The Seventh Magic (Book 3) (19 page)

Presiding over the wedding suited his mother perhaps better than any other role, and Sinjin was proud. Kendra looked at him just as he wiped a tear and smirked before turning away.

"You may seal the vows with a kiss," Catrin said at last. Kenward and Onin raced to claim the prize first. Both Allette and Miss Mariss beamed as their new husbands wrapped them in their arms, kissing them soundly. If it had been a competition, it would have been a draw, and all those assembled cheered. Jessub Tillerman flew above them then, releasing flower petals to rain down on them. It was a nice touch, Sinjin had to admit, knowing it had been his wife's idea.

With the music playing louder, the dancing began. Nearby foods of all varieties waited on wide, glossy fronds.

"Never thought I'd see the day," Benjin said after moving to Sinjin's side, which happened to be right near where the brisket and smoked vegetables had been laid out.

"Which day is that?" Sinjin asked. "The day Kenward is dressed better than his sister, or the day Onin smiled at someone other than his dragon?"

"Both," Benjin said, not looking up from his food.

"Look at them," Fasha said as she and Kendra approached. "They haven't even danced with their wives yet and already they're making a mess of themselves."

Sinjin held up clean, empty hands in his own defense, but it did not matter. Kendra smacked him on the rear and dragged him into the clearing where the newlyweds still danced. Never would he have guessed Onin would be the best dancer among them, with Miss Mariss quite neatly keeping up with him. Kenward and Allette didn't care. They moved much more slowly, turning in lazy circles, their eyes locked in a longing gaze. Sinjin did his best not to step on Kendra's toes.

As the sun set, leaving them under the comet and moon light, the celebration began in earnest. Songs were sung, tales told, and the finest ale shared among friends. It was as good a time as Sinjin could remember, and he vowed never to forget how this day felt. Hard times would come, but these moments would sustain them when darkness encroached. For a time, he simply allowed himself to be happy and enjoy being in the presence of those he loved.

With bellies full and a cool breeze blowing, most gathered on blankets laid about the vale and watched the skies. The last thing Sinjin remembered before falling asleep was his mother's voice lifted in song. He recalled no words, and the melody fled like a scent on the wind, but the feeling crept into his soul, where it would forever remain. His mother had promised him nothing, and said she had plans of her own. He fell asleep knowing it was enough.

Chapter 19

Sometimes things are as they should be. Cherish it.

--Catrin Volker, Herald of Istra

* * *

Morning arrived with the promise of new life. Sleep slow to clear from his mind, Sinjin looked around without fully understanding at first. Others had gone to their ships and homes for the night, but he and Kendra and a few others had stayed until no more of the magical day remained. Had he known the cost, Sinjin would have stayed awake all night, taking every moment with his mother. She was gone. It was first among a number of realizations to bring clarity.

Beside him, Kendra stirred and stretched with a yawn. Silent, Sinjin allowed her to reach conclusions in her own time. "What?" she asked over a barely stifled yawn.

At first, Sinjin maintained his silence, not wanting to say the words. Eventually though, he had to face reality, had to face the new day with all the strength his parents had fostered in him. "They're gone," he said. "She told me she could promise no more, and now I understand what she meant."

"But why?" Kendra asked, a catch in her voice.

"I don't know for certain. I suspect it's because there is simply too much power in the world now. I can't blame her for not wanting to spend the rest of her days wrapped in a foul-smelling blanket or trapped in a prison of rock. At least she's not alone."

Standing, Kendra helped Sinjin to his feet and they both walked toward the newest occupants of Catrin's Vale. No longer flesh and blood, three granite stones now stood, one far larger than the others. The two smaller stones leaned against one another as if in an eternal embrace. The third monolithic stone encircled the two smaller ones in what could only be described as its tail. When Sinjin squinted just right, he could almost see his mother, Pelivor, and Kyrien huddled together and taking strength from one another.

There Catrin had first encountered regent dragons and heard Kyrien's wails. The dragons told his mother this place belonged to her, and they had asked her to save him. Perhaps
ask
wasn't the right word, but they had left her a choice, and she had taken on the task, not because the dragons demanded it, but because she could not abide any creature being in such agony. The dragons had only reinforced her own desire to save Kyrien from the fate Archmaster Belegra had planned. It had been that same day his mother and father met for the first time, at least on the physical plane. So much history, so much pain, and yet salvation had come in the end. It was fitting, too, the
Slippery Eel
would not waste away alone after having saved them all at the cost of her own seaworthiness.

