Golden Void, page 5
part #3 of Black Blade Series
“If she’s going to find out, I’ll tell her,” she says. “Ken?”
“Okay,” I say, “but will somebody please-“
“Marion’s right, there’s a killer about.” She shifts forward in her seat, “only, in our world, the richest people have the most money, they pay for the best education, the best teachers, the best materials, any noble family can churn out a powerhouse of a wizard if they stick to their study, and sometimes they don't even have to do that, if the talent’s there.”
“I kinda guessed that’s how it works,” I say and swallow, waiting for the bad part.
“So, this killer, they’ve been offing people left and right, people they should have no business takin’ out,” Kendrick sucks on her gums, baring her teeth the way she does when she’s missing her cigarettes, “the only person who should be putting nobs in the ground is other nobs, so accusations are flying all over the place. Guilds are shutting down and most days, all the big families’ll do is spend all day indoors, up to the eyeballs in enchantments.”
“And nobody knows-“ I start to ask, but she cuts me off.
“Nobody,” Kendrick swipes her arms through the air, “nothing taken, nothing destroyed, just toffs…” her lips curl up as her eyes glaze over, “…shredded. Splattered. Never seen anything like it.”
“Oh.” My body’s kind of loose and limp. This isn’t the sort of thing I can just take in instantly. “Do you think the two are connected, or, are there, like, clues?”
A moment of silence passes between us.
“We don’t know,” Kamala shrugs, “but it doesn’t seem right that two things like this could happen at the same time. We know the killings started before we had any clue about the Quest re-emerging, but beyond that-”
“There is one more thing,” Kendrick says, “the third victim, I think. Old illusionist family. They found them all blasted out a window, fallen through their stable roof. Turned into dog food, couldn’t tell them apart from what was left of the horses. But after that, they gave the killer a name. Equus.”
“Equus?” It sounds funny in my mouth, like a magic word.
“It’s a play,” Kamala explains, “just Latin for horse.”
“Oh.” I nod for a second. “Not sure that clears it up.”
“No.” Marion straightens up, “but the difficulty of the situation should be obvious.”
“Everyone and their mother’s gossiping about Equus, who it could be, who’s next,” Kendrick says, “but the Quest? Something that’s practically millennial happening again in just over a single year? The writings support the idea that it could happen, but how did you find out in the first place?”
“Simple,” Marion says, “I have an accomplice. A recent acquaintance with unique insight. He has the sword and is on his way. I expect him tomorrow.”
Kendrick raises her hands, slaps them together. Just once. Then again.
“Brilliant, genius,” she cackles, “so you thought you’d recruit the survivors, is that it?”
“Only one,” Marion nods, “I won’t tell you again, but I didn’t intend to involve her. Otherwise, you are correct.”
“We’re not happy about it either,” Kamala says, “and there’s no wishing on the itinerary, we just want to get rid of the thing, stop anyone else from abusing it.”
“Indeed.” Marion nods. “It is daunting, and unfair to involve either of you in this for a second time. You may leave with the money I’ve given you.”
My body’s tensing, waiting for Kendrick to jump to her feet, say something flippant and stride off, making sure those funky gold pirate coins are secure in her bag.
I don’t know if I’d go with her, but the longer the quiet stretches on, the less it seems like she will.
“Alright.” Kendrick blasts a long sigh through her nostrils. “No tricks, no f@#$*ng wishes. Blow some steam through anyone who gets in the way.”
“Can I-“
“Aye, you can come too,” she says, “not that I have any right to forbid you.”
“Opposition is unlikely,” Marion says, straightening up and tidying the papers across the table, “but-“
“But it’s never that simple, fine.” She slaps her hands on the table, “so what, we stay here, meet up with your man tomorrow, set off as quick as we can?”
“That’s perfect,” Kamala nods, “we have food, beds, it-“
“Lead the way,” Kendrick says as she gets up and sweeps past us.
