Mage's End Game, page 7
Elliot’s eyebrows shot up with curiosity. “Oh, yeah? Where is this amazing place?”
“Somewhere held in the clutches of death. How do you feel about skeletons, Mr Brynn?” Kitty inquired.
Elliot stared and paled a shade or two. “Guess I don’t have to know.”
Imp came over with two tankards for Sera and Hugh and a goblet of wine for Kitty. “Food will be out shortly,” he said, then bustled away to serve his other customers.
Kitty picked up the goblet and toasted her companions. “I’m quite enjoying being in the thick of it. I never thought I’d find myself in a place like this, but I must admit, it has its charms.”
“Charms?” Sera echoed, her nose crinkling in amusement. “You have a peculiar taste in charms.”
Kitty gestured to the bar, where Imp poured ale into pitchers. “We have found a place that affords privacy, not to mention companionship and good food. There are places frequented by the aristocracy where you would struggle to find just one of those three.”
“Excellent point, Kitty. This is one of the few places where it is safe for Sera to show her face.” Hugh raised his tankard.
Elliot huffed. “I’m starting to think I should be worried about keeping such company as you lot. A footman has a reputation to uphold, you know.”
“If you want a more refined environment, my father can talk to his brother, the earl. I’m sure the Napier family can find a place for you in the ancestral pile,” Kitty offered.
Elliot paled once more. Sera wondered if it was the idea of having to wear livery or of being on his best behaviour day and night that horrified him.
“I might stick it out with Sera for a bit longer. See how this whole magic battle goes.” He shrugged and wrapped both hands around his mug.
Hugh reached across the table and touched Sera’s hand. “If you make a list of what you require, I can gather the ingredients from the apothecaries.”
“Thank you. It might be best to spread the list over a few of them, so no one can figure out what I am doing.” She pulled the sheets of paper free of her stays.
Evie the barmaid approached with a tray laden with plates of delicious-smelling food.
“Could we trouble Imp for paper and pencil, please?” Hugh asked before she turned to leave.
“Of course—anything for you.” She winked and returned a few moments later with the requested materials.
Flattening the sheets on the table and avoiding any flicks of gravy from supper, Sera made a list of ingredients. Some of them would be easily obtained, like rosemary and thyme. Others would be harder to locate.
Kitty leaned over, scanning the list with interest. “Dragon’s breath and moonstone dust? Who keeps such things, and where on earth did they get them?”
“Some of these ingredients are exceedingly rare and difficult to come by,” Hugh muttered, his brow furrowing as he studied the list.
“Yet again, I am reliant upon you, Hugh. Do you think you can find them all?” Sera tightened her grip on her knife and fork.
Hugh grabbed the spare sheet of paper and the pencil. “I’ll split this list in two. Elliot can purchase the more readily available herbs and tonics. I’ll have to talk quietly with my associates to find the more unusual items.”
“I am sure that between your connections, Elliot’s resourcefulness, and my coin, we shall be successful,” Kitty said.
Sera drew a breath and leaned against her friend. “Thank you for paying for everything. We would be lost without you.”
Kitty kissed the top of Sera’s head and then nudged her upright with a pointed elbow. “Oh, don’t you worry about that. I am keeping every invoice and intend to submit a claim for reimbursement to the king once this business is settled.”
Sera laughed. The situation was dire and there were still Lord Rowan’s magical traps to avoid, but the support of her friends meant the world to her. The Mage Council could strip every material thing from her, and she would still be a wealthy woman if she counted their friendship.
“To King George and a clear mind.” She held her mug aloft.
They toasted their cause, then fell to the serious task of eating supper.
The next morning, Sera made her way downstairs to the kitchen. Hugh and Elliot had set off to visit the apothecaries. Kitty had refused to go home, determined to be at Sera’s side each step of the way. She also sensibly pointed out that the more often she went back and forth from the pub to her Mayfair home, the greater the chances of someone following her. Instead, she sent a note to her father and took a room beside Sera’s.
