Eleven

Sinn cawed and flew down from the tree—and landed a person, still so beautiful looking at him hurt. "Ask your questions, little mage."

"Why can you change forms at will now? How come you couldn't before? How many forms do you have?"

Sitting down, Sinn accepted the cup that had become his, though he'd always drunk just water as a raven, often splashing it around for his own amusement. "I can turn into any creature where mischief naturally resides. Humans, birds, horses, cats, several others… but I generally am happiest with raven and human. I use the others as necessity requires. Your conjuring was tampered with in a way that was meant to cause a nasty energy backfire that would have killed you. A tragedy, an angry friend, mages who would have carried the guilt and anguish the rest of their lives. Instead, because he was terrible at magic and certainly didn't know how to properly muck with a conjuring circle, he created a crack, a doorway, turning your conjuring into a summoning—but it was undirected, an open invitation to whatever felt like coming through." He finished his tea, set the cup down, and added grimly, "I reached it first, but barely."

"What else wanted to come through?"

"An opportunistic monster that would have killed everyone and everything. Not quite a demon, but worse than me, to be sure. Humans think they know about everything that's out there, but they don't know even half and honestly that's for the best.

"It doesn't matter, though, because I felt the summoning and, more importantly, felt a heart of mischief call to me. That gave me the advantage. But since it wasn't a proper, true summoning, and there was no binding done, I had limited power, meaning I could only hold my smallest, weakest form. I didn't realize until after the fact, when the casting was finished and everyone started shouting about wrong familiars, what had actually happened. By that point it was too late, there was enough of a bond I could not simply leave, but…as I said before, revealing my true nature has not gone well for me in the past. I've been enslaved, nearly killed, forcibly bonded and dismissed when something better came along…"

Ninos flinched, feeling awful all over again. "And I kept talking about getting rid of you, even though I didn't mean it that way and didn't even want to do it. I thought I was helping you."

"I know. I could have said something."

"I understand why you didn't," Ninos replied quietly, refilling their cups. "I'm tired of people lying to me, deceiving me, but it's different when you were genuinely in fear for your own life. No one should begrudge that."

Sinn smiled in a way that left Ninos warm and flustered. "A heart full of love and mischief. A rarer combination than you might think, little mage."

"Oh, be quiet," Ninos said, and split the soup he'd made into two bowls.

"Your cooking has improved significantly," Sinn said as they ate. "Any other questions?"

"What does it mean we're bonded? What are your powers?"

"I'm a spirit of mischief, which means I am inclined toward things like going unnoticed, stealing, moving things by force of will, making all manner of sounds. Generally non-violent things, though I also have plenty of violent capabilities. Mischief, as people love to say, often goes hand in hand with malice. But malice is what happens when mischief goes too far; it's more accurate to say mischief can evolve into malice—or devolve, maybe."

"Like a friend who tips from being jealous and a little mean to being murderous," Ninos said bitterly.

"Yes, exactly like that. I have never tolerated such things, even when I was a human. Very long ago, when this land went by a different name and this kingdom didn't even exist as an idea yet, I died to prevent something malicious from happening. The initial mischief had been my idea, but like you someone I trusted and loved betrayed me and intended to take it too far. I died stopping them. Death Herself took pity on me and turned me into a spirit of mischief. Where you find mischief, or the desire for it, you will find my presence encouraging it. I can be called to serve by a mischievous heart in need or want of me."

"I don't think I ever did anything mischievous in my life, so I don't know why you say I have a heart of mischief."

Sinn laughed, soft and sweet, and gave him a look full of fond amusement. "No? You keep only poisonous plants, knowing full well people will be alarmed. Your first instinct when those brigands stole your stuff was to ensnare them—freak them out, cause them some measure of trouble, but no real harm. Mischief. Exploring dangerous caves for no reason? Allowing plants to literally feed off you for survival? Talking to them to affect a rescue and escape? Your heart is brimming with mischief, darling. It only needed opportunity."

"If you say so," Ninos said, barely remembering anything after that darling . He had a hazy memory of hearing it before but could also be making that up. "So what are you going to do now? Do you have to stay with me, are you unable to leave or something?"

