Nine - Alan
Nine
Alan
???
I was as nervous as the first time I had ever snuck out to meet a girl. The memory of that instance brought an unwilling smile to my face. Whatever happened with Mina, it couldn’t be worse than that long-ago night.
I had climbed out my window, ripping the trellis my mother had coaxed roses to grow over from the side of the house, landed in the mud, and looked up to find my mother staring directly at me through the kitchen window. After apologizing, promising to fix the trellis the next day, and returning to my room, I had changed my trousers and tried again. Somehow I didn’t sprain my ankle or worse, but I was late. Which was how I discovered that Kayla Hervor had made appointments to meet several boys behind the general store that evening, their arrivals staggered.
As a consequence, I was probably one of the only men of our age group in Skorsa who had never kissed Kayla. Well, me and Cole. He had never been taken in by her flirting, his gaze never straying from Gemma, who looked at him the same way.
Tonight, I didn’t have to sneak out through my window—though I had reinforced the trellis plenty after that experience. I waited until Powell made his way to the tavern and walked to the stream. Rather than going up to the path I had followed Mina on the night before, I made my way to the nearest part of the stream, then followed it upriver.
When I reached the boulder by the stairs, I realized no one was there. Standing there, listening to the water as it flowed over a series of stepping stones, I wondered if I had even seen the words on Mina’s lips, asking me to come. It made more sense that I had invented the invitation.
Nevertheless, I settled on the large boulder near the stairs and waited.
I thought I was imagining it when I spotted a fine leather boot stepping onto the first stair. I lifted my head and stared at Mina. Under Powell’s watchful gaze, I hadn’t dared to look too closely, but now I indulged.
She was slender, with a gamine figure. Except with her rosy lips and wide eyes, not to mention her hair, she was femininity itself. That hair reached the middle of her back in a curtain of fine silvery-blonde strands held back solely by a dark pink kerchief.
I realized I was staring as if she were a mirage that would disappear when I blinked. But she was flesh and blood. And already at the bottom of the steps.
I stood up.
“You broke your knife on purpose.” I had considered the possibility earlier, but dismissed it. It didn’t make sense. Yet, looking at her, seeing the determination in the set of her shoulders, I knew it was the truth.
She tossed a bit of hair that had fallen over her shoulder back. “I did. I wanted to see how different the smithy was when Master Powell was around.”
“Why?” I watched her run her thumb over the rose ring. She had worn it that morning, too. If anyone else had started wearing such a piece, people would have assumed that it was a betrothal gift. There would’ve been questions. I wondered if Mina’s life back in Haiwella was so different that such a ring meant nothing to her. Given the necklace she had handed me without hesitation, her life was very different from what I knew.
She noticed me staring at her hand. “It helps.”
“What?”
“When I start thinking that you don’t deserve recognition, the ring reminds me of what an incredible smith you are.”
My breath caught. “You know what’s going on.”
She shook her head. “No, that’s the problem. I don’t understand what is going on. I know you are a talented smith, but everyone insists you are a disappointment. Even I have trouble remembering, for which I apologize.”
“You’re the first person to notice the oddity in years, so I hardly think you owe me an apology. Unfortunately, I can’t explain it, either. I don’t know how he does it.”
“So, it is Powell who is responsible?”
I grabbed a pebble from the ground, tossing it in the air and letting it smack back into my palm. “It has to be him.”
“When did it start? When he first moved to Skorsa?”
I shook my head. “No. It wasn’t until my mother’s death. Or maybe when she first got sick. Everything sort of blurs together from that time.”
Mina’s hand lifted, as if she would reach out and touch me, but she stopped before completing the motion. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to stir up painful memories.”
I threw the stone into the stream, the splash swallowed by the sound of moving water. “At least the memories are in the past. I need to face them if I have any hope of figuring out how Powell cursed me.”
A line formed between Mina’s brows, and she bit her lip. “I don’t think it is a curse. I know of an instance involving a curse, and it took the power of a node. Powell isn’t even a mage, is he?”
“Not as far as I know. But that doesn’t mean he isn’t. He could have a node-tie for all I know. ”
She shook her head. “I doubt it. He wouldn’t be trying to set himself up in Skorsa if he had a tie to a node somewhere else.”
“Maybe that is why he goes back to Haiwella so often.”
“If he is actually going to Haiwella, then it isn’t to access a node. The only one in the city is blood-locked to the royal family. Besides, even if he visited a node, it wouldn’t help him affect the people of Skorsa. He must be using a charm or an enchantment.”
I scooped another rock from the ground and tossed it from hand to hand. I had long suspected Powell was using magic against me—no other explanation fit—but it was still unnerving to hear Mina come to the same conclusion. It made the situation that much more impossible. What hope did I have to overcome magic?
When I said nothing, Mina spoke again. “Tell me about how the villagers react to you. I know what they have said about you, but what about when you tried to convince them that you are skilled?”
My shoulders slumped. “I’m not sure I ever tried.”
“What?” Mina wasn’t shocked so much as outraged. “You never tried to counter Powell?”
