The Lost Magic, page 23
“Are they worried about Ava?”
His gaze became more troubled. “Not exactly,” he said slowly. “I am Ava’s tagata and have grown very fond of her, which isn’t surprising. She’s intelligent and curious. But my sisters don’t know her well. Christa rarely spoke about her. Considering that Ava is a mortal and most demigods follow the lines we have, anyway.”
“What lines?” I asked.
“Between mortal, demigod, and god. It’s a carefully maintained system, even for demigods that partner with mortals. We stay separate and distinct. Children born to a demigod and a mortal will be mortal, which makes it difficult. Sometimes a mixed child like that will display magical tolerance, but rarely.”
So many questions came to mind, but I forced them away to keep the conversation centralized. Still, one snuck out. “Can demigods partner together?” I asked.
He nodded, said, “Sure,” and left it at that. Before I could ask more, he continued. “At any rate, my sisters agree that Ava must complete her mission.”
A sense of shock rippled through me at his statement. Unknowingly, I’d spent most of the night assuming Ava would return to Alaysia. That Baxter had been hasty in his assessment that she was needed—and safe—here. He’d return, take her back, and . . .
And what?
The return of my magic would be more in question than ever without Ava here. She held the amulet, which was somehow my biggest hope that my magic could return, and probably a false reassurance at that. Because I didn’t even know how that would work. The amulet had broken, so could the magic be reversed? Obtained?
I forced those thoughts away.
“Your father can’t protect her?” I asked.
“He can.” Baxter scoffed, but it had little energy. “But he can’t protect the mortals, Alaysia, or Alkarra if we don’t find Bram. Ava’s the only one that can positively identify him. I’ve never met Bram, and neither have my sisters. They’re trying to find another demigod or mortals they trust to describe him. Bram is a lesser demigod with little talent, no allegiant mortals, and few prospects to get an amulet from his father. He’s power hungry, but he hasn’t proven himself worthy of an amulet yet. Which means he must have stolen the amulet Ava has. There must be other demigods trying to find him. Makes him unpredictable here, if you ask me.”
“At least we know we’re looking for a male,” I murmured, but it still sounded bleak.
Baxter began to pace. “Male, but not distinct in any way.”
Unlike mortals, Baxter had no definable characteristics to set him apart from witches, like amber eyes. The other demigods, I presumed, would be the same. They could appear to be anyone.
“So we find Bram,” Baxter murmured, “and go from there.”
“And you think that’s the end of it? That we’ll be safe once the demigod is gone?”
“That would be ideal.”
“But not likely?”
He just shrugged, and I had the feeling he didn’t want me to know everything. “My father has five children. Four daughters and me, the youngest. Gelas, god of ice, has seven. Ignis and Tontes, the two bad gods? Hundreds of children and all of them hungry for more of their father’s magic.”
“Sounds grim.”
He ran a hand over his head. “Two of my sisters are going to sneak into Ignis’s domain and listen for rumors of a missing amulet or Bram. It seems unusual that a demigod returning to Alkarra would be unnoticed. Someone must know what he’s doing. Besides, a wayward amulet is no small thing.”
“Sneak in?” I asked, startled. “They can’t just go to find Bram?”
He shook his head. “Demigods are territorial, and so are the gods. A child of my father, Ventis, venturing into Ignis’ domain is immediately suspicious.”
“Just how big is Alaysia?”
A little smile illuminated his face. “Alaysia is a place of waters and islands. Most islands move around as they float on wide, circular currents. Some remain stable, but the demigods tend to claim those. Most mortals, Ava and her father included, live on a floating island. Those are more isolated, connected only by special ropes traded from merpeople to prevent them from breaking in the water.”
I stuffed aside the casual mention of merpeople for now. Thoughts ran through my head. Bram. Islands. Ignis. Merpeople. The fire that had once consumed me after I touched the amulet seemed to rush back through in a flash, then disappear. The grating voice still echoed in my head like a living memory.
