Bound Magic Page 9

  “No use asking me. My talent is for small things. Mostly it just enhances my natural senses and abilities. You’ll need to ask Istvan…although I’ve heard that he’s not the most patient person. I’m not sure what he’ll be like as a teacher.”

  Rather than respond, I walked beside him back to the kitchen. If there were rules, or at minimum, expectations around my familiar relationship with Istvan, then I didn’t want to get Berre into trouble by discussing things with him that were Istvan’s duty to share with me.

  I sighed and stretched, then rubbed my arms. Late afternoon was turning into evening and the noise from inside the building was lessening. I hesitated at the kitchen door. And there was a door there, now, even if it was propped open with an iron doorstop.

  “Come in. I don’t bite and I only snarl at family.”

  “Well, that’s true.”

  I recognized Arnout’s voice, which meant that the first, female voice issuing the invitation was probably Peggy’s.

  “Sorry I couldn’t meet you properly earlier.” She shook my hand firmly. “I like my kitchen just so, and unless I watch the boys like a hawk, they’ll put things where it’s easiest for them and too bad about the cook’s convenience!”

  Arnout sidled out the door.

  “I’ll be along in a few minutes,” Peggy shouted after him, and added in a quieter but still robust voice. “He’s my third youngest son.”

  The phrasing made me blink, but I refrained from asking how many children she had.

  “I have eighteen kids. Three lots of triplets, which is rare, if you’re wondering. I’ll be hiring extra kitchen help, but not from my family. Goshballs. That lot could burn water.”

  I rolled my eyes, searching for help. Who would save me from this cheerful woman’s volubility?

  Berre had already slipped away.

  Nils was braver. He sauntered in. “Something smells good.”

  “Pheasant stew,” Peggy said. “Two big pots and dumplings ready to go in, so there’ll be enough for all of you. If you’ll put the dumplings in twenty minutes before serving?” She fixed me with a dictator’s command for instant obedience, and I nodded like a marionette. “Then I’ll be going, now.” She took off her white apron which had dusty marks over it.

  “I’ll bring down your crates,” Nils said to me.

  “Uh Peggy?”

  She tilted her head to the side like a plump bluebird. “Yes, dear?”

  “I bought some treats. Jerky and candies. They’re in my room at the moment. Is there room for them in the pantry?”

  She took a deep breath. “Now, there’s a space that needs organizing. My Jag has put in shelves and Oscar was a good man and got storage containers, but it’ll take me a week and more to get it organized to my satisfaction, what with having to cook meals as well.”

  “We could—”

  She kept talking over my strangled offer that we could cook for ourselves till things settled down. “So of course there’s room for your treats. There’s always room for what you want, dear. Oscar made it very clear. You are the magistrate’s familiar. A creature of legend and such a pretty young girl. Never you worry, love. Peggy’ll look after you. What do we have here?”

  What we had were my crates bobbing into the kitchen in a line like ducklings after their mama duck, who was Nils.

  Peggy pointed to the floor and Nils placed the cases as directed. “Very nice. Coffee beans? Yes. Hmm. Acquired taste. Aniseed?” She studied the labels. “Jerky. Venison. Beef. I do like beef. Reminds me of the luan meat I used to cook for the earl.” She clapped her hands. “All right. Into the pantry with this lot, and I’m away.”

  She bustled out of the kitchen and vanished into the darkening evening.

  I hadn’t noticed that the sconces in the kitchen had come on and were glowing gently. Or that Yana had entered.

  She snared me in a rib-breaking hug. “Thank you.”

  “Can’t breathe.” I pretended to wheeze.

  Her hold relaxed a fraction. She put her forehead against mine. “Thank you.”

  Marriages, or matings, ought to be celebrated. Families who thought only of political gain were disgusting. “Glad you liked it. I won’t lie and say Istvan picked the quilt.”

  She laughed. “I wouldn’t have believed you.”

  “What did I not do?” Istvan sounded tired.

  “I gave Yana and Berre a mating gift from both of us.”

  His head perked up a bit. “A good thought.”

