Chapter 4
It only took us a few minutes to get to the consulting office—a small corner house in Rowanville that used to host a dental practice.
I’d chosen to rent the place rather than buy it because the project was still experimental, but if it turned out to be a success, I would look for a permanent location and regular staff.
Rylan went in ahead of me to check for any intruders or hidden bombs—he took his bodyguard duties very seriously, for which I was thankful.
I followed once he gave the all clear. The inside of the house was clean and simple—there was a waiting room with comfortable chairs, magazines, and a few toys for children.
A twenty-something receptionist, on loan from a nearby office for this part-time gig, sat behind the utilitarian wooden desk to receive petitioners.
I greeted her, then moved past the waiting room and down the hall.
There were two more rooms—the first door on the left was my audience chamber, and the second, further down, was a sort of cell that Iannis had insisted on setting up in case any criminals or unruly petitioners found their way in and needed to be detained.
After Rylan performed one final safety check, I went into the audience chamber and settled in behind the wooden desk.
Like the waiting room, it was a simple space with a single desk supplied with stationary, a small filing cabinet, and visitor chairs.
A window to my left looked out onto the side street, and a magical mirror located in my desk drawer allowed me to peek in on the waiting room.
I was also wearing my heirloom ring, a treasured gift from my father, which would alert me if anyone entering the premises harbored ill will toward me.
Between my bodyguard, the mirror, and the ring, I was perfectly safe.
I pulled the mirror out from the desk. To my surprise, there was already a couple sitting in the waiting room with a small, dark-haired young boy. That was fast, I thought, a ball of nerves suddenly forming in my stomach.
“You’ve got this,” Rylan assured me, scenting my change in mood. He patted me on the shoulder. “You want me to bring them in?”
“Yeah.” I straightened my shoulders. I was only here for the morning. Might as well make the most of it.
Rylan came back a minute later with the family in tow.
The couple was in their late twenties, the husband dressed in a clean but slightly faded suit, the wife in a dress that had been mended once or twice.
The child, on the other hand, sported a brand-new woolen coat and shiny shoes.
Not a rich family, but one that skimped and scraped to provide well for their child.
“Miss Baine, this is the Barning family,” Rylan said. He introduced them by name—Leo and Rana, and their son, Durian. The parents were polite, but reserved, whereas the boy stared at me with open curiosity, his golden-brown eyes bright with questions.
“Very pleased to meet you all,” I said, smiling. “Please, have a seat.”
They did as I asked, the mother scooping her son into her lap as there were only two chairs. “Can you really turn into a panther?” the boy asked eagerly before the parents could say anything.
“Hush, Durian,” his mother scolded, her cheeks coloring. “I’m so sorry,” she said to me, her tone apologetic. “He’s very rambunctious.”
“As boys should be.” My smile widened as I looked at him. “I can turn into a panther,” I confirmed. “Normally, I would be happy to show you, but I’m afraid I don’t have a lot of time today—there are other people coming here to visit me.”
“Oh.” The boy looked disappointed, but he quickly bounced back. “Will you take me back to the Palace with you if I have magic?”
I laughed, then turned my gaze back to the mother. “Your son is eager to be a mage, is he?”
“It would appear so,” she said, and she didn’t sound entirely pleased about it. “Since he was old enough to talk, he’s been fascinated with mages and magic. We didn’t think anything of it, of course, but recently…” She trailed off, looking at her husband.
The husband picked up the conversation. “There have been some strange incidents,” he said, his expression grave.
“Objects appearing and disappearing around the house—the icebox appeared in the bedroom once. Another time, I was looking for the radio only to find it in the front seat of my car. I thought Durian was simply playing pranks, but one day while we were entertaining guests, our coffee table rose straight up into the air and floated into Durian’s bedroom. ”
My eyebrows rose. “That definitely sounds magical to me. Have these incidents ever occurred outside the home?”
The mother shook her head. “No, not yet.” She stroked the top of her son’s head. “And Durian has denied these incidents are his responsibility, but you know how children are.” She tightened her hold on him a little. “We just want to be sure.”
