The Gilded Shackle

Chapter 17: Real News (part 2)

November 29th, 2009

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The open playroom between Marne and Teine’s new rooms was much as Teine had left it. Furniture he’d chosen was scattered randomly around the main room of the apartment he’d be sharing with his young Master, but the door to Marne’s room was slightly ajar. As Teine approached, he could hear the familiar sound of wood scraping against cobblestones. Expecting to find one of the stable boys or another of the staff, Teine was surprised to see Marne was the one dragging a nightstand over to one of the walls. It looked like laborious work, and Teine had a moment’s admiration for the way the small boy was trying to do a Human’s job rather than wait on someone to do it for him. “What are you doing, Mas…er, Marne?” he asked. The question came out sharper than he intended, but Marne barely glanced in his direction.

“Hanging a tapestry,” the Aoife child answered. Some enterprising servant had set up Marne’s bed, but Marne looked as though he’d moved about everything else he could move by himself. The boy seemed cheerful and pleased with his progress, though he had a pallor under his tan that Teine disliked immediately. While Teine watched, Marne picked up a rolled tapestry that had been resting on one of the chairs, tucked it under one arm, and climbed on top of the nightstand. Standing on tip-toes, the alien-looking child was barely able to reach the hook that had been set in the wall, but he managed to get the rope where it needed to go and watched in pleasure as the tapestry unrolled to the floor. It was a pastoral scene of a unicorn and a holidocrith laying down together under a stylized pear tree.

Normally, Teine would have stopped to admire the artwork. It looked like a beautiful piece, but there was no time. Instead, he whisked into the room and shut the door behind him. “Your Father’s on the way up,” he told Marne, closing the distance between them in a few rapid steps. “He’s going to want to take you back to Solmurry right away, before nightfall.”

Marne, still standing on the nightstand, looked Teine face to face. In the tawny glow of daylight slanting in from the leaded glass, Marne’s eyes were even more striking and unusual. Teine found himself held transfixed for a moment, staring. Marne’s pupils were definitely different, nothing like the round ones of the Aoife or Humans. Each was a perfect diamond, his irises a fusion of grey and blue with little flecks of gold, silver, and a darker blue. They were multi-layered, deep and totally, completely alien. He was grateful he’d caught glimpses before, otherwise Teine would have been unprepared for an up close view of the child that owned him.

Marne broke the gaze first. “I simply can’t go unless that bracelet is finished,” he chided. “It’s too risky. Surely he’ll see the sense to that.” Before Teine could offer him a hand, Marne jumped down from his perch. “And I suppose Father is all riled up about something. Let me guess: new activity from the band of shipwrecked outlanders?”

Teine nodded, but was confused. New activity? That implied that the problem itself wasn’t new. He hesitated, uncertain as to what he should tell Marne. The child was fond of Willis, and Teine hated to be the bearer of bad news so early in their relationship. Instead, he decided on the straightforward approach. “I just spoke to Madric. He’s still working on your bracelet, and he’d like to work in peace. Your Father has a Royal Ranger here right now, offering to escort him. So we just have to get him to leave without you. I was thinking-” And then he stopped, catching himself. “No need to make this more complicated than it needs to be,” he told himself, out loud. Then he addressed Marne directly. “He’d see the sense to leaving you here, since the spells aren’t complete?”

Marne nodded, watching him with a quiet intensity. “The only real challenge is getting Father to go now without me, rather than hanging around, waiting for the bracelet to be finished.” Flopping down on the disorderly bed, Marne heaved a sigh that seemed far too large for his slight frame. “Which I doubt will be any trouble at all,” he added, in a very small voice. Wiping his eyes on his sleeve, Marne turned away, kicking off his house shoes and gathering his ragged stuffed toy holidocrith into his lap. He cradled it for a moment, then lay down completely.

Teine leaned forward, sympathetic to Marne’s disappointment. However, his Father’s apparent disinterest was the only thing they had working for them. “Let’s just be boring.” he suggested. “If things aren’t interesting here, he’ll just go. Won’t he?”

Marne didn’t answer, just shrugged his shoulders and hugged the toy tighter.

“All right, then. Boring it is.” Teine looked around and saw the trundle peeping out from under Marne’s bed, and pulled it out. He flopped down on it, and opened the book Hamoni had given him. “This is me, being boring.”

The two of them lay in silence for a while, Teine flipping pages and skimming the contents. The book looked interesting, and he was eager to give it a proper read later, when he wasn’t so unsettled. After a few moments, Marne rolled over on his side and peered down at Teine. “Is it all right, for the moment?” he asked. Teine looked down at the trundle he was lying on. “You’ll have your own room, over there, the next time we come back here.”

“It’s great, Marne,” Teine assured him, glancing away from the book to look up at Marne’s odd but earnest face. It warmed his heart some, to know his new Master was a gentle soul who cared for his comfort. But, at the same time, Teine now had worries the likes of which he’d never experienced before. Marne’s safety, and- by extension- his own, were likely going to be in constant jeopardy. Just hearing about the outlander bandits had been a shock to his system, even without all the insights into the Church, Marne’s health, Magic, and all he’d heard that day.

Marne’s brow wrinkled into a frown, and he crooked his elbows to prop his pointy chin up on his fists. “You don’t look like it’s great,” the boy observed. “It’s all right to tell me if something’s wrong, you know.”

Teine chewed his lip for a second, debating. To share all his worries with Marne would likely be overmuch. He was, after all, a child in need of protecting. So, he settled for just a piece of them.

“About the outlanders,” he began, keeping his voice low. “How long have they been around? I haven’t heard anything on the news. Are they new? What are they going to do about them?”

Marne sighed. “Is that all that’s worrying you?” he asked, with an air of superiority as though he were the older sibling, comforting a youngster.

“Well,” Teine confessed, not sure whether to be annoyed or amused. “That’s not all, but it’s a start. You also seemed so sad, but I didn’t know how to cheer you up.”

He was rewarded by the smallest of shy smiles. “Don’t worry about it,” Marne told him. “This bandit thing has been going on for months. They crashed South down the coast about forty or so miles away, and have been making their way North while still eluding capture.” His expression was lit with enthusiasm, and Teine understood how and why a small, sickly child might be enamored with the idea of pirates running amok nearby. “I bet, if they’re still traveling North, they’ll be passing through Solmurry rather soon.”

“What!” Teine squeaked, feigning surprise. Truthfully, he was annoyed that he missed out on all the details of what sounded like an interesting story. “That must be why the Ranger was insisting on running escort back to Solmurry.” Eying his young master, Teine raised an eyebrow, trying to exude confidence. “Why haven’t I heard anything about it?”

“You’re Human.” Marne yawned mightily, granting Teine an up-close view of those sharp, un-Aoife looking teeth. The boy looked for all the world like a sleepy kitten, as he hugged his stuffed holidocrith close. “They don’t play the real news on the radio, since it’s pretty much just for Huma… oh, wait, I think I hear my Father coming!”

Marne and Teine both rustled quickly to get into position. Somehow, both of them seemed to sense it wouldn’t be wise to be seen gossiping together like a couple of milkmaids. Teine opened the book about an eighth of the way at a random page and attempted to look boring as he heard the footsteps outside the door. Marne snuggled into the pillows and adopted the peacefully drowsy expression of someone recovering from illness, just as the door opened and Master Solmurrian peered around the corner.

Teine shuffled himself around so he could be in a position to stand and greet his betters, as was customary, but the Lord made a “hushing” gesture and motioned for Teine to stay where he was. “Marne?” the Aoife Lord asked, speaking softly.

“Yes, Father?” Marne shuffled the covers around a little and sat up, blinking and rubbing his eyes. To Teine’s way of thinking, the boy looked as though he’d been caught napping and felt slightly guilty about it. He suspected that Marne might make a formidable faker, if he decided to make a career of it.

Thus encouraged, Master Solmurrian strode lightly into the room. Even though he wore the hard-soled riding boots favored by the equestrian Aoife gentlemen, his steps barely made a sound, and his brow was furrowed by genuine concern for his son. In some ways, he seemed a completely different person than the terrifying man who had threatened Teine in front of all those noble Aoife just two days ago. Stepping over Teine as though he were not there, the Lord sat on the edge of Marne’s bed. “I see Madric hasn’t finished your bracelet,” he began, his brow wrinkled with irritation. “How long have you been sleeping?”

Marne shrugged, glancing at Teine. “I’m not sure, Father. Was I sleeping?” He stretched and yawned, causing his toy holidocrith to fall off the bed, bounce off Teine’s head, and fall onto the open book.

Making a show of checking how many pages he’d “read,” Teine played along. “About a half an hour or so, Sir.”

Frowning, Lord Solmurrian leaned over the bed, looking down with a perplexed expression at his son. Teine practically held his breath with worry as the Aoife brushed the bangs out of Marne’s face with his slender hand. “You feel clammy to me,” he told Marne. Then, he turned sharply to Teine. “Can you make sure he gets an extra blanket?”

“Yes, Sir. Right away, Sir.” Teine started to rise once more, but was again gestured to sit still. The Master’s expression had changed from concern to annoyance, and he reached down to extract Marne’s worn toy holidocrith from the trundle mattress next to Teine’s elbow. The Aoife Lord examined the toy critically, taking in the worn out suede covering, flimsy stitching, missing ear and eye, and exposed stuffing. Finally, he tucked the toy under his own elbow and turned his attention back to his son.

“I suppose it’s for the best to leave you both here for one more night,” he told Marne, looking past Teine as though he didn’t exist. “If Madric isn’t done with your bracelet, we’ve really got no choice.” Indecision showed plainly on his face; Teine tried not to chew his lower lip to broadcast his own anxiety over the Master’s choice. At the moment he was supremely grateful to Madric for his instruction on how to deal with the Lord. Left to his own devices, Teine was certain he would have botched things badly.

“I have important business back at Solmurry and an escort waiting for me,” the Lord decided. “I’ll go on this afternoon without you. Madric can bring you both to Solmurry tomorrow, when the bracelet’s finished and you, young man-” He ruffled Marne’s hair, an affectionate smile creasing his usually cold countenance. “-are better rested.”

“Yes, Sir,” Marne replied. Although his own father seemed oblivious, Teine could see unfallen tears in the boy’s strange, sad eyes. Marne didn’t have a chance to get out anything else before Lord Solmurrian had turned on his heel and left with the worn out toy still tucked under his arm.

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Tags: Marne, Master Solmurrian, Teine, The Royal Rangers
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Chapter 17: Real News (part 1)

November 25th, 2009

(Is this your first time to the site? To start reading from the beginning- click HERE.)

Teine turned from the closing the door to Madric’s office as Hamoni came up the stairs. The Aoife girl’s eyes were hooded, her expression guarded while she studied his face. Teine’s stomach did a nervous flip-flop as he fought back a meaningless apology for her getting scolded. As she passed, she pushed a heavy textbook into his hands and walked on by without comment or further acknowledgment. In an instant, she’d gone into Madric’s office and shut the door in Teine’s face.

Teine tried not to feel despondent, but failed. In his discomfiture, he’d also failed to remember to ask her where Marne was.

“My first few days as a Man, and I’m not off to the best start,” he grumbled, absolutely certain that Men didn’t normally get weepy when a pretty girl snubbed them. Trying not to let his disappointment show on his face, Teine headed down to the kitchen to ask if anyone knew where Marne was.

Pasha, predictably, was bustling around, preparing the evening’s dinner. But she knew exactly where the young Master had gone.

“Hamoni moved him up to his new room,” she told him, smartly cutting the ends off tubers before peeling them. Teine eyed the cattail-like vegetables with skepticism. He’d never seen anyone eat them, possibly because of their disturbing resemblance to a human phallus. Despite her wrinkled and slightly arthritic old hands, Pasha was making short work of a big pile of these vegetables, dicing them with a careless efficiency that made Teine wince. “It’s still a mess, but we got the bed set up. He’s resting.”

Teine knew exactly what she was talking about. Marne had moved into the suite that Teine had spent the previous day cleaning. The only furniture left in there had been the pieces that he himself had selected. He hoped he’d guessed well and that Marne liked his choices. Thanking Pasha, he cajoled two apples out of her and headed back upstairs to let Marne know what Madric was planning.

“Be careful, you,” Pasha told Teine, catching his sleeve as he went to leave. “Lord Solmurrian is about somewhere, and he’s in a foul mood. Best go to the boy, and stay nearby and out from underfoot. No need to borrow trouble.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he agreed, with a little more enthusiasm than was strictly necessary. Even on his worst day, Teine was not the ‘borrowing trouble’ sort. He gave the old woman a playful wink, then headed off to find his young Master.

As Teine was about to mount the stairway leading up, he passed one of the windows that could be opened and caught the tone of masculine voices calling out in greeting outside. He peeked out in interest, then pulled back out of sight to listen at his leisure. Normally, he’d never have considered spying on one of the Aoife to be an honorable or particularly wise endeavor, but the circumstances seemed to warrant unusual handling.

Master Solmurrian was speaking to Kenneth and one of the Royal Rangers, a golden haired Aoife gentleman riding a sparkling white destrier. His armor was so intricate and gilt that it had to be far more decorative than functional. The Ranger was perhaps the most powerfully built Aoife Teine had ever seen, nearly as broad as a human. He cut a dashing figure mounted on his fine horse, and Teine would have liked to have been able to take a sketch of him right then. As he watched, the Ranger leaned down and offered up a battered, muddy bowler hat to Lord Solmurrian.

“One of the farmers bade me to pass this along while I was in the neighborhood,” he said.

The Lord wrinkled his nose. “Do I have to? I’ve been hoping he’d lose this dreadful thing for years.” The two of them laughed heartily.

Teine recognized the hat right away. It was the bowler that Madric had blown off his head on their way to the Tower. Somehow he knew Madric would be delighted to have the muddy old thing back, battered though it might be. When the magician had told him about their family being “lucky,” Teine had been privately skeptical, but the unlikely reappearance of Madric’s hat had definitely given him something to consider.