“When do we get up?” I ask, trying to keep up with them both as Kamala rolls along beside me, “I guess it depends when the guy turns up?”
“I’ll attempt to make contact at dawn,” Marion says, “rest all you can. The journey could be long.”
“Is he-“
“No, no,” Kamala smiles, tapping the armrest of her wheelchair, “he’ll never admit it, but I think he’s too nervous to eat.”
“Oh.” I flop down into my seat, craning my neck one way, then the other, trying to guess how long this dining table is. “Makes me think maybe we should be too.”
“He’s young,” Kendrick tumbles into the chair opposite and slams her feet onto the wood, “best thing about getting old if you ask me, just less caring. So, you said there was food, or what?”
“It takes a moment,” Kamala settles into place beside me. “We don’t use this dining room very often. We’re not considered popular, and even if we were, can you imagine Marion conducting a social function?” She laughs into her hand, and over her head I watch the far door burst open.
A wave of plates, cutlery and candelabras fly in formation through the doors, glide across the bare wood, and slowly settle down in front of me.
I have to wait for a second, make sure they’re not going to move again before I put my hands back down on the table.
There’s food, too. Chicken, some sausages, lots of lettuce. Plain, but way better than nothing.
Kamala pulls a plate towards her and stops to look over just before she takes a bite.
“You’ve never seen this sort of thing, have you?” she asks, setting the chicken leg back down on her plate.
“Uh…no.” Across the table, Kendrick’s digging in.
“The kitchen’s enchanted, just like the doors, the gargoyles outside, if you’re not careful even the toilets can get ideas,” Kamala smiles, “but we’re not as connected as we used to be, so we don’t have access to enchanters who could change it for us, and now the kitchens just assume every meal’s a banquet and they throw together what they can.” She takes a bite, wrapping what looks like cabbage around a slice of sausage, “we used to have horses, you know, Marion grows cabbages where they used to graze, and we buy the meat locally.”
There’s no faster way to make yourself hungry than watching someone else eat, so I pull a plate towards me, hoping it doesn’t jump up and start singing or something, and stick a sausage in my mouth.
I guess I’d forgotten about the stuff I brought with me.
The little box and the umbrella. One goes by the plate, the other rests on the table.
I don’t like sausages, or meat, not really, but I’ve barely eaten all day, and there’s lots of it to go around.
I pull in another plate.
“What’s this?” Kamala reaches out for the box, but I pull it back.
“Sorry!” I tell her, “I think this is important.”
“You brought that with you?” Kendrick almost chokes some cabbage back up, “just in case you need to immolate some baddies to rescue me?”
“I thought it might be…” No, I don’t actually know what I thought. Don’t even know how to use it. “I mean, I didn’t want to leave it behind.”
“Well, you might as well,” Kendrick grunts, “since you’re an action hero now.”
“I’m sorry,” Kamala says, pushing her empty plate back onto the table, “what’s the issue?”
The bundle in her lap is shifting again. Her arms have been moving this whole time, rocking back and forth, shaking up and down.
“It’s a Spark,” Kendrick says from across the table, “wasn’t sure she’d want it, thought it’d be safer with us than anyone else, don’t have the tools to get rid of it safely.”
“So, let me get this straight,” Kamala says, resting her head on a fist, “Kendrick left without telling you where she was going or why, and you stowed away in her car, Spark and…umbrella, in hand, just in case she needed some help?”
“Yeah.” I nod, trying not to sound too stupid, even if that’s how I feel.
“Umbrella?” Kendrick barks from across the table, “what f$#@king umbrella?”
“Oh, this?” I hold the umbrella up, handle in the air, so she can see it, “I guess I just grabbed something that looked heavy.”
Kamala starts laughing into her cupped hands.
“This is not a joke!” Kendrick starts to storm around the table, but it’s so long that I can sit and watch her, “let me see that!”
“Here,” I hold it out to her.
