The Perilous Sea (10 page)

“We traveled under assumed names and stayed at nonmage hotels. Everything was fine until last night, when we had news Madame had arrived at a hotel in
centre-ville
. We went to a café in the square outside the hotel. Left and right there were mages—we could hear them whisper about Madame Pierredure. That was when Mother stood up and told me we were leaving. She said something felt wrong, that if it was all hush-hush and secret, with news traveling only along trusted channels, then there shouldn't be nearly as many mages gathered in a place that has very little Exile presence, waiting for a glimpse of Madame.

“I should have listened to her. But instead—” Wintervale took a deep breath. Titus could almost see him grimacing. “Instead I said we should stay, for the chance to witness something historic. We were arguing back and forth when she stopped talking and just grabbed me. That was when I realized that mages at the far end of the square were dropping unconscious. And then I looked up and saw the armored chariots.”

Titus tensed. A narrative almost always took a fateful turn with the entrance of armored chariots.

“We couldn't vault, so we ran,” Wintervale went on, his voice strained. “Had we gone back to our lodging, we probably would have been all right. But one man in our corner of the square shouted that he had access to a dry dock and could get us to England fast.”
6

“About twenty of us followed him to a house on the outskirts of town. We crowded onto a vessel in the cellar. The next moment it dropped into the sea and we all thought we were safe. But not two minutes later, we had an Atlantean frigate behind us.

“It was all chaos on board. Mother asked where Sutherland's uncle's house was—I had told her earlier I was missing the party to be with her. I said it was somewhere within a few miles of Cromer. That was the last thing I knew. When I came to, it was morning. I was on the dinghy and it was sailing itself. I had no idea where I was and Mother . . .”

Wintervale gulped. “She's lived through rough times,” he said fervently. “She must be all right.”

Lady Wintervale was the only other person who knew that one of the “boys” at Mrs. Dawlish's was the great elemental mage sought by Atlantis. If she were arrested and interrogated . . . Titus could only hope that Atlantis would not think to ask her questions on that particular subject.

They were almost halfway up the cliff. Titus inched along the narrow footpath that would take him to the next ladder, adjusting Wintervale's arms so the latter did not inadvertently strangle him.

With Wintervale's tale finished, Titus had no choice but to ask the question that disturbed him far more than it should. “Did you make the maelstrom?”

Wintervale had largely stopped shivering, but now he trembled. “I'm not sure how that happened. The Atlantean skimmer came out of nowhere. One minute I was dozing off and the next minute it was there.” He exhaled slowly—as if trying to push away the memory. “I panicked completely. All I could think was, if only I were a more powerful elemental mage, I would open up a huge whirlpool right before the skimmer and then I'd be safe from it.”

The fact that Wintervale was an elemental mage was never the first, second, third, or even fourth thing Titus recalled about him.
If I want to make a fire, I use a match
, Wintervale had once confessed to Titus. And that had not been false modesty. Spent coals could produce bigger sparks than the glimmers of fire Wintervale summoned. And one would probably die of thirst waiting for him to fill a glass with water.

Then again, great elemental mages tended to be unexceptional as children, until their powers manifested in adolescence. Titus had thought it was too late for Wintervale to undergo such a transformation. But obviously he was wrong.

“So you wanted to make a huge whirlpool?”

“I did. And the next moment, all this power I'd never felt before poured out of me and the sea did exactly what I wanted it to do. I guess . . . I guess I'm a better elemental mage than I thought I was.”

Titus's arms burned as he pulled up to the next rung. “You might get into
Lives and Deeds of the Great Elemental Mages
if you are not careful.”

The sound Wintervale made was halfway between a laugh and a sob. “I wish Mother could have seen it. When we still lived in the Domain, she was so unimpressed with my powers she didn't bother to have me declared. She would—she would have liked to see what I was able to do today.”

“Yes, this changes things,” Titus said slowly.

Everything, possibly.

 

By the time he reached the top of the cliff, every muscle in Titus's body screamed.

Fairfax had done as he asked: no one threw open windows to yell in surprise at Wintervale's sudden appearance. Titus half carried, half dragged Wintervale the rest of the distance to the front door.

“I am going to vault inside. Wait a few seconds before you ring the doorbell,” Titus told Wintervale. “And if anyone asks why you look like death, tell them it was something you ate on the train.”

Back in his room Titus pointed his wand at his soles and got rid of any debris that clung to them. The doorbell clanged distantly. He stepped onto the balcony. Fairfax and Cooper were still at their game of croquet, with Kashkari added as an observer.

“So you managed to get out of bed by three,” Titus said to Kashkari.

“I was out of bed by noon,” said Kashkari. He looked as if he had not been allowed to sleep in three days. “Spent the next two hours on the floor, writhing in agony.”

“At least you are upright,” said Cooper with rather obscene cheer, considering he drank as much as anyone did. “Sutherland is still moaning under his blanket, as far as I know.”

Fairfax swung her mallet. The doorbell rang again. She tensed, but she did not say anything.

Kashkari rubbed his temples. “Is someone ringing the bell?”

The butler appeared. “There is a caller by the name of Wintervale. Should I say Mr. Sutherland is at home to him?”

“Yes!” Kashkari and Cooper answered at the same time. Kashkari, swaying slightly, started immediately for the house. Cooper hurried to catch up. Fairfax, after a glance at Titus, followed suit.

Titus was the last to reach the front of the house, where Wintervale was being warmly welcomed back into the fold.

“What's the matter?” Kashkari peered at him. “Have you been drinking too? You don't look good.”

“Something I ate on the trip.” Wintervale turned to the butler. “I'd like to lie down for a bit, if you have a bed to spare.”