He settled in to listen to a few minutes of idle banter, amused by how similar conversations between Aoife were to those conversations of Humans. The two nobles chatted for several moments, the topics ranging from the weather over the past few days, to how their favorite Fabal teams were doing over the season. They had just begun a lively discussion about next season’s lineups when the Ranger caught Teine by surprise.

“You know, Alfrick, if you’re heading back to Solmurry proper today I’d be remiss if I didn’t offer you a personal escort.”

There was a pause as the Master considered. Teine had to fight keep from stealing a look over the edge of the window sill, and instead waited to hear what the Lord had to say on the matter with dwindling patience.

“Pshaw.” With a chuckle, Lord Solmurrian seemed to dismiss the Ranger’s concerns. Without the visual reference to go on, Teine was alarmed to realize how similar Madric sounded to his brother. That was a piece of information he meant to keep in mind for future reference. “What are a few ragged outland Human scum? I’m surprised they’ve lasted this long. Soon, the wildlife in the forest will make a meal of them or they’ll finish themselves off with their inevitable backstabbing.”

“Indeed,” the Ranger agreed. “But, the Doyan himself has spoken often of his affection for you and your family.” Teine looked down at his arms, then rubbed the gooseflesh away and concentrated on listening. “These outlanders are far more than mere peasants. For all their weedy and ill-bred qualities, they’ve managed to survive thus far. That ship we sunk was no merchant carrier, to be sure. It’s likely they’re soldiers.”

Teine blinked in alarm. Outlander Human soldiers, marooned practically in their backyard, and no mention of it on the news? Had anyone heard, Teine was sure there would be talk of little else. “Perhaps it had only just happened.” Teine silently comforted himself. “Too soon to make a broadcast…”

“…unfortunate, indeed.” Teine blinked, struggling to catch up to the line of conversation. “Willis the True has long been a trusted friend of Solmurry, and I hope she recovers from her wounds completely. Her valor in service to our family is the stuff of legend.” Master Solmurrian seemed to think for a moment, and then with a shot of realization like lightning, Teine remembered Willis, the holidocrith he’d met on the road the other night. “Will my boy be safe here, if I leave him? He’s been ill, you know.”

There was a pause while the Ranger seemed to genuinely consider. “Probably, I would guess,” the horseman replied. “Safer here than on the road to Solmurry after dark, to be certain. Would you like me to wait, so you can see if he’s well enough to travel now?”

“Thank you for your generosity,” the Master replied. “Would you care for some refreshments while I check on my son?” The two of them continued to chat while the Ranger dismounted and handed his stallion off to Kenneth.

Teine didn’t wait to hear any more. Checking the strap of his satchel to be sure it was secure on his shoulder, he barreled up the stairs to tell Marne the news.

To read the next half of Chapter 17: “Real News” (part 2) please click—> HERE!

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Tags: Hamoni, Kenneth, Master Solmurrian, Pasha, The Royal Rangers, Willis
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Chapter 16: Threads and Fabric (part 2)

November 18th, 2009

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Just then, the door to Madric’s study slammed open. Madric broke the handshake and retreated guiltily as if caught in the act of treason, but it was only Hamoni. She twirled in, shut the door behind her, and paused to dramatically lean up against it. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair tousled, and her eyes bright. She was breathing as hard as if she’d run all the way up the stairs, and looked for all the world like a girl who’d just had a passionate liaison and was now ready to tell all the steamy details.

“Oh, my heavens!” she squealed. “Madric- did you see it?”

Madric grinned a lopsided grin that said yes, he had. “It’s not exactly the magic bullet we need, but it’s good to have in the arsenal.” To Teine, he added, “We’ll get started right away trying to replicate the effect so we can add it to the bracelet.”

Hamoni jerked her chin at Teine. “What about him? Is he in?”

Madric nodded thoughtfully. “I believe so. Marne couldn’t have made a better choice. No need to shelter him any further- Teine’s got some good ideas and an outside perspective that could be very useful.”

“Excellent!” Hamoni practically danced, lithe and cheerful, over to Teine. He thought she was going to shake his hand, like Madric. Instead, she hugged him tight and kissed him on the cheek. “You’re part of the family now!”

“‘Hamoni!” Madric scolded. His brow wrinkled in genuine consternation at the Aoife girl’s wanton display. He pointed firmly to a chair on the other side of the room. “Now, sit down over there and contemplate the error of your actions. It’s unfair to treat Teine that way. You’ll only confuse him and make him uncomfortable.”

Hamoni’s almond shaped blue eyes filled with tears. She seemed absolutely crestfallen by Madric’s harsh words, and retreated to the chair he indicated without further comment.

Teine felt badly for her, and slightly guilty as well. But, overall he was very grateful Madric had intervened on his behalf. He was old enough to have taken the classes on Human sexuality, and understood why his skin still burned where she had touched him. Over the last couple days, he was starting to recognize some of his feelings for Hamoni were rapidly becoming inappropriate. He was going to need to guard his thoughts and his actions carefully. As an intact male he had certain responsibilities that other Human men weren’t burdened with, and wanted very badly to be worthy of the honor Marne had bestowed on him. Allowing himself to get all wound up over a completely unattainable Aoife woman seemed the worst possible way to start.

Madric paused for a second, seeming to think on an unrelated topic. Then he went to the window and glanced out. “Damn.”

“What’s wrong?” Teine asked.

“My brother’s buggy is outside, and the horse is still hitched. It means he’s probably planning to collect you and Marne then head back to the Demense soon.” Madric scowled, looking rather annoyed. “I’m sorry about this, Teine. I wanted to give you the whole history on what’s gone on, and answer your questions in the kind of detail this situation deserves.”

“But we’re going to have to rush?”

Nodding, Madric reached for the heavy gold bracelet, turning it over and over in his hands. “I’ll tell you what I can right now, and then I’ll have to get to work on this. When I dismiss you, find Marne right away and tell him that I said he’s not feeling well, and he must take a nap. We need to delay your departure until I get the bracelet finished. If he thinks Marne is still ill, he’ll be likely to either take Kenneth and go hunting for a few hours, or if we’re really fortunate he’ll give up for the day, and return home to the Demense. I’ve already mentioned I’m planning to come back to Solmurry proper tomorrow or early the next day, so he has an out.” The magician gave Teine a long-suffering grin. “The first and most useful piece of advice I can give you is that my brother must always think whatever he is doing at the moment is completely his idea.”

“Got it,” Teine confirmed. At that moment, he was very grateful he had Seymour for a friend. In their fondness for their own will, it seemed Seymour and their Master were cut from the same cloth. Teine had had a lot of practice over the years, wrangling the stubborn, intelligent boy into going along with Teine’s plans while thinking they were his own. “I’ll remember that, if I have the occasion to speak to him.”

“Try not to, if you can at all help it,” Madric suggested. “Truly, no good can come of it. He’s been on a tear all day, and drinking extravagantly of my wine on top of it. I’m hoping if we can make things dull enough here, he’ll get bored and head home.”

Teine wished he could get out one of his notebooks and take some notes. He was trying not to feel overwhelmed, but at the same time felt as though he were soaring. The game was afoot! It wasn’t a game of Teine’s choosing and the rules seemed so far unclear, but it did sound like things were going to be far more interesting than he had ever dreamed. “So, Madric,” he interjected, leading with his next most important question. “What exactly does the bracelet do, anyway?”

“Yes, yes. I’d better explain that.” Madric agreed hastily. “It’s gone through many different changes over the years, as I’ve perfected my enchanting skills-”

Hamoni coughed quietly in the corner. Madric gave her a dirty look.

“… but the bottom line is that it has two very basic functions now. Both are crucial to Marne’s safety. One, as you’ve probably guessed, is to make Marne pass as a normal Aoife child.”

“It does a good job at that,” Teine agreed. “I never expected-”

“Good, good.” Madric cut him off with a wave and an apologetic smile. “So sorry Teine, I would love to hear your observations, but we’ve really got to make this quick.”

“Sorry.”

“No problem.” Madric turned the bracelet over in his hand. “You need to know something important about this function before I explain the second function. In the past, the illusion component of the bracelet was very straightforward. It made him look like an Aoife child. The problem was, it was static. The illusion never changed.”

At first, Teine was puzzled. That didn’t sound like a problem, unless-

Madric practically read his mind. “It wasn’t a problem. Until his circumstances changed, that is. The first time we took him out in a rainstorm, we discovered the flaw in our plan.”

Teine nodded in understanding. “Marne would have looked dry, while everyone else was getting soaked.”

Madric continued without missing a beat. “The bracelet did allow Marne some freedoms that he hadn’t experienced before. He could play outside, on sunny days. He could meet many of the Humans that lived here at the time. His world could expand beyond just the care of his nanny and the handful of people in on his secret. The original enchantment on the bracelet was the best I could do at the time, and so very far from perfect- but it was better than nothing. That is, until…” Madric paused, looking like he might censor himself.

“Whatever it is, you can tell me,” Teine urged. “It’s all right. I’m in.”

The magician gave Teine a sad smile. “It worked, until the day Marne got hurt. He and I were on holiday, riding in a public park in the city. He’s a confident rider, and was way out ahead when something spooked his pony. He… fell. ” The Aoife’s jaw was clenched tight, and his hands balled into helpless fists at the memory. “I spurred my horse to catch up, hoping he was all right. Fortunately we were in a secluded area of the park, but one Human woman beat me there. As I approached, she rolled him over before I could dismount, and began screaming. I’ve never heard anything like it to this day.”

“His bracelet had fallen off?” Teine asked.

Madric nodded, his lips a thin pale line. “He had a concussion, a broken arm, and there was a lot of blood. You realize, not even his blood looks the same. And the poor woman! Fate punished her for her inherent goodness and concern for an injured child.” Regret was evident in every line of Madric’s features. “You might guess I had to silence her.”

Teine paled. He couldn’t tell if he was more unnerved by the knowledge that he’d touched a creature whose blood didn’t even look like blood, or by the actions that Madric might have taken to protect their secret from a warm-hearted stranger. “Did you have to…”

“It might have been kinder.” Madric sighed. “Over the years I’ve done many things I’m not proud of. This is one of them. I’d just been researching spells that altered the memory,and although I didn’t have anything solidified I did my best to make her forget what she’d seen. It drove her mad. Completely, utterly mad.”

Unable to help himself, Teine groaned in sympathy for Madric’s predicament- and the woman’s too! Madric’s remorse seemed perfectly genuine, but it didn’t change things one bit. He shook his head at the unfortunate chain of events.

“I found the bracelet and got it back on to his wrist. He stayed unconscious as I carried him back to the Hospitality we were staying at, and it was two full weeks before he was well enough to travel home. Disaster had been averted for the moment, but it was clear I had a lot of work to do on the bracelet.”

“Could you enchant a smaller one? Something that would actually fit him on its own?”

Madric shook his head. “That was one of the first ideas I’d had, but in the end we were stuck using the bracelet you see today.” He grinned, a wry smile without any humor behind it. “It takes special materials- herbs and the like- to prepare an item for enchantment. As I wasn’t officially doing any enchantment work for the Empyrean at the time, I would have needed to fill out many forms to request a purchase of those items, and it would have been guaranteed to bring an Inspector to my door. However, we had this old bracelet that been prepared to carry enchantments in ages past. No-one had reported it so it didn’t officially exist; we pressed it into service. I would have preferred to fit Marne with an item that was easier to hide, but in the end this bracelet has been an excellent choice and has served us well.”

“So, what does it do now?” Teine asked. “Now that you’ve been improving it?”

Madric glanced to Hamoni, who was still on her assigned chair, but listening intently. “Hamoni,” Madric began, fixing her with a stern glare. “Why don’t you give Teine the details while I gather the necessary components to attempt this sizing enchantment?”

Hamoni nodded obediently, rising and joining them by Madric’s desk. Madric slouched in his own chair and began rummaging around in the cupboards under his desk. “Now that I have official recognition as an enchanter, I have easier access to the materials,” he explained, sounding somewhat muffled with his head practically in the compartment he was searching. “But they watch the amounts I go through, and I have to account for every speck. I’ve been saving and hiding spare materials for a long time to start afresh with a new bracelet, but I’m afraid it’s going to take decades at this rate.”

“There’s a black market for just about everything,” Hamoni interjected to clarify things for Teine. “But you can’t be sure you’re getting quality, and it’s very risky. So this bracelet is going to have to do him for a while. It could be quite some time before we have any other options on that front.”

“So, what’s the second function?” Teine repeated, eagerly. He was getting tons of ideas for his stories with Leis.

“It’s a little more complicated than a plain, static illusion,” Hamoni began. “Instead of telling you what you see, the magics let your eyes glide right over him and see only what you expect to see.”

“So, if you expect to see a normal Aoife boy, that’s what you see,” Teine guessed. “That’s how it worked on me.”

Hamoni nodded. “This suggestive type of illusion is effective and durable but it has some unusual side effects, and those side effects tie into another enchantment woven into it.”

Teine snagged the stool and sat down on it, wishing for the hundredth time he could take some notes. “How does that work?”

“Well, there’s the enchantment to make him look how you expect him to look, and then there’s the enchantment that makes you simply not notice him, or think of him much at all,” Hamoni explained. “So it’s not just your eyes that glide right over him, but your whole mind as well.”

“So,” Teine thought out loud. “It makes it not just harder to notice him, but also harder to remember details about him, as well.”

Hamoni smiled. “That’s not a perfect description, but it’s the short version. It’s also helping people forget he’s not aging normally.”

“I’m not sure I like the sound of that,” he muttered. “But it explains some things.” He was relieved to have some explanation for how a house full of kind, caring servants and good people could leave a sick boy alone in a basement for days. Now he understood it wasn’t entirely their fault.

“Please try to understand,” Hamoni begged. Her expression was both worried and earnest. “We love him, we really do. He’s just so much safer if everyone pays him and that bracelet as little attention as possible.”

“Even his own father?” Teine asked, trying not to sound accusatory. “Even us?”

