The Elder Blood Chronicles Bk 1 In Shades of Grey (13 page)

“What was it really?” She broke in as curious
as a child listening to a hearthside tale.

He gave a mirthless chuckle. “A prison,” he
answered quietly. “Our people were trouble makers out there you
see, and dangerous, too. They brought war and used magic against
their enemies and the other worlds suffered for our strength. So
they made Sanctuary, and lied. On the day the portals opened to
this world, each Bloodline and their retainers stepped through,
believing this was a secret place, one where they could hide, or
prepare, or whatever story they had been led to believe. They had
no idea others would be here as well. The Guardians had kept the
truth very quiet and it wasn’t until the last portal closed that
the Barrier went up. That’s the true genius of the plan. The
Barrier. It’s a masterpiece.” He smiled at her and indicated toward
the sky. “You can’t see it with the naked eye. You have to look
with mage sight, but I wouldn’t recommend it. You’d be blinded by
the sight of it for a time.”

She found herself craning to see the sky
through the view screen, even though he had said she couldn’t see
it. She pondered what he had told her so far and wondered at the
truth of it. How could you trap gods with any barrier? “How does
the barrier keep them here if they have so much magic?”

He smiled ruefully. “I said it was a
masterpiece. The way it is created, only a creature with absolutely
no magic can pass it. If any sort of magic comes into contact with
it, it absorbs the magic and strengthens the barrier. And there are
no creatures here without magic. That is one thing the Immortals
cannot create - a pure, mortal creature with no magic. They have
tried, but to create life, they must use magic and so magic leaves
its touch on the creature in small ways. Even if they could create
such a creature, what good would it do to send it out through the
barrier? With no magic, it would have little chance of bringing the
barrier down on that side. The Guardians would stop it.”

“But the village people and the citizens of
Brannaford aren’t magical,” she objected. Her parents had never
shown mage talent, nor had any of the other villagers she had
known. Neither had she for that matter.

He glanced at her and raised an eyebrow.
“They all do in some small way. Every last one of them. What we
call mortals or commons are technically Spellborn, the offspring of
the ones the Immortals tried to create without magic. They all have
something, be it strength beyond normal means or the ability to
work some minor spell like light. All of them can do something.
Many of them never find their talents, but they are there.” He
leaned forward to the control panel again. “So they created the
perfect prison for us, and essentially sentenced us all to death.
In the beginning, there were twenty Bloodlines that were brought
here. One of those did not even survive the first day on Sanctuary.
The most important thing to remember about the Immortal Bloodlines
is, for the most part, they despise each other. There are
exceptions, a few unsteady alliances, but not many. There are
twelve remaining Bloodlines now since the fall of Merro. Given
enough time, there won’t even be twelve. We will kill each other
off slowly. It’s our nature, I suppose.” His tone sounded disgusted
as he added the last. He turned his attention fully back to the
spell hawk, and she didn’t press him for more. She sensed now was
not the time to speak of that particular topic. Perhaps later she
could learn more.

With practiced ease, he drew the controls
back to him, and the spell hawk began to lift gracefully into the
air. She found herself clutching the seat, expecting the takeoff to
be rough. Slowly she loosened her grip and leaned back in her seat
relaxing again. “Don’t worry, I’m the best pilot there is.” He gave
her a reassuring smile as he spoke. “You really are genuine, aren’t
you?” he asked quietly, once they had gained the correct
altitude.

“Genuine?” She asked in confusion.

“You really are a stranded girl from the
country,” he clarified.

“Yes, I suppose that’s a good description.
What else would I be?”

“A trap,” he replied simply, some of the
fatigue gone from his voice. “I had guessed you an assassin, but
you don’t even know who I am, do you?”

“You thought I was an assassin and let me on
your ship?” she asked in disbelief. Then added in almost an
afterthought “and no, I don’t know who you are, should I?”

He gave a light chuckle and smiled at her.
“Yes to both. On the first hand, I thought you meant to kill me, so
I was on guard, which means you had very little chance of actually
accomplishing that task. As to the other, my full name is Christian
Morcaillo, High Lord Morcaillo’s son.” He held up his right hand
and waved his finger to indicate a large ring set with an enormous
sapphire. “Another good tip for dealing with people in Sanctuary is
to look always for a signet ring.”