“It will take us only a minute to make up a room for you, sir.”

“You can use my room until then,” Kashkari offered, bracing his arm around Wintervale's middle.

Wintervale looked toward Titus, seemingly reluctant to go with Kashkari. But the latter was already moving him along. “Watch your step.”

“You should take all the rest you can,” Titus reminded Wintervale. Kashkari's bed was as good a place as any.

“I'll go tell Sutherland you are here,” said Cooper as he passed by Kashkari and Wintervale on the stairs.

Fairfax did not follow them, but came closer to Titus. “I'll ask for a tray of tea for you, Wintervale.” She spoke loud enough for everyone to hear. Then, in a whisper to him alone, “You want to tell me what happened?”

She was worried about him, and concerned for the situation. But though she was on edge, she remained very much in charge of herself.

Whereas he felt like the Atlantean skimmer, caught in an inescapable maelstrom. “There is something I need to check first. Will you keep an eye on Wintervale until I get back?”

“Of course. What do you need to check?”

It was a betrayal to speak those words. But he did, because he did not lie to her. “My mother's diary.”

 

Princess Ariadne's diary sat at the center of the worktable in Titus's laboratory. He stared at it. Had he made the mistake of a lifetime? Her vision, the one of him standing upon a balcony and witnessing an act of stupendous elemental power—had she meant Wintervale, rather than Fairfax?

I need to see them again, those entries.

Everything in him yearned toward Fairfax. In a world of utter uncertainties, she had proved to be the strength he could rely on, when his own strength failed.

But what if she was not the One?

Please, let it be Fairfax.

The diary responded—at least to the first part of his request.

 

28 September, YD 1014

 

The day of his birth.

 

A man stands somewhere. He could be anywhere, a mountaintop, a field, or before an open window . All I see is the back of his head and the blue sky beyond. Yet even in so limited a vision, I see—or rather, I feel—his shock.

He is reeling.

And that was that.

 

13 November, YD 1014

 

Joy pierced him. The day before Fairfax was born. This had to be a good sign.

 

The same vision, slightly expanded. Now I know it takes place at about quarter after two o'clock. Though the time could be deceptive, just as the date had been at Eugenides Constantinos's bookshop.

When I used to read all the books about seers I could lay my hands on, almost every one of them had mentioned rubbish visions, those visions that had no significance whatsoever. The mage who always saw what he ate a week into the future, for example.

I wonder if this is a rubbish vision. Though, of course, even rubbish visions eventually predict something. The mage who saw what he ate stopped having those visions—and one week later he was dead.

And it is odd that I seem to have this particular vision only when someone is in confinement for childbirth.

 

Whose confinement? Who gave birth on the night of the meteor storm?

He turned the page.

 

I caught Eirene reading from my diary.

It shocked me to no end.

I had always believed Eirene one of the most honorable mages I had ever met. But she refused to even give me a reason for her snooping.

My confidence is shattered. Am I so terrible at judging character? Am I surrounded by mages seeking to betray my trust?

 

He had checked the roster of his mother's staff at the time of the diary entry, but had found no one by the name of Eirene.

 

27 March, YD 1016

 

This vision again.

Nothing new, except now I am convinced the man in the vision is a very young man, perhaps a boy still. I cannot say why I think so, but I do.

 

9 July, YD 1018

 

A wider view of the young man. As the phenomenon that staggers him unfolds, his hands grip the railing of the balcony, his knuckles stark white.

 

Titus remembered this, gripping the railing in stupefaction at Wintervale's maelstrom.

And the term, “railing.” Could the marble balustrade that encircled the grand balcony outside his bedchamber in the castle be called a railing? And had his hands been anywhere near the balustrade when Fairfax's lightning had come down?

He could not recall at all.

His heart pounded with dread.

 

13 April, YD 1021

 

The day after his mother learned that he, and not she, would be the next sovereign of the Domain, when she realized that her own death was imminent and that this particular vision, long thought of as insignificant, was actually anything but.

 

I have been waiting for this vision to return. Thankfully I did not have to wait too long.

Finally I see the young man's face. I had suspected that it would be Titus, but now I know it is. He appears to be asleep at first, his hand over an old book—my copy of the Crucible, or something else? Now he rises, checks the time, fourteen minutes after two, and walks out to the balcony.

But what does this all mean? I feel as if I should know but I do not.

 

17 April, YD 1021

 

The very last entry. It would fill two entire pages, front and back, then snake around all the margins. Only the first few paragraphs would deal with the actual vision. The rest consisted of instructions to Titus, what he should do, what he must learn, and how he was to accomplish this impossible task that she had realized would be his.

He had come hoping to vindicate Fairfax's place in his life. Now all he wanted was for there to be no more details that would tilt the balance in Wintervale's favor. As long as nothing forced him to conclude that it must be Wintervale, he would go on believing that his destiny lay with Fairfax.

 

I wish so much of this vision was not from the back, for I love looking upon my son's face in the moments before the elemental phenomenon shakes him. Yes, I know now that it will be an elemental phenomenon and I know now what a dreadful turning point it will be.

Has already been.

But until then, he smiles, my son, his face bright with joy and anticipation.

 

It was all Titus could do not to scream.

He had not smiled before Fairfax's lightning had come down—had emerged from the Crucible aching and grim. But before Wintervale's arrival, he had been dreaming of Fairfax.

And fool that he was, he had grinned from ear to ear in utter happiness, when everything was about
Wintervale
. And had always been.

He closed the diary and buried his face in his hands.

So quiet, almost unnoticeable, the sound of dreams splintering.

CHAPTER
9