"The bond means that we share power, in that we can draw on each other's reserves, and to a lesser degree share magic. You'll never be able to use the full range of my magic, or me yours, but there is some overlap. You share my healing, and I am closer to the flora because of you. I've heard talk that you'll share my longevity, too, but I've no idea if that's true. The longest I was ever bonded to someone, and that against my will, was twenty years. As to leaving… I have some measure of freedom there, I could travel perhaps a couple of hours away before the bond would compel me to return."

"That doesn't really sound like freedom."

Sinn set his soup aside and moved around the fire to sit next to him. "I am a spirit. As such, I do not exist in any way that matters to most. I am the impulse that makes someone give in to an idea, the voice going do it , that sort of thing. Bound to you, I have form, I have a voice. I can eat, fly, and speak. So what if I can't hop on a ship and leave you alone in Corlock? I wouldn't want to, little mage mine. If you ever get sick of me, all you have to do is break the bond, banish me, and carry on your merry way."

"I would never do that unless it's what you wanted." The very idea left him cold and terrified. "You're stuck with me, mouse eater."

"Oh, no, whatever shall I do," Sinn replied, entirely too close suddenly for Ninos's peace of mind.

Then he was gone, back on his side of the fire finishing his soup.

Ninos finished his own as his heart slowly stopped racing, then checked on the horses, cleaned up dinner, and finally climbed into his bedroll. "We need to get you a bedroll now."

"Why, when I am perfectly happy with where I've been sleeping so far?"

"You're a brat," Ninos said, heart speeding right back up again as Sinn settled on his chest like he had a hundred times before. The weight had been sorely missed while they were separated, though birds of course didn't weigh much at all.

Unfortunately, when he woke, it was because Sinn was cawing loudly in this face, the sharp, biting caws that said danger .

"Mph, what's wrong? I'm up, I'm up," Ninos said groggily, shoving disheveled hair from his face.

Horses, coming fast, I think Havartin is coming for us.

"For you, I doubt he cares about me except as an impediment to you. Go hide in the trees. If they don't know where you are, they can't stop whatever trouble you devise to get rid of them, if I don't do it first."

Sinn nibbled his ear and then pushed off his shoulder and flew up to a tree branch where he was easily lost in the shadows. If he understood Sinn's powers correctly, they helped with that.

They do indeed.

Ninos had only just made himself some tea and started some oats for breakfast, since it was clear they wouldn't be leaving anytime soon—and what a wasted day of travel now—when four horses came thundering into the campsite.

Unfortunately, one of them was Gardi. The other three he didn't recognize, but it wasn't hard to tell the man in the lead was Havartin. Old, stodgy, dressed in significantly better clothes than everyone else. He knew the type well. What a disappointment. He'd trusted Wintry, despite the hard lesson in trust that Kina had taught him. Maybe Wintry didn't know Havartin would be so rotten. Maybe he wouldn't be rotten, but unfortunately Ninos was no longer that optimistic about anything.

"You are Master Nimos?" Presumably-Havartin asked.

"It's Ninos ," he replied icily. "I'm not sure why you and your little lackey there keep struggling with names, but that's not the best way to begin this conversation."

Have I mentioned I like it when you get feisty?

Stop that! He could not afford to be distracted and Sinn knew that, the brat.

"My apologies, I was misinformed."

By an entire letter that would have included his name? Right. Ninos said nothing, though, and let the silence stretch on awkwardly.

Clearing his throat, Havartin dismounted, the others doing the same around him. "Master Ninos, I apologize for the unpleasant way you were treated."

"Unpleasant is one word for it. Kidnapping and enslavement are the ones I prefer. Neither I nor Sinn deserved the treatment we endured. We did nothing wrong. We came to you for help ."

"And of course we'll help you," Havartin said hastily. "I have spoken with Gardi about his behavior."

"Yet brought him along on this little hunt."

Havartin looked angry for a moment, but immediately smoothed over it. "You are tied to a spirit of mischief."