She nodded her understanding and swallowed a
lump in her throat. A High Lord’s son and she was still dressed in
her faded blue dress and no doubt covered in road dust. She blushed
slightly and leaned back in her seat. “I had no idea. I’m sorry,
Milord,” she said meekly.

He gave another laugh and shook his head. “I
didn’t tell you so you would call me Lord. I was simply explaining
why I thought you might be an assassin. No need to be embarrassed.”
With a smile, he leaned over and plucked a chicken feather from her
braid, and she felt her blush deepen. His smile widened, and he
suppressed another chuckle. “I’m sure I don’t look much better,
I’ve had a rather rough day. If you like, you can get cleaned up in
the back. Past the seats there, you will find a door. That’s my
room; there is a shower and a mirror.” She glanced toward the back,
with obvious hope, and he motioned her away with his hand. “Go on,
we will talk more after you are refreshed.”

Hesitantly, she stood and moved to the
smaller of her two trunks for fresh clothing. The material inside
shone softly in the ship’s pale light and she felt her breath
catch. Silks and velvets lay where she had packed cotton. All the
garments were rich in color, and some had jewels or fur. They all
seemed too fine for day-to-day wear. With a bit of dismay, she
opened the second trunk to look for simpler clothing. Inside were
more of the same and another small wooden chest atop the rest. She
opened it with curiosity. She hadn’t packed this. She didn’t even
own a box like it. Inside cradled in velvet lining was jewelry of
the sort she had never seen before. Rubies, sapphires, diamonds,
and some stones she had no names for all cased in delicate gold and
platinum. A queen’s fortune in jewels! She felt herself drop
lightly back on her butt to sit directly on the ship’s floor.

“Problem?” Christian called from the
front.

“No, nothing wrong, just trying to decide
what to wear,” she called back, a bit too quickly. She bit her
lower lip and hastily closed the jewel case. With another quick
look at the clothing, she hastily decided on a deep purple silk
dress, and on impulse grabbed a long silver colored jacket with
white fur at the collar and cuffs. She admired it for a moment
before folding it up with the dress; it was easily the finest
garment she had ever laid eyes on. The fabric was so finely woven
she couldn’t even see the threads. She couldn’t even guess what it
was actually made of. It would most likely be too hot, but she had
never worn silk before, and the material seemed too thin for
decency. She felt her blush rise again when she finally found the
small clothes tucked neatly in the bottom of the trunk. They were
silk as well, and definitely not the ones she had packed. If she
thought the dress was scandalous, she was wrong. These were truly
scandalous. She reassured herself with the thought that she would
be the only one seeing them, hastily gathered up her bundle of
chosen clothing, and made her way to the back of the ship.

The door opened as she approached and she
stepped through quickly and leaned back against it once it had
closed. With a long sigh, she studied the room around her. It was
neat and orderly, not at all what she had expected. The bed was
made perfectly, without even so much as a wrinkle in the sheets,
and there was not a mote of dust to be seen.

A wall-sized mirror covered the opposite side
of the room, and she caught a good look at herself. Her eyes
squeezed shut, and she mentally pictured the tirade Gretchen would
throw if she could see her now. Most of her hair had come loose
from the braid and here and there were chicken feathers tangled in
it. Her dress still bore remnants of the flour she had gotten on
herself from hugging the cook at the Temple and her face had
streaks of dust on it. She looked every inch the urchin as Gretchen
had described her. From the neatness of his bedroom, she was amazed
Christian had even let her on his ship.

She crossed the room to the only door she
could see, and moved inside. She wasn’t exactly sure on what a
shower was, but from the way he had spoken it meant bath. Inside
she found an indoor toilet such as the traveling priests had told
her of, a small sink, and another smaller room with a glass door.
No sign of a bathing tub. She carefully set the clothing down on
the counter near the sink and pushed the glass door open to see
inside the smaller room. A towel hung on the back wall of the room,
and as she leaned farther in, her hand brushed against another
panel which promptly lit up. Water abruptly began pouring from the
ceiling of the room, and she let out a loud squeak as it soaked her
head and chest. She squeezed her eyes shut and hoped he hadn’t
heard her squeak in the front.

