The Scofflaw Magician (The Artifactor Book 3) (11 page)

“Master.”

“Tea’s likely
cold,” he greeted, pointing to a tray on the table next to his chair. “But I
picked up flatbread sandwiches on the way here.”

“Bless you,”
she said fervently, diving for them. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast and was
beyond starved. Even cold tea was fine by her at the moment.

“This is one of
the strangest things I’ve ever seen,” he proclaimed, eyes never leaving the
portrait in front of him. “Is it a transmutation spell? Transportation spell?
Something else? I’ve been staring at it for hours and can’t tell.”

“Join the club,”
she said around a mouthful. “I’m starting to wonder if it’s both.”

Master went
taut, arrested by this new idea. “Both. Both would explain…much. If it is both,
you were wise to advise not taking them through the clocks. That would have
warped the magic beyond recognition.”

“It was just a
hunch I had at the time. But I’m beginning to think my subconscious knows more
than it’s letting on.” She chased the sandwich with a cup of tea and reached
for another. “But it does explain things, doesn’t it? That strange twist in the
spell, as if it’s blending two purposes into one.”

“I think it’s
doing just that, sweetling.” Master lifted a finger into the air as if tracing
things. “Huh. This man excels in finding holes in magical shields.”

“He found two
of them,” Sevana sighed, put out. “And we can only effectively block one. The
other one…well, we can block it most of the time, but we’ll have to remove it
if we want to take a member of a royal family anywhere.”

“Cumbersome,”
he agreed absently, “but I think preferable over a fate like this.”

“Well, yes,
that goes without saying.” Hunger satisfied, she perched on the arm and stared
at the portrait of the Belen king. As paintings went, this one was a good
likeness, although still clearly not of a professional quality. “Did you check
on the saplings?”

“A fly by as I
came in. I’ve only been here a half hour more than you.”

Too late to
troop into Noppers Woods, in other words. Right. She’d have to check it herself
in the morning. Baby sauntered into the room and arched his back so that he
could rub up against her. She gave him a good scratch around the neck in
greeting. “I’ll go and speak with the Fae tomorrow. Or try to.”

Master shifted so
he could talk with her more normally. “You think they don’t want to talk?”

“Just because I
enter Noppers doesn’t mean I’m coming to talk to them,” she explained. The
exhaustion of the day was starting to catch up with her. She’d only gotten five
hours of sleep before her brain had prodded her awake and she’d jumped back
into the thick of things. She was feeling that lack right now. “If I have a
child in hand, they always come out because they’re sure I’m coming to them.
But short of yelling Lorien’s name, I’m not sure how to get their attention.”

“You know where
their territory is?”

“Roughly. But
you know how it goes, no one sees a Fae village unless they want it seen.”

“Save your
voice,” he advised, a muted twinkle in his eyes. “Wait until you’re in their
territory before yelling.”

“Ha. Ha. Ha.
You funny, funny man.”

He put a hand
to his heart. “I try. You game to look over these tonight, sweetling? You look
tired to me.”

“On the way
down here, I was ready to dive into the problem again, but I’m thinking I
should sleep.”

Master nodded
in support of this. “Just leave me your journals. I’ll read through them and
get up to speed so we can work on it tomorrow.”

That sounded
like a good plan to her. Sevana went to the box that she’d packed in Sa Kao and
dug through them until she found the two journals. Passing them over, she
yawned out a good night and headed for bed. Master could fend for himself until
tomorrow morning.

Sevana said a prayer
as she headed into Noppers Woods the next morning. It might take several hours
before she was able to find one of the Fae, and she was prepared for that, but
hopefully it wouldn’t take the whole day. She stopped first to check on the
saplings and was relieved to find the soldiers had done a good job planting.
They’d put in quite the variety, all of them indigenous of this region, with
lots of dark soil around the roots to give them a good start. Glad she didn’t
have to stop and fix that first, she called for Baby and Grydon and waded into
the heart of the woods.

Her wolf and
mountain lion had fun in a mock game of chase, tearing through the area, but
never venturing out of her sight. They were guarding her against any menaces
that might be awake at this hour of the morning while having fun. Anything that
thought they weren’t paying attention would pay dearly for their mistake.

It took three
hours to hike into the right area for Fae territory. Once there, she stopped
dead and looked about her. Even now, she couldn’t see any of the Fae, just feel
their eyes on her. She knew the feeling wasn’t wrong, because Grydon and Baby
came to stand right next to her, the game of chase coming to an abrupt end.
Lifting her voice slightly, she called, “Something has happened in the human
world. Something that involves Fae magic. I need to speak with you about it.”

A man she
vaguely recognized stepped out from behind a tree. His blond hair was tied back
in a simple knot, clothes a muted green that seemed to flow around him, nose
and cheekbones sharp and prominent in his pale skin. “Artifactor,” he greeted
in a smooth baritone.

