Lost Magic (The Swift Codex Book 3) (38 page)

“You come out of the house?” he asked.

“We did.”

“What'd you do to it?”

The first line that came to mind was, “I didn't like it”, but it didn't seem like a good idea to go all smart Alec on a guy holding a gun at me when he might—possibly—be a friend. So I said, “It was accident I ended up there. Are you a Constable?”

He sank a little lower into his shooter's stance. “Might be.”

It was hard to tell in the dark, but when I tickled the breeze over his uniform coat, it felt the same way that Barnes' did. I decided to risk it. “There was an Unwritten taking shape there. I got rid of it.”

“Ain't no one been able to stop it. Why can you?”

“Because I have done so before. My name is Feraline Swift, and I need to talk with Constable Barnes of Merlyn's Market. Now put that piece of tin down and let's go someplace where I can take a seat and you can put your trousers on.”

The man seemed to like that idea, even if he disliked his fine blue steel barrel being called a piece of tin.

Not long after this, I was ensconced in a cubbyhole of a room which still boasted train ticket booth with fancy bars to divide the customer from the ticket master. Now the waiting area was little better than a fancy low-security jail cell, and the rest of the train station had been converted into a Constabulary Outpost. I wasn't one to complain, though. The fireplace was charming, I'd been given blankets and food for myself and Anna, and I'd been able to write a letter to Barnes which had been burned for me.

Not three minutes later, another letter had burned back to me.

The reply had been short:

Stay put and keep your nose clean.

It wasn't even signed.

The constable in residence held his own correspondence with Barnes. I drifted off to sleep despite my best efforts to remain vigilant. Too much spellcasting, too little energy in reserve.

A sense of movement and voices woke me up. I became aware of varnished walls, wood-smoke, and the uncomfortable pressure of a hard bench beneath my tailbone. Nothing made much sense until I recalled the events which had ended up with my presence here.

“I found her wandering in the industrial park,” a stranger's voice was saying. “Watching the house, as if expecting to see something come out of it. Now I find the two of you doing just that. Creepiest shit I've seen in years.”

“Is the Lady well?” Valerin asked. “She isn't hurt?”

“Fine way you know her, iffin you think she'll be banged up in the least,” the constable who found me said.

“I need to see her.”

“Ain't nobody going to see her but for the fellow from Kragdomen, and even then, only because he's her guardian. Otherwise I'd boot your scaly kidnapping asses out into the street.”

I strained my ears but couldn't hear Mordon's reply. What I heard loud and clear was Valerin.

“Won't you tell me if the Lady is in any way injured, or if she had a child with her?”

“Wolds, be silent,” Mordon said. “I will tell you when I return.”

Then the solid panel door opened and the constable let Mordon into the room, shutting the door after him quickly as if to keep Valerin from barging in.

Mordon had a puffy cheek which was blooming into a bruise, his hair had been quickly combed into a state resembling order, and his eyes lacked luster. He slumped visibly when he saw me.

“Come sit down,” I said.

He did, groaning as he hoisted first one boot then the next onto the bench directly opposite us. Before Mordon's entrance I hadn't realized how small the room was. A third adult would positively crowd the space. I already had to snuggle up uncomfortably close to the fire to make room for Mordon.

“You survived,” Mordon said, his voice unusually devoid of emotion. He pulled the hair off my neck, let it trail down my shoulders. Then he stroked Anna's cheek. “Just a couple dark spots under your eyes to show for the wear and tear.”

What was I to make of his mood? I swallowed hard. “I did my best.”

He slowly nodded, closed his eyes, and let his head drop back against the wall. “I know.”

“I didn't want to find out what would happen if Cole...”

“I know.”

“And I couldn't burn a letter straight away.”

“I know.”

“Is that all you're going to say?”

“It's a good thing that the Constabulary wants to keep this hushed up. They don't want to panic the populace.”

I frowned, absorbing the implications behind that statement. “Are there more Unwrittens scattered about?”

“They aren't saying, but they didn't ask a lot of the questions I thought that they ought to. While this benefits us in this moment, it holds certain ominous overtones regarding what secrets they are keeping from everyone else.”

The snap of the fire filled the silence while I considered things. “Mordon, what happened?”

He swallowed and blinked, then rubbed his eyes. They were bloodshot, I now noticed. “Why don't we start with you first?”

“Think we're being listened in to?” I asked, jerking my head towards the door.

“Undoubtedly, but don't concern yourself over it.”

He seemed serious, so I told him about my adventures. He struggled to stay awake throughout the narration. When it came his turn to explain, he tried to sit straight and in the end gave up and spoke from his prone position.

“You should have stayed in the house. Found a room and set up Francis' Barricade.” He stopped, his brow wrinkled, then he stroked his hairless chin. “Do you know that one?”

“We haven't done that one, no.”

“I'm being negligent as your tutor, then. I forget sometimes that you haven't taken a linear progression in your education. No matter, it is too late to think on what we should have done. No more skipping evening classes.” He cleared his throat. “When we broke through the husks, which were not very well prepared, many of them weren't even finished, we made it to the house. We found it newly abandoned and in quite the state. Apparently it hadn't been safe for anyone, so they'd all gone before we arrived. We lost your trail but were on it again when we received a ransom note.”

