Twenty Mereish Magics

TWENTY

Mereish Magics

SAMUEL

G rant and I moved quickly along the eastern road. It was elevated and windy, and only a few sleigh tracks marred the fresh snow. To the west I could just discern the coastline in the gloom, where the blanket of bright snow ended and the land dropped away. The ceaseless drone of waves on shore and wind in the crags had long since faded from my awareness, my cheeks burning with the cold and my hands stiff on the reins.

Leaning forward, I slipped my fingers beneath the horse's mane and tried to leech off the animal's heat. We had taken our mounts to a gallop not long before, and the mare's flanks still steamed in the chill. She flicked her ears but kept plodding. I turned my touch to an affectionate scratch.

"Do you have a name?" I murmured to her. "What shall I call you?"

The mare plodded on and I sat back, a presentient unease sweeping across my shoulders.

"Grant," I called, reining in.

Grant twisted in his saddle with a squeak of leather and rustle of heavy clothes. Seeing I had stopped, he immediately brought his grey-speckled gelding to a halt. He watched me with a keen readiness I had learned to value early on in my career. Whatever else he was, Grant was useful in a tight spot.

I sat straight in the saddle and divided my awareness between the road and the Dark Water. The snow beneath our horses briefly shifted to water, silvered black and lapping, and Other lights sparked across the sleeping Mereish countryside.

Grant took on a greyish haze, marking him as non-mage ghiseau . Farther off, in a forest cloaking the southern hills, a cluster of yellow sparks marked implings on the hunt. I noted those with caution and turned my gaze to the coast, looking for the lights that would identify Olsa or Illya, the pale blue of Hart , Ben's rust-red, and the grey-edged teal of Mary.

A cluster of lights moved out on the sea, distant enough to blur together but near enough for me to sense another grey haze. Olsa and Illya were aboard Hart , but they were still west, and farther out to sea than expected. They were also not alone. Other ghistingpossessed ships punctuated the sea around them. I had no way of knowing just what kind of vessels those ships were, but, if they had driven Hart off course, they were unlikely to be allies. Had he been captured? Was he about to be?

I swept my gaze down the coast and marked a grey-hedged teal. Mary—I knew her light like no other. The grey was stronger tonight, as Tane attempted to hide the red burn of Benedict from enemy Sooths.

" Hart has been delayed," I conveyed to Grant, not bothering to keep the grimness from my voice. I pointed towards the red and teal lights. "Mary and Benedict are alone and close, in that direction."

Grant loosened his saber, drawing and slipping it back home to ensure the cold had not stiffened it. Then, hips at ease in the saddle and reins draped across the saddle horn, he set to priming a pistol.

I primed my own musket. Then I nudged my mare into a cantering lead, and we made for Mary's light.

A farmhouse soon parted from the gloom. It was low and made of stone, every corner rounded and every eave and peak decorated with intricate wooden knotwork. It lay in a distinct U-shape with its open side inland, away from the sea wind. One side of the U consisted of the barn, the other the kitchens, and the center the living quarters.

A massive, shaggy dog met us at the gate without so much as a huff of displeasure, and I offered the creature a hand to sniff as we led our horses into the yard.

"Eerie," Grant commented. He stood beside his placid horse, pistol in one hand and cutlass in the other. He eyed the sliding door of the barn and the kitchen stoop, where sealed pots nestled in the cold and a little awning had been built against the chimney foot. The dog, still unbothered by our intrusion, retreated to the awning and lay down on a pile of sackcloth.

"Benedict is here," I explained, eyeing the main door of the house. The small windows to either side wore heavy shutters, painted in quaint, bright patterns, but light flickered as one moved.

"Mary?" I called, just loud enough to be heard.

No answer came, and the shutter closed. All my fears about leaving Mary alone with Benedict resurfaced, more potent than ever.

I rested my musket loosely on my shoulder and, leaving the horses, approached the door.

It opened before I reached for the handle, and there stood Mary. She wore petticoats and a man's shirt with a blanket for a shawl, and her hair was in disarray.

My breath left me in a relieved, misty rush. Mary squeaked as I bundled her into my arms, musket clattering and my face buried in her cool, damp hair.