The kitchen was busy, despite the early hour, as Imp and his wife Evie prepared the dishes they would serve. Kitty was already up and sipping a hot chocolate, sitting on a stool out of the couple’s way.
“Good morning, milady. I have gathered a variety of bowls and glasses for your use. What else do you require?” Imp gestured to the collection of crockery piled up before Kitty.
“Sera, please. There is no need to milady me.” She cast a quick eye over the assortment. It would serve her well. “A mortar and pestle, too, if you have them.”
Evie reached under a cupboard and produced a stone mortar with a notch for the pestle to rest in. Sera added it to the collection. “I’ll also need to cast a magic flame, so something fireproof for it to sit on and a way to suspend a pot over it.”
After sorting through a myriad of pots and pans, they found a set meant to keep coffee warm. A hand-sized, shallow cast-iron bowl would hold the flame, and the stand would hold a pot above it.
“Perfect,” Sera murmured as she created a workspace close to the back door and window in case there were noxious odours wafting off her work. As she surveyed her corner of the kitchen, a tendril of doubt clawed its way into her mind. What if they couldn’t find the necessary components? What if the shield failed?
She brushed the worries away with one hand, as though they were lazy summer flies buzzing around her head.
“Let us hope Hugh and Elliot are successful,” Kitty murmured into her drink, as though she’d plucked the thoughts from Sera’s mind.
Elliot returned first. He pulled the strap of the satchel over his head and deposited the bag before Sera. “I got everything on your list. Got some right odd looks. But I told them I’m not a doctor, just the bloke fetching what he’s told to get.”
Sera unpacked the stoppered bottles and paper-wrapped parcels. “Brilliant, Elliot, thank you. I can start with these.”
“Why don’t you take a seat out there, and Evie will bring you coffee.” Kitty pushed Elliot towards the door.
“A scone or two wouldn’t go amiss,” he called as he went through to the main part of the bar.
Sera and Kitty worked side by side, her friend following every instruction as they unpacked the herbs and liquids and lined them up. They weighted the sheet of paper bearing the first part of the spell with a heavy tankard, so it didn’t blow away should a gust burst through the back door when it opened.
Sera was grinding rosemary in the mortar when Hugh finally strode in, his expression triumphant. “Success!” he declared, proffering a small cloth pouch and a delicate glass vial. “Dragon’s breath and moonstone dust, as requested. It cost most of your coin, though, Kitty, and I had to pull in a few favours besides. The apothecary asked some very pointed questions, but I merely told him Lord Viner was working on a possible way to clear the king’s mind.”
“You stuck close to the truth, good man. And do not worry about the coin. There is more where that came from.” Kitty took the little vial and held it to the light. It sparkled and glinted as though it contained ground-up diamonds. “Do you think it really is from the moon?”
Sera leaned over her friend’s shoulder. “I doubt it. I think the name was given because it looks like something scooped up from its surface.”
“Shouldn’t it be cheese if it comes from the moon?” Imp was chopping vegetables and looked up with a frown on his broad face.
Kitty swallowed a snort. “Since you now have a more qualified assistant in Hugh, Sera, I shall keep an eye on Mr Brynn and give him some other tasks to keep him occupied today.”
Hugh took down an apron from a hook by the door and tied it around his waist. Then he rolled up his shirt sleeves. He took over weighing and measuring ingredients for the potion, while Sera did the processes that required a swirl of magic.
They worked slowly and methodically, not wanting to make any mistakes. A faint tremor shook Sera’s hands as she measured out the correct weight of the iridescent moonstone dust. Then she gently tapped it into a narrow-necked glass container. Next, she added one drop at a time of the liquid called dragon’s breath. The two sizzled as they combined and changed into a luminous-purple cloud.
Hugh hovered at her side, a mixture of admiration and concern etched into his strong features. “Are you certain about this step? We’ve not had any success so far, and our supplies are dwindling.”