  “And there’s a wheel of cheese for you,” I said. “Nils?” The elf was stashing the crates of treats in the pantry. “Can you grab—”

  “No, thank you,” Istvan said. “I bought some fish from a boy, and will eat them whole, if no one minds?”

  “It’s your hall,” Nils said, closing the pantry door behind him.

  “It’s just sushi,” I said. “Even humans eat raw fish. Or some of us do. If it’s fresh.” I lifted the damp muslin cover off a tray of dumplings. “Is everyone ready to eat in twenty minutes.”

  “I’ll find Rory and Oscar,” Berre volunteered.

  Istvan returned with a basket of fish dangling from his beak. He lowered it to the floor. “Oscar is in his office.” The steward’s office. Istvan would need to hire clerks to fill the clerks’ office.

  So much to do. And none of it were things that I could help with.

  I concentrated on transferring the raw dumplings, which were thickly dotted with cheese and herbs, into the two pots of stew before replacing the lids.

  The large kitchen table was in place with chairs around it and room left for Istvan. Oscar wandered in rubbing at his eyes and with his curly purple hair somewhat flattened. As steward, he’d had the busiest day out of all of us.

  A kettle filled with water simmered at the side of the stove. A second stove was unlit and an enormous teapot sat on it beside a canister of tea. I took the hint Peggy had left and made a pot. The tea smelled of chamomile and berries as I spooned it in. Personally, I didn’t believe anyone would need any help sleeping tonight so maybe this was just a preferred tea mix among the Faerene.

  I smiled, thinking of the different flavors of foods here on Earth that they might have tried and rejected. Things like blue cheese weren’t for everyone.

  The stoves, ovens, sinks and a couple of steel and copper contraptions I couldn’t identify had been installed, but the kitchen lacked cupboards and counter space. I refilled the kettle and put it to the back of the hot stove. Mugs, plates and cutlery were on the table.

  Berre and Rory came in together. Berre immediately took a seat beside Yana. Rory prowled over to lift the lid on one of the pots of stew. “Smells good.” His free hand rested for a second on my back. When I smiled agreement at him, his hand lingered. The touch wasn’t sexual, but it wasn’t innocent either.

  Cats marked their humans with scent. Was all the touching of the werewolves part of strengthening pack bonds? I wasn’t pack.

  Rory carried the enormous and heavy teapot to the table. “I don’t know how Peggy even lifts this.” He poured the tea effortlessly, though.

  I took the empty chair nearest to Istvan, assuming that it had been left for me.

  Rory briefly touched Nils’s shoulder before sliding into the seat beside him.

  For a few seconds I simply breathed in the herbal scent of my mug of tea. Then I took a sip and replaced it on the table. “Istvan, would it be possible to add a common room where we could relax together? I bought some furniture that would fit.” I realized I was making a pretty significant demand. “The furniture could be used elsewhere if you’d rather not add to the building. Or we could adapt an existing room.”

  “A common room,” Yana repeated. “A family room?”

  “Yes.” I smiled at her quickly before refocusing on Istvan. Even as I did so, I had a vision of her and Berre’s children playing in a family room as we all relaxed there. They’d stalk Istvan’s flicking tail.

  At what age did werewolves shift into their
three forms?

  “I’ll add a family room, tonight,” Istvan said.

  Leaning around his basket of fish, I hugged him, before going to check on the stew. I prodded a dumpling experimentally. “Dinner’s ready.”

  Chapter 6

  Istvan watched as Rory sprang up to carry the second pot of stew to the table, helping Amy. However, it was Amy who occupied Istvan’s attention. On Elysium, before the Migration, he’d studied humans so that he’d be able to read their body language and behavior. Amy was tired, but more than that, she was uncertain. She asked for what she needed, but she wasn’t sure she had a right to it.

  My fault, he thought as he swallowed a second catfish whole. In his mind she’d taken on the status of a griffin fledgling. That gave her a lot of rights in a griffin household. The griffin method of child raising was to provide rights to balance all the responsibilities of adulthood that a fledgling was growing into.

