Chapter 21
Chapter
Twenty-One
I hadn’t been studying alone for long when Lanise came in with a very stunned look on her face, followed by the tall silvery elf. No way an elf would come teach some iffy musician their spells. Not a chance. That meant that he was here for another reason.
I raised my harp and plucked a chord for a shield that rose up around me while I studied the elf. “Are you my grandfather?” I demanded, preparing to cut my hand and bring my strings to life.
It was the elf’s turn to look shocked. “Your grandfather?” He narrowed his eyes as he studied my harp, the magic I’d woven, like he could see the weave. “You’re preparing an attack on your grandfather? Peculiar. One’s elders should be revered.” He twisted his hands and my shield was pulled out of my strings and melted into the floor, leaving me feeling like my feet had been swept out from under me. He stood with feet apart, hands behind his back as he frowned at me, like an officer addressing his troop. “Now, Mirabel, Music Master of Singsong City, you have requested assistance to defeat the troll, Garnagth, who will crush that shield you had easier than you can crush a fly. Do you have any idea what you’re up against?”
I blinked at him. He’d actually come here to help me defeat the troll? I straightened and lowered my harp. “Her eyes and armpits are the most vulnerable points of contact.”
“Yes, but you won’t have a chance to get to them, because you’re miniscule compared to her. You do have some small music magic, but not nearly enough to hold a shield that can withstand a blow from Garnagth. She’s a dark shaman, you know. Her strength comes from feeding on the lives and souls of her opponents. She isn’t only going to physically devour you, but metaphysically strip you of your life force. Not all trolls are inherently evil, but Garnagth is without a doubt a truly evil creature. She’s also terribly intelligent, as is expected from one who feeds on others. She’s increased in knowledge, size, skill, and intelligence with every meticulous kill she’s made. She’s devoured many elves, some of whom I treasured, which I why I agreed to accompany your ogre companion to assist you, not because I’m your grandfather. Who you think wants to kill you. Why would someone you’ve never met want you dead?”
“Can’t we just stick to the topic of the troll? My relationship with my grandfather is none of your concern.”
He studied me, glanced at Lanise, then tugged a strand of hair out of my head and held it between his thumb and first finger. “No? But suppose that I was your grandfather. If you don’t know who he is, then he could be anyone.”
“Hey! What are you…”
He tied my hair into an elaborate knot and then lit it on fire with a bright pink match that he carried in the small pouch on his hip. I watched as it burned, an elaborate design in bright white that left an afterimage I had to blink away.
When my vision came back, the elven guy was staring at me with the most expression I’d ever seen on an elf. Shock was probably most of his wide-eyed horror.
He blinked a few times, then managed to gather his composure. “Well, I am your grandfather, but I don’t want to kill you. Your mother was a half ogre? That explains the ogres gathering around you like you’re their mascot.” He turned to Lanise. “You, girl, fetch me something to drink, some elven wine that doesn’t taste like swill.”
Lanise looked from me to him, then shook her head and stood resolutely. “Not leave.”
“Why would I kill her personally when I have a mountain troll that can do it for me tomorrow afternoon? Go now, before I force the issue. No time to argue.” He gestured, and a wind rose, and Lanise was swept out of the room, the door slamming behind her, leaving me alone with the elven guy who had just moved an ogre with the force of a wind that had barely made my hair stir around my face. He had so much power, and so much control, and had made it look so incredibly easy.
He leaned over to stare at my book, also the notes I’d scribbled in the margins. “Desecration, thy name is Mirabel. What are you trying to do?”
“I…That is, I want to make magical armor to protect me from hits.” Should I forget the part where he thought I was his granddaughter? Was I? Was he really not trying to kill me? Then who was?
“I am aware of your goal, but why are you changing so much of the original spell?”
“I…You’re elf, but I’m mostly angel, with a little ogre and a little elf, so I can’t use any magic other than purely angelic. I mean, not elven. I’ve been trying my whole life to make elven magic work for me.”
