma? They refuse to speak Standish. I added the word to my list. Doubted he’d just offended the ogre. Who’s that dumb?

Rutland peeked at that pocket watch again. “So, have you any idea what you’d like to do with your life?”

Still! Wouldn’t a conversation with Selene be more interestin’?

An answer struck me like a fallin’ star. Had no clue where the idea came from, but it worked to my lips as though it had a life of its own. “The Hamlet needs teachers. I believe if I had a way, I’d like to continue my education so I could return and give back to those who’ve helped me and my sisters.”

The surprise from all three of them rushed into me, and again, my face turned hot.

No one said anythin’ for a long moment. Rutland studied his hand, which flirted with the stem of his wine goblet. Without lookin’, I knew Morgan and Selene studied me.

Rutland pulled out that watch. “Gentlemen, it’s time to prepare for communion. Selene?”

“May I join you?” I asked.

Selene shook his head at me, but Rutland gave my question a moment. “I don’t see why you can’t listen to our side of the conversation, but I—” He pursed his lips. “Believe your physical presence would be counterproductive.”

Count-what? I recognized the “but” prolly meant no.

“Morgan?” Rutland asked.

At the same time he caught his daughter’s eyes, shakin’ his head. She wrenched her chair backward and fluttered out of the dinin’ room in a much-less glamorous manner than her mother had. Rutland grimaced.

“No interest in the slightest,” Morgan answered the implied invitation.

Everyone stood. I followed Rutland and Selene down the hall. Morgan turned for the front door. He would be sittin’ on the veranda steps in five seconds where he could stretch his legs. He’d be starin’ up at the stars, enjoyin’ the night as he did every night from the porch of his little cabin. Now, his torched, ruined cabin.

Past the entry to the kitchen, Rutland reached his arm into a darkened room, and a lantern within sparked to life. The instant light shouldn’t have surprised me after watchin’ Morgan and Selene race every evenin’ to see who got the honor to light the campfire.

But the majic still makes my flesh crawl. Rutland ushered us into his office, which I hadn’t yet gotten a chance to see. As opulent and yet masculine as I expected, with oversized furniture marked by dark mahogany and leather. Two walls were nothin’ but packed bookshelves. I could live a life uninterrupted in here. Could count on one hand how many books I’d gotten to read that weren’t part of the five texts Mama used to educate the four of us.

Three armchairs were drawn to face what appeared to be a bird bath—the water surface the wizards must use for their communion. I sat back in my selected chair and tried to relax, but felt as though I were a deer watchin’ an arrow archin’ its way for my chest in slow motion.

Without a word Selene and Rutland raised their hands, and similar signet rings flashed as they drew upon the ethereal. The surface of the water glimmered. My spine tightened as the aura grew around the two men. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t swallow, and panic welled. Finally, I stole a gasp, and the ungodly sensation eased.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” Rutland said. “Thank you all for joining us.”

Evidently wizards in their respective manors spoke, and Rutland and Selene listened, both blinkin’ rapidly, their own discomfort risin’.

“Let our young friend speak before you start making ultimatums, eh?”

Please ask about Louisa?

Both Selene and Rutland jerked. The glimmer of the water failed for a second. Their expressions remained hard, but their irritation struck me as real as a backhand to the cheek.

“Yes,” Rutland said. “I apologize. I have a visitor, the young wizard apprentice Lord Nador met in the Range. Obviously his majic is stronger than any of us recognized, to be able to penetrate our circle.”

I did what?

A long moment later, Rutland rasped harshly, “I apologized, let’s move on—”

After another pause, Selene said, “She’s an innocent Lord Blake and his—took hostage in order to get out of the Range safely—”

“Yes, indeed—” Rutland said.

“But she is a priority—” Selene’s anger snapped into me, like an arrow strike to my breastbone. “If she’s harmed, I swear on my family’s name Blake and his companions will pay, with their lives—”

“Calm down, gentlemen—” Frustration rolled from Rutland, but I was surprised to sense humor emerge from Selene. Odd. Had he been waitin’ overly long for the chance to get that stated, for the record?

“It’s as pathetically stupid as the seven of you declaring war on the peaceful Lake dragons—” Selene said softly.

Rutland jerked to his right. I followed his glassy glare, which fell on nothin’ but the near wall, where a paintin’ hung that portrayed a fox hunt. It took me a moment to realize, where the two men existed via the ethereal, Rutland thrust his angry scowl at another man.

There must have been considerable argument because neither spoke again for perhaps two minutes.

“You are an imbecile if you can’t see an attack on their dam isn’t an attack on the Lake dragons. And if you can’t imagine the firestorm that will erupt when those eight dragons pounce on human kind, you are even more pathetic—”

Someone must have asked about the number of dragons.

“You will fail to kill Ash’et,” Selene said. “Her mate, the five from her last clutch, and a bull who has mated with the young queen—”

Selene chuckled.

“Why would he make that up?” Rutland asked. “It’s easy enough to confirm—”

They listened several moments.

“This past summer, in mere hours, the wizard you belittle collected an army of four hundred ogres to his cause. The Hamlet has daemons and goblins that will come to support the dragons too, not that they need the support. And you will be facing humans too—”

“Yes, a war, a lopsided one like you’ve never imagined—” Rutland’s voice rasped.

I jerked from the anger the two men deflected. Blood, I think, welled up in my sinuses, and my chest felt prepared to do battle.

“If you do, the plains north of the Range will soak in blood—” Selene said.

For a full ten minutes the two men listened. I rode their emotions, which undulated from anger and frustration. I likened it to the rise and fall of the queen in flight as she slowly beat her wings.

“Good decision—” Rutland said.

An army had switched sides.

A full ten minutes later Selene spoke. “Don’t you see what you face—” He shook his head.

“I was wrong—” Rutland said, shruggin’ his shoulders.

The communion continued at least another hour. The unendin’ jab in my spine exhausted me. Couldn’t imagine how the wizards endured the effort it must take to maintain the intensity of their majic. I sat in the overstuffed chair shakin’. My back and neck cramped. It was all I could muster not to shout out my pain. Dark blotches swam across my vision.

“Then there will be war—” Rutland said, and the glimmer off the water evaporated.

A lethargy enveloped my body and I slumped. A hand grabbed at my shoulder, but the office turned black.

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