“What would be the point?” My fingers tightened around the stone in my hand. “By the time I was thinking clearly after Mother’s death, everyone in the village had turned against me. My friends looked at me in contempt. Widow Penniwell refused to talk to me about ordering a skillet like the one she envied at the tavern, even though I was the smith who had crafted that skillet. Any protest I uttered made them look at me like a child throwing a tantrum.”
“So, you did protest.”
“Not for long. It only made things worse.”
“What about visitors? Whatever is affecting the villagers, it didn’t touch me the first time I went to the smithy.”
“I don’t know. On the rare occasions a visitor has needed a blacksmith, they’ve always spoken to Powell.”
“Powell wasn’t in Skorsa.” Mina’s hand drifted up to press against her sternum. Then she looked at me with bright eyes. “How often does he visit the city? ”
“Every three weeks or so.”
“It is a charm,” she said, bouncing up on the balls of her feet. “It must be. He would have to renew the power regularly.”
“What does that have to do with the fact that it didn’t affect you at first?”
“It wasn’t here. If Powell was renewing the charm in Haiwella, then it wasn’t in Skorsa. My thoughts weren’t impacted until he came back.” She frowned. “A charm like that would be highly illegal. Mind-benders are closely watched, but there are always people finding ways around the law.”
“A mind-bending charm?” I hadn’t even considered the possibility. Even suspecting that magic was at play, it sounded far-fetched. Mages who could alter people’s thoughts were rare. I wasn’t even sure if it was because the power naturally occurred less often than others, if they hid, or if various terrible incidents throughout history had led to a culling of that power in the populace. That Powell could find such a mage, and afford to buy a charm and renew it every few weeks over years, sounded impossible.
“It would explain why no one will even entertain the idea that you have any skill. The charm forces them to attribute your work to Powell. They can recognize the skill, just not that you are responsible. It all f—” Mina cut herself off, her gaze clouding. “You do all the blacksmithing for the village, right?”
“Powell hasn’t lifted a hammer in years.”
She pressed her lips together and glanced down at the ring on her finger. “And you are a skilled blacksmith? Not just an amazing goldsmith?”
She wasn’t doubting me, just seeking confirmation, but I almost wished she was. I was used to doubts. But her matter-of-fact assessment of my skill as a goldsmith left me floundering. She had said similar things before. Each time it was a shock, but I could almost ignore her words. This time, I had to respond. “I am competent. Why? ”
The look she gave me said she didn’t believe me, and for a wonder I knew that was because she suspected false modesty. But she said nothing about my claim. “Sam told me to go to Master Kiels’s store this morning for a new belt knife. According to him, Powell’s knives don’t hold an edge. But if you made them, Sam should have considered the workmanship fine, even if he didn’t give you credit. It doesn’t fit the pattern.”
I frowned, trying to recall making a knife for Sam. As far as I remembered, I never had. Oh. Because I hadn’t. I laughed. Mina looked at me with the question clear in her eyes. I bit back the laughter enough to talk. “Four years or so ago, Sam bought himself a set of throwing daggers.”
Mina gaped. “Sam wanted throwing daggers?”
I grinned. “He was so excited about getting them he insisted on watching as they were made.”
She understood immediately. “Powell had to make them himself.”
I nodded. “Sam gave up on becoming a deadly assassin—or whatever he had intended—when he never managed to hit anything with them.”
Mina laughed, the sound bright and open. “Sam should have known better. Even if a smith is skilled, a throwing dagger requires the right balance. A blacksmith with no weapons experience would struggle.”
“That probably never occurred to him. He would have known someone in Skorsa had made a usable throwing dagger before, even if he wouldn’t give me the credit.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Why did you make a throwing dagger?”
“Because I was young and my friend wanted one. Sam probably got the idea from Cole, only years later.”
“Boys and knives. I suddenly have a strong suspicion that my brother owns throwing daggers, too.”
“Hey, I’m not the one who just ordered a new knife. ”
Her hands landed on her hips, drawing my gaze to the slimness of her waist. “A common belt knife is hardly the same thing.”
Remembering the stone in my hand, I tossed it in the air, trying not to think about the shape of Mina’s body. I cleared my throat. “So. A charm.”
Her hands slid down until her arms were straight at her sides once more. “Yes. We need to report this. The mind-bender behind the charm needs to be stopped.”
“Report it to whom?”
“Uncle Conrad—”
“Will never believe such wild accusations.” I threw the rock, missing the stream entirely and sending it into the field on the far side. “For years he has sided with Powell, doing nothing to grant me my inheritance and believing the same lies as everyone else.”
“Only because of the charm. But you’re right, it might be too hard to convince him. We could send for a magistrate or constables from Haiwella, though.”
“And they’ll be impacted by the charm when they get here, just the same as Magistrate Conrad. There’s no point, Mina. Knowing Powell is using a charm against me doesn’t actually change anything. I can’t combat magic.”
I pivoted away from her and walked downstream. Why had I let myself get my hopes up? Because I was an idiot. It didn’t matter what I learned; I wouldn’t be able to escape Powell’s magic.
“Alan!”
I ignored Mina, knowing that if I stopped and listened to her, I’d just get my hopes up again. Then I’d realize how futile it all was once more. Better not to even have a moment of hope.