A Ragged Magic (29 page)

Chapter Twenty-Nine

I
wake reluctantly to the sounds of a baby squalling. By the sullen light coming in the window, it is mid-morning. Dragging myself out of bed, I splash stale water on my face.

Someone hums in Julianna’s room: it sounds like Linnet. I pad out into the hall. The baby still fusses, but less urgently.

A sound behind me makes me turn. A quiet groan and rustling come from the solar. I tiptoe warily into the dim room, the soughing wind and rain covering my steps. I think of rats, or desperate plague victims, maybe Gantry … As I pass the fireplace, I grab the poker. Hefting it, I walk around the chaise and stand, mouth open.

Connor is twisted into an impossible shape on the chaise, his shirt half unlaced and his arms tucked close across his contorted body. His knees in his rumpled hose are pulled up to his chest, his head buried under several pillows.

I lower the poker as he uncovers an eye and blinks a few times. I step back a pace, and he slowly unfolds, sitting up. The wind sings a mournful counterpart to Linnet’s muffled humming. His hair falls into his eyes.

I reach forward, my fingers trembling, and brush the tangled hair from his forehead. Of its own volition, my hand slips down to touch his cheek.

He leans into my caress, his eyelids fluttering down. His cheek feels less bristly than I expected. Just behind the morning’s growth of beard, in front of his ear, the skin is so soft.

I rub it with trembling fingers, and a low moan escapes his throat.

Standing slowly, he reaches for my shoulders, his hands hot through my clothes.

I remember all I’m wearing is my shift. I shiver, look down.

He lifts my chin with his hand. The rain on the window is a staccato beat in time with my pulse. He strokes my neck and collarbones, tracing the lines of my scars, my veins.

I feel myself falling into his eyes. His fingers wind in my hair.

The door to Julianna’s room opens, and we jump apart. I wince as I feel a few curls follow Connor. Linnet hurries into the room, a tray in her hands.

“Rhiannon! What are you doing out here in your shift?”

I dither, my mouth pursing like a fish.

Linnet looks at the two of us. Her eyes start to narrow.

“Clean clothes,” I blurt. “The, the laundry never got done.”

Linnet closes her eyes in exasperation.

I wait for her to say something scathing.

“Laundry!” she says. “I forgot. I’ll go find you something to wear. And something to eat. Are you hungry? I’m hungry. I’m getting a tray of food for Julianna, too.” She raises an eyebrow at me, and runs off.

I start to go after her, then remember Connor. And my clothes, or lack thereof.

Connor stands awkwardly next to the chaise, clutching at nothing. He cocks his head when I look at him, and smiles a little.

“Were you going to brain me with the poker?”

I look at the poker still in my hand. I decide to try for a light tone, as well. “Just in case of rogues, you know.” His brow quirks up.

I return the poker to the fireplace and walk at a measured pace from the room. When I reach the safety of my room I close the door and sag against it. What can I be thinking? I have too much to do. I do not have time for dalliances with the grandson or the nephew of a monarch, let alone someone who is both. And in any case, his true heart lies with Julianna. I walk to the bowl of water and shove my face in it, hoping for clarity.

Linnet brings me clothes and bread, and I throw on the one and tear into the other, ravenous. Linnet heads downstairs again to help Asa and the others in the great hall. I plan to help them.

Before I head down, I peek in on Julianna. The baby lies sleeping in Julianna’s arms. Julianna’s eyes are closed, and I step back and close the door softly.

“Rhia,” Connor says behind me.

I turn, heart pounding, and he holds a bundle out to me. Now my heart pounds for other reasons. Absalom’s body.

He nods at my look. “I need you to take this to the tower stairs. I’ll meet you there shortly. We have to burn the body. There’s a ritual. Can you manage it, if I show it to you?”

I blink, draw in a shuddering breath. “I can try, my lord.”

“Good. Please, take — him. I’ll meet you there as soon as I can. I’ll bring what we need.”

I follow him out of Julianna’s rooms, carrying the bundle cautiously. It feels wrong no matter how I carry it. I don’t want anyone to guess this is a baby, but I don’t know how else to hold it. Him. I needn’t worry: everyone is in the great hall. I don’t meet anyone as I make my way to the tower stairs.