Madric rose to his feet and set a small wooden humidor on his desk. “Yes, even his own father. Especially his own father.” The magician sounded stern, and he fixed Teine in an uncharacteristically serious stare. “My brother is a weak-minded fool. Have no doubt- he loves his son, but his lack of discipline and fondness for toadying to people of power puts us all in jeopardy- every day.” With an irritated sigh, he slammed himself down into his chair and began pulling wrapped bundles of twigs the size of toothpicks out of the humidor and sorting them into piles. “We’re still working on improvements,” Madric added. “In time, I hope we can refine the enchantments so they work better, for longer, and with fewer side effects.”

“Also, there’s something else the bracelet does,” Hamoni volunteered. The unusually timid note in her voice made Teine turn his attention from Madric to look at her.

The Aoife girl was looking at Madric, as if for permission to continue. Madric gave it to her in one subtle nod.

“The bracelet also puts a damper on Marne’s own latent, but very potent, magical aura.”

“Ha! I knew it!” Teine crowed, careful to not let his own voice raise beyond a soft conversational tone despite his glee at being right. “That’s why he has to be bagged or locked in the basement during the magical part of the storms! He attracts them!”

Madric quirked a small, wry smile and clapped his hands together. “Give the boy a prize.” Then he paused, blinked once, and turned to his assistant as if something had just occurred to him. “Yes, actually. Hamoni, give the boy a prize- before I forget, hustle back to your quarters and fetch him that Castmistellarian textbook on the mind magic disciplines. You know, that one from Greeves Acadamy. He can take it home with him. I’ve got things ready and we can work on the bracelet when you return.” Hamoni nodded crisply and left the room, closing the door behind her so Madric and Teine could continue their discussion undisturbed.

“Thanks,” Teine told him. Mind Magics sounded like a fascinating field of study, and he knew less than nothing about them now.

“Marne can probably answer most of the basic questions you might have. The boy is very well-read.”

Teine sighed. “It sounds to me like he’s going to have to be. Latent talent, you say? What kind?”

Madric dipped his head, in a rather humble pose. “I have absolutely no bloody idea. I’ve never seen anything like him, and I would never say this to his face, but he’s a complete sport of nature. He can mimic some of the effects of basic spells he’s seen me do, like mend-”

Well, that explains the candle, Teine thought.

“-And sometimes his touch drains the enchantments right out of things and sometimes it awakens magic items long dormant.”

“Like that suit of armor?” Teine dared to ask, out loud.

“Heard about that, did you? Yes, we successfully blamed that on the storm, but it was him. I swear the boy can talk to some kinds of animals, too- like a Druid of yore.” Madric sighed, looking exasperated. “If it weren’t for the Solmurry Luck, I’d swear he was a Changeling. But I can’t deny how much he feels like our own flesh and blood, no matter how he looks.”

“Solmurry Luck?”

“The Solmurrian men seem to have a special place in the world- as Fortune’s playthings.” Madric chuckled, as if reliving a memory. “His father has it, I have it, our Grandsire had it- and Marne seems to, as well. And I swear to all the heavens, sometimes I think it’s the only reason he hasn’t been discovered yet. Fortune must have some other dirty trick in store for the poor boy.”

Teine was growing more puzzled by the minute. “But isn’t it good to be lucky?”

Madric’s chuckle turned into a full blown laugh. “Ah, Teine- sometimes I forget you’re so young! And Human, to boot.” The Aoife wizard leaned over and patted Teine companionably on the shoulder. “You’ll soon learn that not all luck is good luck.”

“Oh, great.” Teine sighed, giving Madric a quirk of a smile. “Burst my young and impressionable bubble.”

“Apparently it’s part of my job description,” Madric countered. “But, cheer up! Is there anything else you still want to know the answer to, after all this?”

Teine spent several seconds thinking, trying to catalog all the answers he’d received that day. “Only one thing pops into mind,” he nudged. “And it’s not crucial, it’s more a matter of curiosity.”

“Fire away,” Madric encouraged. “Don’t know when I’ll see you again, and if we’ll be able to speak freely.”

“So…” Teine began, unsure of how to phrase what he wanted to know. “What’s the story with Marne’s ‘imaginary friend?’ Do you think she’s something dangerous?”

Madric snorted with surprised laughter. “I don’t think she exists.” He glanced over at Teine and gave him a measuring look. “Here’s how it is. Marne’s over a hundred years old. Most boys his age start putting away childish things about then, and start looking toward the future. But Marne’s not most boys. His age seems to be immaterial, and for all that he’s very intelligent and well-read, he is- in almost every way that counts- still a child.”

Teine smiled at the memory of Marne trying to build a sand castle on the beach earlier that morning, how he’d broken into gales of childish laughter when he thought the inspector might be watching them. He could really see Madric’s point. “He’s a smart, creative child whose Father ignores him and has no-one his age to play with. Of course he might have an imaginary playmate,” he agreed. “But why is Hamoni so sure Marne’s friend is someone real?”

The magician rolled his eyes in exasperation. “I’m not sure she does, either- but when she first came to work for me, we made a ridiculous bet. Remember how I said there were things in my life I wasn’t proud of? Well, this bet is one of them.”

Intrigued, Teine leaned forward in his chair. Was there nothing about Madric that wasn’t interesting? “So…” he goaded. “What’s the bet?”

Madric held up both hands as if to ward off Teine’s disapproval in advance. “Really, I’m not sure I should tell you this, and I knew it was wrong an instant after I said it and saw she was taking it so seriously. I was being sarcastic.”

“Go on.”

“Ugh,” the Aoife groaned, putting his head in his hands. “I told her if she could prove that Marne’s imaginary friend was real- be it an evil spirit, possessing demon, native to another plane, or whatever- I’d buy out her contract, make her a free woman, and marry her.”

Teine’s eyes widened. Although common born Aoife had more status in Empyrean society than Humans, noble born Aoife rarely, if ever, married them. It was an outrageous idea.

“I know.” Madric sighed. “Awful. I wish I could take it back, but I don’t know how.”

Teine ran his hand over his chin, once again enjoying the grown-up feel of the stubble growing there. “I can’t think of a single thing to help you,” he replied, after giving the matter some serious consideration. He was beyond flattered at the confidence Madric had shown him, and was truly warming to the Aoife’s openness and quirky sense of humor. Teine had a hunch that Marne wasn’t the only one who was short of people to talk to. Everyone surrounding Madric was either his own servant or backstabbing politicos. Neither situation was ideal for good conversation.

Madric nodded. Teine was relieved that the magician didn’t expect him to have any answers. “Well, then,” the Aoife groaned, rising to his feet like he was an old man. “I’d better get to work on this. Remember, my brother leaving without you and the boy is the ideal situation since this will take a while. We don’t want him prowling about, drinking my good wine and cuffing my staff.”

“I’ll do what I can, Sir.” Teine told Madric.

The magician waved him off. “Eh, the ’sirs’ are for people who need to hear their titles to feel important. I’m too damn important as it is. Just call me Madric. Besides, boy,” Madric added. “We’re all in this together.”

To read the next installment, Chapter 17: “Real News” part 1, please click —> HERE!

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Tags: Hamoni, Madric, Teine
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Chapter 16: Threads and Fabric (part 1)

November 11th, 2009

(Is this your first time to the site? To start reading from the beginning- click HERE.)

The area surrounding the ring and both their hands practically exploded with translucent, gossamer threads of color. Teine, even though he’d retreated a couple steps initially, found himself pulled back in closer to get a better view of the spectacle.

Once the initial shock wore off and Teine’s heartbeat and breathing returned to normal, he flushed with the heady rush of excitement when he realized what it was that he was looking at.

“The fabric of magic,” Teine whispered.

The phenomenon illuminated more than just the magic of the ring; some of the threads of light and energy wrapped around and through both Marne and his uncle’s hands. The spectral energy strands that suffused and interlaced Madric’s hands glowed with a rich green like the color of immature cornstalks reaching toward the summer sun. Marne’s slender hand, above his uncle’s, was augmented with threads of painfully vivid blue.

Even more remarkable than the auric colors surrounding the two kinsmen was the fact that each of their individual threads seemed to pulse in time- like a heartbeat. Marne’s fluttered fast and irregular, like the beat of a hummingbird’s wings, while Madric’s green was slower and more regular. Teine wondered whether he was only seeing the magic or if Marne had granted them all a window into the very fabric of life itself.

When Marne pulled his hand away from Madric’s, the area around the ring continued to blaze with the glowing, floating, intricate threadwork that was unique to the ring. Once Marne’s own bright aura was removed, it became easier for Teine to see everything else. The ring’s threads were made up of many multicolored strands of varying thicknesses and subtleties- if anything made purely of magic and energy could have a thickness, Teine thought, wryly.

The strands were concentrated in and around the ring itself, but also went through and overlapped Madric’s hand as well. “Well,” Marne prompted. “It won’t last long. Put it on so you can see!”

Teine glanced up to Madric’s face, and found he hadn’t been the only one mesmerized. At Marne’s urging, Madric startled slightly, as if he’d been worlds away. For a moment, Teine read the conflicting rush of emotions on the elder Solmurrian’s face- first eager scientific curiosity, then longing jealousy, followed by abject guilt and embarrassment when he caught Teine’s eyes.

For the first time in Teine’s life, an Aoife had turned from him in shame.

Madric cleared his throat to regain control of the situation. “All right, then. Let’s see how this works.” He took the ring off his palm, and slid it over one finger.

As the enchantment worked to make the silver malleable enough to slide over Madric’s bigger knuckle, the magical structure also altered. The whole woven pattern expanded, then contracted, with faint threads brightening in a rainbow of different hues and complex knots of energy configuring themselves in different patterns.

“There, there!” Madric shouted, pointing to the ring with the other hand. “Did you see the red? Could that be the enchanter’s auric signature? Could it be-”

“I wish I knew.” Marne sighed. “I still have no idea how to interpret it.” The boy’s voice was breathy, as if he’d exerted himself considerably. When Teine pried his eyes away from the ring, he noticed Marne was back to his drawn and slightly peaked state. He found himself wondering if Marne would have to perform the same trick for Hamoni, or if he’d be given the opportunity to rest first.

Madric frowned with disappointment when Marne had no new insights for him, but by the time the effect faded away to nonexistence, the Aoife magician had scribbled two pages of notes and seemed satisfied for the moment. With a smile and a pat on the back, he gave Marne back his ring and propelled him toward the door with a gentle shove. “Go find the girl,” he reminded his nephew. “Give her the ring and show her exactly what you showed me. Then go take your nap.” Madric grinned in jovial good humor. “And hopefully if we’re lucky, by the time you wake up we’ll have gotten your bracelet so it can size itself, as well.”

“That would be nice,” Marne agreed, starting toward the door. “As it is now, it’s so burdensome I find myself wondering where the chain and ball are attached.” Marne glanced over his shoulder to see how his joke had been received.

Teine couldn’t help but grin back at him. Marne was a clever and personable little fellow, even if he’d just completely turned Teine’s life upside down. He fully expected Leis would pronounce him “adorable” once she got to know him- if she hadn’t already. He was about to comment on his ball and chain joke, when he realized Marne was holding the door for him.

“Oh no.” Madric vetoed his intention. “Go on. Teine will catch up later. I need to speak with him.”

Marne seemed visibly deflated, but did as he was told.

“Poor little guy,” Teine muttered. Madric nodded, as they both watched the door swing shut. Teine couldn’t help but feel flattered that Marne wanted him around. He was beginning to see that the child had really put a lot of thought into his selection. It softened the sting of losing control of his own career path a little, but not much. Still, Teine couldn’t bring himself to resent Marne for taking his choices away.

Teine glanced up, remembering that Madric wanted to speak to him about something. When all Madric did was stare at him without speaking, Teine felt compelled to prompt the magician. “So- what did you need to speak to me about?”

The Aoife shrugged, an expression so like his nephew that Teine had to keep himself from grinning. “I figured your head would be about ready to split with questions, and thought it might be kind to offer you answers to anything that I can. You’ll get precious little of that, once you get back to Solmurry proper.”

Teine sighed. “You know, I kind of wondered if that might not be the case.”

Madric hopped up on the examination stool himself and leaned back, resting his elbow on his desk. “Well, don’t fret too much. My brother will be on his way after a few days, and when he’s gone, things get back to normal pretty quickly. His trips home are mercifully brief and infrequent. When he’s around, it’s better for everyone to mind their manners and stay out of sight as much as possible,” he advised. “His very presence can be toxic to a person’s sanity.”

“Hmmm,” Teine replied, hoping he looked more nonchalant than worried. Even though he was new to Demense-level politics, and he really did trust Madric and appreciate his openness and willingness to discuss things, Teine could feel deep in his bones how dangerous it was to formally ally himself with Madric, in opposition to the Master. Time to steer the topic onto much less treacherous grounds. “So, tell me,” he began, testing the waters. “Is there a reason that the Master doesn’t want to see his own son?”

Madric scowled. “I ask myself that, all the time. He says he’s too busy and doesn’t have time to coddle sickly infants. I think it’s partially because he sees Marne’s appearance as a deformity, and he overlooks everything else about him because of it.”

Teine mulled that over. It seemed unnecessarily harsh for a father speaking of his own son. “Could it be that he just doesn’t like being at Solmurry?” he volunteered. “I’d think it’d be much more exciting to be at Court, with the Prince. Wouldn’t most people choose to be there, if it were an option to them?”

“Oh-ho! You’ve got a good eye,” Madric cheered, clapping his hands together a couple of times in applause. “And you’re right. My brother keeps some very interesting company, indeed. Yes, I suppose you could say he’s been tempted into town. After all, there are three Solmurry shipyards to visit, plus his open-armed welcome to Court in Paxnem any time he wishes. It’s probably much more comfortable and entertaining to live a carefree life and have other people to manage his obligations, wouldn’t you think?”

Teine supposed he was right. If Lord Solmurrian harbored no great love for his son, it would be easy to leave the daily workings of Solmurry in the hands of competent servants and slaves and set about the serious business of merrymaking and politics. “So, how much do you help out with running Solmurry, when he’s not around?” Teine asked.