“I know this isn’t what I wrote out, but the other mix failed, and this way seems…right,” Sera murmured, her brow furrowed in concentration. She couldn't let doubt creep in now. Two more drops and she quickly added a stopper to the flask before the swirling cloud escaped.
In the mortar waited the other component of the spell. Taking up a pitcher holding the liquids they had combined, Sera poured a little into the mortar. The concoction bubbled and frothed. Her heart raced with anticipation, but as moments passed, the potion settled into a dull, murky colour, devoid of any magical glow.
“Blast!” Sera slammed her fist on the table, frustration boiling over. They’d been at this for hours, trying myriad combinations of quantities and order for the first part of the spell. Every time, it turned listless.
Hugh laid a hand on her shoulder. “The clarity part is working. Look.” With a gentle touch, he picked up the flask where the storm cloud was shaking off the purple and slowly changing to the blue of a clear ocean.
She grudgingly admitted that it was pretty. “The storm has passed in the flask, much like the way it will clear troubled thoughts. But it’s useless without the shielding potion to augment it.”
“Then we try again and keep trying until it works. You can do this.” Hugh folded her into his embrace.
Sera rested her cheek on his shoulder and let his love seep through her. She could do this. Potions had always been her favourite thing to work on. Perhaps, like the clarity spell, she had to follow instinct rather than every word of the old spell.
As they continued to labour in Imp’s kitchen, the atmosphere grew heavy with the weight of failure. Time and time again, they mixed, heated, and experimented, only to be met with disappointment. Some attempts resulted in small explosions that left them coughing amidst clouds of acrid smoke, and they quickly flung the door and windows open. Other brews simply had no effect at all.
Exhaustion settled into Sera’s bones, but she refused to yield. When she considered giving up, she remembered the anguish and love on the queen’s face as she implored Sera to heal her George. She worked to save not their king, but the man who was much loved by the woman she respected.
Inspiration struck her like a bolt of lightning, and she could scarcely believe they hadn't considered it sooner. “It’s the order of the ingredients. Tincture of bloodworm should be first. It dwells under the soil and should be the base layer, not thrown in at a later stage as though it were an air creature.”
Hugh raised an eyebrow, considering the idea. “Let’s try. There is not much left, but we can send Elliot for more.”
Drawing a sigh and arching her back to relieve stiff muscles, Sera started again. Grinding herbs, measuring tinctures, and chopping pieces that resembled dried tendons. As the last ray of sunlight slipped below the horizon, Sera held her breath and combined the ingredients one final time.
Please let this work, she entreated Gaia.
As they waited, Sera wearily surveyed the cluttered workbench, strewn with the detritus of their many failed attempts—charred remains of parchment, blackened glass vials, and the mortar stained with the remnants of crushed herbs. Her fingers ached with the effort of grinding the herbs into a fine powder, but she dared not stop. Her determination burned as fiercely as the lanterns illuminating their efforts.
When no sparks emitted from the mortar, nor puffs of sulphurous vapour, she leaned forwards to peer within. The mix had combined into a solid lump. But it emitted a soft glow that reminded her of flames frozen in amber.
“It worked. The shielding spell worked!” She glanced at Hugh with excitement in her eyes.
“I knew you could do it, Sera. Now you have only to combine them.” He moved the coffee pot warmer closer.
Sera placed the piece of amber-like substance in a small bowl and set it over the warmer. A whisper lit the stub of candle that she had imbued with more spells. The flame flickered through shades of blue, from a deep navy to that of a pale spring sky.
When the edges of the lump in the bowl rounded as it melted like a slab of butter, she uncorked the flask and used her magic to capture the blue cloud and wrap it around the solid substance. The delicate cloud settled over its companion like a blanket draped over a person. Then the mixture began to bubble and froth, emitting a sweet aroma that filled the air.
“Come on,” Sera whispered under her breath, watching the potion with bated breath.
Slowly, the bubbling subsided, and the two different spells combined into a liquid that glowed a bright blue.
“You did it!” Hugh grinned at her.