"I'm not dead," she assured me, her voice muffled by my shoulder. " You're not dead!"

Not nearly ready to let her go, I let a fraction of my tension ebb away.

"Yes, I am quite fine out here in the cold," Grant called, overloud, from the steps behind me. "Should I see to the horses, or will we be fleeing right away?"

"Hail," Benedict's voice called from farther inside the single, large common space. He sat in a large, quilt-smothered chair next to the hearth, forearms wearily braced on his knees. He looked out of place in the homey chamber, a battered criminal wrapped in a worn quilt of faded jewel tones, with a brimming basket of knitting beside him. "The house is asleep. Yes, everyone is alive, Sam. Do not look at me like that, I have no energy for your castigations."

My relief at seeing Mary was pure and warm, but the sight of Benedict brought a host of more complex feelings. Even cloaked in the blanket I could see he was thinner, his beard wiry and unkempt, his hair wild and his eyes haunted, shadowed. His cheeks were windburned and the rest of his skin unnaturally pale.

"Right, I'll see to the horses, then," Grant muttered. "Glad you are still among the living, Mary."

"I'm glad to see you too," Mary called after him. "Charles! Charlie!"

"Then where's my dramatic embrace?" Grant shouted back, sounding not altogether joking. "And never call me Charlie! I had a friend with a dog named Charlie, and he got run over by a cart."

I cleared my throat pointedly. "Thank you, Mr. Grant."

Grant's response was concealed in the clatter of hooves, and I shifted inside so we could close the door. My urge to go to Benedict was strong, but I took one more moment to look at Mary. I snagged one of her hands, feeling the lingering chill in her skin. She squeezed my fingers in return, and for that brief second we took rest in one another, all reservations forgotten.

Then I saw the bruising on her throat and a swelling at her hairline. I pulled away quickly, remembering how tightly I had embraced her.

"What happened? Did I hurt you?"

"I'm fine," Mary assured me, her voice steady. "I had an… encounter with a guard."

"She threw up three times," Benedict cut in. "She is concussed."

My heart staggered. "Mary."

"Tane has me," Mary reassured us both. "I feel much better."

"Concussed," Benedict repeated, ignoring us.

"Sit." I urged her towards the divan. Mary gave me a flat-lipped, wan look, but sat. I eased down beside her, battling the urge not to fuss.

Ben surveyed us, his haggard eyes bland with fatigue. "Your boat did not come."

"They were chased out to sea," I returned, crooking my legs to fit the narrow space between the divan and a low table overladen with books, a pipe on a stand, a jar of tobacco and various children's toys. The sight of the latter made me look at Ben more closely. "The family is unharmed?"

Mary, evidently deciding she had sat for long enough, rose and moved over to a rack next to the hearth, where the rest of their clothing was hung. The bare stone beneath it was puddled with water, and the clothing sopping wet. I smelled the stink of salt-watered wool and realized the two had been in the sea.

"Mary, please rest—" I started.

She shot me a look that made me bite back my words, her patience clearly waning.

Benedict leaned his head back onto an embroidered cushion and closed his eyes. "These bumpkins will never even know we were here."

"They're well," Mary affirmed, crouching to mop up the dripping puddle with a rag, then squeezing it into a bucket. She moved slowly, I noted, but seemed steady. "I checked."

Benedict eyed her with resentment.

"You swam from the prison?" I asked.

"Yes. Who's gone after Hart ?" Mary returned to the divan and sat with a leg tucked up under her petticoats, careless as a child.

I pried my eyes from a length of exposed calf and a delicate bare foot. "I haven't a clue, but they were ghisten ships."

"Every ship on the waves is ghisten at this time of year," Benedict pointed out. "But I doubt anything short of warships would hold back the Uknaras. We should proceed as if they have been captured and find another way back to Aeadine."

Mary's head shot up. "We will not!"

I rubbed my forehead, feeling the beginnings of a new headache coming on. "They may be able to shake them or talk their way out or escape. We will have to keep our heads low and bide our time until something changes. I will keep watch in the Other."

"Well, we help no one by staying here," Mary stated. "We should keep moving."

I nodded. "Discreetly."