“As little as possible,” Madric answered. His eyes were suddenly steely. He must have read Teine’s concern about saying the wrong thing because he immediately continued. “It’s not my problem. He made his bed, and I’m sure not going to lie in it for him.”

“How do you mean?”

“Oh, I forgot you’re too young to know.” Madric waved a hand, airily. “Once he got married, and I hadn’t, he made sure the Church found out about my magic. By the time they’d broken me down to the point I could be trusted outside the cloister, our Father had died and Marne had already been born, and it was too late to contest.” The magician sighed and shifted position so the other elbow rested on his desk. “Not that I would. I don’t regret that he took it from me. I could do the job, but it’s not my destiny. What I regret is how he took it from me, and how terribly he’s mismanaging it.”

Teine rubbed his chin thoughtfully, enjoying the new stubbly feeling that had come from shaving regularly. It grated in a most satisfying manner across his fingertips, as he contemplated the turn his conversation with Madric had taken. He’d heard rumblings of discontent before, from the other Humans, but he’d never taken them seriously. It was Human nature to complain about their bosses. Apparently it was Aoife nature, as well.

Madric took his silence as a license to speak more freely on the subject. “I never wanted to run the whole damn thing by myself, anyway. I’d always assumed we’d just be partners, and back then I was never more than just a dabbler in magic. Not worth as much notice as I got, and for it I got 50 years locked in a cloister with a shaved head and surrounded by 300 other lost souls just like me.” He gave Teine a sly look. “I’ll tell you, Teine- it’s the Solmurrian name that sold me out to the Church, even more surely than my grasping little brother. Thanks to the Capite, anytime our family name gets attached to anything involving magic, the whole Empyrean sits up to watch.”

Teine couldn’t resist the impulse to poke fun at Madric, so he stood a little straighter, then opened his eyes wide to stare at the puzzled magician. “Just doing my part for the Empyrean. ” he quipped.

Madric stared back for three whole seconds before bursting out in laughter. “Keep on staring- I’m not planning to rise from the dead to fight any wars for our Doyan Prince. And you are quite a brat!” he chuckled. Teine could feel the tension draining away from the Aoife magician, and he, too was able to relax. “Once you and Marne have time to get to know each other, you’ll get along fine.”

“So,” Teine said. “About Marne…”

“Here it comes.” Madric sighed, rolling his eyes.

Teine blinked. “Here what comes?”

“The deluge of questions.”

“Sorry to be predictable,” Teine countered. “But, how could it be otherwise? Nobody prepared me for this! What is he? Is he some kind of inherently magical being, or is it just some set of deformities and a weird coincidence? How in the world have you been able to keep a secret like this for so long, with so many potentially weak links and attention from the most dangerous kind of people?” Unable to help himself, Teine realized he was speaking louder and faster with each question and gesturing wildly with his hands as all his doubts and fears of the last few days came pouring out.

To his credit, Madric sat quietly after moving the bucket with his captive water elemental out of the way of Teine’s flailing arms. He let Teine speak without interruption.

“And what happens to you if you’re discovered? What happens to Marne?“ Teine remembered the radio broadcasts of news programs on how latent magicians were ‘brought to God.’ Just thinking of that good-natured, frail child at the hands of Church Inquisitors made him feel physically ill. “Am I wrong, Madric, or would just the bread and water diet alone for the first month end up killing him outright?”

“Probably,” Madric agreed, his expression carefully neutral. “They’re of the ’scourge the body to save the soul’ school of thought.”

Teine gripped the table to steady his hands, his knuckles white and his heartbeat loud in his ears. The whole topic had an unreal feeling to it. For someone who spent a lot of time writing about brave deeds and danger, Teine was embarrassed to find himself so shaky when confronted with it in reality. “I swear, Sir,” he told the magician. “I mean no disrespect, but this seems to be such a precarious position for everyone! What’s being done now to mitigate the potential for disaster? How can we best protect him?”

“That’s what I was waiting for, ” Madric replied. “You said we.”

“I did?”

“You did.” Madric offered his hand to Teine, as if they were equals. “Welcome to the team.”

Teine blinked his surprise, then shook Madric’s hand without another thought. He knew what side he was on- it was the side that kept Marne safe.

To read the second half of Chapter 16: “Threads and Fabric” (part 2) please click —> HERE!

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Tags: Hamoni, Madric, Marne, Master Solmurrian, Teine
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Chapter 15: Hiding in Plain Sight (part 2)

November 5th, 2009

(Is this your first time to the site? To start reading from the beginning- click HERE.)

Madric blinked, then looked his nephew over. “Yes, Teine- what ring are you speaking of?”

Teine, and Marne too, pointed at Marne’s right thumb. “This ring.” Marne took it off and set it on the edge of Madric’s desk. “I’ve had it forever. It was my mother’s.”

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Madric muttered under his breath.

Marne shrugged. “You can have a look at it, if you want. Just don’t break it or keep it. I want it back. It was my mother’s.” he repeated.

Like a hawk pouncing on a field mouse, Madric swept up the ring and went to one of his workbenches, Ahamoni trailing in his wake. The two of them pulled out some instruments, plus a bag of fine powder, and began talking about “original magics” and guessing at the approximate age of the item in question. Their general consensus was that it was “very old, and primitive.”

Teine, feeling kind of confused, padded over to stand next to Marne. Marne looked up at Teine, his expression somber.

“I wish you hadn’t told him about the ring.”

Teine frowned. “I’m sorry. I kind of lost my head, and I didn’t know it was wrong. I’ve never met anyone with even one magic item of their own before. You have two! And one of those was even made for you!” He hated the idea of so casually betraying something Marne would have liked to keep to himself. “So, ” he asked sheepishly. “How long have you known the ring was magic?”

The strange boy sighed, a wistful expression on his alien features as he nodded. “I’ve always known. But it was nice to have a secret that was just for me.”

Although Teine had never had any secrets of his own, surprisingly, he understood. “I’m really sorry.”

Marne shrugged it off. “It’s all right, I know you didn’t mean to. Besides, now that the secret’s out, maybe I can learn more about it. It feels… important… to me, somehow.” He watched Hamoni and Madric for a minute, then asked them, “Can you read the inscription?”

“There’s an inscription?”

The boy sighed, then grinned at Teine with a subtle hint of mischief in his alien eyes. “Yes. On the inside.”

Teine couldn’t help but wonder, so he asked: “How many other people know about that ring?”

“Your Amagorra noticed it, when she first came to work in the nursery,” Marne told him. “Other than that, just us, and my Father. He gave it to me when my Mother died.”

“But weren’t you just a baby? Or am I remembering wrong?”

“I remember everything,” Marne insisted quietly. “I even remember Mother wearing it. She looked at it often, as if it were important to her.”

Teine was becoming more intrigued by this story the more he heard, and really he didn’t even care if it was true, or if Marne were making up details to fill in the natural gaps in a young child’s memory. Then again, perhaps whatever kind of creature Marne was really could remember everything. “So, why can’t people see these things? How does that kind of magic work?”

Marne glanced over his shoulder, as if to be sure Madric and Hamoni were still deeply involved in the examination, then he leaned closer to Teine. “I don’t know all the details,” he confided. “But I’ll tell you what I know, as I understand it to be. The art of making things appear different than they are or concealing them completely is called ‘illusion.’”

Although Teine had heard some of this before, he didn’t dare interrupt the young Master to tell him so. He had a feeling that Marne’s explanation would be simple, to the point, and useful to him in the future, even if it were for nothing more than his stories with Leis. Besides, Teine loved a good mystery.

“Illusions are one of the most simple, and therefore the most durable, magics out there, but they can be easily thwarted if a person is alert to their presence. For example, now that Madric and Hamoni know about the ring, they’ll probably always be able to see it from now on.” Marne hopped down from the stool to look out the window, before continuing. “It wouldn’t surprise me one bit if that old ring was around for the last Awakening… or longer.” Marne read Teine’s skepticism on his face, and added an earnest, “It just feels that old.”

“So, what does it do?”

Marne shrugged artlessly. “I don’t know. It might have had another magical function at some point- or even still might- but could be so old that the illusion is the only thing that’s left. Or,” he continued, looking thoughtful. “It could continue to Awaken, like some of the other items that are turning up. I have strong feelings for it, it’s my most prized possession, so who knows?” Marne gave him a sidelong, mischievous grin. “It could even be for ‘ruling them all.’”

Teine chuckled. “If you ever call it ‘Precious,’ I promise you, I’m going to skip the tattling to Madric and just get straight to the running away from home.”

Marne grinned, careful to keep that mouthful of dangerous-looking teeth well hidden under his closed lipped, shy smile. “You read those books, too?”

Teine nodded fervently. “I had a hard time getting used to all the racial slurs, but I suppose some people might actually talk like that in uncivilized lands. I don’t think any of the races were called by their proper names even once.”

“I wondered about that, too. Do you suppose the people in those stories were like us? Er… us Aoife, I mean. Some people believe they’re historical, not fiction.”

Teine thought about it for a second. He’d had a similar debate with Seymour once, after they’d both taken the same Ancient Literature and Mythology class. He decided it couldn’t hurt to be bold with his opinion. He was beginning to trust Marne enough to disagree with him- and considering the gulf between their stations in life, that was really saying something.

“I think they’re fine examples of epic storytelling,” Teine told him. “But I believe they have to be fiction.”

Interested, Marne turned from the window and tilted his head at him. “I agree with you, but I’m curious as to your line of reasoning.”

Just as he was about to explain himself, Teine noticed that Madric and Ahamoni had abandoned their tinkering with the ring and were approaching with both the ring and Marne’s bracelet. Suddenly, he felt very self-conscious. It was one thing to share his half-baked theories with another boy, albeit one that owned him. It was quite another to broadcast his opinions loudly to adults and his betters.

“Ah, I’m quite relieved,” Madric said. Without further preamble, he picked up Marne and plunked him back on the examination stool. “I’m hoping that if Marne gets someone he can talk to about some of his interests, he’ll stop pestering his father to let him go to the University.”

Marne submitted to the hoisting, but wrinkled his nose at Madric’s suggestion. Even with his odd features, the expression was cute and whimsical. “I’ve already taken all the classes I want from the tutors I can get out here,” he explained. The tone of his voice broadcast his frustration very clearly; it was the voice of a child who’d had his plans thwarted but was desperately trying to avoid giving the appearance of whining. “All three Ancient Literature classes were great! But four is only taught at the University level-”

“Someday, someday,” Madric consoled him, then changed the subject deftly. “So, how’s your imaginary friend doing? I haven’t heard you talk about her lately. Do you still see her?” His eyes danced with merriment. “Have you gotten her to show up for any of the little tea parties you throw for her?”

“We all take tea in the afternoon,” Marne returned, raising an eyebrow. Teine could do nothing but marvel at Marne’s sudden change in demeanor. The instant before, he’d been a supplicating child trying to win a key adult over to his point of view. Now, he was an adult taking offense at another adult’s mocking. “If I choose to set a place for an absent friend, in her memory, it doesn’t diminish my experience to the status of ‘a little tea party.’ If you had a good friend like Casey, you’d do it too.”

“Easy, easy,” Madric consoled. Teine noticed the magician’s smile was still slightly patronizing. “I stand corrected.”

“Also,” Marne continued, without missing a beat. “Just because Casey and I only get to see each other when we’re asleep does not mean she’s imaginary.”

Madric sighed, wiped the smile off his face, and seemed to face the remainder of his dressing down with good humor.

“And to answer your question: yes. I saw her last night, even.”

Hamoni and Madric exchanged a look, then suddenly Hamoni began scribbling madly in her book. Madric’s features had folded into a thoughtful frown. Teine could sense right away that something in the conversation was a matter of some gravity… at least to Hamoni. Madric still seemed more amused than serious.

“Well, that rules out possession, at least,” Hamoni muttered, heaving a sigh.

Marne gave an annoyed little snort. “I’m not possessed, Hamoni. I might be some kind of strange monster, but I’m not possessed.” Then, he turned to Madric, defiance in his eyes. “And she’s not imaginary, either.”

“And that puts us back at square one,” Hamoni sighed. She handed the bracelet and ring to Madric, then excused herself from the room, closing the door behind her with some force as she left.

“Pshaw. All the drama,” Madric muttered, waving his hand at the departed Aoife girl dismissively. Then he turned to his nephew, trying to diffuse his discomfiture. “You’re not a monster, Marne. You’re just-”

“Just what?” Marne interrupted. Teine had watched Hamoni go, unable to stop himself from feeling badly for her. Obviously proving Marne’s imaginary friend to be real was very important to her, for some reason. As he turned back to see what Madric had in mind nest, he decided he might ask her about it later. But it was Marne’s reply to Madric that pulled him firmly back into the conversation. “Deformed? A freak? A Changeling?”

“I was going to say special,” Madric volunteered. His tone was surprisingly gentle, and Teine was touched to realize that the magician cared very deeply for his nephew- no matter who or what he was. It seemed that Madric was far more of a father to him than his own sire.

While they’d been talking, Madric had absently slipped Marne’s ring over his own finger and was pulling it off to give back to his nephew. When Marne took it back and put it on, Madric gasped.

“Did my eyes deceive me, or did that ring just change size to fit you?”

Marne shrugged. “Your eyes told the truth.” He was starting to look bored.

The magician’s eyes rolled back in his head, and Teine was afraid for a moment Madric was having a seizure, until he let out a whoop of joy and did a little dance. Marne tilted his head inquisitively at his uncle, then gave Teine a little shrug and rolled his eyes in mock exasperation.

“Can I borrow your ring again?” Madric asked, holding out his hand with an eager, elated expression on his face. “If I can figure out that sizing enchantment, I can fix your bracelet so it will fit snugly and not bang around.”

Marne nodded with real enthusiasm, and within an instant had pried the ring off his finger and given it back to Madric. “Do you want to have a look at its workings?” he asked his uncle.

