Dawn and Devilry Page 5

  "Sad news today," Alexandra announced when we had all settled. "We've lost Councilman Perry."

  I frowned, but Cyrus puffed out his chest. "Such a shame. Magical rot? Happens to the best of them."

  "In this case, I don't believe it does," she said, gently breaking off a piece of bread. "Perry had long since become more of a ceremonial councilman. Wouldn't you agree, Rogers?"

  The old Enchanter coughed and nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

  "I dream of the day when we might have a full council of Warriors," Alexandra said with something of a wistful tone. "Alas, we have what we have." Again, her gaze darted in my direction.

  "Does that mean my induction match will be now?" Cyrus asked.

  "I don't believe you're quite ready yet," she said. "But we may consider it soon."

  I waited for her to say the same about mine—after all, if there was a vacancy on the Council, surely whatever vendetta Alexandra was waging against me would be put to the side.

  "Gavon." My hopes rose, "Today, I'll need you to take the census of the village. I want an updated accounting of every villager."

  This time, it was much harder to keep my face void of emotions. But perhaps if I accomplished the task quickly, I could still make my meeting with Mora. I thought of every question I was going to ask her instead of how much I wanted to throw something magical at Alexandra.

  Cyrus snickered. "Such important work, Gav."

  "Indeed it is," Alexandra said. "A Guildmaster should know his guild. And every person in it. Therefore, Cyrus, you will be assisting him before our sparring match."

  His smug face dropped like a sack of dirt. "But I have to prepare for our sparring match."

  "If you have to prepare for a sparring match, perhaps you aren't ready to be inducted," Alexandra said.

  I wished I could argue with her—to say Cyrus should rest before stepping into the ring. To do anything that would keep him from accompanying me. But when Alexandra made a decision, that was that.

  I cleaned up after breakfast with a scowl, then I summoned a quill and leather-bound notebook from Alexandra's office, waiting for Cyrus at the front door. Predictably, he took his time joining me.

  I thumbed through the previous entries, going back at least twenty years. When Alexandra had first taken the census—presumably as an apprentice herself—the villagers numbered seven hundreds. Last year, there were barely five hundred, and Cyrus and I were the only magicals born in that period not an Enchanter or Charmer.

  It was a bit disconcerting.

  The front doors opened, and Cyrus finally made his appearance.

  "Let's hurry up and get this done," I snapped, turning on my heel toward the village below.

  "Oh? Do you have some place to be?" Cyrus drawled. "I, personally, love walking amongst the filth. Surprised we don't all get magical rot, breathing their air as we do."

  I gritted my teeth. There would be little unnecessary conversation with Cyrus today, because the more he talked, the longer this task would take. I did have better places to be. Things would've gone faster had I divvied up the village and allowed Cyrus to account for his half. But I didn't think it fair to unleash my fellow Warrior on them. And if the final census was incorrect, Alexandra would blame me. So together we went.

  At the first cluster of houses, I rapped on the door and announced myself. The door cracked open a hair, but revealed nothing, until a pair of dark brown eyes caught my attention. The little girl was barely knee-high, and her dirty face still held an angelic look.

  "Sarah, get away from the door." The girl's harried mother, her belly swollen, came rushing to the door and pulled the child away. She hastily swept her brown hair back into a bun and straightened. "Masters Cyrus, Gavon. It's an honor."

  "I'm sure," Cyrus said.

  "We're here on behalf of the Guildmaster," I said, ignoring my partner. "The annual census."

  "Ah." The worry melted from her face. "Yes, it's just myself, Sarah, and my husband."

  "Husband?" Cyrus snorted as he wandered into the work room. "Is there really such a thing still?"

  The woman blushed and straightened. "Among the Charmers."

  Cyrus might've found their marriage ridiculous, but I was jealous. This little girl would grow up knowing her mother as a mother, and not a calculating mistress who enjoyed toying with her son's desires.

  "So, yes. There's just three of us," the woman repeated, with a wary eye on Cyrus, who was looking in their cupboards as if he owned them. "And the baby."