"Bound, willingly and happily. Nobody tied me to anything, though I'm sure Gardi would have gotten around to it."

"Calto led me to believe you were much…quieter and well-behaved than this."

"My father was murdered by my best friend who then tried to murder me. I've been assaulted by brigands, harassed by other travelers, nearly drowned in multiple thunderstorms, nearly died falling down a pit, and was held captive while my partner was caged like an animal awaiting whatever torments you chose to levy upon him. My manners vanished a long time ago. All we want is to be left alone. If someone had just told me from the start that I had a spirit for a familiar, I wouldn't have wasted my time climbing all the way up these stupid mountains."

Havartin's face turned pleading, what he probably thought was very headmaster . Next would come the lightly condescending tone as he told Ninos what was best for him. Like he hadn't endured fifty Havartins in twenty years of schooling.

"Ninos, you don't understand what you have. The manifestation of a spirit is a rare event, the last one happened fifty years ago."

Not even close to true. They happen way more often than humans know. We're just good at hiding it because things like this happen.

How depressing.

"I understand perfectly. Sinn is a spirit of mischief and—"

"Not just any spirit of mischief, he's the greatest spirit of mischief," Havartin said. "His story is one of the few we have on record, including the human he used to be."

Nah, they have junk. Different stories spun into one, and my name survived through history somehow and got attached to it. I'm not the greatest anything. Spirits don't have power rankings. We exist or we don't. Longevity, maybe, and the more common the emotion the more prevalent the spirits. There are more spirits of death than anything else. I'd have told you if I had some grand story or special ranking.

I know.

Alasindi is the name they have. Alasindi Meadowlark.

Meadowlark, really?

Really, really. Surnames were a new thing back then; we were always 'Talus of the East Meadow' and whatnot. My father liked meadowlarks, so that's what he picked for our surname as they became less fashion and more requirement.

That's really cute, actually.

Focusing fully on Havartin again, he said, "I don't care what you think you have, or what you want. Sinn is bound to me, we're going home."

"We could do a lot for you," Havartin said coaxingly. "Your name will be on all the papers I write about the matter. Your arm there would benefit from learning blood magic, and we can teach you that. You can live at Shadowfell for free, the finest room, all the food. No shortage of things to learn."

"Thanks, but I've already spent practically twenty years of life at school. I'm done with it. And however nice you try to make it sound, I would be a prisoner, and Sinn a butterfly pinned to your board. Not interested. If you try to force the matter, it won't end well for you." Can you fly to that tree they're under and coax it to drop those vines of black ivy for me? He needed to be touching plants to speak with them, and right then he couldn't, not wearing his boots and standing in the middle of a clearing. Gods, he was going to wind up a crazy barefoot witch in the woods, he could see it now.

You seem to have an affinity for vines and ivy particularly.

Certainly seems that way. Can't complain.

Moving soundlessly, something he never was when it was just the two of them, Sinn flitted around the edge of the clearing to the tree in question. Ninos felt it through him as the tree and vines acquiesced.

"Please leave us alone," Ninos said.

"Please think about this," Havartin said. "Calto sent you to me for mentoring and guidance, to learn what you had and how to properly use it—"

"Him," Ninos replied cold. "His name is Sinn, he's a person, not a thing to be used. This conversation is over."

"You need to listen to me!" Havartin snarled. "You're behaving like a spoiled child with a toy he doesn't want to share, instead of someone who has had a stroke of luck he neither understands nor deserves, not when I have worked my whole life for this sort of chance. You will—"

His words turned into a scream that was joined by others as they were covered in black and green vines from above. Black ivy was called so because the leaves were exceptionally dark green, the veins nearly black. It secreted an oily substance that drove away all sorts of pests. Most ivy was a problem for the other plants it grew on, suffocating them and stealing nutrients until the source was dead, then moving on to the next resource, or spreading out to ruin entire patches of forest, whole orchards, and so on.

Blacky ivy, though, worked with the trees it lived on, driving away insects and other plants that would do it harm.