“Do you think you’re strong enough?” Madric asked. Skepticism and concern warred for control over his angular, handsome face. “It didn’t seem important enough to bother, until we realized it could change size.”

Marne gave one of his trademark shrugs. “Sure. Well… at least for a while.”

“A quick peek is all we’d need to get going,” Madric answered. He looked thoughtful, as if trying to plan something out. “All right, here’s what I think we should do-” He was interrupted by a polite chime from a wooden box that hung on the wall. “Oh, damn it all! Looks like your Father’s back from town.” The magician looked as disappointed as a convict who’d been offered a pardon, only to find he was going to be executed after all.

Teine stole a quick glance at Marne to see if the child had any enthusiasm at the prospect of seeing his sire, and was unsurprised by Marne’s seeming indifference. “I doubt he’s in any hurry to seek me out,” Marne replied. “So, we probably have a few minutes before I’m summoned.”

Madric seemed to think quickly. “All right then, here’s what we do,” he said. “Marne, give me a quick look at the threads on that ring, then run off to find Hamoni and show her, too. Once she’s seen, tell her we’re going to work on your bracelet and send her up here. If you’re tired, you can take a nap in the Blue room. I had Pasha bring your things up from the basement this morning.”

“Maybe later Teine and I can set up our own rooms.” Marne suggested. “If they’re mostly cleaned out, that is.”

Nodding, Madric glanced back and forth between his nephew and Teine. “That’s a good possibility. Now, show me the ring, so you can get going.”

Obediently, Marne hopped off the stool, and advanced on his Uncle. Madric held the ring out on the palm of his hand. The magician seemed calm, but Teine couldn’t help but notice Madric’s hand tremoring ever so slightly with hidden excitement, and his stomach did a sympathetic pang of fluttering butterflies.

Marne placed his palm over Madric’s hand, hovering less than an inch above the ring without touching it, then closed his eyes to concentrate. Teine found himself holding his breath. After three heartbeats, Marne whispered, “Now,” and opened his eyes.

Teine gasped in wonderment and skittered back two steps at what he saw.

To read the next installment, Chapter 15, “Threads and Fabric” (part 1 of 3) click —> HERE!

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Tags: Hamoni, Madric, Marne, Teine
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Chapter 15: Hiding in Plain Sight (part 1)

November 1st, 2009

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A couple hours later, when Marne had wrapped himself in his sun-cloak and dozed off in the shade of a battered palm tree, Teine had time to sit down under another tree and crack open his journals and sketchbooks. It’d been an eventful morning, he reflected, as he ground his bare toes into the powdery soft, sparkling white sand. This was the nicest beach he could remember ever being on. This beach, directly below the Tower, was protected by a cove with craggy stones jutting out like sharp teeth to impale any unwary or overly large sailing vessels. There were no sounds other than the rhythmic pounding of the surf and the occasional call of a songbird with gaudy plumage. There weren’t any sharp rocks in the sand, plenty of colorful seashells for the hunting, and small silvery fish you could see clearly in the shallows.

A pile of selected interesting stones and seashells, a half-built sand castle, and the seagull-picked remnants of their snacks stood mute testimony to the fun they’d had, before Marne had grown weary. The two boys hadn’t spoken much but the nervous, knife-edged pressure had forged a bond between them. When they’d noticed figures on the dining balcony watching them Marne waved cheerfully as if he hadn’t a care in the world. Teine suppressed a nervous giggle at the impulsive gesture, which made Marne laugh outright. And though the situation seemed dire, the laughter itself was fun and lifted some of the tension. Teine was surprised at how comfortable the silence had been, and how similar Marne was to many of the other intelligent boys he’d known. He’d expected Aoife to be different, somehow. But then again, Marne wasn’t exactly an Aoife.

What was he? Teine had been pondering that question all morning, but was practical enough to admit to himself that if Marne hadn’t managed to answer that question after 100 years, it was unlikely that Teine would have an answer for him any time soon.

Allowing his thoughts to drift pleasantly, Teine pulled out his sketch book and made quick field drawings of a couple types of birds he’d never seen before. He took careful notes, detailing the shape of their bills, and what colors went where on their feathery bodies. He was so absorbed in his work, he didn’t hear the footsteps approaching.

“Hey, you!” Hamoni shouted. She’d taken off her sandals and was approaching him on tip-toe, with the hem of her skirt hoisted enough to show her petticoats and dainty ankles. The wind whipped her mane of hair into a frenzy, exposing the graceful curve of her neck and the delicate points of her ears. Even if she was an Aoife, Teine was beginning to think she was the most lovely girl he’d ever seen. The beach suited her.

“The inspectors cleared off half an hour ago, so it’s safe to come back.” As Marne stirred at the sound of her voice, Hamoni wrinkled her nose at Teine. “You probably should have left your shirt on. You look like a lobster in a pot.”

If Teine hadn’t been so sunburned, she might have noticed his self-conscious blush. “It was a new shirt, and I didn’t want to get it dirty,” he explained, as he assessed the damage. Sometimes, it just didn’t pay to be a redhead. He suspected he’d be really uncomfortable later.

“Did Father leave, too?” Marne asked, stretching and yawning cavernously. Alarmed, Teine blinked twice. He hadn’t noticed before, but Marne’s teeth were different, too. Like most Aoife, he had larger canines than Humans did, but it seemed this trait was exaggerated in the boy. It made his sleepy yawn look positively threatening, especially if one wasn’t expecting it.

“No, he’s still here. I suspect he and Madric will still be verbally fencing, when we return,” Hamoni answered.

Marne sighed. “Ah, the manly art of small talk and sibling rivalry.” He glanced at Teine, with a knowing expression on his young-looking face. “They pretend to like each other, for my sake.” After rising to his feet, Marne shook out his sun-cloak and draped it over Teine’s reddened shoulders. “I think you’re well-done.”

Suppressing a chuckle, Hamoni nodded. “Agreed.”

Marne, however, looked far better for his time in the sun. Most of the time he’d been out, he’d been sitting on his sun-cloak, not wearing it. The child had already begun to tan, and the faint golden brown looked far healthier than his earlier pallor. He seemed well-rested and chipper. Teine suspected whatever his ailment had been, he was over it.

Together Hamoni and the two boys made their way up the steep stone stairway, back to the Tower. Although they were heavily shaded from the early afternoon sun by trees and undergrowth, going back up was far more exhausting than their dizzy, frantic trip down to the beach. After only a minute, Teine looked back over his shoulder to see how Hamoni and Marne were doing and realized he was leaving them both behind. Having never gotten a chance to compare his long strides to the smaller, more dainty steps of Aoife, Teine was appalled at how rudely he outpaced them. Immediately he retraced his steps, scooping Marne up to carry him piggyback. Although his tender skin screamed in protest, it was fitting penance for his earlier thoughtlessness. With the extra burden it was easy for him to slow his pace to walk next to Hamoni.

“What happens now?” Teine found himself asking. It felt odd to come from a highly regimented life, where he had a schedule and a calendar he was expected to keep, to a life where his schedule was dictated by the whims of others. It wasn’t unpleasant, and it did seem he’d end up having more leisure time than he’d expected, and possibly even more quality entertainments available to him during that leisure time. But he did like to know what to expect.

“Madric wants to see the both of you in his workroom,” Hamoni told them. “Kenneth and the boys got the mess mostly cleaned up and have gone into town for new glass. It’s a pleasant day, so we thought we’d finish Teine’s evaluation.”

“What about my bracelet?” Marne asked, resting his pointy chin on Teine’s shoulder. “I feel rather naked without it.” Teine could feel how cool the boy’s skin was against his, and he was beginning to fear for his poor sunburned hide.

Hamoni frowned. “We think we’ve figured out the problem. We think,” she emphasized.

It was Marne’s turn to frown, and he did, biting his lip as if he were nervous. “What happens if it doesn’t work?”

“It’ll work. You worry too much.”

“It’s my face,” Marne reminded her. “That means I’m allowed to worry.” The boy sounded very grave, indeed.

**

Half an hour later, Teine was back on the stool in Madric’s workroom. The room itself was much the same as it had been first time he’d seen it, except that most of the windows in the entire room had been broken out completely and had not yet been replaced. A cool breeze that smelled of the ocean teased their hair, and Teine could smell the lush sub-tropical flowers growing in the courtyard. Hamoni sat at her desk, with Marne’s bracelet holding open a book she was writing in. Marne was sitting on the floor with the bucket that contained the water elemental between his knees, trying to coax the watery being into activity by offering it a small model boat.

Lord Solmurrian had gone along with Kenneth and his boys into town to buy replacement glass for the shattered windows. Although Teine was privately appalled by the Aoife man’s continued indifference to his son, he decided that he wouldn’t let it bother him as long as Marne seemed fine. He was beginning to wonder how much of the gossip he’d heard about this neglect was true and how much was exaggerated, when Madric stepped over and peered at him sternly. Apparently the examination was beginning where it left off.

The magician stared intently at Teine, his piercing blue eyes serious. Teine could feel the heavy weight of judgement in the Aoife’s gaze. The moment had arrived where Teine would find out if he had magical abilities, or not. After the excitement of the last day, and Madric’s descriptions, Teine wasn’t sure what he wanted the verdict to be.

“I can’t remember for the life of me,” Madric finally admitted. “What we were speaking of when we were interrupted.” Teine let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “All I remember is that it seemed very significant at the time, and now it completely escapes me.”

Teine tried not to roll his eyes as he wracked his brain, replaying the events he remembered. The excitement of the storm, the breaking glass, and everything else seemed to have trumped any memory he’d had on the details of their conversation. “Me neither. Sorry.”

“So, did Teine have any magic?” Marne asked. He glanced up at them, and as he looked back, the elemental splattered him in the face with stray droplets. “I suppose I deserved that,” the boy sighed, wiping his face with his sleeve.

“All the usual tests were negative,” Madric confirmed, “But because of his bloodline and what he said that I can’t remember, we’ll retest him again next year. Besides, by then the test procedure for mind magics should be completed at the University.”

“That’d be more useful than the standard tests, for him,” Hamoni piped up.

Marne nodded his agreement, then rose to look out the window.

Suddenly, Madric clapped his hands together with glee. “I remember!” he crowed. “Premonitions! You knew your Amagorra was going to be ill!”

Although he was unwilling to contradict Madric, Teine couldn’t help but wrinkle his nose at the thought. “That could just have been coincidence, don’t you think?”

The Aoife magician didn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, he fairly beamed. “Possible latent talents, a good head in a crisis, and a skeptical, scientific mind! You’re quite a find, lad. Marne did very well in choosing you.”

Teine suspected he was blushing under the burden of such effusive, unexpected praise, but with his sunburn he was sure no one could tell. “Thank you,” he replied, in what he hoped was a gracious, not conceited, tone. “But what about my bloodline? Do we have magicians?”

Madric continued to stare at him thoughtfully. “Yes and no. It would depend on how you define ‘magicians’. Some don’t consider mind magics to be magic at all, but a gift directly from the Gods.”

“Can he borrow a book, Uncle?” asked Marne, looking back over his shoulder at them. “There are some good examples in that Greeves Academy text, and the writing isn’t too far over the top. He can read up, then you can answer any more specific questions he has, once he has a good basic foundation of knowledge on the subject.”

“I have that one in my room,” Hamoni volunteered. “I’ll get it for him later.”

Madric nodded his consent to the girl, then beckoned to Marne. “All right then, Nephew of mine. It’s your turn.” He gestured for Teine to vacate his seat, and when Marne came to them, Madric lifted him up and placed him on the examination stool. “So, tell me how it went this time.”

“It lasted longer, I think,” Marne began, rubbing his wrist unconsciously where the bracelet would normally sit. “And I didn’t have a single person comment on it, so perhaps the shielding worked better this time and no one saw it.”

Teine had drifted over to take Marne’s spot at the window to enjoy the view, but was listening intently to the conversation. It was all so fascinating. This window into the world of secret and forbidden magics was so unexpected and so… well, words escaped him. He supposed it must have been commonplace for the people who dealt with it every day, but for the vast majority of people out there it was unheard of. He felt very privileged to be a party to such radical conversation.

Madric scribbled a few notes in a book, taking down Marne’s response. “Did you see anyone looking at it, as if they could see it?”

Suddenly, Teine put the pieces together and realized they were talking about the bracelet that Marne wore. “I remember seeing it,” he volunteered- then immediately wished he hadn’t, as all three of them turned to look at him sharply.

“What did you see?” Madric asked him, point blank.

Teine swallowed, hoping he hadn’t gotten himself in trouble. “That chunky gold bracelet, with the engraved pattern on it. It caught my eye because it looks too big for him.”

Madric and Hamoni exchanged a look that Teine couldn’t read, before Madric spoke again. “We’ll definitely have to test him again sometime.” Marne simply sat on the stool, swinging his feet and looking interested.

“Does everyone magic have hidden jewelry?” Teine found himself blurting out questions and unable to stop. “Or is it only for special occasions? Is all of Marne’s jewelry supposed to be hidden?” he asked, giving Marne some serious scrutiny, in case there was something he’d missed earlier. “Because I see his necklace and ring, too.”

“No, no,” Madric assured him. “Marne’s bracelet is a special case. We crafted the masking spell into it, because the bracelet is so crucial to hiding Marne’s features, and inhibiting some of his-”

“Wait a second,” Hamoni interrupted. “What ring?

To read the second half of Chapter 15: “Hiding in Plain Sight (part 2)” please click —> HERE!

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Tags: Hamoni, Madric, Marne, Teine
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Chapter 14: Flight (part 2)

October 29th, 2009

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When the bell stopped Teine couldn’t help but notice all the sudden, tense expressions around the table. “Easy, easy,” Hamoni assured them, her voice calm and carrying over the bell. “Remember, we’ve got a very demanding guest. It might not mean what-” The bell started again in earnest, ringing again without stopping. In a swirl of long skirts Hamoni swept dramatically from the room and headed out through the dining room. Without a word, Pasha got to her feet, grabbed a small picnic hamper down from one of the shelves and began filling it with portable foodstuffs.