“You’re too brave for your own good,” Kamala grins at me as Kendrick turns the umbrella over in her hands, “you know that?”
“No, I don’t know that,” I reply, “I don’t feel very brave.”
“I know, I know,” she nods, “I used to be the same way, it can be a tough way to live, but it’s not something you change.”
What am I supposed to say to that? Thanks? Sounds like-
“It’s yours.” Kendrick sticks out her arms, handle of the umbrella thrust towards her, “not that it’s mine to give.”
“Is it…special?”
“Enchanted. Very expensive,” Kendrick raises her chin at me, “open it up.”
My fingers run along its length until I find the…thing with the clip, and push it in, and the whole thing expands with a whoosh.
“Oh, that’s fun,” Kamala says from behind it, “does it do something?”
“It’s something fancy governesses used to use,” Kendrick says, her voice a little muffled. The inside is black on black, but there are raised designs of intertwined flowers. “Not made anymore, you’d pull it out when the kids got unruly and started hurling spells at you when they didn’t get their way. Magic runs right off.”
“Oh, really?” I pull it back, and it collapses with a simple sigh of strangled air. “It’s like a shield.”
“I’ve read about those,” Kamala says, one head running over the collapsed umbrella, the other jostling the baby in her lap, “don’t tell me you used to be a governess?” She laughs, “I can’t even imagine!”
“No, and I’ll leave it at that,” Kendrick crosses her arms, “it used to belong to someone I knew.”
“Alright,” Kamala says, pulling her hand back, “I won’t ask any more about it.”
“Should I…keep it?” I ask her, “I mean, could be useful, right?”
“Old, probably falling apart,” she says, stalking back around the table, “not the sort of thing you want to rely on in a life or death situation. Leave it here if you want. Should keep the rain off alright.”
“Should I…” my hand tightens around the box, “should I use the Spark as well?”
“You gave it to her without explaining how it works?” Kamala asks.
“She’s a swot,” Kendrick replies, sucking her gums again, “and a natural, too. I wanted to give her time to settle into the idea.”
Kamala nods and looks over.
“It’s dangerous, right?” I ask them, “but…I might need it.”
“Yes, it’s-“ Kendrick starts, but Kamala cuts her off.
“No, not on its own,” she says.
They glance at each other for a second. Should I-
“Go on then, you explain it,” Kendrick shrugs, “obviously she’s had enough of me. I’d go to bed, but I have no idea where you’ve hidden the bedrooms in this bloody place.”
“I’ll take you,” Kamala says, “if we’re all done eating, but as for the Spark…” she frowns for a moment, “think of it like growing another arm,” she laughs, “not literally, of course.”
“Oh,” I sigh and wipe my brow, “for a second I thought-“
“No, no,” Kamala continues, “but if you grow a new arm, you have to take care of it, and it can get injured, or even infected. The fire becomes a part of you, just as real as your body, even though you can’t see it.”
I’m holding up the Spark to my eye. It’s not hot like it used to be, and they’re both staring.
“So how do I…make it do stuff?” I ask them, realizing how heavy my eyes feel.
“You have books, right?” Kamala asks.
“Yep,” I nod, “but I didn’t bring them with me.”
“I think we have some things on loan from the Albrechts,” she says, “basic stuff, display pieces for the library to underscore our good relationship, but I think you might make better use of them.”
“That would be great!” It comes out louder than I meant, “except, aren’t you going to bed? I wouldn’t want you to-“
“Don’t worry about that,” she smiles, holding up her bundle just a little, “he’s a night owl, I live on about three hours of sleep a night, and most of them are during the day when Marion takes him off my hands.”
“Wow.” It’s the only word I can think of.
“I’m sure Albrecht would be happy to know the tradition’s in no danger of dying out,” she says.
“You’re forgetting something.” Kendrick grunts as she gets to her feet. “You have to eat it.” She points.