“Ah. And the blood? Your strings are saturated with your blood. What kind of magic is that? Only dark elves use blood magic. Oh, that’s right, the ogre in you probably uses blood to help with focus.”
“More than focus. Strength of the spell. It’s ten times more potent with blood.”
“Like I said. Because it helps you focus.”
I cocked my head, but I let the argument go. “Sure. I don’t suppose you’d know much about angel, elven, ogre magic.”
“No, but I do know a great deal about elven magic and the theory of most various kinds. I’m rather skilled, granddaughter.”
I flinched. “You don’t need to call me that. You’re probably mistaken about our connection. It’s too unlikely that some random elf from far away was my grandfather.”
“Unless he was here to kill you. Do you know more magic than that clumsy shield you used?”
I stared at him, then shrugged. “I guess.”
“Show me. Once I understand how you adapted elven magic to work for you, I should be able to tell you how to adjust specific spells.”
I brightened. “Really?” Whether he was my grandfather, or just some delusional elf, I’d take any help he could give me.
I started with all the various easy music ones I knew, and he listened carefully and watched even more closely, until he finally nodded.
“I see. Your ogre is also magical, so you have to bend it around that dark, ferocious, bloodthirsty beast inside of you, before you can get the elven magic to do anything. The real trouble, however, is the angel. Angels aren’t the best at subtlety. They are forthright, honorable, and deadly. In the reverse order. Elves are subtle. Terribly, awfully subtle. Your angelic tendency is to run at a problem and keep hacking at it until it goes away. The elf would disintegrate the ground beneath the problem, or tangle the problem in its own horns, or any number of other things. You’ve used your elven abilities at manipulation and beguilement to achieve what you have here, but with the magic, you haven’t learned to talk to the magic in a way it responds to.”
“With subtlety? I mean, I can do some like that, but it’s harder, takes more time, and is often a complete failure.”
“Show me.”
I described the compulsion spell I’d put on the ogre, and then how I’d turned it into a healing spell, and also mentioned burning the elven arrow out of the ogre, because that might be of interest.
“Time and patience. That’s what you need when building a spell. I believe we’ve hit on the crux of the problem. Let’s see if we can get this shield spell to listen to you.”
The way he put it, like magic had to listen to me, like I was a musician trying to beguile the audience, that struck the right chord. I watched as he adapted the spell, nodding when it started to make sense to me, and then I started around the edges of the spell, subtly drawing in the protections while I held my focus, painfully stretching out my patience until the spell snapped into place with a prick of pain that rushed over my whole body.
“Now let’s test it,” he said, pulling out a pretty dagger that looked wickedly sharp, and then he slashed me with it.
I brought up my forearm to block it, like I still had a vambrace in heavenly gold, but I didn’t need it because the knife bounced off my shield, only without the slightest impact on me. In other words, it was a much better spell than I could have done on my own.
I stared at that knife, held so casually in his hand, then slowly looked up at someone who was a real genius at magic if he could adapt spells to me without needing any testing.
“Thank you,” I said and then bowed low. “I appreciate your kindness in assisting me.” I tried to show him exactly how grateful I was, but he only sniffed and turned to another page in the book.
“We aren’t finished yet. If an elf is truly trying to kill you, you’ll need more than that shield to put a mark on them so they can be stopped permanently. Also, you’ll need a great deal of strength and speed, as well as an incredibly high jump if you’re going to defeat the troll. You’ll also need protections against metaphysical attacks. You are going to be severely fatigued when I’m done with you tonight, but you’ll be more likely to survive. Be certain that the ogre you’re willing to die for sings you his strength through the night.”
I was so shocked that the snotty elf would waste his precious time on some ogre-tainted angel-elf that I barely felt embarrassment at his assumption that I’d be sleeping with Rook.