“It really wasn’t my fault,” Durian said earnestly, squirming against his mother’s iron grip. “But I do want to do magic! Please tell me I have some.”
I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or shake my head. This poor family! It was clear the parents didn’t want Durian to be a mage, but Durian wanted it more than anything. Then again, he was only seven years old, with a wild imagination, so of course the idea of having magic appealed to him.
“I’ll have to test you to find out,” I said gravely. “Can you please come over by my side of the desk?”
Durian probably would have jumped straight across the desk and into my lap if his mother hadn’t restrained him.
He hurried around the desk to my side, and I turned my chair to face him.
Despite his wish, I really hoped he didn’t have magic.
His parents clearly loved him, and it would be better if he was raised with his own family rather than in a mage household with strangers.
“All right,” I said, settling my hands on his shoulders. “I need you to hold very still. Can you do that?”
He nodded vigorously, then stilled completely.
“Good. Now close your eyes.”
He did as I asked, and I placed my hands on either side of his head, making sure my thumbs were pressed against his temples.
Closing my own eyes, I murmured the Words of the testing spell Iannis had taught me, then allowed my magic to flow through Durian.
It raced through the little boy, searching for the source of power that existed within the soul of every magic user.
But though there were a few sparks that every living creature possessed, there was no burning core of power within.
“I’m sorry, Durian,” I said, gently lowering my hands. “You don’t have any magic. You’re a perfectly normal human.”
The boy opened his eyes, and I cringed inwardly as his lower lip wobbled.
His mother instantly snatched him up as he began to cry, murmuring soothing words, but it was clear from her expression that she was relieved.
The father thanked me profusely, and I promised to send someone to check on their house—someone had probably just hexed their property.
The next petitioner was ushered in—Lamar Vestes, a market vendor I recognized from Rowanville’s Market Street. He was a rotund, bearded man with ruddy cheeks, a white apron, and a smile for everyone, but right now, his eyes were narrowed with anger, his lips compressed with frustration.
“My hams and sausages were set on fire yesterday,” he complained, his back ramrod straight and his hands folded behind his back.
“An entire day’s worth of work, gone up in flames because of some pesky mage!
Please, Miss Baine, these setbacks could wreck my livelihood.
I need your help in apprehending the culprit. ”
I pulled out my notepad and pen. “Can you give me a description of the person who set your wares on fire?” I couldn’t blame the man for being upset—his meats were delicious and fetched a pretty penny on Market Street.
“No, unfortunately,” Lamar admitted, sounding very put out.
“It was very crowded yesterday, and the person who did it was not close, so I couldn’t figure out the source.
” Even so, he gave me as many details as he could about the incident, and I wrote it all down with a promise to investigate further into the matter.
“It may take some time,” I finally said, closing my notebook. “In the meantime, I suggest you write up a list of damages and mail it to me at the Palace. As soon as the culprit is caught, you will be compensated for your loss.”
The man didn’t seem entirely pleased with the idea that he would have to wait, but he thanked me nevertheless and took his leave.
I really did feel bad for him, and part of me was tempted to just compensate Lamar myself.
I could easily afford to. But if word got out that I was personally compensating damages, I would be inundated with an endless series of fictitious claims.
I checked the mirror again and saw there was another person waiting patiently in the lobby—a male human clutching a large cardboard map.
“Some kind of artist, maybe?” Rylan asked, looking over my shoulder.
“Not sure. Let’s bring him—”
Something crashed into the front wall of the house, rocking the very foundations of the building.
I grabbed the edge of the desk with one hand and watched, absolutely horrified, as the tall rollers of a huge road-paving machine burst through the drywall, whirring madly and spraying chunks of brick and plaster everywhere.
In the next second, I was out of my chair and down the hall, Rylan hot on my heels. He went for the receptionist, who was huddled fearfully behind the desk, and I grabbed the male petitioner and flung him toward the back of the house and out of harm’s way.
“My map,” he shouted, eyes wide, but I only shoved him.