“A ransom note?” I repeated. “That was clever of him to do.”

“I thought so as well,” Mordon said.

“Why do I hear a 'but?' ”

“Because there is one. But, Valerin and Julius and the vast majority of the Selestiani thought that it was in earnest. There was also a mere fifteen minutes to meet his demands.”

I groaned. “Very, very few people can think properly under that level of strain. What were Cole's demands?”

“An exchange. You and the baby for who else but me.”

“You?” I repeated, staring at him. He nodded, eyes closed. I rubbed my temples and let out a long breath. “What did you do, if you knew or strongly suspected that he didn't actually have me?”

“The Selestiani wanted me to make the exchange, so naturally, I argued with them. Why would he want me when he had two prizes which he valued over my own hide? You he has a personal vendetta against, and Anna he has been trying to get his hands on for years. Why give both of you up for me? Not merely that, but I know you are slippery as an oiled otter. You were somewhere and would be in contact soon. Perhaps Kragdomen would have heard me out, but in Selestiani I lost my argument and gained a moniker. Mordon the Ice-Heart.”

I raised a brow, both at how fast that had escalated and at the nickname itself. Ice-Heart? It must be more lyrical in the Selestiani accent.

He continued, “Valerin was prepared to save you. And proceeded to offer himself in my place, but Cole rejected him.”

“That much is good,” I said. “But how badly does this end?”

“He accepted Julius Septimus.”

This news slapped me across the face. I sagged against the wall and thought of the promise I'd made to Josephina and how hard I had been trying to get Josephina to Julius—and now I had her, I no longer had Julius. And it was all because I didn't have the basic know-how of flaming a stupid piece of paper.

“Surely the Selestiani must have realized that there was something strange about the deal when Cole didn't produce either Anna or me?”

“You underestimate how distressed they were. They were willing to take any risk on the hope that he might uphold his end of the promise.”

“What does this mean?” I asked. “Why did they want Josephina, why do they now want Julius? What is so important about them to go through all this hassle?”

“I haven't given any thought to it. I've been too busy convincing myself that I was right and you weren't in Cole's hands.”

I grabbed Mordon's arm firmly. “You were right to believe in me. We will never get through this if we don't have faith in the other's competence.”

Guilt crushed my chest and made my heart heavy. What I'd felt for the way I'd treated my parents was nothing on how this squeezed in on my mind and body. Perhaps it wasn't my fault, but I shouldn't have neglected the studies I didn't like for the ones I already did well in. I should have taught myself this Francis' Barricade which Mordon referenced. I should have devoted time to mastering fire. It was my choices which had led up to this.

“So now what do we do?” I asked myself, thinking that Mordon's steady breathing meant he was off in dreamland.

“Now I leave myself in your hands while I recover. It's been a very trying time.” He entwined his fingers in my own and added, “Your Romeo can wait a few hours. It's my turn.”

Then he sank into the oblivion of sleep, managing to take up even more space than he had previously. I watched the rise and fall of his chest for some time, initially a little annoyed that he'd effectively blocked me into the cramped corner. Once I settled into my new position, however, I realized this was time for clear reflection.

There was something about all of this that I was missing. I'd likely seen and observed what clues there were to be found, but they weren't going together in a way which made sense. It was there, in my memory, itching to be let out.

This had all started with Josephina coming to me for protection from the Immortal. The Immortal stood against everything Death stood for. That included dying and the after-life. Then there were the Unwrittens I'd found scattered about.

No, I was missing it. Were Josephina and Julius wanted because they were powerful? Because that was Mordon's biggest strength, that and having two forms. The Phoenixes had two forms as well. But then why reject Valerin, other than because he wasn't powerful enough?

Like Moron said, Cole and the Immortal both had personal dealings with me, so why they'd want me was obvious. Anna was obvious, too, since she had been in their hands before and now they would want her back.

For an instant, I entertained the notion that if Cole had managed to lay hands on Mordon, he might use Mordon as leverage against me to bring Anna back. But in the next instant I realized he was just as happy with Julius in his care, so that couldn't be right.

Wearied by the day and lulled by the warm fire, I brought Anna into my lap and fed her from one of the bottles the constable had provided for her. I began to doze, half-dreaming, half-thinking about people shifting from magnificent birds to dragons and horses and even the white rabbit from Wonderland. They'd become human again, but this time they were all infants.

I stirred, stretching my arms and realizing that Anna was asleep as well as Mordon. She'd doubtless been the inspiration behind my daydreams.

And then I knew what I was missing. I bolted upright, wincing as it revealed that my leg was numb from hip down on account of how I'd been sitting. Though I wanted to tell Mordon what it was I'd thought of, how this all clicked together, I saw how peaceful he was. When he woke up, all this would be gone. It wouldn't be him and Anna and me ever again.

One of us would be missing and it would be my decision as to who that would be.

When Mordon tossed an arm clumsy with sleep about my waist and curled me against him, I let him do it, but my mind was far from being content with him. It was thinking of how I would stop what I now knew the Immortal was planning to do. I stroked a blond-red strand out of the corner of his mouth, caressed his cheek.