Hamoni was back in an instant and had gone pale under her golden complexion. “Teine! Report to the dining terrace at once. Take your bag. Do you have shoes on? Good! Now, go!”

“What is it? Raiders?” demanded Kenneth, rising to his feet so suddenly his big belly lifted the table an inch before dropping it to the ground with a plate rattling din. Both the other Human boys stood up so fast they knocked their bench over.

“Worse,” Hamoni confirmed. “Inspectors.”

Red-faced with rage but wide-eyed with alarm, Kenneth swore. “Those swiving sons of whores! Can’t they just leave us alone?”

Although the headman spoke softly, his harsh words fell hard on Teine’s ears. Although boys his age often cursed playfully, Teine rarely heard bad language being used in earnest. Throwing his satchel over his shoulder, he fled the room, spurred on not by the tone of anger in Kenneth’s voice, but by the fear he heard there as well. He rushed into the formal dining room looking for the door that led to the terrace. Movement caught his eye, and he could see Madric, his brother the Master, and Marne through the leaded glass windows on the doors leading outside to the dining terrace. Marne and his two Aoife relatives all seemed to be staring at something in the distance. Marne had even climbed up on a chair to get a better vantage point.

Teine got there as quickly as he could, craning his neck to see what they were looking at. It seemed a distinctive scarlet and gold carriage, pulled by white horses was edging up the winding driveway toward the Tower. “It’s a bloody lucky thing we decided to dine up here rather than down in the courtyard, otherwise we wouldn’t have seen them until they were upon us,” Master Solmurrian was telling his brother. “But if only you’d done your job, we wouldn’t be in this mess-”

“I don’t want to hear it now,” Madric growled, with real menace. Teine saw Marne catch his eye, his expression pleading. “I told you, the storm interfered…”

“Can’t we put him back in the basement?”

The barefooted, pallid child looked both helpless and frightened, and Teine realized with a start that Marne still wore his strange alien features- unguarded for the whole world to see.

“If I told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times…” Madric roared at his brother. “They always check the basement. Always! And there’s only one way in, and one way out of any room here. You know as well as I do that they suspect something. There’s no hiding him this time, unless he…”

Teine tuned them out the instant he realized enormity of the situation. Inspectors from the Church would be there within minutes; Marne was unable to be hidden away- either in plain sight, behind crafty magics- or tucked away in a room no one would find. That really only left one solution, and Teine’s eyes darted around, looking for ideas. After a moment, he cleared his throat.

“Does that path lead to the beach?” he whispered to Marne, pointing. From the terrace they were standing on, watching the carriage inch up the road, there was a stairway that led down to the courtyard. The courtyard was bowl-shaped, and had many stairways leading off it, going in many directions, but there was one in particular that led down to the sandy beach, where he could see foamy waves lapping the shore.

Marne nodded wordlessly, his strange eyes as wide and frightened as a kitten’s.

Teine bit his lip as a plan came to mind. He hated speaking up and interrupting the angry Aoife, but it was worth the risk. “I can take him to the beach. Right now.”

Suddenly the two Aoife men stopped arguing and looked at him. Master Solmurrian glared, and Madric grinned. Both spoke at once.

“That’s a good idea. Hide him in plain sight,” Madric crowed.

“You fool, that will never work,” Master Solmurrian growled.

Madric put his hand on his brother’s arm, nodding at Teine in a way that indicated he’d better get moving. As Teine shuffled his shoulder bag into a more comfortable position with the strap across his shoulder muscle and chest, he beckoned for Marne to climb on, piggy back. Like a monkey, Marne climbed onto the Human boy’s broad back, wrapping his skinny legs around Teine’s waist. Although the child weighed hardly anything to Teine, he noticed with glee that some of Marne’s weight rested tidily on Teine’s satchel, providing the boy with a little extra security and a bit of a seat.

“It’s a good plan,” Madric was convincing his younger brother. “They aren’t interested in Marne. They’re here for me and my work, as usual. They probably think they’re being kind, checking on our safety after such a bad storm. If the boys go down to the beach and play in plain sight, it’ll look very natural and likely not even be noticed.”

“If we see anyone coming that we don’t recognize, we can make a run for it,” Teine added. The carriage had rounded the bend and had drawn too close in sight any more.

For several long seconds, Master Solmurrian scowled at Teine- and Teine did not back down. “Go, then. They’re almost upon us,” he finally agreed.

“Wait!” cried Hamoni, banging open the terrace door hard enough to rattle the glass in its panes. “Take this!” She’d anticipated Teine’s idea, and she was prepared. She pushed the small hamper that Pasha had packed into Teine’s hands and threw a white sun-cloak over Marne’s fair head and shoulders. Now they really looked prepared to play on the beach.

“Thank you,” Teine told her gratefully. “Wish us luck.”

“Luck. Now get going.” Madric snapped, hurrying them along. “Be careful, but act natural. Don’t come back until we send someone for you.”

Teine noticed Marne glanced at his father for any kind of acknowledgment or direction, but the Master didn’t meet his son’s gaze. Instead, he shielded his eyes from the sun and stole a glance at the carriage, muttering “Getting closer, now. Better hurry.”

Inwardly, Teine grimaced at the Master’s brusque dismissal, but wisely kept his tongue and nodded in acquiescence. With no further comment, he turned and headed down the steep stone stairs, carrying the hamper under one arm and doing his best to support Marne with his other. The cobblestones of the courtyard loomed far below. He felt awkward and awful about witnessing the Master’s coldness toward Marne. He was just wondering how Marne coped with it, when, surprisingly, Marne chuckled. Taken aback, Teine asked, “What’s so funny, Master?”

“Faithful steed,” Marne giggled. “And don’t call me Master. You won’t do it again?”

Teine grinned. Faithful steed, indeed. It was the most whimsical, childlike thing the boy had said yet. Teine returned it in kind. “Neigh!” he replied, descending the stairs from the terrace down to the courtyard. Once they made it to the bottom of the stairs Teine increased his speed, breaking into a fast jog across the courtyard.

“The pun is the lowest form of humor,” Marne intoned. ”But I like them anyway.” They breezed past the decorative fountain, and Teine jumped in alarm when a watery figure rose up out of the pool and made a swipe at them.

“Was that…?” Teine started to ask, but he’d just gotten to the next batch of stairs which lead to the beach, and concentrated all his efforts into a rapid and safe descent.

“A water elemental,” Marne confirmed. “His name’s Foosh, and he lives in the fountain. He’s always cranky after a storm, but you can meet him later.”

Shaking his head in wonder, Teine hitched Marne higher up on his back and pushed aside the remnants of a fallen palm tree as he headed at best speed down to the beach.

To read the next update, Chapter 15 “Hiding in Plain Sight, (part 1)” please click —> HERE!

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Tags: Foosh, Hamoni, Kenneth, Madric, Marne, Master Solmurrian, Pasha, Teine
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Chapter 14: Flight (part 1)

October 26th, 2009

(Is this your first time to the site? To start reading from the beginning- click HERE.)

Teine woke to the unaccustomed sound of dishes rattling. Blearily, he opened his eyes. The kitchen Bess had brought down a fresh candle and was bustling around the small, windowless chamber, stacking the dinner dishes onto a tray and generally tidying up. After the long night behind him, Teine was confused, disoriented, and more than a little stiff after sleeping in a too-small chair. To top it all off, Marne had slept fitfully. Although Teine was used to dormitory living and the usual snoring and murmuring of many sleepers in one room, that came along with it, he barely got a moment’s sleep; the strange child must still have been suffering the after-effects of his illness, as he had tossed, thrashed, and babbled feverishly most of the night. After having awakened the third time Teine put some thought into the matter, and wondered if Marne might be chilled. The room was very damp and cool. He ended up adding his own blanket to the pile, hoping the extra warmth would help Marne rest more comfortably. It seemed to work. Eventually both boys had fallen deeply asleep, and it appeared that Marne was still well and under.

Teine stole another look at his patron’s alien features, partially to assure himself that he hadn’t dreamed their conversation. Although the child himself was still odd-looking, Marne’s unhealthy flush had faded overnight, and he seemed to be resting comfortably, with his arm draped over a very well-worn stuffed model of a holidocrith, made of suede leather and threadbare velvet. Teine smiled. One of its yellow glass eyes was hanging by a thread and it seemed to have lost an ear at some point, as well. Teine himself had a cherished stuffed bear he’d kept for years, until the poor thing finally fell apart shortly after he’d been transferred to Mastiff cohort.

“Good, I’m glad you’re awake,” the matron told him, shaking him free of his drowsy memories. “The storm petered itself out around dawn, and the Lord has come calling to take brunch with his brother and son. Best get to tidying yourself up, in case he wants you to present yourself before mealtime.” Her expression was wizened, yet friendly. Teine rose slowly, twisting his neck this way and that. As he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, daylight streaming in from the open door made him wonder if he’d missed breakfast, and he immediately worried that he’d slept too long.

“Where do I go for a good washing up?” Teine murmured hastily, trying to collect himself before Marne woke up. ”I’m sure I stink to high heaven, after moving all that furniture yesterday. I’m surprised the Aoife can’t smell me from here.”

She giggled and handed him the tray with the previous night’s dirty dishes on it before giving him directions to the servant’s washrooms. Just as Teine had shouldered his satchel with his change of clothes and toiletry kit, there was a clicking noise and all the electric lights came back on, flooding both the shelter room, and the main basement storage room with light. He could hear muffled cheering from upstairs.

“That’s a relief,” the old Bess quipped. “It’s a lot easier to cook over the electric range than the wood stove.”

“I can only imagine,” Teine replied before taking his leave. For his part, Marne muttered something under his breath, stretched luxuriously in his sleep, and rolled over to hide his head from the morning light.

“Breakfast in a half hour,” she told Teine’s retreating backside. “You’ll be dining in the kitchen, with us.”

Teine took his time washing, enjoying the large tub, the privacy, and the nearly unlimited rush of hot water to their fullest advantage. His close cropped auburn curls made shampooing easy, and he found he even had time to shave the copper colored stubble from the few patches on his chin and cheeks that needed it. Determined to make a better impression on Lord Solmurrian this time, he dressed carefully in one of his new outfits. The deep green tunic with a black hem, matching black trousers, and his new leather ankle boots were easily the finest clothes Teine had ever worn, and he examined himself in the mirror several times to be sure he hadn’t missed anything shaving, that his hair was tidy, and that his bag was carried jauntily over one shoulder. Finally satisfied, he headed to the kitchen to join the rest of the servants, stopping only once to survey the storm damage through one of the windows.

From the amount of debris in the courtyard, Teine guessed that they’d lost at least one tree, but it was hard to get a good enough view to tell from his vantage point. It looked like a clear and beautiful day, and he hoped his duties might take him outdoors for a bit. Although the Tower was spacious, and he’d had plenty of exercise toting furniture down the stairs the previous day, Teine couldn’t help but feel as though he had a little cabin fever. After all, between his procedure in the hospital and the storm, he’d been cooped up indoors for several days in a row.

By the time Teine made it to the kitchen, Kenneth and his boys were already seated and feasting on fresh buttered biscuits and jam while waiting eagerly for more substantial fare. Teine could hear low tenor voices and the occasional soprano interjection from Marne filtering in from the formal dining room. Thus alerted to the presence of the noble Aoife, Teine took his place where Hamoni indicated, at the end of the table opposite Kenneth. The positioning wasn’t lost on Teine- or Kenneth’s two boys, who scowled, then returned their attention to the food. Servants were usually seated in order of rank, and Teine’s placement at the foot of the table instead of one of the sides spoke volumes about his status within the household. It was all Teine could do to avoid grinning like a fool when he realized that he wouldn’t be taking orders from anyone, except possibly Kenneth, once he learned his way around.

The matron was putting the finishing touches on stuffed omelettes and fruit compotes for Lord Solmurrian, Madric, and Marne, while Hamoni was heaping a gigantic pile of scrambled eggs into a serving bowl. “I swear,” the Aoife girl groused, “I feel I’ve been cooking since sun-up. As if I don’t have enough to do today. I thought the Rangers and refugees would never leave!”

Teine was momentarily sorry he didn’t get to say good bye to the Aoife children he’d been playing with, but he still didn’t miss the irritated glance the kitchen Bess gave Hamoni. Teine got the impression that the Aoife girl was somewhat of a complainer, yet the Human servants didn’t feel they had the authority to upbraid her. With an irritated sigh, the old woman loaded a tray with the omelet plates, then arranged a small vase of flowers, some silverware, the teapot, and all the usual breakfast accessories. “Here, Hamoni. You can serve-”

She didn’t have a chance to finish, as Madric appeared in the doorway, his hair tousled. He was still wearing the same clothes from the day before and carrying an empty bread basket. “We’ve decided to take our meal in the courtyard, Pasha-my-dear,” he told her playfully. “Hamoni can serve us out there, when it’s ready. Are there any more biscuits?” he added, holding out the basket like a beggar child offering a hat for loose coins.

Teine made a mental note of the kitchen matron’s name, now that he’d finally heard it. It’d be easy to remember, as he and Leis had had a character in one of their earlier stories with the same name. Likely, they’d heard someone mention this Pasha at one point or another, and it stuck. Teine watched with interest as Pasha refilled Madric’s bread basket with a fresh batch of biscuits while the magician waited patiently. “Perhaps I’ll even get to eat some of these,” Madric joked, eyeing the steaming pile with eager eyes.

“I take it Marne’s feeling better?” Hamoni asked with a grin.

“And then some,” Madric added, his expression jovial. “I don’t know whether to be alarmed or relieved. He was bold enough to snatch the last one right out of his father’s hand!”

“Saints preserve us!” Pasha squealed. She added an extra layer of biscuits to the basket, for good measure. Hamoni picked up the tray with the omelettes on it and followed Madric into the formal dining room.