You are not welcome here, witch.
“Ignis, God of fire,” I murmured.
Baxter finally lowered into a chair with a sigh. For a moment, he looked like a lost little boy.
“The amulet?” I asked to give him firmer ground. “Any information on the amulet?”
“Father wasn’t that surprised that it had broken when you touched it, and believes it was one of Ignis’s. Ignis is flashy that way. Bold. The amulet is too large.”
“Do you have an amulet?” I asked, and a dozen more questions populated in my mind. New magical systems popped up in Alkarra all the time. A grimoire would be discovered somewhere, someone practiced it, and copies were made and distributed. It allowed witches to live their whole lives learning something new. Or old grimoires of ancient magic were rediscovered, and the system renewed.
But a new magic was something else altogether.
With his right hand, Baxter slipped his left arm sleeve back. A familiar, leather arm guard was clasped against the skin. I’d seen it before. Gift from my father, he’d once said. Gives me extra power.
I’d thought it was a joke, and had even laughed and dismissed it as a temporary charm, or something. Now, the puzzled expression on his face that had followed my amusement made far more sense.
The arm guard stretched from his wrist to halfway to his elbow. The leather was a supple black color, inlaid with dozens of smaller, gray gems. They glimmered in gentle, winding swirls, like tails of summer wind.
“Several small amulets.” He ran his fingers over their bumpy tops. “All of these are amulets that allow me to use god magic. The amulets are forged by the gods and distributed to demigods. My father is Ventis, god of wind.”
The subdued nature of the amulets, which appeared to be distinctly colored diamonds, was a stark contrast to Ignis’s massive amulet around Ava’s neck. A reflection of the gods’ personalities, if it meant anything, I assumed.
Baxter tugged his sleeve back down. “He issued these amulets to me so I could live amongst you with whatever magic I’d need to survive. We don’t use magic as much in Alaysia.”
My voice rose. “Really?”
A flicker of amusement passed through his gaze. “God magic is different. There are no spells or incantations. We think it, and it happens. Call it thought-magic, if you will. Much easier, faster. But we have to be gifted it through the amulets. It isn’t inherent in us.”
“Jikes.”
So many questions about gods and demigods and mortals moved through my mind. Did the use of magic tire Baxter? How did he travel? Was it similar to transportation? It appeared like he had transported, the few times I’d ever seen him do so. Silent magic made spells and incantations fairly similar to god magic, but it still wasn’t the same. We had to practice, find grimoires, and mold ourselves to the magic. God magic, apparently, molded itself to the witch.
“Powerful in comparison,” I said.
“Very. Witches have no limit in the fact that any witch can do magic, but it’s slow and cumbersome and requires time in comparison to thought-magic. Only demigods with amulets receive this ability, though, which is limiting itself.”
My thoughts multiplied out over the implications of thought magic here in Alkarra.
“Interesting,” I murmured, but my tone darkened. “And daunting, considering the fact that this demigod, Bram, may not have pleasant things planned for Alkarra. How could we fight against such a fast magic?”
“You can fight it,” he countered. “Just . . . at a great disadvantage. But I believe that Bram doesn’t have another amulet. To have one is hard enough, but a second? Extremely unlikely.”
“Then how did he get back here to Alkarra?” I asked.
“That is a wonderful question,” he murmured. “However he did it, I think he’s here and acting as a mortal with basic demigod strength. Heightened abilities, if you will. If Bram was smart, he’d lay low. But I’m willing to guess he’s not entirely hidden. He’s power hungry.”
My mind spun out ahead of him. “You think he’s trying to get into a position of power, then. Somewhere to gain some allegiance.”
“I’ve wondered,” he murmured. “A Southern Network Council Member, maybe? A leader of a village in the South? If he accrues mortals here, maybe he could figure out a way to prove his power to Ignis.”