  I nodded, casting a look down at the child. "Any sign of magic?"

  The woman nodded, rubbing her belly. "Another Charmer. I'm sure of it."

  "Excellent," I said, marking it on the list. I turned to last year's count; Alexandra had also noted their livestock. "And your farm?"

  "Oh, we've had three calves this year," she said with a grin. "If they survive to adulthood, we'll have more milk than the village can drink."

  "Thank you," I said, marking it down. Then, as we were leaving, I added, "And good luck with your new child."

  She beamed and rubbed her belly.

  We walked out of the house and Cyrus made no effort to hide his disdain. "Another Charmer. As if we need more rabble in the village."

  "And what do you propose we do with them?" I asked as I rapped on the next door.

  "Smother them like we do the Potion-makers," Cyrus said. "We already have too many mouths to feed."

  The door opened to an old woman, who, by the size of her eyes, had heard the conversation. I made sure to smile genuinely when I informed her of the reason for our visit.

  "Come in, come in," she said. The Enchanter, Mary, sat at a table drinking tea. She rose quickly, knocking the cup over then cleaning it with a quick spell.

  "M-Master Gavon, it's so nice to see you." Cyrus cleared his throat behind me, and she quickly added, "And Master Cyrus."

  "Just here for the annual accounting," I replied.

  "Just us two," the older woman said—her mother or sister, I wasn't sure. "Enchanters both."

  I flipped to the previous page, finding that Alexandra had asked about their bread stores. "And your stores?"

  Mary fidgeted, but the older woman silenced her with a look. "They're good."

  I paused, sensing they weren't being honest. "Are they?"

  "No, Master Gavon," Mary blurted. "The bread we make…it just falls apart."

  "So make more with magic," Cyrus drawled. "Isn't that what you do?"

  "Yes, but…even the bread we have now, it's not the… It's magic made from magic. I don't even know if there's real bread left in the crumbs."

  "Hush, girl," the older said. "This is Enchanter business. We don't need to bother the Guildmaster with it."

  I paused and marked a note that they needed more. "I'm sure there's something we can do. I will check with Alexandra."

  The older woman nodded, looking down. "Please don't take this as a sign of our inability to cast."

  "Of course not," I said. Perhaps I would add a crumb or two from my journey to the new world today. That I had the ability to actually help these people left a smile on my face as we walked to the next house.

  "What are you grinning about?" Cyrus asked. "Did you roll with that girl yet?"

  "No," I said, casting him a look.

  "I did," he said with a grimace. "It was forgettable."

  "I'm sure it was."

  Our canvassing had taken much longer than I'd wanted, as Cyrus had dawdled and languished at almost every house. I would probably miss my meeting time with Mora. Nevertheless, when we arrived back at the Manor, I hurried through the list for Alexandra.

  "So that's three hundred Charmers, two hundred forty-one Enchanters, and three Warriors," I said. "Fifteen pregnancies—twelve of which are known Charmers or Enchanters, and three are too early to tell."

  "Too early?" Alexandra asked with a quirked brow.

  "Potion-makers," I admitted. "Or stillborn."

  She sat back in her chair, her fin
gers intertwined above her lap. "And no Warriors or Healers?"

  "Not one, Mistress."

  She nodded and tilted her head toward Cyrus. "And what do you think of this, Cyrus?"

  He straightened, as if he hadn't been paying attention. "What?"

  "I asked what you thought of our numbers." Her face gave away nothing, and for once, I was glad I wasn't on the receiving end of her questioning.

  Cyrus swallowed his surprise in favor of a smug look. "Too much rabble. We came across a woman who had seven children—seven. All Enchanters. What a waste."

  She nodded slowly. "Why do you think they're a waste? Charmers and Enchanters create the food you eat. They're an integral part of our village."

  "Yes, but do we need three hundred of them?" he asked. "It seems a lot."

  "Very well. Meet me in the sparring ring. I will join you momentarily."