“We did it.” She kissed him most soundly. They had surmounted another obstacle and were one step closer to the goal.
Kitty and Elliot were drawn from the bar by Hugh’s excited shout.
“Oh, brilliant!” Kitty exclaimed as Sera poured the luminous potion into a small glass vial.
“Shouldn’t you test it?” Elliot eyed the concoction suspiciously.
“There’s a small amount of residue in the bowl.” Hugh swiped a finger around the surface, then popped a glowing blue digit into his mouth.
“I wouldn’t have done that. I’d have made her test it,” the footman muttered.
Sera glared at her employee. “Still, Elliot? You know I didn’t poison Lord Branvale.”
He shrugged and gestured to the dirty bowls and containers scattered along the bench. “I was referring to your cooking in general.”
“Can you feel anything, Hugh?” Kitty asked, bringing the conversation back to the matter at hand.
“It’s…warm and comforting. Like a nip of brandy on a chilly day that has been heated and mixed with honey.” He turned his hands over, one tip still a pale blue.
“Can you feel any effects, though? Sera, cast a spell at him and see if it works.” Kitty pointed from one of her friends to the other.
Sera didn’t want to hurt Hugh, but they needed to know if the shield worked. Given he’d only ingested a fingertip’s worth, she pushed a tiny spell of crackling lightning at him. It rippled over his bare forearm, and a look of disappointment fell over his face.
Her stomach dropped. “It didn’t work.” Her voice wavered a little.
“Yes, it did. I never felt a thing. And you know how much I enjoy your electrical displays,” he murmured in a tone that made heat flush through her body. “And my mind is as clear and focused as if I’d had a solid night’s sleep and drunk an entire pot of coffee.”
Kitty threw her arms around Sera. “You did it. I always knew you could. Now Hugh has only to ensure the king drinks it.”
Sera had been so focused on creating the potion, she had forgotten about administering it. “How on earth am I going to sneak into St James’s Palace when Lord Rowan is hovering beside the king?”
Eight
Hugh
The morning sun cast a golden glow through the windows of the pub, adding a touch of warmth to the otherwise dim room. Hugh stood before a smudged mirror, carefully adjusting his fine court clothes. The crisp white shirt and richly embroidered waistcoat seemed out of place in the shabby pub, yet they were an essential part of their plan. He glanced at Sera, who had transformed herself into a maid with the help of a plain black dress and a white apron.
“You will need to stoop. You are tall for a woman,” he murmured as he tugged on his cuffs so that a thin strip of white was revealed below his sleeve.
“And you are broad. Wherever did you find court clothes to fit?” She walked to his side and brushed a mote of dust from the shoulder.
“A patient of similar build died some months ago and had no need of them.” Hugh had no shame about being passed a dead man’s clothes. While he could have earned a comfortable living tending to the headaches and hangovers of the wealthy, he preferred to look after the common man—who rarely had the means to pay him.
“Your patron had a discerning eye. The cut is impeccable and stylish without being garish like some of the courtiers favour.” Leaning up, she kissed him, then rested her arms over his shoulders. “This will work, and we will be another step closer to defeating Lord Rowan.”
Hugh placed his hands on her waist. “I don’t like placing you in danger. There will be a mage at the king’s side. What will you do if it is Lord Rowan?”
Lines briefly marred her sun-kissed forehead. He marvelled that even after her months of captivity, she retained a golden hue to her skin. “I don’t know. Let us simply hope it is not him. Lord Pendlebury would not stand in our way, but I believe he is still in Scotland.”
Hand in hand, they left the pub. Sera stayed alert to any traps set by the Mage Council as they journeyed towards St James’s Palace, their footsteps echoing on the cobblestone streets. The palace loomed large before them, its majestic façade emanating an oppressive air, as though the very bricks were infected by the king’s chaotic mind.
As they reached the palace gates, Hugh and Sera parted ways with a lingering glance. While Hugh would walk straight through the front doors, Sera would sneak around the back, using her disguise and wits to evade the guards.