“You can adjust the temperature on the
panel,” she heard him faintly call back and felt her blush rise yet
again. She was getting rather used to red rather than pale skin.
With another sigh, she quickly stripped out of her clothing and
stepped into the smaller room, closing the door behind her. Within
moments of examining the small panel, she had sorted out how to
adjust the temperature. She closed her eyes and turned her head up
to let the water pour down over her face. She had so much to learn,
and she doubted it would get any easier from here. At least she
seemed to have found one friend, or so she hoped.

She emerged from the back room in the purple
dress and the long silver coat, barefoot. She hadn’t thought to dig
in the chests for shoes, and her own rough boots looked so shabby,
she hadn’t even thought to put them on. Her old clothes were
bundled carefully in her arms, and she prayed Christian wouldn’t
notice how soaked her dress was. She wasn’t sure how she could
explain she hadn’t known what a shower was without sounding like an
idiot. She carefully wrapped the old clothes in her cloak to keep
most of the dampness from the delicate fabrics inside the trunk,
and dug in the bottom of both chests until she found a pair of
suitable shoes. There were sandals that looked too fragile to stand
up to long-term use. Both had long leather strands dyed silver to
lace up her legs.

“Feel better?” Christian asked as she set the
shoes on top of the trunk and moved back to the front seat. After
the state he had seen her in before, surely he wouldn’t mind her
going barefoot for a while. He eyed her clothing as she sat and
gave her a nod of approval. “I liked the blue dress more, but you
look good.”

She turned to stare at him, raising an
eyebrow in question. “You truly liked my dust-stained and faded
blue dress better?” she asked, incredulous.

He gave her a nod and a smile. “You looked
more comfortable in it. And it had the look of wear on it. A
favorite dress, I’m guessing. You seem more polished now to be
sure, but less at ease. So, I prefer the one that doesn’t have you
looking as though you are walking on glass,” he explained
simply.

She gave a weary smile and nodded. “I’ve
never worn anything this fine. I’m not even sure if it’s
appropriate; it seems too nice not to save for a special
occasion.”

He gave a light laugh and nodded. “It’s
appropriate for admissions at the Academy, don’t worry about that.
You might need a bit of jewelry, though. I don’t know many girls
that don’t walk around covered in jewels. And shoes, those would be
good as well.” He grinned at the last. “In truth, I don’t care much
for the fancy clothing either, and I will have to get changed
before we leave the ship. But for now, I’d rather be comfortable.”
She returned his smile, and felt herself relaxing in his company.
He didn’t seem at all like Fortune had predicted the High Lord’s
children to be. Unless this was an incredible act, he was quite
nice. And she couldn’t see why he would be pretending to be
nice.

“So, what Aspect is the Temple you are from
dedicated to?” he asked, and she wasn’t sure if he was actually
curious or just making small talk.

“Fortune. There are altars for healing and
love there, as well, but I follow Fortune.”

He gave a rough snort of amusement and a
quick nod. “Well, that certainly explains how we met. Your god must
love you.”

She gave him a questioning look. “What do you
mean?”

“It was a stroke of incredibly bad luck that
landed me in Brannaford. On a normal day, I never would have
considered landing there, but was forced to for repairs. In turn,
it was amazingly good luck that you found a ship there at all. Most
spell hawk pilots ignore Brannaford’s sky port. It just isn’t worth
stopping for.”

She nodded her understanding and gave him a
slight grin. “How exactly is it that you ended up with part of a
tree wrapped in the wing of your ship when you say you are the best
pilot?” To her vast amusement it was his turn to blush. He cleared
his throat and frowned at her.

“That’s not exactly something I want to
discuss. Perhaps I’ll explain later, but for now, let’s leave it at
bad luck.” His blush deepened as she eyed him with growing
curiosity. He gave a long sigh and pulled a silver case from his
trousers. With a practiced flip, he opened the case and pulled a
slender cigarette from it. He lit it with another flick of his
finger and took a long drag from it. She shook her head at the
blatant use of magic and chided herself gently. Between Fortune and
Christian, she should be getting used to seeing magic worked so
effortlessly. She would have to hide her shock of it better once
she got to Sanctuary. She had a feeling she would see a lot more of
it there. He exhaled slowly and gave her a roguish grin, “You know
the fact that I landed with one wing disabled on a sky port as
rough as Brannaford’s, should prove I’m the best pilot.”