The rest of the day passed in an exhausted blur of spells seeping into me, tangling together in a way that would make each spell stronger together rather than how it would be on its own. I created each spell, while the master spell-caster watched and explained to me what I was doing. Most of it was beyond me, but I took notes I could look over later if I didn’t die today. I mean tomorrow. Or today. It was late, and the stadium through the glass window had gone dark while I sat with the master speller over the books and Lanise growled occasionally from the other side of the door.
Finally, he sat back and stretched his long neck. “And with that, you need to rest, let the spells set, and have your ogre sing strength into you. This is essential. Otherwise, Mirabel, are you listening?”
I blinked him back into focus, because seriously, everything was incredibly blurry. “Sure. Rook sing.” I sounded like an ogre.
He gave me a wry smile. “You caught the heart of Rook himself? That old, sly devil?”
I shook my head. “Pretty sure he caught me.”
He laughed, the sound of silver tinkling waterfalls that fell down into crashing waves that would drag you deep, deep under. “Do you have elves at your music hall? Every music hall has at least a few elves.”
“Just one, Tiago.”
He sneered. “Tiago works at your music hall? You’re surrounded by old devils.”
“He’s so good at teaching and tuning the lamps.”
“Of course he’s good at teaching and tuning lamps. He’s an elf. What elf wouldn’t be able to teach music and tune a lamp? Why would you want a lamp tuned by music?”
Did he seriously not understand about Singsong City?
I smiled at him. “Go walking in the streets as night falls and the lamps come on, and you’ll understand. Singsong City was built on music. I’d walk with you, but…” I tried to stand and fell back down into the chair.
I blinked up at him as he stood over me, looking rather tall and imposing. Was he going to kill me?
He sighed heavily and glanced away. “You think that I would bother instructing you if I were going to kill you? I’ll forgive you for the assumption since you don’t know elves in general or me in particular.”
“I do know that an elf assassin tried to kill me.”
“Because you burned the arrow out of someone using instinctive magic that you don’t understand. That’s the ogre in you. They say an ogre has to experience a spell before they can learn it, but I don’t think you can call instincts education.”
I narrowed my eyes at the snooty elf who had bothered to lower himself to my level to defeat a mountain troll. “Did you actually seduce an ogre that you captured?”
He raised a brow. “Certainly not. She seduced me. I believe she allowed herself to be captured for the sole purpose of toying with an elf. Women are like that. Not you. You’re an angel. You will love Rook with a true heart and fixed mind for the rest of your life. Which will be very short if you don’t get right to bed. Lanise!”
Lanise burst into the room, looking around for the danger.
He pointed at me. “Carry the princess to bed. Have her true love sing her his strength through the night. If he doesn’t do so, she will not survive tomorrow.”
She nodded and came over to pick me up. No, she picked the chair I was in up, and carried that, like it was just as easy. The look on my grandfather’s face was rather humorous.
“I don’t know your name,” I said as she carried me to the door.
“Ask your Rook. He knows me well enough.” He tsked and shook his head. “We mustn’t underestimate the wiles of another species. Although lack of wiles can be just as dangerous as I’m sure Rook discovered when he met you.”
He waved one hand in a farewell as Lanise carried me out of the room, down the hall, and to the exit, where many ogres were still waiting even though the day’s performances were over.
Lanise left the chair at the curb as she helped me into the back of the car Driver had running. It felt like cheating to sneak out without meeting anyone unpleasant, but I was too exhausted to deal with anything miserable.
“Is Rook at the Music Hall?” I missed him, and I hadn’t seen him all day. I’d kept expecting him to come in and yell at me for being an idiot.
She grunted. “Gone.”
My heart ached suddenly and hard. She’d said that he was gone, but he’d definitely come back. He wouldn’t leave me to defeat his betrothed without giving me moral support, would he?
“Oh. We should stop at the Cat’s Pause and get some sushi.” I needed to drown my misery and impending doom in something.
“Home,” Lanise growled.
I couldn’t raise my arms, so she was probably right. Still, I was encased in a protective shield that would probably keep me alive for a few minutes tomorrow. How much evil magic could one person have? I guess I’d find out.