  With the apocalypse, Amy had taken on more responsibilities than many of Istvan’s Arani Clan on Elysium would shoulder in their entire centuries of life. She’d built and contributed to a new family and doctored half a township. She’d survived the human familiar trials, and now, was taking responsibility for finding her footing in her new role.

  The vow she’d taken bonding herself to him echoed in his mind.

  “The magic that flows through me I gift to your service.”

  His reply had been just as simple and profound. “I accept your service and will honor it.”

  Adding a family room to the magistrate hall so that Amy could relax with people she trusted was a small thing.

  He ate a final fish whilst contemplating his disconcerting sense of pride in her. He doubted other familiars matched her courage in asking for what they needed. But even if they did, they couldn’t possibly be performing as well as Amy since none of the other familiars were being asked to take on a public role that required contact with Faerene beyond their magician partner.

  She’d behaved impeccably, yesterday, when the town’s new arrivals jockeyed for his attention and their chance to observe her and his relationship with a human familiar. She’d greeted them politely and countered their curiosity by sitting silently, listening and learning. She was clever and disciplined, both traits he valued.

  “Your news slate.” Tineke put a basic slate on the table beside Amy’s scraped clean plate. She and Lajos had returned halfway through the meal.

  Lajos was covered in dirt, but had obviously washed his hands. The line between clean and dirty was clear on his wrists.

  Everyone had finished eating.

  “It’s like a tablet.” Amy swiped a finger over the slate. “A computer.” Her face displayed total absorption as she studied the screen. “I should have guessed you had an equivalent of the internet. You can stay in touch with one another.” Raw envy sounded in her voice, but it lacked a resentful edge. Humanity had lost a cataclysmic amount, but Amy was managing her trauma. Grief and loss wouldn’t betray her into bitterness.

  Unless I handle our familiar partnership badly.

  Istvan caught Tineke’s eye. “Thank you.” The elf had thought of a means of enabling Amy to learn Faerene society according to her own needs.

  “Yes, thank you.” Amy kissed Tineke’s cheek.

  The older woman smiled. “Among other things, you can use it to study the various fashion trends.

  Everyone stared at Tineke.

  She looked back in amused impatience. “Amy, you need new clothes.”

  Amy brushed the front of her knitted sweater. “These are fine. Hard-wearing. Although I did ask Nils about doing laundry.”

  Yana laughed. “Not the person I’d ask.”

  Nils tossed a tiny ball of light at her, swatting Yana on the nose.

  However, Tineke was serious. “Amy, you need new clothes in your position as Istvan’s familiar. It will reflect badly on him if you look poor or neglected.”

  “I…” Amy swallowed, obviously struggling with Tineke’s gentle chastisement. “I was doing better than most people before I met you all.”

  Before she’d been kidnapped and forced into the familiar trials, she meant.

  Rory gripped the edge of the table fiercely enough that the oak was in danger of cracking.

  “I’ll study the news slate for fashions.” Amy glanced sideways at Istvan. “I don’t want to embarrass you. However, it’ll mean more money. I’ll have to ask Pavel for a complete wardrobe, and he’ll have ideas.”

  For a second, Istvan blanked on which Pavel she meant. Then he recalled the nymph tailor who’d introduced himself yesterday. A shrewd fool was Istvan’s judgement of the man. “A frippery fop,” he said to Amy. “And you do not embarrass me, partner, but I would like you to be appropriately clothed for cold weather. My own winter coat has grown in.”

  She smiled at him, then, and stroked the feathers of his throat. “All right.” But her gaze when she looked at Tineke was more reserved than it had been.

  Slowly, Rory released his grip on the table. “I have more work to do. Good night.” On his way out, he zapped a cleaning spell at the dirty dishes piled in the sink.

  Amy noticed, if not the spell then its results. She got up and stacked the clean dishes on the cold stove. There were no cupboards in the kitchen, yet. “Good night.” Whether purposefully or not, she “forgot” her slate on the table.

  Istvan was attuned to the hall. He tracked her half-consciously as she climbed the stairs.