The spiral stairs take longer than the main stair, with their old arrow-slit windows from centuries gone by, going around the tower rooms inside. Passing the ground floor, I feel a sharp breeze, hear a loud thump of the outside door closing, and footsteps. How did Connor get ahead of me?

I freeze where I am. It’s not Connor. Backing up the stairs one careful foot at a time, I try not to make any noise. I turn to run when Bishop Gantry boils around the curve below me, yanking a vacant-eyed Orrin by the arm.

“Orrin,” I gasp, almost falling.

Gantry looks up at me, his lips pulled back from his teeth, his hair a wild storm around his head.

I trip backward over the stairs and he looms over me.

“What’s this?” He lets Orrin go to grab at my arms and I drop the wrapped body, try to push him away. A glance at Orrin shows him holding himself against the wall, barely able to stand.

Gantry raises a hand to strike me, and I grab at his arm, try to twist away from the blow. Stone grinds into my spine and sides as his hand glances off my cheek. He grabs my hair with one hand, slaps me hard with the other, and I feel my bones ache with the shock of it. I hang limp in his grip. His mind reaches for me, slithers along my barriers and finds my magic.

“Ah, what’s this? The Star Lord gives me a gift of more power,” he says, and starts to laugh. I bring my feet up and kick him as hard as I can in the knee, the groin, push him.

He staggers back, taking some of my hair with him, falls down several steps to his back. “Fiend! Invader! I’ll have you burned!”

I lurch to my knees, reach for Orrin’s hand, so close, so close. He looks at me but does not reach back.

“Run,” he whispers, and throws himself into the bishop, keeping him from getting up.

“Orrin,” I shout, but Gantry starts chanting a spell. I feel it trying to pull from me as well as Orrin, and I don’t know what all that power will do.

I slam up all the barriers I can and trip, scramble up the stairs away from them as fast as I can, weeping.

As soon as I feel far enough away, I lower them partially and scream out in my mind for anyone who can hear me to
help, Dorei, help us.

I crash through the hall like a panicked animal, panting, scrabbling for footing that eludes me. I slam into a body. Connor catches me before I knock us both over.

“What is it? What happened?”

“Gantry,” I gasp. “He has Orrin — he has Orrin, and he was coming up the tower stairs, and —”

“How? How does he have Orrin?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know, but he does, and he’s, I don’t know what he’s going to do —” But I do. I do know. The vision washes over me and I sag against the wall, one arm on Connor’s chest. “The spell — he called him back, called him and found him where you hid him. The chapel,” I say. “He’s going to — he’s giving them a body. Orrin’s body. With all that power. And now he has Absalom’s body too, I dropped it, I’m sorry, I dropped him, and he’s going to do something awful.”

Connor swears, wipes at my face with his sleeve, and I see blood, my nose is bleeding, my face throbs where Gantry hit me.

I wheeze and weep and tremble.

“Dorei save us,” Connor whispers. He kisses my forehead, shakes my shoulders. “Call for Hugh. Do you understand? He should be on his way back. Try to get him back sooner. Tell him to bring the cardinal. Tell them to hurry.” And he is gone, running toward the chapel, yelling for guards.

I lean my weight on the wall, gather my magic on the spindle of my mind. I push at my range, at the ends of where I’ve ever been able to go.

It hurts. My skin crawls with it, but I call up power and drop all of my barriers. I can feel Gantry’s spell reaching for my power, but I’m using it, and it will follow my commands now.

Panting, I push past the castle, past the walls of the town, down the road, looking for Hugh. His mind meets mine as I call, try to find him. I feel thin and faint, but I hear him finally, and he hears me.

Rhiannon? What is it? How did you get this far?

Gantry has Orrin. Has Absalom. Spell. Bring the cardinal. Hurry.
It hurts to push so far. I strain, feel my head throb, all my magic burn in me.

How did this happen?

Just hurry.

A panicked call in my mind from Linnet. She heard my cry before and followed Connor to the chapel. They hide behind pillars outside the doors as blasts of raw magic rock the stones.

I shamble into a run. Down stairs, around corners, I feel the magic in the air. Everyone else appears to be wisely hiding from it.

Gantry’s voice grates on the air in the otherwise silent castle. “All your guards can’t save you from judgment! The night sky will swallow them whole! You are all tongues of evil — I shall cut you out!”