  And he was gone in a puff of gray.

  "And what do you think of our numbers, Gavon?" Alexandra asked. "Do you think it's a waste?"

  I honestly had no answer for her. To my eyes, the villagers seemed happy. They might not know how to read, or understand magical theory, but they were still good magicals with every right to their small plots of land.

  "No," I said finally. "I don't."

  Something like amusement lit her eyes. "You may dust my library today."

  Eight

  As soon as she was gone, I used magic to dust every inch of that library and wash the windows. When it was finished, I transported myself to the tear then dove in head-first.

  This time, the bright sun didn't bother me as much. I once more charmed my clothes to the shorter clothing favored by the men of this era then closed my eyes. I'd probably missed Mora, so I sought her out using magic, praying she wasn't beyond the confines of her mother's magical barrier.

  No, she was in the library. Sitting at a table, reading a book with a furrow in her brow. My magic sang as it transported me to the seat across from her.

  She looked up and yelped in surprise.

  "It's me!" I said, momentarily terrified she'd forgotten me—or worse. "Gavon, remember? I'm still not here to harm you!"

  "Holy crap," she cried, placing her hand over her head. "Dude, you can't just…" She lowered her voice. "Transport in the middle of the library. You can't use magic in front of the nonmagicals. What if somebody'd seen you?"

  I opened and closed my mouth. "I…don't know? What would happen?"

  "If you ask my mother, the apocalypse," she said, her shock slowly fading into a smile that eased my tension. "For whatever reason, you don't have to stick to the same rules we do, but…you have to be more careful. Just…don't use magic outside your house."

  "That…seems impossible," I said, shaking my head.

  She laughed, her previous annoyance disappearing. "It's not so bad doing things nonmagically. I mean, especially when you've got all nonmagical friends, it's not hard to hide your magic." Her smile faded to a scowl. "Or when you're grounded and you can't use magic anyway."

  "But how do you get anywhere?" I asked. "If you aren't allowed to transport to nonmagical places?"

  "Cars," she said. "Remember? Those things you were so interested in yesterday? Airplanes, too."

  I frowned. "But if I wanted to go to Rome?"

  "I mean," she leaned across the table, "you can use magic. Just gotta be careful no nonmagical folks see you, that's all. Like appearing here in the library?" She shook her head. "Can't do that."

  "I obviously can…"

  "Yeah, Mom was talking about that last night," Mora said. "Apparently, you're not bound by this whole agreement they made in the seventeenth century. Like me? I couldn't transport here even if I really wanted to. And attacking Renny like you did?" She shook her head. "But since you're able to do all that and a bag of chips, you aren't under that same agreement."

  I'd nearly forgotten about her paramour. "I apologize for hurting him."

  "Eh," she said with a shrug. "It was kind of over anyway. I mean, he's fine. But he's an ass. Nonmagical guys are always a pain to date. Can't ever talk to them about family functions or anything like that." She tilted her head, something like mischievousness on her face. "And besides that, you're a lot more fun than he is."

  "Am I?" I looked down at my shirt, for lack of anything else.

  "Oh yeah," she said, leaning over. "Not at all what my mother said you were."

  I swallowed. "I'd be happy to speak with her. I don't want to cause any undue trouble for you or her."

  "Don't bother," she said, shaking her head. "My great uncle is retiring soon, and my mom wants the Clanmaster spot. I'm sure she thinks this is a good opportunity to showcase how badass she is." Her shoulders drooped. "Politics. It sucks."

  "I am quite aware," I said with a laugh. Finally, something we had in common. "My mother isn't much better. And Cyrus—"

  "Who's he?"

  "He's the other Warrior in the village. My mother's primary apprentice. I'm just the… My former master died three years ago, so I was sent to finish my training with her."

  She lifted her head. "You make it sound like you didn't even live with her."

  "I didn't." Her eyes widened, as if the admission were shocking. "Warriors are traditionally trained by someone other than their biological parent. It makes the transition of power much easier, and removes any emotional attachment. My own mother cares more for her apprentice than she does for me."

