Chapter Sixteen Taking Squash from a Farmer #2
Saeldian huffed, but they knew the careful, even tone that indicated a Waterdhavian who was about to lose their temper. “Fine.”
“It all goes back to that floating domain, Menoriath,” Jubilee said.
“Ilondrel was there—we know that because of the story about the Brewmistress—and she was a knight. Paladin, actually, but that was their rank, knights. And Jadiris was also a knight, and they fought their feelings for each other, insisting that they were just friends and fellow knights. But Jadiris was in trouble. A member of one of the more decadent circles of nobles had—hold on, let me back up.”
Jubilee could never tell a story in a straight line. Saeldian rocked and tried to spot Dylstra among the slender birches and ash trees.
“This noble—no one ever names him. They call him Lord Azaelea. He had a wager with one of his friends, whom they call Lady Nightshade. Well, she was upset at the object of her interests—Ilondrel, I mean—retiring from socializing and sport to take vows.”
Saeldian held up their hand to pause Jubilee. “Lady Nightshade had a crush on Ilondrel, who rejected her to become a paladin?”
“Yes.”
“Where does the wager come in?”
“Nightshade wanted her friend to seduce and ruin the lady and make her break her vows while blinded by infatuation for him. And if he did, Nightshade was going to give him her service for a month.”
“The scandal,” Saeldian murmured. “Go on.”
“But when Azaelea showed up to arrange a chance meeting with her, he met Jadiris and forfeited the wager. He would have no one else, he had said, and set his sights on Jadiris, who—well, you saw him.”
“I did.”
“Apparently he was as good as he was gorgeous, and he accepted Azaelea’s friendship but remained oblivious to his suit…because he was in love with the new squire who he saw running errands and training, who was—”
“Ilondrel,” Saeldian finished. “Who had left idle pastimes behind to devote herself to becoming a paladin, and whom Lord Azaelea was supposed to ruin.”
“You always see right through to the heart of things.”
“I knew where this was going as soon as you said what Lady Nightshade was mad about.”
“This is why we never take you to the theater,” Jubilee said.
“I’m sorry. Go on.”
“Jadiris didn’t know or ignored that his friend Lord Azaelea was trying to seduce him, while he held back his true feelings for Ilondrel, until she finally got sick of his polite restraint and did something about it. And so they were finally together, until Azaelea’s curse struck Jadiris down.”
“Oh Hells. That’s awful.”
“And! They had married the way the Storranelds had last night, just the day before Azaelea’s revenge.”
Saeldian covered their eyes. “It’s worse. It’s even worse now! How could you tell me this?”
“So you know that…this is the right thing to do, Sheld. Putting this gem back this way. Ilondrel doesn’t need to know what happened. She’s been through enough.”
“You told them,” Lorzok said from behind them. “Good. I told Kell. Actually, Saeldian, he asked me to give you this.”
Lorzok held out a silk pouch by its drawstrings near eye level.
“That’s our gem, yeah?” Saeldian let the weight rest in their hand. “So if you touch it, you remember the first time you kissed your true love?”
Lorzok shifted a little. “Apparently.”
“Oh ho,” Jubilee crowed, then stopped. “Wait.”
Lorzok smiled. “Not what you think. I haven’t met my true love yet, it seems. I had a sort of remembering of many kisses, all quite pleasant.”
“Oh ho,” Jubilee said again, louder and more exuberant. “Who were they?”
“None of their features were clear,” Lorzok said. “I’m sure it does work, however.”
“Probably the same thing for me, if I were to touch it,” Jubilee said. “Which is good, since I’m single, and if the gem worked, then that means I totally blew it with someone back then.”
Saeldian laughed, but they had to. “What about Verandil?”
Jubilee scoffed. “That was just fun. Did Kell touch it?”
Saeldian stood up, one hand shading their eyes. “Barge.”
Kell popped out of the cottage. “Time to go.”
Lorzok dropped the bag into Saeldian’s palm. They stuffed it into a pocket and hurried to the barge waiting at the end of Jubilee’s dock. It moved to the island as soon as they’d all found their balance, skimming over the calm water toward their destination.
Jubilee’s voice echoed in Saeldian’s imagination. Did Kell touch it?
It didn’t matter. Saeldian didn’t want to know. It was foolish to wonder. It wasn’t their business.
Had he touched it, though?
The barge glided on a gentle wave and landed on the shore. Saeldian swayed against the sudden stop and hopped down to the black-pebbled beach. Kell’s boots crunched behind them, but a few steps later, they looked back.
Lorzok and Jubilee were still on the barge.
“What’s the matter?” Saeldian asked.
Jubilee lifted one foot but couldn’t move it away from the edge of the barge. “We can’t get off.”
“What do you mean?”
