Page 37 of The Mage's Rake
Unfortunately, work beckoned, so I reluctantly tore myself away and kept my dark thoughts at bay with potion brewing and bottling. I had to help Landis with the charity soirée. I had a few patients in the castle to visit with Aileen. I had a few potions to brew for the housekeeper and captain of the guard. I had to finish writing up my finalized reports for Gareth to be sent with Hugh’s own report. I had to figure out what Nyria meant exactly. I had to make sure that Hugh was never in true danger.
Nyria and Meryn, the stories say, emerged from the breasts and thighs of Gaia. They were closest to her heart. Her hands,however, entwined with Solana to birth Solas, the God of War, of the Sun, of the Sunna. Solas is an energy of activity and motion. As his child, I could hardly stay put and wait. If Deep Magick held the answer, if it could provide Hugh a safety net, I would do my utmost to see it come to pass. I wasn’t about to give Hugh up to Agathar, the God of Fate, without a fight.
Chapter 15
Hugh
When Alan shared his stories of the Lower Rime with Landis, I’m certain he never imagined that they would end up working together to run a charity soirée. I was sure that neither Landis nor Alan believed that they would successfully corral a multitude of nobles around Wintermas to raise funds for the common folk. After all, despite his position, Landis still struggled to feel comfortable leading Sumarene, particularly the Royal Court. Simply learning to say “no”, for a timid young tom like Landis, was difficult. Thankfully, Corrin’s presence had gifted Landis with a sense of self-respect that helped to bolster his self-confidence.
Similarly, the Alan of old would never have emerged from his rooms or laboratory except to attend to his court duties. Previously, he never seemed interested in placing himself at the forefront of the court’s dramas or politics. In fact, quite a few lords and ladies were surprised to hear that King Landis had officially received support from the White Tower in the formof High Mage Alan Carwick, the White Tower’s most capable mage in centuries. While his magickal prowess and acumen had earned him a name in the circles of magery, Alan had not made any impact on Landis’s court—until this moment.
The two of young toms stood side by side at the top of the stairs, smiling painfully and greeting each guest. There was a charming shyness about Landis that could melt most hearts of stone, his cousin Lord Morne excepting. Alan, on the other hand, clearly petrified, had retreated to pained smiles and an aloof posture that might have deterred any guest had not the activities within been so attractive. Namely, myself.
Recognizing the hunch to Alan’s shoulders, I meandered over to the two hosts, clapped Alan on the back, and cracked a crass joke about moon magic. Alan’s tail instantly rose and fluffed with annoyance. His white eyebrows beetled together, and his nose scrunched, adorably, at my words. Violet eyes gleaming behind his over-sized silver spectacles, Alan skewered me with a single look.
“What devilry are you up to, Hugh?”
“Just doing the rounds,” I said, easing to stand by him and placing my hand just above the curve of his hidden rump. “Checking certain… areas to ensure that all is well.”
“I’m certain that area is just fine,” Alan said. “I have it covered.”
“That you do,” I shot back cheekily.
A small smile flitted across Alan’s face, which drew an audible gasp from Lady Brockhurst and her daughters. No doubt they suddenly realized that High Mage Alan Carwick was, after all, a rather handsome tom with a winsome appearance. When he was smiling and not imitating a corpse. I sighed and leaned forward to whisper in Alan’s ear. Noticing my movement, Alan tilted his head back, leaned away, and narrowed his eyes at me.
“What are you doing, Hugh?”
“Just telling you a secret.”
“What if I don’t want your secret?”
“Oh, you do.”
“I do?” Alan asked, snappishly, but there was a definite smile gracing his lips now.
“I said as much.” I grinned back at him. “Just admit it. You want to know.”
“Fine,” Alan said with a note of chagrin. “Consider my curiosity piqued. What is it?”
“Oh, nothing, really,” I replied airily.
Ignoring his incensed squawk in response, I ambled off. I glanced back and waved insouciantly. Alan turned his nose up at me and flicked his tail in annoyance, but I could see that the tension in his shoulders had eased and a more genuine smile rested on his lips. The new incoming guests, however, still stared at the tall, slender mage, no doubt because he was, for the first time in their experience, smiling. With my self-appointed task complete, I began my real work in earnest—overseeing the guards on duty for the evening.
Tonight the castle was playing host to two hundred guests. Two hundred or thereabouts. This meant an additional set of servants had been temporarily hired for the evening. On top of that, there was a higher amount of traffic in and out of the castle. It would be a perfect opportunity for all sorts of mischief should an ambitious lord have a mind to cause trouble for Landis. Corrin and the royal guards were diligently patrolling and noting the guests who entered, but in the throngs of newcomers, any soul looking to cause trouble would find entrance easily. As if reading my thoughts, Corrin, looking grim, caught my attention and surreptitiously beckoned me to one of the shadowed side halls, where Alf now stood.
“Something the matter?” I asked, instantly feeling my chest tighten with worry.
“Something,” Corrin said in his usual terse manner while on patrol. “Alf?”
“It wasn’t me, beggin’ yer pardon,” Alf said. “A tom had come with the performers for the show, like, and said he heard some rumors. I put him in the guardroom—“
I nodded and led the way to the guardroom with Alf and Corrin on my heels. Alf spoke rapidly. A small choir of kits had been brought in for some performance. Kits from the Lower Rime had been chosen and corralled by Aileen and young Lady Merry, who was famous for her work in the Lower Rime. The idea, Landis and Alan had told me, was to pluck at the heartstrings of the wealthy by presenting cute kits in an adorable show.Transforming the faceless masses into something more familiar and heartwarming, Alan said. Of course, someone might try to use the busyness behind the scenes to infiltrate the castle.
Hairs rose on my neck and arms as I made my way to the guardroom. At the sight of Ian, dressed up warmly in dark clothing and wearing a worried expression, my heart plummeted. Instantly, I sent two guards to fetch Ser Bertram and Ser Andersen. My worst fears began to pile up in the back of my mind:a coup? A riot? An assassination attempt?
“Ian,” I said, keeping my voice even. “Tell me you’re here simply to help with marshaling the young ones? I heard there is some kind of singing tonight.”
“Tommie can’t sing, but he insisted on helping hold a candle,” Ian replied. For a second, a warm smile flitted across his face—and then it evaporated as he continued. “So I figured I’d help with the kits. The folk bit off more than they can chew, I reckon, as these kits are rascals, godsdamn them. And bless’em, of course. And I was on my way with Tommie and a packful of others with some young mollies when I chanced to overhearone o’ the mollie’s beaus. One of them types, beggin’ yer pardon, milord, one o’ them rogues as I mentioned.”