No matter how fitting or well reasoned, Sinjin wept. He'd already dealt with losing his mother in the past, yet he found the pain cut just as deeply. Memories of his father threatened to crush what little resolve remained, but Kendra's soft touch pulled him back from the edge of despair.

His mother had as much as told him this was coming. Part of him was angry she hadn't said more, but it wouldn't have made things better. He would have tried to convince her to stay, tried to find some way to fix that which was broken, and failure may have made it hurt even worse.

Life had taught him many things, not the least of which was that each person should choose his or her own destiny. It was not always so, but knowing his mother had chosen her own fate helped. Though she was not in the form he was used to, he could at least visit her here. Their presence palpable, Sinjin laid his hand on what looked like roughhewn granite to find the surface smoother and warmer than expected. Peacefulness washed over him, and he was thankful she was not completely lost, as she had seemed the first time.

Though others had been in the vale when Sinjin awoke, no one remained. Perhaps, upon waking, the others had reached the same realization as he, and they had chosen to give him this time with his mother, Pelivor, and Kyrien--a final chance to say good-bye. For this, he was grateful. Only Kendra was there to see him finally release all the emotions stored up within him, pushed down until such a time as he could deal with them. Peace had come to Godsland, at least for a time, and Sinjin allowed himself to grieve those they'd lost. So many had sacrificed themselves to make this day possible, not knowing if they would truly succeed. To those people, Sinjin felt the greatest gratitude and enormous debt. They had given their lives, and he had an obligation to make the very best of it. Others would rely on him moving forward. His leadership would be required to make things as his mother and the others had always dreamed they could be.

Taking Kendra's hand, Sinjin kissed her softly and thanked her for being there with him. She did not speak, her gentle caress saying more than words ever could. It was a new day, a new life, and the future would wait for no one. So much still needed doing, and he cast a final glance at the standing stones. Vowing to make them proud, he took Kendra's hand and led her away. Perhaps a trick of the wind, Sinjin thought he heard the words,
I love you, my son,
carried on the breeze. He smiled.

"I noticed something, you know," Kendra said. "Your mother has that dreadful blanket."

Sinjin specifically hadn't mentioned it and maintained his silence.

"If the thief lives and let me think him dead all this time, I'm going to kill him."

* * *

Jharmin Kyte returned to Wolfhold knowing difficult times were ahead, but it felt good to be home.

"The lady Lissa is on her way from Ravenhold," the first of many messengers relayed. Others brought tidings and requests for help from every direction. Before he'd even gained his ancestral home, a line of people had formed, awaiting his attention.

"We have a problem," said Grethen, captain of the Wolfhold guard. Jharmin gave him a withering look. "And a surprise. And another problem."

"I just want to go to my apartments and refresh myself after a long journey," Jharmin said. "You all managed to live without me for this long; pretend I am still at sea. That is, after you bring me food and a hot bath."

Grethen laughed. "Well, sir, we'll walk right past the first problem, then. Can't miss it."

"Great. Just great." Jharmin had known Grethen for a very long time. He would say no more about the matter. Walking through familiar halls, the ground so very still beneath his feet felt alien. Those bonded with the sea are more connected to the world through the water's movements, whereas the land was rigid and unforgiving. Still, a warm bath in a proper-sized tub and a full belly awaited, at least once this "problem" was resolved.

Shock stopped him immediately upon turning a corner. Never would he have expected to see Jenneth in restraints and standing beneath the ruination of one of his favorite murals, which he also knew has a trigger point for the cave-in mechanism. "What happened here?"

"Wait until you hear this story," Grethen said.

"Has Jenneth killed anyone?" Jharmin asked.

"No, sir."

"Then remove his restraints."

"Yes, sir." Grethen did as Jharmin asked, as he always did, even if he almost as often had something to say about it.

Jenneth rubbed his wrists and bowed deeply to Jharmin. "Lord Kyte, forgive me."

"I'm confused. Forgive you for what, exactly?"

"There was a man, sir, and a dragon," Jenneth stammered. "They came silently from the balcony. I was at my post, sir, but I did not see or hear them come. Suddenly the man was just there. He said he would let me live if I let him take something left here long ago." The young man's face went so red, he looked as if he might pass out. "He also said he would reveal gifts for you. I'm sorry, sir. I did not fight him. Had it been just a man, I would have taken him down, but . . . the dragon . . ."

"Describe this man to me, and why isn't there a big pile of rock blocking this hall? That's it?" Jharmin asked, pointing to a small pile of plaster and debris, pieces still showing wolf pups at play.