“A Central Network Council Member, perhaps?” I asked, and my mind floated to Aldred. “One that wants to stir the Networks to war, perhaps? One that would influence Niko and help to destroy my father.”
His gaze darkened. “It could be. Your father appointed new Council Members years ago. If Bram has been here the whole time, just like me? Perhaps.”
The accusation against Council Member Aldred remained on the tip of my tongue. I wouldn’t release it yet, but I wanted to. It would levy a powerful force, and we’d need to prove it.
“Bram could have another amulet though, right?”
Baxter shrugged.
“That,” I muttered darkly, “would make it decidedly complicated to figure out.”
The effort of comprehending all these different angles made my head start to hurt. I pressed my fingertips to my temple and closed my eyes for a moment, my head a whirl of new ideas.
He tilted his head to one side with an amused little smirk. “It’s nice, you know? Being the one to explain custom instead of attempting to figure yours out.”
He grinned wearily, and I smiled back. His fingers slipped to his arm guard again, and the tips ran over the tops of the various amulets.
“In Alaysia, amulets are treated like demigods or mortals,” he murmured. “They have personalities and names and are known for their power. Some mortals even track amulets. They monitor their owners, colors, responses, and attitudes. Anyway, the amulet you broke has a name but we’re not sure what it is yet. My sisters are seeking a mortal that keeps records of the different amulets. They should be able to find out.”
“Then that amulet,” I muttered, “was a grumpy old cur.”
Baxter chuckled. “Which makes sense for Ignis.”
“He’s cranky?”
“He’s . . . complicated.”
The burning question I’d held all this time slipped out next. “Can your father do anything to help restore my magic?”
Baxter drew in a deep breath, held it, then let it out all at once. “No. At least, not yet,” he added hastily. “He said that the god and goddess magicks interact unexpectedly when brought together in such a way.”
“But you use god magic around us.”
“Only when I have to, and the magic never interacts. What you touch with your magic, I try to avoid.”
The truth, for sure. All the times he’d walked instead of transported whispered through my mind. The hand-written notes instead of an enchanted quill. He reached over and touched my shoulder in a comforting way.
“He said he’d try to learn more. Historically, the magicks tended to distort or disable the other, and he hasn’t seen a way to restore it that didn’t involve the goddess doing it herself.”
Fat chance, I thought. Because there was a small part of me that still didn’t believe any of this was actually true. But was that in doubt anymore? I stuffed that thought aside for later. At this point, I’d chase down any lead.
How did one speak to a goddess, anyway?
“What’s the plan now that you’ve spoken with your sisters and your father?” I asked. “What can we do to find Bram and get my magic back?”
“My sisters are going to search for Bram, which is not an easy task. So many of those demigods vying for power . . . for mortals . . .” He shook his head, hands fisted. “It’s . . . sickening.”
The thought that maybe fire had been the better choice made me shudder. If fire had such an effect, what would thunder have done? Rent my body in half? Shook my teeth until they chattered like old bones? I understood almost nothing of the relationship between god and mortal, but I knew enough to sense that Baxter must be a rare demigod. A kind one. One that actually cared.
Knowing him, it made sense.
“And Ava?” I asked.
“Ava has to look for Bram while she’s here. I can’t return with her until she does. The sooner, the better. The first opportunity I find to get her in front of all the Central and Southern Network Council Members, I’m going to take it.”
My heart skipped a beat with a brief moment of both fear and hope. We needed to put Ava in front of Council Member Aldred, too. And search for a potential amulet on his chest while we were at it.
What if he had been Bram all along?
“Could there be any correlation between my magic and the demigod?” I asked quietly. “If we find him, can I restore my magic?”
“I don’t know.”
The hope was a long one. A vague one. One extremely unlikely to make a difference, but I held onto it all the same. Baxter glanced behind him, as if to find Ava. When she wasn’t there, he rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hand.
“I need to go,” he said. “The Council Member Luncheon preparation is underway and I need to make sure the food will be ready in time. You’re coming, correct?”