Benedict's expression swung towards irate. "And if they're captured? What are we supposed to do? Rescue them ?"

A thick silence fell, riddled with unspoken truths and possibilities, most of them grim. Benedict's expression was an angry kind of disgust and Mary's the tight, distant stare she often took on when she was struggling not to be afraid. As for myself, I sat back and stared at the wall as I tried and failed to find any hope in my heart.

The door opened and Grant blew in, followed by the shaggy dog. It made right for Mary, who made a startled sound as the creature lay across her lap with a heavy sigh. Mary wasn't a small woman, but the hound enveloped her.

I found a damp dog's hindquarters on my leg, and a tail thumped against my chest. The thumping increased in tempo as I scratched its spine.

"He's wet," Grant warned.

"I can see… feel that." I sighed, but could not suppress a smile as Mary ruffled the dog's ears and leaned down to kiss its head.

"I don't mind one bit," she said.

"We have to find another way out of Mere," Ben pushed.

"We had planned to wait for Olsa at that cove. I vote we head there first and entertain more dire options later," Grant said, stomping snow from his boots, kicking them off and going to crouch beside the hearth in rumpled stockings. "Is there anything to drink?"

Mary nodded to the teapot on the table, her hands now occupied with scratching the dog.

"How far from the prison are we?" Mary glanced at Benedict. "We can't have gotten far. I practically had to carry him."

My brother made a disgruntled sound. "You were terrible at it. You also vomited on me."

"An hour's ride," I supplied. "If we leave a few hours before dawn, we can still reach the cove under the cover of darkness. I agree with Mr. Grant—we should go there first on the chance Olsa will still make the rendezvous. Will you be all right to travel?" I directed the question at Benedict but glanced at Mary to include her.

"Oh, I'll be quite all right after a few hours of sleep," Grant replied, tea in one hand and leaning down to plump the cushioning of the divan, right next to me, with the other. "This will do."

"Can we afford to sleep?" Mary glanced at Ben. "Can you keep control of the farmers?"

"I can maintain my control when I sleep," Benedict replied. "Instinct is enough."

"That's unsettling," Grant commented. "What if you dream? Do your instincts not… change?"

Benedict closed his eyes. "I do not dream."

"Never?" Mary clarified.

"Never," Ben affirmed. "Now if you three would be so kind as to shut up, I feel as though I have been in prison for weeks, then dragged through the Winter Sea and hauled through the snow for an hour by an ill-tempered hag."

"I could have left you there," Mary pointed out.

"You could never do that."

"Because you'd compel me?"

"No." Benedict gave a huffing laugh, low in his chest, and cracked an eye to look at me. "Because I look too much like Sam."

* * *

"Samuel?"

I cracked open bleary eyes to find Mary easing an unfinished tea from my loose fingers.

The others were asleep, Ben in his chair, and Grant on the other side of the divan, his legs hanging over the armrest and his head cushioned on a pillow next to my leg. I had slid down into a slump and my neck ached.

Mary set my cup on the table. "I need to show you something."

My body was loath to move, but my curiosity won out—particularly when Mary extended her hand out to me, fingers waiting to be held. She had a heavy satchel under her other arm.

I slipped my hand into hers and allowed her to lead me down a corridor to a warm kitchen. The fire was banked, bread rising in covered bowls, and the air smelled of woodsmoke, herbs, char and yeast.

We did not speak again until she set the satchel down on a workspace with a weighty clunk. "I stole this from the prison."

I cleared my throat. Mary had a habit of theft, but, given the greater crime of freeing Ben and my own recent exploits, I hardly had a leg to stand on.

She opened the satchel. Inside was a muddle of lead shot dotted with colored paint and Mereish talismans on sturdy chains.

A familiar Knowing swept over me, and one brush at the Dark Water told me that each of these items had a signature there—a soft, muddied glow. Some were edged with Magni red, others Stormsinger teal, and still others a Sooth's forest green. The lead balls were the same, their glow matching the color of dots of paint, though their base glow was an unsettling orange, close to the shade that usually hung about dittama, huden, and similar Otherborn beasts. That orange, twined with reds, greens and teals, looked sickly.