Teine could hear Madric encouraging his brother and nephew to follow them to the courtyard, while Pasha brought the scrambled eggs and a plate of fried ham to the servant’s table. There was no standing on ceremony; as soon as all the items were on the table, everyone simply helped themselves. Teine hesitated, looking at Hamoni’s empty spot for a moment before digging in. He didn’t have to wait long, as the Aoife peasant came flouncing in and plopped herself down on the bench next to Pasha a moment later.

“It took him long enough,” Hamoni grumbled. “I can’t believe he did it again!”

Teine, unsure what or whom she was speaking of, decided to remain silent for the moment.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Kenneth replied, keeping his volume low so as not to be overheard. “Again? I’ve seen Aoife take more active interest in the lives of their servants than that man takes in his own son. It’s shameful.”

Teine couldn’t help himself. After swallowing what he was chewing, he asked, “What did he do?”

Hamoni eagerly turned to face him and hissed in his ear, “He was home for three whole days, and didn’t even make the time to see Marne. Even when he was in the hospital and nearly died!”

Thoughtfully, Teine shovelled in another fork full of eggs and chewed while he contemplated the news. Even though he and Master Solmurrian hadn’t gotten off on the best foot, Teine was surprised and more than a little saddened by the information. Perhaps Madric had stepped into the boy’s life to fill the void left by his Father’s disinterest? Though, on second thought, Madric the magician, was very interested in magical oddities- an appellate which certainly described his nephew. Teine’s heart sank. But, he rallied, it could explain why Marne still had a nanny. Although that was also easily explainable by Marne being so child-like.

Even with so much evidence, Teine was reluctant to condemn Lord Solmurrian without further information. Not every parent was a good one- it didn’t mean they didn’t love their children. He was equally reluctant to automatically cast Madric in the role of the completely altruistic doting uncle- Madric had surely reaped benefits from having his nephew there to study. However, judging from the conversation going on among the other Humans, a few things were abundantly clear. Madric’s people loved him. Lord Solmurrian’s didn’t. And Marne needed companionship-possibly even protection- far beyond what a nanny could offer. Teine’s own role in the mystery unfurled itself with a resounding crack of sudden insight; Teine wasn’t privileged above and beyond the other Humans- instead, he was in training to be a companion to Marne in the style to which the child was accustomed.

The other Humans assumed his silence meant shocked outrage, and had all began to speak- pretty much at once- about how Lord Solmurrian neglected his son. From what he was able to sort out of the hastily whispered conversation, this sort of thing happened all the time. It seemed that months might pass between the Lord’s visits home, and even when he was at the Solmurry Demense, he treated his son as an obligation that was strictly optional. Teine’s own sire, whom he only saw him a few times a year, greeted him with pride and enthusiasm and would have leaped at the chance see him more often, if it were possible. That Lord Solmurrian had opportunities to see his son and passed them up boggled Teine’s mind.

“At least he lets him take all the classes he wants and visit Madric whenever they wish,” Hamoni finished, with grudging approval. “It’s a good thing that boy has an Uncle who cares, otherwise…” She trailed off sulkily, and Kenneth nodded his agreement.

“So…” Teine asked, looking back and forth between the adult servants for guidance. He’d found a real treasure trove of information and advice as to how to best perform duties that hadn’t even been spelled out for him. “What do you think I should do? I don’t want to get the Master angry at me, and I want to do a good job, but no one has really told me much of anything yet.”

Before anyone could answer, one of the bells fixed above the kitchen exit chimed once.

Hamoni groaned, and rose from her place at the bench. “I swear- I just left them! What more could he-”

Then the bell chimed again, several times in a row, as if whoever were ringing it were frantic and urgent.

To read the next installment of the story, Chapter 14: Flight (part 2) please click —> HERE!

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Tags: Hamoni, Kenneth, Madric, Marne, Master Solmurrian, Pasha, Teine
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Chapter 13: Chosen

September 24th, 2009

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Marne drew a deep, ragged breath, his voice soft in volume but rich with sad, childish longing. “I wish I knew,”he answered simply, resting his sharp chin in his hand, his elbow on his knee. “All I know for sure is that I’m no more an Aoife than you are.”

Teine couldn’t help but nod his agreement, wordless with wonder at the strange creature that had been living practically under his nose. But as many questions as Marne’s response answered, Teine had that many more waiting to be asked. He was dying to know how Marne managed to hide his true appearance so effectively, and why he’d spent the ride to the tower bundled up in a duffel bag like some kind of luggage. And how did Marne light and repair the candle? Was it magic? Teine was so tied up in his own thoughts, it took him several awkward seconds to realize he was still standing there, mouth agape like a simple-minded idiot.

“Would you mind bringing the tray in?” Marne reminded him gently. “I’d get it myself, but I’m supposed to stay in bed.”

“Oh, yes.” Teine shook his head as if to ward all the stray thoughts away, and hustled to bring in the tray. Once he realized the tiny, dank bedroom was several degrees warmer than the rest of the storage cellar, he closed the door behind him, balancing the tray precariously on one hand.

From his perch in the bed, Marne had cleared the bedside table of the spare candle holders, books, and a model glider to make room for their food. “There’s a chair over by the table you can use,” he told Teine, pointing into one of the dimly lit recesses of the room. “It should be big enough for you. We can both just eat here. I see no occasion for formality.”

Teine fetched the chair, wondering at the incredible oddity of the situation. How many Humans had ever dined at the same table as their Master, even if it was only a bedside? It was unheard of- eating at the same time, from the same plates and bowls, using sets of identical utensils. Was it only the uniqueness of Marne’s situation that made it possible, or would it be a regular part of the life he was going to lead? Did one pick up crisps out of the bowl with their hands, in front of their Master, or did they simply try to pour them on to a plate? Was he supposed to be serving Marne his dinner, and if so, how was that to be done properly? His brow furrowed with worry, Teine sat in the chair, folded his hands in his lap and waited for some indication of what he was to do.

Marne raised an eyebrow, then gave a quiet chuckle that sounded far more sympathetic than mocking. “You really are out of your element. Don’t worry, be at ease. When there’s no one around to impress, there’s no need for the show.” Marne assured him, stretching to reach the cover on one of the bowls. Then he set it aside and poured them both tea from the steaming earthenware pot. Teine noticed Marne filled his own tea last, as though Teine were a were a guest. He also noted despite Marne’s focused look of concentration and will, by the time he’d topped off the second cup, his frail arms were shaking from the exertion.

“Here, Master, let me,” Teine offered, emboldened by the strange boy’s kindness and apparent physical weakness. “Please instruct me if what I do is not to your liking. I’ve only learned the basics of setting a table, but would welcome the opportunity to broaden my horizons.”

Marne chuckled. “I’m not easy to offend. And please, Teine. No formalities. I haven’t the energy for them.” With a sigh, Marne settled himself back on the pillows, his cup of tea steaming near at hand.

Somewhat perplexed, Teine decided the best course of action was to simply wing it. Marne had made it clear that it would be fine for Teine to do as he liked, within reason. Hoping he looked somewhat skilled, and not too revolting to be handling food, he uncovered the small basin that held the damp, citrus scented towels for them to wash with before their meal. He started to reach in and hand a towel directly to Marne, before he realized that would be unsanitary and offered the whole basin, instead. Nodding his approval, Marne selected a cloth and began to diligently wipe his face and hands. Teine did the same, the ritual words of formal evening prayer on his tongue. But from the way the young Master was eying the consumables, he suspected it would be fine to dispense with the prayer as well and get directly to the food. A wooden ladle was one of the many items on the tray, and he put it to work filling a bowl with savory beef stew, heaping it high with chunks of seasoned meat and tender vegetables. With a playful flourish, he then offered it to Marne.

Eyes wide, Marne shook his head, warding the bowl off with both hands. “I wish,” he sighed. “It looks heavenly. But perhaps I’d better chance just the broth, first.” Nodding, Teine set the first bowl aside, thinking about how good it would taste once he got to it. Mindful of the young Master’s wishes, he filled the second bowl with a generous amount of broth, then, as an afterthought, added a couple pieces of carrot and potato, mashing them flat with the ladle. Marne accepted that bowl as offered, taking it in both hands and giving it long, anticipatory sniff before reaching for his spoon.

The tray still had other items on it, and Teine was determined to make a good impression. Deciding to play butler, he carved up one of the red pears in the bowl, thoughtfully removing both the core and the skin, and placed them on a plate. He then added a couple slices of buttery farmer’s cheese and on a whim decided he’d shake a few crisps onto the plate for good measure. But his shaking was a little overzealous, and he ended up completely covering the entire plate- cheese, pears, and all- with the tasty little lemony cookies. “Oh rats,” he muttered, trying to shake some of the excess crisps off onto a second plate. He looked up to see Marne watching him, those odd eyes sparkling with mischief over his bowl of broth.

“It’s perfectly acceptable to use your hands on the crisps, if you’ve just washed,” Marne told him. “But, I was hoping for dinner and a show-”

Teine snorted still embarrassed but amused at his own discomfiture. “You don’t want to see what I do for my next act-believe me,” he countered. Leis was right: Marne might have been physically frail and the strangest looking creature Teine had ever seen in his life, but he seemed without cruelty, and generally quite fair.

“I hope it involves making a lot of that food disappear.” Marne sipped a spoonful of broth, then nodded in satisfaction. “Honestly, this is excellent, but I don’t think I’ll make much of a dent in what she gave us. I hope you’re hungry.”

“I’m always hungry.” Sensing he had Marne’s approval to tuck in, Teine brushed most of the crisps off onto the second plate with his hand and offered over the fruit and cheese. Marne hesitated, and Teine felt oddly elated when he took a piece of pear and immediately ate it. “Say the word if you want more.”

“I will. Just focusing on one thing at a time.”

The pair of them fell to dining, with Teine consuming about five times the volume in about half the time as his more finicky companion. He ate to keep his mouth busy, hoping to avoid some of the awkwardness, and praying he wasn’t breaking any etiquette rules he didn’t know about. Marne, for his part, seemed relaxed and serene as he nestled into his pillows, listening to the muffled exertions of the storm outside and sipping broth from a spoon. His expression was inscrutable and Teine was still fascinated by the sheer alien-ness of his countenance, but didn’t want to offend with his curiosity. That, also, was an excellent reason to remain silent. He had so many questions he was dying to ask, but he didn’t dare disturb the easy silence that dining together provided.

He filled the time between mouthfuls by giving the room a studied once-over. The solo candle didn’t provide much in the way of illumination, but Teine had been able to make out strange markings in a glittery kind of paint on the floor and the walls he was close enough to see. They looked similar to the ones stitched into Marne’s traveling bag, but it was hard to be sure in the dim light. Teine’s mind was racing like a hound slipped from its collar, darting from conclusion to conclusion as he tried to guess everything that was going on. He wanted to sketch; the way the light from the candle fell on the rocking horse cast a shadow on the wall that gave him an idea for a new composition with soldiers and their mounts riding through an canyon, and their shadows looking more fearsome than the contingent itself. He wanted to paint; only his jealously guarded oil paints would be able to capture the depth of Marne’s mysterious blue-grey eyes. And he wanted to write; the things he’d seen in the last day challenged nearly every belief he’d had about Aoife, magic, and what was possible in the world of reality- not to mention fantasy!

As the details of the last few days coalesced themselves into things Teine wanted to draw or paint, it struck him- their obvious need for secrecy. Even if he was just imagining the part about Marne using magic to repair and relight the broken candle. And how had the child been concealing his true features, anyway? The enormity of the situation was truly alarming- even the mere rumor of the young Master being some strange, alien, magic- wielding creature could send half the Humans at Solmurry into a panic. And it wouldn’t matter how many of them had played with Marne, or listened to him read them stories when they were nurselings. Living among and educating themselves with Aoife had managed to raise Humans out of some of their baser instincts of superstition and xenophobia, but they were still only Human. Not even the avalanche of books Teine had read, packed full of tales of fairies, adventure, and magical creatures of the underworld, had truly prepared him for this, and most of the other Humans he knew scolded him playfully for his lack of practicality. Most likely, Marne would be reviled as a demon, rendered helpless by any means possible, and then would either be killed outright or given over to the Church. Even having Lord Solmurrian home at the time would be no guarantee to Marne’s safety.

All this begged one question that was burning Teine up inside. Who all knew about Marne? Did Leis? Did Lord Solmurrian himself know and suspect that this creature was not his own flesh and blood, but perhaps a changeling of some sort? Perhaps Lord Solmurrian’s real son was locked away in a faerie realm, while an impostor lived in his place. The thought gave Teine a shiver of dread, but he found it hard to sustain any feeling of fear when he looked at the child across from him struggling to thrive on thin broth and peeled pear slices. Teine had always trusted his instincts, and nothing about Marne seemed particularly dangerous, other than the power he had over the course of Teine’s life. Teine mulled all this over while sipping his tea. He was about to refill his soup when Marne spoke. “I want to ask your opinion on something rather important.” Still sizing him up, the boy set down the bowl and reached for his tea.

Teine blinked twice. His opinion. The day was getting stranger and stranger. Wordlessly, he nodded and continued dipping out his second bowl of soup as though his betters asked his opinion every day.

Encouraged, Marne regarded Teine over the lip of his steaming cup, his strange, reflective eyes serious. “Now that you’ve seen how deep this rabbit hole goes,” the boy began. “Did I make the right choice?”

Teine smiled at the “Alice in Wonderland” reference, before he realized that Marne was talking about him.

“After all,” Marne continued. “While most noble families have their secrets, we at Solmurry seem to have more than our fair share.”

Unwilling to answer rashly, Teine considered the question. Out of all the other boys that were his age-mates, he could think of no one at Solmurry that had the right combination of interests, temperament, and abilities to be the guardian of such terrible secrets. Seymour would be fascinated by Marne and was intelligent and quick on his feet in a debate, but he wasn’t Solmurry-bred, was physically too frail for Display, and couldn’t be entrusted with any sensitive information as he would blab it at the first sign of someone willing to listen. Everyone within ten miles would know of Marne’s afflictions within moments of Seymour’s arrival home. Teine mentally tried out several other candidates for his job, and only Marcus stood out as even a remote possibility. Marcus had a larger and more developed physique than Teine, tending towards strength and bulk. When Teine thought “Display Model,” it was types like Marcus that automatically came to mind. Additionally, his friend had the good nature, a sense of fair play, and the right temperament to enjoy the work, but he lacked…

Teine drew a blank. What did Marcus lack, anyway? He seemed the logical choice. Unable to figure that out and convinced that Marne wasn’t trying to trap him into saying the wrong thing, Teine decided it was best to answer a question with another question.

