6. Kelså

Chapter six

Kels?

T raveling was no more complex than any other magic. I thought my destination, pictured it in my mind, and willed myself to arrive in that place. Some Mages preferred to use hand signals, though, in truth, they served little more purpose than to add drama to a simple thought. Tasha would have waved her arms and spoken nonsensical words. She forever loved a stage and the adoration—and fear—that came from non-Mages who witnessed her acts.

Power had that effect on many of our number. For all the good we could do with the Phoenix's gifts, too many of my brothers and sisters relished their own grandiosity over all else. I supposed that was the way with people, Mage or not.

I sighed and glanced around to get my bearings. The manor house was one of my oldest possessions, though I rarely slept beneath its roof. I had established similar estates in each major city throughout the known world. Besides the convenience and comfort of a familiar place to lodge, each manor was also equipped with a library, laboratory, and scrying room, allowing me to continue my research wherever my Travels might lead me.

I strode around a pair of chairs and stood before a large buffet that consumed much of the far wall. Intricate vines and leaves ran along its legs and sides, while deep etchings of woodland creatures frolicking in a forest illustrated the front. I ran my fingers around the edge of the scrying bowl that sat atop the buffet's smooth surface. Blue magical flames from nearby candles flickered in its silver working.

"I suppose it is time." I drew in a deep breath and held it. Scrying was simple enough, but the act of peering into another's life felt intrusive each time I sought answers in the bowl.

I retrieved a pitcher from the washroom and filled the bowl. My Light leaped at my call, and the waters in the scrying bowl rippled. As quickly as the ripples began, they stilled, and an image of a young woman resolved. The girl's silky black hair trailed down the front of her smock. The garment should have been white, a pristine fabric marred only by the hair falling across it. But there was blood, so much blood. She was bathed in it.

I leaned closer, as if to comfort the child. "She looks so exhausted, and . . . her eyes . . . she's been crying."

The image moved with the girl's eyes as she placed a gentle hand on the brow of an older man who lay on a wooden table. The man was pale, gravely so, but his chest rose and fell with steady breaths.

His chest . . .

I squinted, examining every part of the man. His face was caked with blood, yet no wounds were visible, not even a scratch. A pale line the width of my palm streaked across his chest.

"A freshly healed wound," I muttered. "But no stitches."

I glanced around the room: glass bottles on shelves, stacked linens, silver instruments hanging in a perfect line.

"Not at home? An infirmary, perhaps?"

I closed my eyes and the water rippled, the image shimmering into the air above the bowl and vanishing in pinpricks of Light.

I stepped back and leaned against the back of a chair. "Perhaps it is time I paid the Queen a visit."

It had been years since I'd seen Asin, but we had been close once. No one was supposed to know it, but the Queen ran the information network for the King. While the High Chancellor governed the capital and ruled the Privy Council in His Majesty's absence, Asin was the true power behind the Throne. She could tell me how many rats were in the sewers and how many physikers were in the city.

With a thought, my paneled walls were replaced by marble and ancient tapestries. Queen Asin's blonde hair shone against her navy gown. She was alone except for a lady who brushed her long locks.

"Your Majesty," I said softly, inclining my head a few degrees.

The maid tossed her brush across the room as her scream echoed off the bedchamber walls.

Asin didn't even flinch, peering at me through the mirror of her dresser, an oversized luxury made for the most powerful woman on the continent. She raised one brow, and a tiny curl formed at one corner of her lips.

"The mighty Kels? Rea. And she bows before the Crown." Asin turned to face me but did not stand. She laid a hand on her maid's arm to calm the frightened woman. "To what do we owe this honor? Unannounced and in my own bedchamber, no less."

"Forgive my intrusion, but—"

"There was a time when a friend's visit was welcome, not something for which one apologized." Asin's voice wasn't cold, but the edge it held cut as surely as any blade.

My eyes lowered, then returned to hers. "Asin, Your Majesty, I am sorry. It has been too long."

"Eight years? Perhaps more?"

"Could we speak alone?" I asked, glancing at the maid who stood frozen by her Queen's side.