  "Sounds like Irene. All she talks about is getting Clanmaster. My existence is enough to piss her off these days."

  "What about your father?"

  She grew a bit somber. "He wasn't magical. Divorced my mom a few years ago after Jeanie was born. Guess the pressure of having such a ballbuster was too much for him. We don't see him a lot—but he calls sometimes."

  I heard the loneliness in her voice but decided not to press. "My father died a few years ago. Magical rot. A curable disease, if one opted to brew a potion every once in a while."

  "So why didn't you?"

  "Potion-making is illegal," I replied. "Has been since we arrived in New Salem."

  "Hm." She slid her hands along the book pages. "So…are you hungry?"

  "Another burger?" I asked.

  "Nah, I have something else in mind," she said. "We should probably get out of Salem, with all the magicals roaming around here looking for you. But you're gonna have to drive."

  "Drive?"

  "Use your magic," she said, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "C'mon, I know a good hiding place."

  With Mora's directions, I transported us to a distant city, in a dark alley away from nonmagical eyes. She called it Glow-ster, and dragged me into something called a 'pizza place.' The room was very dark with an enticing aroma that made my stomach rumble. We sat down at a table covered in checkered red and white fabric that slid under my fingers. A man came to speak with us, and I let Mora do the talking. She promised she was ordering us something good as the man left. I nodded and continued to inspect the cloth, contemplating what it could be made of.

  "What?" she asked, chewing on her straw as she sipped her soda. "Is the tablecloth interesting?"

  "It's…different," I said, looking up at her then smiling at the look on her face. "I can stop, if it's bothering you."

  "Nah, I kind of like watching you experience the world," she said. "It's like…everything's brand new to you. Nothing's boring."

  I grinned and turned to the left, where a framed drawing of the Colosseum hung. "That's familiar. I've read many books about Rome."

  "Oh yeah?" She plucked the frame from the wall and handed it to me. "You like ancient history then?"

  "To me, it's regular history," I said with a laugh. "But I want to see it with my own eyes. To know if it's as magnificent as they say."

  "What else have you read about?" she asked.

  "Venice," I said. "Verona—"

  "Like Romeo and Juliet?" She giggled. "You've read Romeo and Juliet?"

  For some reason, my cheeks
warmed. "Yes, it's quite good."

  "Dude, it's two teenagers who meet at a party once, get married, then die for no reason," she said with a scoff. "Like…the world's worst love story."

  I'd never considered it that way before. "I suppose. Then tell me, what do you enjoy reading?"

  She shrugged. "My mom thinks it's stupid, but I really love Anne Rice. Interview with the Vampire? Lestat? Yum."

  Any further questions I had were quelled by the appearance of a circular loaf of bread covered in white cheese and red circles. It looked incredible, but smelled indescribably delicious. I mimicked Mora as she plucked a pre-cut triangle from the center, then brought it to my mouth.

  "Careful!" she said just as I bit down. Pain sliced the roof of my mouth and I nearly spat out the bread. "It's hot," she said with a frown. "Are you okay?"

  I nodded and struggled to swallow the bite.

  "You may want to wait a minute," she said, handing me the black soda. I sucked it down and let the cool liquid fill my mouth to salve the burn.

  "I guess I should have noticed that," I said sheepishly. It was steaming fairly obviously.

  "Here." She handed me a miniature bread loaf that had come with it. "Try this."

  I took a hesitant bite, and the most glorious taste filled my mouth. I had no words for it, having never tasted anything similar in my life. It was pungent and salty, the bread soft and doughy in my mouth.

  "Yeah?" she said with a smile. "You like that?"

  I nodded. "What is this amazing thing?"

  "Garlic bread," she said, taking a bite of one herself.

  "Garlic bread." I lifted the half-eaten loaf in the air. "Imagine the Enchanters making one of these. There'd be chaos."

  "You guys don't have garlic either, I take it?"