  “You were harsh,” Lajos said to Tineke.

  The elf woman sipped her tea. “There’ll be a lot of harsh lessons as she interprets and constructs the role of a familiar.” She gazed steadily at Istvan. “You saw what convinced her to accept the clothing?”

  “I did.”

  Amy didn’t want to disgrace him.

  He nodded at Tineke, understanding what she implied. The harsh lessons involved in working out just what a familiar relationship meant would be for him as well as for Amy. She treated him with care, and he had to match her goodwill.

  “I have a tent set up on my building plot. Thank you for the meal.” Tineke departed.

  With her fiery emotions and impulsive temperament Istvan occasionally forgot how wise Tineke was.

  “She can’t help meddling,” Lajos said in a low voice after Yana and Berre had departed on her heels. “She cares what happens to Amy.”

  Nils lounged at the table. “She was the youngest of the familiar candidates. It is easy to feel protective of her.”

  “Fledglings have to be encouraged to fly,” Istvan repeated a griffin maxim. With a thought he doused the smoldering coals in the stove. “Good night.”

  Instead of ascending to his room, he took a bath. The warm water felt good. He preened a few feathers manually before using a grooming spell to dry off. He only required three hours sleep a night. His siblings were lazy and had adopted non-griffin ways, sleeping seven hours or more in their homes on Elysium. Istvan preferred to work.

  He needed to hire a night clerk to assist him in the dark hours, a vampire for preference. He’d built suitable chambers beside the dungeon for vampire guests or residents.

  He clacked his beak quietly. The afternoon had been wearisome, consumed by a mountain of paperwork.

  There were clerks to be hired to support his magisterial role and a surprising number of qualified and unqualified people had applied. It was likely that Amy was the drawcard for some of them. People who might have been bored with ordinary magisterial clerk duties were intrigued at the idea of being part of a magisterial administration that included a human familiar.

  “Liaising with humans.” Istvan settled into his nest. He hadn’t requested doors for his room. Instead, he went with the griffin tradition of sealing the opening with magic. No one could enter or see in. Even sound was blocked. “I am no diplomat.” He believed that a person should recognize their weaknesses as well as their strengths. He meditated on Tineke’s words, harsh lessons.

  Rory hadn’t app
reciated Tineke’s harsh lesson directed at Amy.

  Would he have volunteered to head Istvan’s magisterial guard unit if not for Amy’s presence?

  On balance, Istvan thought Rory might have done so anyway. They’d worked well together on sealing the Rift. Rory was a far more accomplished magician—something that required rigorous dedication to magic studies—than his laidback attitude revealed.

  Istvan ruffled his feathers. It was all very well suspecting Rory’s motives. What about my own?

  It wasn’t his motives that Istvan questioned, but an awareness of how responsibility for Amy was changing his behavior. Without his bond to the human familiar, he would not have eaten and socialized with the members of his guard unit. He didn’t hold himself aloof out of snobbishness, as his eldest brother might have done, but from a habit of solitude. He found the pursuit of justice satisfying in itself. He had no need of personal relationships.

  Or so I believed. An image of Nora with her golden wings flashed up in his mental vision. He would have to admit to Nora that Amy’s emotional needs, in as far as the human girl required social contact, were altering his solitary status.

  He shifted his train of thought back to work matters. He’d send a note to the seethe settling in Memphis. The master of the seethe could decide which of the two vampires who’d applied for a position at the hall would become Istvan’s night clerk.

  The seethe would be busy, tonight.

  The rules of Migration meant that the vampires weren’t permitted to settle among or drink from humans until the magistrate of their territory took up his or her position. In that way the humans, although they mightn’t know it, had protection against mind enslavement. If anything of that kind occurred in the North American Territory, Istvan’s magisterial sensors would detect it. His justice would be of the fierce kind. The first few decades of the Migration would establish the nature of Faerene society on Earth, and Istvan intended it to be a compassionate and just one.

  Chapter 7

  The morning sunlight streamed in large windows and an open door that led to a walled garden.