I reached for a talisman with a green glow and slowly took it up. My senses shuddered—I felt as though a pillow had been dragged over my ears, rasping and muffling. The Dark Water vanished along with the glows of the various items.

"This acts like my coin," I mused and set it back down on the worktop. My sense of the Other promptly returned. "Did you look at these in the Dark Water?"

Mary shook her head. "No, but Tane and I sensed something off about them."

"So you stole them."

She shrugged. "It felt like the right thing to do."

I looked at the Sooth talisman for another long moment then picked it back up again. "Mary, can you please step into the Other while I'm holding this? Tell me what you see."

She visibly hesitated, but relented after a moment of thought. "All right."

I closed my hand around the new talisman. The world around me remained solid, and, between one blink and the next, Mary disappeared.

I counted my own breaths, timing her absence. One. Two. Three. Four.

Mary reappeared, looking a little nauseous. She raked in a deep breath and braced on the worktop.

"I couldn't see anything," she said once she had reacclimatized.

I drew my brows together. "But you were in the Dark Water. You saw nothing there? No lights?"

She shook her head. "I saw everything but you."

I stared down at the coin in my hand, my mind whirling. Then, abruptly, I held it out to her. "Will you please hold this?"

Mary slowly accepted the talisman. I slipped into the Dark Water— as easy as breathing, now the talisman was away from my skin.

Mary's usual glow, her and Tane's eternal reflection in the Dark Water, was nowhere to be seen.

I slipped back into the human world. "Mary, this suppresses a Sooth's abilities both ways ."

Her lips parted in shock. "That means we can hide in the Other. All of us. There has to be…" She sifted through her gleanings and came up with another talisman identical to the one on the table. Her face fell. "We only have two."

I nodded, simultaneously intrigued and unsettled. If the Mereish had magecraft this advanced, what did it mean for the war? How long had they possessed it?

"You and Ben should wear them," I said practically. "There is no chance any Sooth from the prison touched Grant or I. Besides, if I wear that, I cannot use my abilities and we may miss a timely warning."

She nodded slowly. She surveyed the rest of the talismans, her thoughts clearly at silent war. "Also… If these new talismans work like your coin, they could make you worse."

"They may," I admitted."

"Ben and I take them, then. Now, what about these?" Mary reached for another talisman, this one embossed with a woman's face, eyes closed. The moment she wrapped her fingers fully around it, she stilled, and her eyes flew wide. I instinctively peered into the Dark Water. I could still see her, and the coin was teal, matching Mary's own glow.

Mary choked and dropped the coin. "I couldn't sing," she whispered, fear creeping into her eyes. "But what use is that? Why would the guards wear that?"

I held out a hand and she relinquished the Stormsinger talisman.

"Try to sing now. Direct your winds against me."

Mary lowered her chin and let out a slow breath. Then she sang a few, wordless notes.

The air in the room moved, rustling her skirts and whooshing up the chimney. But it did not touch me. I was protected, alone in an eddy of calm.

"The Mereish have talismans to protect themselves from mages," Mary breathed. "How is that possible? How could we not know? Our peoples have been at war for centuries. If they had this kind of knowledge, surely we would know ."

I rubbed at my throat, stretching my jaw in the vain hope that it would ease the resurging pain in my head. "It must be a recent discovery. Or they have hidden it very, very well."

"Another secret the Ess Noti would kill for?" Mary murmured, her eyes scanning the rest of the satchel's contents. She reached for one of the lead balls marked with a blue splotch of paint. She closed her fingers around it and opened her lips.

Her voice came out, but the air in the room did not stir, and the soothing wash I usually felt when she sang did not come.

When Mary's eyes met mine, the horror in her gaze was matched by the dread in mine.

"It's not just the coins," she whispered. "If I was shot with one of these, when we were under attack… I'd lose my power."

"Until it was taken out," I theorized.

Together, we stared down at the table. But I hardly saw its contents anymore. I saw possibilities and futures, a shift in the balance of power on the Winter Sea. If the Mereish could nullify our mages, if they could hide theirs in the Other… it was an advantage too massive to contemplate.

"We have to tell someone," Mary murmured, lifting her dread-filled eyes back up to mine. "We have to get back to Hart ."