I round the corner beyond the great hall. I feel demons gathering at his calling, whispering and enticing him.

The wild power that breathes beneath the castle beckons me. The well is deep, viscous and bright with its gathered magic. I open myself to it despite the pain, relish the seering flash along my body, as I stumble down the corridor.

Magic pours into me, burning, blistering the overused pathways of power. I try to control it, but it sings as savagely as the demons. I send it to Linnet, who cries out too, burning herself on the heat of it.

Linnet flings power past the doors of the chapel in the form of a fire spell, but I hear Gantry laugh, Connor’s voice ringing out, a clash and clatter, my own heart beating.

The wild power devours me. Clutching the power I have gathered in too-full mental arms, I manage to sever the link to the well. Magic swirls in my veins like a squall. I find myself on my knees against a pillar, Linnet across from me. I grasp the cold stone and drag myself to my feet, peer into the chapel.

Connor dodges demon fire, slashes at Gantry with his sword.

Gantry stands in front of the altar, hurling his spells and abuse. Three guards lie motionless among the pews. Wisps of my sweaty hair cling to my eyes and nose. I drop to my knees, motion Linnet to keep behind the pillar, keep throwing balls of fire. Which I did not know she could do.

I start to crawl into the chapel, keeping low. I can hear hissed invective, see purple flashes of light like odd torches. I look around for something I can use to help, anything.

Fire from Linnet glances off the marble statue of Dorei above me in the balcony, and I see it rock on its mooring. Gantry stands close by. I cannot poison him. I cannot stop him with spells I don’t know. But I think I have another plan.

I send to Linnet, tell her what I want her to do. Crawling through the pews, dodging bael-fire as best I can, I head for the gentry box.

Linnet runs past me, hurling her own insults and fire.

Gantry stands below and to the left of the balcony. His hoarse whispers grate around my ears, swirling with the invisible demons in the air around us. I can hear them, feel them feeding from him, and from Orrin.

Orrin lies behind the altar. From here I can see his face like ashes, his body limp. The demons whisper of power and righteousness, of the glory of their promised body, of death and destruction.

I look for a way to cut them off from him, but I don’t know how. I only hope my plan works.

Connor sprawls against an overturned pew across from me. He dodges bael-fire, throws himself under a pew. When he looks up at me I motion with my head to the rocking statue. Connor glances toward Gantry, eyes slitted against the flashes of fire, demon and Linnet-made.

Gantry aims bael-fire at Linnet, and though she transforms what she can, it leaks through her barriers and scorches her. She yells and leaps away, and he laughs. At that laugh, I stand and scream at him, using all of my anger and pain and despair, and I overload his spell.

I let him have my magic — the magic he so desperately wanted. The magic he cannot control. I push all of the pulsing, wild power into Gantry’s gathering skeins, and I break them.

Gantry screams, tries to fight me, but I am not trying to control demons and a rogue spell and hurl bael-fire all at the same time. I concentrate on stuffing him with all of the power I pulled from the power-well, and I watch him start to burn. The lines of power warp and snap and rebound on him, and I scream and send the message to Linnet.

“Now!”

Linnet sends magic fire overhead, to the statue of Dorei. To its feet, to the moorings. She sends more. I hear it groaning.

Connor springs into a shoulder roll, knocking Gantry to his back beneath the balcony. Gantry screams again, calls out for his demons.

The crack of the mortar as it gives way makes Gantry look up. He aims his bael-fire upward to the falling statue, but too late, and it lands heavily as Connor rolls away just in time.

Gantry’s control of the demons is gone with the thunk of the marble. Free of the restraints of his fragile chains, they rise, glittering to my Sight, supple and gorgeous, turn their attention to Linnet and Connor and Orrin. Their forms coalesce into dusky smoke, half-rotted faces in the air, changing and malleable and deadly.

Connor stands, ragged and bloody, sword drawn. Linnet shakes, but raises her hands and her magic. I hang from the rail of the gentry box, try to get ready to add mine.

Hugh and a man in cardinal’s robes pound into the chapel, their boots muddy and their voices raised. It is Robere, and his hands weave a silvery light in the air. The threads become a shimmering net around the angry, seething demons.

I can feel the hum of power as he pulls the spell tighter. The net grows smaller. Shrieking in agony, the demons disappear with sounds of shattered glass and exploding purple starbursts.