"He was tall, and his hair stuck out in all directions--"

"And the look of a madman in the corners of his eyes?"

"Yes, sir? Do you know this man?"

"Perhaps," Jharmin said then pointed at the debris. "What of this?"

"We left it just the way we found it," Grethen said.

"That was nice of you. Jenneth?"

"He was right, sir. This was a false cave-in release. Above is a hidden cache of ancient artifacts."

It took a moment for Jharmin to absorb the information. At first he was taken aback by the fact that any of the cave-in releases could be false, along with his sense of security. Second was the notion that Wolfhold still held secrets. Grethen brought a ladder and lamp from nearby.

Jharmin said nothing, climbing the ladder in silence.

"We left everything just as we found it. Not so sure about Jenneth, though. Some items have quite obviously been removed."

Jharmin ascended into darkness, and Grethen followed and handed up the lamp. Seeing treasures that had hidden above his head for all his life, all Jharmin Kyte could do was whistle.

"What do you want us to do about this?" Grethen asked.

"Clean up this mess, and place a guard. And send birds to Nora Trell. Tell her I have what she's looking for."

"Consider it done, sir. What about him?"

"Jenneth and I are going to talk this over. I'll handle this from here."

Grethen might have wanted to say more, but he kept his mouth shut for once.

"What did the man want?" Jharmin asked.

"A suit of armor, a metal staff, and a ball of glass with a design in it."

"Is that it?"

"Yes, sir."

"And did you take anything for yourself?"

"No, sir." Jenneth met Jharmin's eyes.

"Help Grethen clean this up, and then return to duty. I'm going to take a bath and eat fruit and figure out how to repay Nat Dersinger for making me wreak havoc on Wolfhold."

"You don't mean?"

"Of course we're going to have to release them all now!" Jharmin ranted. "How else will we know which are actually protecting us and which are hiding the gods know what?"

"When do you want us to do that?" Jenneth asked, going pale.

"We'll have to begin immediately, of course."

"Lady Lissa will be here in a matter of days, sir."

Massaging his forehead, Jharmin said, "I guess you’d better get started, then, hadn't you?"

"Yes, sir. Anything else, sir?"

"If I'm not sitting in hot water, eating cherries, soon,
you
get to tell Lady Lissa why we destroyed all the paintings, and the carpets and the moldings she loves so much."

Jenneth took off at a run.

* * *

Atop the needle spire, Nat Dersinger waited. As far as he could see, the forests crawled with activity. This was a new kind of settlement; a new way of living with nature instead of against it. Neenya and the Gunata worked tirelessly with the druids and the Cathurans to show newcomers the way and to make certain the laws of preservation were obeyed. The Falcon Isles accepted all those who came, no matter how strange or unusual they may be. As long as those people obeyed the laws and honored the land and their neighbors, they would be left unmolested. This was how Nat had always wanted it, and finally he had the resources and the power to effect the change he desired.

Some had resisted, even Neenya, but they'd come to see his way of thinking. Few things in this world were as difficult as convincing others of new ideas. So many clung to the old ways because they were safe and comforting, and Nat knew the value of old knowledge, but sometimes they had no choice but to face the new. Istra's return made it unavoidable, pushing even naysayers into supporting him. No one questioned the source of Nat's wealth, as long as he was willing to share. It was a convenient arrangement.

You've done well.

Going immediately to his knees, Nat said, "Yes, lord."

Soon I will regain my strength and your services will no longer be required. Not yet, though. Get up. Look at me.

Returning to his feet, Nat Dersinger shaded his eyes. Mael shone as bright as a comet, his scales like hammered gold. On his neck, a package was secured, and Nat could only stare.

Take it!

Mael's impatience urged him forward, and Nat reached out to the ropes securing the package, ignoring the towering height over which he stretched. The dragon shifted. Nat feared he would tumble to the treetops far below but kept his grip. The dragon stared at him now, projecting his authority. Nat loosened the ropes, clutched the package in one arm, and thrust himself back into the chamber atop the needle spire.

Enormous eyes watched with a sort of glee as Nat opened the bundle. Seeing his reaction, the dragon laughed.

"You are kind, lord," Nat said, believing the words he spoke.

Perhaps. When it suits me.

"You underestimate your own generosity, lord. You saved her."

Indeed. I did. It was the expedient thing to do. Had Aggrezjhon or Murden seized Catrin Volker's form, they would have been formidable enemies. Now they are gone, along with that wretched child. It doesn't matter how you win, as long as you get what you want.