“Why did you defy your father on this?” he blurted out, unable to contain himself any longer. After his meeting with Lord Solmurrian, Teine couldn’t imagine anyone willfully defying that hot-tempered Aoife man on anything. He was truly frightening. “Marcus would have been a more logical choice. Why not him?”

Marne didn’t answer for several long seconds, and Teine began to wonder if Marne was beginning to have doubts. As much as Teine would have gleefully jumped at the opportunity to return to his old life, and the chance to see which of his carefully laid plans would come to fruition, he found himself torn.

Could it be that he actually wanted this, now that he knew it would be an adventure beyond his wildest imaginings?

“Marcus never would have asked that question,” Marne observed, shaking Teine out of his self-reflective musings. “That’s why I selected you.”

In the dim candlelight, Teine could see the boy was visibly fatigued, his exhaustion showing in every line of his young, frail body. Marne set down his cup, pushed the food away, and sank back into the cushions.

“Marcus never would have asked that question.” Teine supposed that was probably true. Marcus was content knowing what was, without ever questioning why it was. Suddenly, Teine couldn’t help but feel very special. Chosen, even. All his life, Teine had watched the world around him and tried to learn from it. Apparently, someone had noticed. He was about to express his gratitude when he realized Marne had fallen fast asleep. And then he did it anyway, by pulling the heavy wool blanket up around his frail charge’s shoulder and whispering, “Thank you.”

To go directly to the next installment, Chapter 14: “Flight” (part 1) click—> HERE!

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Tags: Marne, Teine
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Chapter 12: Secrets by Candlelight

September 22nd, 2009

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Teine’s mind turned and turned on itself as he sat on the bed in the blue room and carefully packed his belongings into the satchel. Frustrated and more than a little frightened by the strange conversation he’d just come from, Teine took comfort in doing exactly what he’d been raised to do- follow orders. He’d been ordered to go to Marne, and that was what he was going to do. He found himself wondering if, perhaps, he’d be able to get some answers from the boy. Unable to stop himself, Teine sighed out loud. The boy was frail, sickly, and strange even for an Aoife. How someone as small as a six year old human child could suddenly become the undisputed Master of Teine’s fate seemed like some cruel joke.

Teine stared blankly at the portrait on the wall. Brothers playing on the beach, a moment of sunshine, sand, and smiles forever frozen in time. It made him very cognizant of how badly he was missing Leis. He was absolutely certain she’d be able to make sense of all this strange behavior from the Aoife. In fact, Leis might already know why people at Solmurry tended to tiptoe around the topic of Marne. It was as though Teine had landed in the middle of some strange cult or something.

“If she knew, she’d tell me,” Teine tried to assure himself. But somehow, after everything he’d seen that day, he wasn’t too sure.

It didn’t take him long to pack his meager belongings and vacate the blue room. It was probably for good, he suspected. Humans normally didn’t get full guest privileges in any of the Aoife homes, no matter who they belonged to. However, Teine took fleeting comfort in knowing he’d probably always be furnished in somewhat lavish quarters as long as he was traveling with Marne. All the same, he glanced over his shoulder to appreciate the beauty of the furnishings, the softness of the bed, and the portrait of the “brothers blue” and the slice of their happy childhood he’d witnessed. He couldn’t help himself. That painting had managed to lodge itself firmly in his mind as one of his favorite pieces of art of all time. “It was too good to last, anyway,” he thought. Trying not to feel sorry for himself, as though he were being evicted from paradise- trying, in fact, not to feel anything at all- Teine threw his bag over his shoulder and headed back down to the kitchen.

While he had been upstairs packing his bag, the matronly old Bess had made up a tray for him to take to the basement. “There’s a good boy,” she chirped, handing it to him. The dishes clanked and rattled together as he clumsily seized it, then rattled again as she patted his cheek with one wrinkled, age spotted hand. “Careful there.” She lit a candlestick with a taper from the stove, then placed it on the tray so he’d have something to see by. “Mind the stairs, now. They take a sharp turn at the bottom, and then you’re there.”

The pleasant, sweet scent of beeswax mingled with the meaty aroma from covered bowls on the tray, and Teine found himself inhaling for the sheer pleasure of it. “I’ll be careful,” he assured his colleague, giving her a pleasant nod as she held the basement door open for him. He tried hard not to jostle the tray or bump her with his satchel as he began his descent down the narrow, bricked stairway.

The candle lit a very limited radius, and Teine could barely see two steps down from his position. Within a few steps, the dank, mildewy smell overpowered even the fragrant candle and hearty meal, and he found himself thinking more of a dungeon than a basement. Just as he glanced upward, hoping for some reassurance from the kitchen Bess, she closed the door on him, leaving Teine to navigate the steep, claustrophobic descent by candlelight alone.

“Great,” he muttered, suppressing a nervous laugh as he listened for a moment to the howling of the wind outside. “They’ll probably discover my bones in a thousand years when someone excavates the tower ruins.”

About halfway down, Teine’s feet nearly slid out from under him as he lost his footing on the mossy flagstones. He narrowly escaped upsetting the tray and tumbling the rest of the way down but fortunately kept his feet and took to peering cautiously at each step before placing his weight on them. Although there wasn’t standing water pooled on any of the steps, he could hear a steady dripping from further down in the basement, as the sound of the storm raging outside was muted substantially by the inches of cold stone between Teine and the elements. Teine wrinkled his nose at the strengthening smell of mildew, wondering how the extreme humidity in this basement could possibly be a healthy place for anyone to recover from an illness, much less a frail child who took cold easily.

After the sharp turn that had been described to him, Teine reached the bottom of the stairs. The low ceiling of the stairwell opened up into a room that looked to be used mostly to store casks and preserves. The walls were lined with jars of pickled goods, as well as many waxed rounds of cheese and other sundries protected from the dank atmosphere by their packaging- but there was no sign of Teine’s young Master. Glancing around and holding the tray high to maximize the effect of the candle, Teine whispered, “Marne?”

Three drips of water plunked into a bucket catching a leak before Teine heard a faint answer. “I’m in here.”

Treading cautiously toward the sound of Marne’s voice, Teine inched his way across the floor, afraid of stepping on anything or upsetting any of the shelves he was passing so near. After a score of steps, he could make out the faint outline of a door with a table sitting next to it. He could see the light switch by the door, and sighed; this whole uncomfortable trek into the underworld of Madric’s Tower would have been a lot less stressful, if lighted with good, electric lights. Imagining the room lit brightly, it suddenly seemed much less menacing, and Teine found himself smiling at how silly he’d been to be afraid at all. “I’ve got your dinner,” he told the boy. “Hang on, I’ll be right there.”

Setting the tray on the table, Teine reached for the latch on the door and gave it a turn. The latch cooperated, but the door didn’t budge. With a frown, Teine tugged harder, feeling the tell-tale stubbornness of cellar-damp wood. He bit down his momentary panic at the thought of Marne trapped. “Uh… don’t worry,” he called to the boy. “The door’s stuck. It sure is humid down here.” With a twist, helped along by a shove from his shoulder the solid oak door burst open. Teine grabbed the candle off the tray and thrust it ahead of him to scout for Marne.

In the shadows beyond the light of his candle, a dark form rustled, rising up from the indistinct features of the poorly lit room. Two bright, electric blue orbs reflected back the light of Teine’s candle, tracking him with eerie luminescence.

Eyes.

Teine was only able to squeak “wraith!” in alarm, before dropping the candle on the ground and knocking himself nearly brainless on the door behind him. The candle guttered for a second, laying broken in a pool of its own hot wax like a dying soldier, before the flame went out completely.

“Don’t be a fool. Stand still.” Marne’s sharp command sliced through both the womb-like darkness and Teine’s fog of terror like a scalpel of ice. His confident words halted Teine in his tracks, an effective barrier to the blind, panicked flight he was about to take.

Teine tensed at the patter of small feet across the flagstones coming toward him. “It’s only me.” the creature whispered. Teine could smell him, the scent he’d come to associate with Marne. In the close space, the unearthly mix of cinnamon and cloves struck him; Marne was not an Aoife.

A moment later reality rushed back in, and he realized with some relief that the small form next to him was warm and alive- certainly not a wraith.

The next thing Teine knew was Marne’s fingers brushing against his, pushing something into his hands. “Here, take this.” he said. Out of the habit of obedience, Teine opened his hands to receive it without even wondering first what it was. Before he could gather his wits about him to ask, the candle burst to life, whole and brilliant in his hands.

Puzzled, alarmed, and strangely thrilled by the trick, Teine couldn’t help knitting this last occurrence together with all of the other mysteries that he’d witnessed over the last couple of days. Theory after theory piled themselves on top of each other, vying for space in his suddenly overstuffed brain. Eager for more information, he couldn’t help but turn his gaze to search for his young Master’s face. But Marne had turned away, retreating out of easy candle range. Teine hesitated, struck dumb by what he’d seen earlier. Uncertain how to proceed, he stayed in his spot by the door, listening to the muted and eerie wail of the storm outside while he waited for his Human eyes to adjust to the candlelight. As though reading every half-baked theory tumbling around in Teine’s head, Marne threw him a resigned, furtive glance. Once again, Marne’s eyes caught the candlelight and reflected it back.

Instead of terror, Teine was surprised at his blooming sense of wonderment. Holding the candle in front of him to get a better look, he advanced a few steps closer and was able to make out a raised, child-sized bed with heavy but shabby looking drapes, a bedside table, and a stand with one of the amazing picture boxes he’d seen in the playroom at the Demense. A wooden rocking horse guarded the foot of the bed like a faithful pet. This room, unlike the others beyond the door, was completely windowless. Cocooned in a blanket, a corner of it wrapped over his head, Marne lay, very studiously averting his gaze. “Please bring me my supper.” Marne whispered. “Then, begone with you.”

Gone was the tone of command, the certainty and confidence that had rooted Teine safely in his place earlier. Instead, the voice was that of a young child, alone and frightened of the dark, and swaddled like a nurseling. “Yes, Master,” Teine replied, out of habit. He could have sworn he was getting a headache from all the questions stampeding around in his head, that propriety demanded go unasked. He closed the distance to Marne’s bedside and set the candle on the little bedside table, frowning at the two other emptycandle-holders. Marne had been in the dark for some time.

“Please?” Marne answered, sounding even more tentative. Teine hesitated, the oddness of the plea catching him and holding him there. Marne was heir to Solmurry, son of the Lord and Master, and held life or death sway over literally hundreds of human lives- he owed no one a please except his own kin. Even though Teine had been trying to catch a glimpse of the boy’s face to better discern what the child wanted, Marne’s next words caught Teine completely off guard. “Please, don’t call me that.”

Teine blinked, uncertain what was being asked of him. “Sir?”

“Don’t call me Master.” As if gathering courage, Marne took a deep breath, then turned his head to face Teine directly. Up close, the child’s eyes were even more spectacular. They reflected the candlelight like orbs of blue fire. “I believe it demeans us, both.”

Teine barely heard Marne’s words, he was so caught up in what he was seeing. The Marne he was looking at didn’t even look like the Marne he’d been introduced to. The face he showed the world must be some sort of illusion- perhaps some of that experimental magic that Madric had showed him. Aoife, even their children, generally had sharper features than Humans, with long, oblique set almond shaped eyes, high cheekbones, narrow noses, and prominent chin and jaw lines. Marne’s face, at least the one Teine was viewing right that moment, had many similar qualities, yet managed to be as unlike the face of an Aoife child as horses were to deer. This was no deformed Aoife he was looking at- Teine increasingly more convinced that Marne was an entirely different creature. The pupils of Marne’s eyes were distinctly diamond shaped, unlike the round pupils of both Aoife and humans, and even the irises of his eyes were an odd shade resting somewhere between blue and grey. Instead of the rich golden locks of his father and uncle, Marne’s hair was variegated into multiple shades covering the entire spectrum of blonde, from sunny bright all the way to generous helpings of platinum. His hands, pale against the heavy woolen blanket, were even more slender and appeared to be jointed somewhat differently from the Aoife.

The child simply looked otherworldly.

And Teine could do nothing but stare dumbly at his young Master, with the oddest feeling coursing through him. It wasn’t timidity, or fear, but a strange sense of purpose. As though somehow his life- his real life- had only just now begun.

Marne sighed, struggling to sit up in the bed. His thin lips twisted into a sardonic and slightly self-deprecating smile. Teine had seen that same expression on Marne before, but on his other face. “Of course you realize, it’s rude to stare,” Marne admonished him, his voice surprisingly timid. “But since I’ve certainly given you just cause, we can overlook it. Just this once.”

Teine blinked, realizing that he hadn’t for several seconds. He opened his mouth to speak, but could get nothing out but a couple syllables of unintelligible grunting- an utter failure for one usually so articulate.

“Go ahead,” Marne encouraged. “I know you feel you must ask. You have my permission.”

As artless as a toddler, Teine opened his mouth again, willing himself to form words. Finally, he blurted, “What are you?”

To go directly to the next installment, Chapter 13: “Chosen” please click –> HERE!

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Tags: Marne, Pasha, Teine
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The Gilded Shackle

Chapter 17: Real News (part 2)

Chapter 17: Real News (part 1)

Chapter 16: Threads and Fabric (part 2)

Chapter 16: Threads and Fabric (part 1)

Chapter 15: Hiding in Plain Sight (part 2)

Chapter 15: Hiding in Plain Sight (part 1)

Chapter 14: Flight (part 2)

Chapter 14: Flight (part 1)

Chapter 13: Chosen

Chapter 12: Secrets by Candlelight

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