"To business, then. Right." Asin shook her head, then turned to her maid. "Give us a moment, would you. And let the kitchen know there will be two of us for midmorning."

"Of course, Your Majesty." The maid curtsied, shot me a sideways glare, then scurried out of the room.

The moment the heavy wooden door to her chamber slammed shut, Asin stood and closed the gap between us. Her embrace was so quick and fierce I nearly tumbled backward.

"It is so good to see you again, Kels?. Spirits, you had better not make me wait another eight years." No amount of magic could have stolen words from my mouth as much as the Queen had in that moment. My childhood friend stood before me. She held me in her arms. My heart soared at the knowledge that our bond of sisterhood remained unbroken. "Now, I know better than to think a Mage paid me a casual visit, even if she should . What brings you here, Kels??"

I pulled back and smiled at my wise friend. "Someone very special needs my help, though she does not know it."

Hours later, I appeared in the manor once more to find Gareth sitting in my living room before a roaring fire, sipping a crystal tumbler filled with brandy. Golden liquid splashed all over his robes as he startled. The glass flew into the stones of my hearth and shattered.

"Blessed Spirits! Can you not make some noise or use a door?" he exclaimed, setting his glass on a side table. He wiggled two fingers, and the brandy that had spilled lifted from his robe and the chair and evaporated. "That's why Mages don't spend time together. We scare the wits out of each other."

I stifled a laugh as I kneeled to gather broken glass. "And you, old man, could let a girl know you planned to visit."

Gareth snorted. "Girl? What girl is—"

"If you finish that sentence by guessing my age, I will stab you with one of these shards." I held up a sizeable chunk of broken crystal.

"Fair enough." He chuckled. "How goes the search?"

"Is the family getting anxious?" I smirked up at him.

"Well, it has been a few hours. Tasha says you may be losing your touch."

"She would." I snorted and resumed gathering broken pieces. "Asin—the Queen—sends her regards. She's a decade older but still the willful, precocious girl I remember. I could've spent days with her."

I sighed, and a smile parted my lips. "Anyway, our young woman is only a few blocks away in the Royal Medica. Asin claims she is brilliant, a sort of prodigy among the physikers, though she's only in her fourth year of her apprenticeship."

"Just what we need, another brilliant Mage to toss around their blessed opinions," Gareth snarked as ice clinked in a fresh glass.

"Would you rather our order be filled with incompetents? I think it's wonderful we may add another woman with intelligence and drive. Someone has to keep you stodgy old men on your toes."

"I'm only stodgy when you spill my brandy!"

"As you say, old man." I laughed again, then sobered. The image of the girl soaked in blood, her eyes distraught and exhausted, haunted my thoughts. "Gareth, something terrible happened. When I scryed for the girl, I found her covered in blood, and not just the splatter you might expect from a physiker's work. She was drenched in it. And her eyes . . . she looked almost beyond consolation."

The trickling of brandy over ice mingled with the popping of the fire as I slumped into the chair opposite where Gareth had been sitting. The broken tumbler sat on the table, reformed without a hint of having been tossed against the fireplace.

Gareth settled back into his chair and sipped, his eyes searching the flames.

"You should not wait for the morrow. Seek her now. If her power rose to meet some great need, others likely witnessed the act. She will need guidance . . . and a gentle hand."

"But Johann and the others agreed. We were only to find her." I knew Gareth was right. The girl needed direction. Still, the others—

"I know what you're thinking," he said, cradling his glass in both hands. "The others will be furious. Tasha will see this as a power grab, an attempt to win the new Mage to your side before the others can even meet her."

"What side?" I spat.

He gave me a look only a grandfather knows. "Child, don't mock your own wisdom. You know better."

I let my head fall back against the cushion of the chair.

"You mean well." His weathered hand found mine, drawing my gaze back to his. "Help this girl. That is how you make things better. I will help you deal with Johann and the others."

I nodded and stared into the fire. As the girl with the black hair stared back through the flames, it felt as though the entire world was about to change.