The oil was also useful in medicine, and in a high enough dose, like suddenly being covered in tens of vines, could cause rashes, fever, and trouble breathing.

He left them to suffer while they packed up camp and doused the fire. Havartin stared hungrily, hatefully, as he watched Sinn shift into human form to help. "I can do so much more for you than a child."

"I'm certain you think that," Sinn replied, "but you're of no use to me at all. I don't like you, I don't care about you, and on a purely spiritual level you have a heart full of greed, with no mischief at all, which makes you dull and useless."

Havartin tried to respond, but the breathing issues had begun, leaving him focusing on just taking deep, even breaths.

"You won't die," Ninos said as he swung up into his saddle, "but you're going to feel like it for several hours. I suggest a thorough shower with harsh, scouring soap to get rid of the oil, followed by soup, tea, and lots of rest. Some whisper willow bark would not hurt, either, but only a small amount, less than a quarter dip."

"Here," Sinn said, handing off the bowl of oatmeal Ninos had prepared so he could eat it on the road. Then he shifted into a raven again and flew high into the sky to keep watch. Ninos gave the group a last glance. "Leave us alone, or next time it'll be worse than black ivy." He turned and rode off, Serenade following cheerfully alongside, and left the whole mess behind once and for all.

They pushed harder than they would normally just to get off the damned mountain before nightfall. When they reached the place where Ninos had fallen, he knew it only from the massive hole in the ground that had been barricaded off and the way Sinn came down and shifted to walk alongside him until they were well clear of it.

When they finally stopped, even the horses were exhausted. Ninos made certain they were comfortable for the night and gave them apples from the stores that Sinn had somehow gotten for them. "How did you get me out of that hole?"

"Once you were healed up enough to endure the journey, if barely, I tied you to my back with strips of your clothes and climbed. It was harrowing, to say the least. Then I ran as fast as I could to the keep. That's why I was so weak when I arrived and couldn't keep them from capturing me. If I'd been at even half strength, they never would have managed it." He smirked. "Not that I need fancy magic when my little speaker is getting plants to do all our dirty work."

Ninos rolled his eyes, but he'd never fooled either one of them over how much he liked Sinn's praise. He was somewhat concerned over what he'd be willing to do to earn it. Rifling through their nearly overstuffed bags, he said, "What did you secure for us? How did you do it so quickly?"

"You'd be surprised what you can get away with when you act like you belong and are very, very pretty. Fruit, fresh and dried. Smoked meat. Grains. Dried vegetables, dried mushrooms , potato flakes, whatever else I could think of. We should want for nothing until we reach the academy."

"That will be nice. Wish I could have seen you work. Must be an interesting sight, a spirit doing what they were crafted for."

Sinn smiled in a slow, evil way. "You can watch me do whatever you want, little mage mine."

Ninos's jaw dropped, his face heating up enough to rival the fire. "Stop that! Right now!"

Laughing delightedly, entirely too pleased with himself, Sinn set to helping him make dinner.

"You could have been helping me cook all along?"

"I haven't cooked anything in a few hundred years, and it was just throwing stuff in a cauldron and letting it boil into a tasteless mush. My mother always favored ruthlessly practical over, well, everything."

Ninos shook his head. "I must seem like a silly child to you, only twenty-four to your hundreds."

"That's not really how it works. After a point, the numbers don't really matter, especially when you're a spirit. I died when I was thirty-two, and then I was a spirit. Time doesn't pass the same way; you don't have the same motives or values as people… I am strictly speaking a few hundred years old, but I still feel thirty-two. I'm sure to gods and demons it's quite different." He poured them tea and then moved out of the way as Ninos took over the cooking.

"Do you think they'll keep pursuing us?"

"No, they wouldn't dare. But he will likely write to Wintry about all that's happened. I doubt we'll be able to sneak in, get your rose, and get out—though we'll certainly try. I could always do it while you wait elsewhere. Nobody knows what I look like."

"Unless he includes a thorough description of you in that letter."

Sinn made a face. "Fair enough. Guess we'll try to make it as quick and painless as possible."

"Quick and painless would be nice but I'm not holding my breath."