Finally, we pulled up at the Music Hall, and Lanise growled, short and hard, before getting out, abandoning me in the back seat.
I peered out the window and saw something you didn’t see every day, which was a gold casket held by two angels, in full ceremonial regalia, heavenly gold, with platinum overlay, blocking the front doors of the music hall, while Rook sat on the steps beneath them, looking green around the edges.
I threw open the door and stumbled out, flying over the pavement until I tripped and would have scraped myself stupidly if Rook didn’t catch me, holding me tight against his chest while his heart beat rapidly beneath my cheek.
“Rook, you came back.”
“And I brought you a sword.”
I froze before I slowly lifted my face so I could look into his eyes. “You went to see my father, and he gave you a heavenly relic? Which one?”
He blinked at me. “I am uncertain precisely, but when he summoned it to chop off my head, he looked at it and immediately knew that I’d come about you, so I believe you would know.”
“Miracle,” the sword bearer on the right said, her clipped voice making me immediately straighten my spine. “You must be purified if you hope to wield Hero.”
I blinked at Charity, the most strict and unbending angel I knew, then stared at the enormous coffin. “Hero? My dad gave me one of his personal soul-swords? That’s impossible.”
“He intended to pass it to you once you joined the lions. Instead, you left us for the HARP’s.”
And then abandoned the entire order to follow my music. I smiled at her and tried to stand on my own two feet, but Rook wasn’t putting me down. I frowned from the casket, which held the single most gorgeous monstrous weapon in the world, to Rook. Maybe if I was very lucky, I could have both.
“My father gave you a holy relic? Why would he do that? How did you get him to trust you?”
Rook pursed his pretty lips. “I asked for your hand in marriage, and he gave it as a token of his acceptance, once I told him about you challenging a mountain troll. How could you do that?” He pressed his face to my throat and Charity coughed, but he was only sniffing me. “You smell like elves.”
“Oh, yes. I met my grandfather, and he told me that you must spend all night singing your strength into me. I suppose you’ll have to do that while I go through the purification ritual. I hope Hero doesn’t kill me if she doesn’t approve.”
“The sword could kill you?” He scowled at me while I smoothed his cheeks and felt absolutely wonderful. He’d gone all the way to the coast to ask my dad for permission to marry me? He must have put a lot of effort into getting there and back so fast.
“Of course. Heavenly relics could always kill you. That’s what makes them so effective. Hero is particularly dangerous.”
“She won’t kill you, just render you unconscious for a few days,” Charity said. Her companion, Faith, nodded. She’d never been very vocal, but was as solid a soldier as they came.
“That’s very comforting,” Rook growled, turning his scowl on them before he turned his dark look at Lanise. “Her grandfather?”
I tapped his chest. “He didn’t try to kill me, was surprised that I even existed. Said the ogre seduced him. I wouldn’t trust him, because he’s an elf, but he spent all day helping me learn music magic spells that would work for what I am. He’s really good at spellwork.”
He grunted. “He should be.”
“Oh, he said you knew each other. Who is he? Does he know your composer persona?”
He sighed heavily and then nuzzled my cheek. “The spells are good. Very good. I can feel their strength, but they have made you weak. Emperor Silvertongue is your grandfather, and knows me quite well, particularly as the composer. He spent all day teaching you magic? I suppose it’s unlikely that he’s the one who wants you dead.”
“Exactly. Wait, Emperor Silvertongue? Like the emperor over all elves in the entire world, and their world too? You were trying to keep me alive against him?” I patted his cheek. “You’re kind of adorably optimistic.”
He slowly smiled at me. “You have infected me with your delusional, angelic hope. Your father actually gave me his permission to marry his precious Miracle. That is a miracle.”
“You will sing me your strength?” Hearing his voice while I endured purification would make it almost not seem like torture.
“For as long as you’ll let me.” He pressed a sweet kiss to my forehead before carrying me up the steps, past the sword case, and into the music hall.