“Oh,” I squint at the Spark, “so when you said it becomes part of me…”
“It goes in,” Kendrick says as she rounds the table, “doesn’t come out, ever. You can’t get rid of it.”
“Oh.” I put it back in the box, “not that I wouldn’t like to borrow your books,” I tell Kamala.
“Don’t worry about it,” she replies, “not yet, at least, c’mon.” She pulls away from the table, “this way to the guest rooms, and don’t worry,” behind us, the plates and cutlery swarm across the table and leap into the air, “the mansion’ll clean up after itself.”
The bedrooms here are really fancy, or at least, they were. I guess whoever those debt collectors were that Marion and Kamala mentioned, they didn’t stop on the ground floor.
Not that it doesn’t look comfortable, in fact, it looks great, which is why I’m standing here stunned.
They’re called “four-posters”, I think, probably because of the posts, but these look like a ship's masts. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a bed this big, or sheets that are so shiny.
There’s a big mirror, taller than I am, and a big wooden desk, but where the fancy wallpaper used to be are just big mean-looking scratch marks.
At least the big window here has a nice view. It’s dark, but I think I can see a hedge maze, and a big wide-open field, maybe even a stable down there near the edge of the grounds. Probably not many horses down there, though.
I lean my umbrella against the desk and place the box with the Spark on it on top.
My new book goes right next to it.
It says it’s by the same guy as the other book I have, back at Kendrick’s store. Looks, different, though.
I sit down in the chair, which is still pretty fancy, even if the creaky noise it makes gives me an idea of how old it must be, and wipe the dust off, keeping my touch as light as possible.
The book looks old, and it’s on loan, right?
Except it’s free, and something tells me that wizards aren’t super keen on just giving away their books, I could get in trouble if I don’t treat it right.
The one I have in my drawer back at the store is “Evocation In Theory: an Exploration of Magical Form and Function”. I wouldn’t call it boring, but it’s pretty dry. Most of it is warnings: lists of stuff you really shouldn’t do. Some of them are backed with stories about what happens if you do, and the rest is philosophy. When’s it okay to cast a spell? How much magic is too much?
The actual magic stuff in there’s pretty thin, but it’s the parts I read the most. Not that I skipped the rest, but I think maybe some of it I didn’t get. Complicated.
The main idea was just you shouldn’t use magic on an everyday problem, because then you put more and more into your life, and there’s so much of it you can’t prepare for anything, and then you’ll just…explode or something.
It took me a while to work up the nerve to look in the book after we got back before I knew for sure Kendrick would adopt me.
I still have the same problem, I can’t do it yet, so I get up, do a circuit of the room, open the empty cupboard, look into the bathroom, which looks nice too, and the second I step close to the bed, the blanket unfolds towards me.
Maybe I jumped a little.
I put my hands back on the desk, take a deep breath. Glance over at the mirror. That’s the best way to do it, I never liked looking into them straight on, that’s why I always check from my bed back at the store.
Anyway, all I look is tired.
I just…it makes me uncomfortable sometimes, like looking at a picture of a bruise.
Probably should’ve packed some clothes and stuff, but how was I supposed to know I’d be getting wrapped up in another Quest?
This means teaming up with someone new, and I’m not sure which one I’m dreading more, the magic guy or the ordinary person.
Back to the book. I’d rather think about that.
This one’s called “Pyromancy in Practice: Safety and Self-defense”.
That sounds way more…actiony? I mean, cool, but…
The box is still closed, but it’s almost like I can feel it in there.
Y’know, I’m not really sure how I’d use it even if I wanted to. Maybe the book says, but I’m just not ready yet.
The big mirror doesn’t help, but that’s easy to fix.
It’s heavy, and my hands are kind of small, but I wrap my arms around the heavy frame and lift with my legs. I manage to turn it towards the window, where it glows a little as it reflects the moon.
Is this another case of Super Megan vs. Wimpy Megan?
I mean, why did I even come here? Was it just because I didn’t want to get left behind, or was I worried?