Lorzok took a few steps backward and then tried again. His feet wouldn’t move past the edge either. “I have the same problem.”
They were ashore with Kell, and their partners couldn’t join them? Saeldian shrugged away the feeling of hourglass sand trickling down their spine. “Don’t worry,” Saeldian said. “We’ve got it. Relax. We’ll be right back.”
“No! This is weird!” Kell said. “Why can’t they get off the barge? See if you can get back on and off again.”
“We should just do it. We don’t have time for experiments,” Saeldian said.
Kell hopped back on the barge. “Just once. Come on.”
Saeldian heaved a great sigh and boarded.
“Now you two go first,” Kell said.
Jubilee flexed her knees but relaxed back into a standing position. “Can’t.”
“I can’t either,” Lorzok said. “I think you’ll have to go without us.”
“What’s going on?” Kell asked.
“It doesn’t matter. We can’t just hop on and off this barge trying to figure it out.”
“But—”
Saeldian had already landed on the shore. “Come on. I have to do the spell, and I might need you.”
Kell sighed in exasperation and joined Saeldian onshore. “I don’t like it. Why just us?”
“I don’t know. The island thinks we need it to be just us?”
Saeldian wanted to take the words back immediately, but Kell looked back at Lorzok and Jubilee. “Possibly. But if that’s true, why does it need to be just us?”
Saeldian was not going there. “We don’t have time for philosophy. Let’s go.”
Kell grumbled, but he joined Saeldian on the path.
All of the trees had had a full crown of leaves yesterday. Saeldian and Kell now walked through a carpet of them, gold and orange and deep, earthy red. A single oak leaf lay on the crystal lid of Jadiris’s casket, just over his heart. At his head, the long oval fey-rose gem rested in its setting.
“Gloves,” Saeldian said.
“Right. I’ll get that out,” Kell said. “Get the real gem ready. There’s a polishing fleece in the bag.”
He knelt and slid on fingertip gloves made from silk while he inspected the setting. “Wait, I don’t think this is—have you polished that gem yet?”
No. “One moment.”
Saeldian’s gloves were a thief’s dream—hand-skived kid, and thin as a promise. They used a polishing cloth to wipe away fingerprints and set the gem back on the bag.
“You know that the trap spell’s not on it.”
“I know,” Saeldian said. “But there is still a spell on it, and we should also replace it with no fingerprints on it.”
“Fair.”
This was Saeldian’s job, and they settled down to scry the casket and get a sense of any magic on it.
The whole thing smelled like rosemary, the sea, the delicate scent of orchids.
There was an illusion, but its perfume was not enough for Saeldian to know what the magic was, so they laid two fingers around the impostor gem and concentrated.
“Oh, interesting.”
“What is it?”
“It’s a bunch of little spells stitched together. Nice work, actually. One of them compensates for the glare on the casket, effectively eliminating it so you can always see the man inside.”
“That’s…I don’t know how I feel about that. I guess it’s convenient?”
“It feels frivolous? Wait till you hear this. It glows when it gets dark. So you can always see him.”
“So she can come and mourn anytime,” Kell said.
There was something in Kell’s voice that Saeldian didn’t have time to notice. “These aren’t big spells, but Briona was right. I’m not sure there are many people who could sneak through these and leave no trace. Hush, now. Look like you’re meditating. Sit on the other end, like we’re having a talk.”
Kell moved to rest at the foot of the coffin. “You know, spells like that could be valuable to people. Imagine being able to look out windows with no reflection barring you at night.”
“Are you trying to convince me to go straight?”
He didn’t answer at first. “I just remembered something. From way back. After I’d escaped.”
“I’m still sorry about that.”
“I know. But I remember how Lorzok found me in my camp. The first one I made after my escape. It was miserable. I had a fire but no tent, no food, and the boots I’d stolen didn’t fit, and my feet were one big blister. He shared his food, he healed my feet, and I told him everything.”
“About the storm harp?”
“And you.”
Saeldian couldn’t look at anything but their task of holding spells like spiderwebs, woven together by a logic that wasn’t obvious. “And what did he say?”
“He asked me what I would change, if I could go back to any point.”
Saeldian couldn’t change the subject. But they also didn’t want to. “And what did you tell him?”
The warmth intensified. Closer now.
“I would have talked you into becoming a duo act,” Kell said. “My music and stories, your illusions to make them more vivid, and we’d look for the way back to the Feywild.”
If they dropped this weave now, they’d have to start over. “A magic show? With stories and jokes?”
“I know it’s stupid.”
Saeldian couldn’t find it in them to agree. “Art is the only choice that pays worse than crime. But…”
“What?”
“Hold on,” Saeldian said. “I have all the spells wrapped around my hands like a cat’s cradle and I can’t actually remount the gem. I need you.”