I sighed. “Yes. Papa has asked me to come to make up for the dinner I missed.”
“Ha!” He slapped a knee as he stood. “Serves you right.”
“This is one of the biggest events of the Celebration,” I said drily. “Don’t mess it up.”
He flashed me a smile reminiscent of all the simpler times together, and it seemed to give both of us courage.
“Every Council Member and leader in the same room, while Niko gives a big long speech about how right he is?” Baxter’s teeth flashed with his grin. “Just a normal day in my life, thank you very much.”
18
Later that day, I breezed through the castle toward a room packed full of witches with a smile fixed on my face. While I casually strolled past the banquet hall—annoyingly not protected by transformative magic so I had a different appearance—I glanced inside.
The Council Member Luncheon, hosted by the Eastern Network, was minutes away from beginning. Sunlight streamed into the sprawling banquet hall, where ten long, wooden tables filled the middle of the room. White tablecloths ironed to perfection stretched across each tabletop, where crystal wine goblets and silver forks sparkled against the backdrop of crimson, emerald, purple, and sapphire silk napkins. Five elegant chairs with whittled woodwork marched along each side of the table. There would be over a hundred witches eating lunch here today, and the cacophony of chattering voices rose uproariously now.
Across the room, Papa stood by Marten near a window. His bright laugh rolled over the tables and comforted me, even if I could hear the strain in his mirth. Not far from Papa lingered Igor, who spoke quietly with Alina. Scarlett spoke with the Western Network High Priestess Lana. Niko, who would lead this luncheon, was nowhere in sight. The thought sent a dark cloud over my mind.
I ducked behind a large bookcase, closed my eyes, and drew in a deep breath. How Papa mentally prepared himself for all these social events, I would never understand. I wouldn’t even interact with all these witches in an official capacity, just a visible one, and I felt the strain.
Or perhaps I just felt uneasy.
Like the calm before a storm. Something didn’t feel right, and it may just be the fact that anyone could be Bram. It didn’t seem to be just me, though. A hidden strain of tension rippled through the room, obvious from too-bright smiles and darting gazes. Everyone seemed to feel it, even Marten. He stood alone now, half-frowning at the tiled floor.
To make sure I didn’t embarrass the Network, Leda helped me pick out a simple blue dress with sleeves to my elbows and a lace back that hid easy-to-loop buttons. My raven-black hair gleamed on my shoulders, freshly washed, and I’d donned new sandals. Not extensively formal, but enough to satisfy general convention.
For all intents and purposes, the Council Member Luncheon should be an easy event. Little more than a way for Council Members and their Assistants and other formal dignitaries to be acknowledged in this diplomatic process. They’d mingle together, talk about peace and troubles and solutions, and pretend we didn’t feel this stifling politeness.
Still, I wished I didn’t have to be here.
Arrive as soon as it begins, Papa said in a letter after Baxter had left. Sit by me, then leave as it ends. That way, you won’t have time to talk to witches. Recent developments with your new friend will eventually come to light after the Celebration, and the Council will be hostile to me as a result. Your presence today will be helpful to my cause and show our mutual loyalty to the Network.
Now, I just had to get myself into the room at the exact right moment.
Although we had no reason for witches to suspect that I’d lost my ability to do magic, Niko loomed large in my mind. Particularly with his motivated approach to finding the stowaway, and Hector’s injury—probably from a dragon. Niko knew something. Until we knew what that something was, the last thing I wanted to do was surround myself with powerful witches.
The bookshelf I’d ducked behind hid me from the main flow of people coming out of a turret nearby and exposed me only to the servants’ entrance at the end of the hall. Witches slipped into the banquet hall at my back in a gentle ebb. A conversation between three female witches caught my ear, so I turned my attention to them.
“Surprised we haven’t seen her here before now,” said the first.
“He normally parades her around,” replied another. “Maybe there’s some troubled water brewing in Magnolia castle.”