“We’ve met
before, I believe?” she ventured. Her mind scrambled to recall his name, but
came up blank. Had she even heard it? “Bertrude’s father?”

He gave her a
true smile, one of the few she’d seen from the Fae. “She chooses to be called
Maeron now.”

Sevana relaxed,
glad to be right. “It’s a prettier name, don’t blame the kid for that.”

“I am Veassen.
You speak of our magic loose in the human world? We know naught of this.”

“You probably
don’t even have an inkling about it,” she assured him. “I myself only stumbled
on this recently. I can show you?”

He gestured for
her to do so, so she slipped the tube off her back and pulled the portrait
free, unrolling enough of it so he could see it for himself.

Veassen took
one look and hissed like a stepped on cat. “What vileness is this?”

“Some of the
worst evil I’ve seen,” Sevana responded grimly. “This is made from Fae ink, at
least partially, which is why I’ve come to speak to you.”

“You were wise
to do so. We know naught of this. Such ink should not be in the human realm at
all, except what was used for the Book of Truth.” Veassen glared at the
portrait as if its existence itself was an affront to him on a personal level.
“Come with me. We must speak with Aranhil and you will inform him of everything
you know.”

Oh, she got a
direct escort to someone important? Excellent. Maybe she could finally get a
peek inside the Fae’s territory instead of just their front door. “Aranhil is
someone who has authority over things like this?”

“He is King of
the Woodland Fae.”

Sevana tripped
over her own boots. “W-what now?”

Veassen unbent
enough to give her a fleeting nod of reassurance. “Aranhil regards you with
much favor. You have proven to be a friend of the Fae. He will wish to speak to
you directly on this matter.”

So Master was
right? The Fae thought of her as a friend now? That was a worry off her mind. Did
that mean she could waltz into Fae territory without worrying about stepping on
any toes? Her sense of diplomacy was rather low, after all. Not sure if it was
a good idea to walk in without an ambassador regardless, she tucked the thought
aside, put the portrait back in the tube, and followed him in.

A path of sorts
developed, nothing obvious like paving stones, but something made of shorter
grass and flowerbeds lining either side. The trees swept down, brushing their
branches nearby as if welcoming both of them. It felt solemn and peaceful and
strange, but it wasn’t a bad feeling. Sevana felt oddly as if a part of her had
always belonged here. An odd homecoming, considering she had never been here
before and likely never would again.

The air took on
that tint of saturation again, as if it were moist and yet not. She recognized
it now as Fae magic. It settled on her skin thick enough to make her almost
shiver, either from pleasure or discomfort, even she couldn’t say.

There were no
houses, not in the human sense, no buildings of any sort, but her eye slowly
started to pick out areas that were crafted for gathering. Pockets were formed from
tree branches and fallen logs, places where people gathered. She heard a tinkle
of laughter every so often, and the low hum of conversations overlapping, but
it never rose to such a pitch to disturb the tranquility of the forest.

Veassen paused
at a fork in the path and mentioned in an off-hand manner, “You are one of the
few humans to ever come this deep into Fae territory.”

“It’s just as
well,” she responded, still drinking in the sensations all around her. “If they
knew how harmonious it was in here, they’d throng their way in.”

He liked this
answer, she could see it in the way his eyes lifted. “We go this way.”

Following him,
she asked, “Are there any courtesies I need to observe while greeting your
king?”

“Do not
interrupt him. Do not look him in the eye unless invited to do so. It is also
customary to offer him some token upon your first meeting, but you’ve done that
by bringing knowledge to us.”

“I don’t refer
to him by title or anything?”

“His name is
his title.”

Sevana made
careful note of that.

The Fae
apparently didn’t subscribe to the idea of grand palaces. They entered a
clearing that had a single chair, crafted from the roots of an ancient hemlock,
obviously a throne. Lounging comfortably in it was a man of indeterminate age,
blond hair overflowing so that it touched the ground in a shimmering waterfall.
He looked otherworldly beautiful, and the only thing that made him seem real
instead of an illusion was the sensible dark blue coat and trousers he wore.

To all sides,
there were other Fae in the clearing, most of them in small clusters, speaking
to each other. As she entered, all conversations abruptly ceased and they turned
to her, expressions startled to see a human come into the heart of their lands.

Seeing only one
other face she recognized, Sevana gave a smile and bow of greeting before
focusing on the king. As instructed, she didn’t look at his eyes, instead
focusing on his collarbones. That was a safe place to stare.

“Veassen,”
Aranhil greeted in a clear tenor. “I see a friend of Ours in your wake.”

She took note
of that royal Our with interest.

“I do,” Veassen
acknowledged. “Sevana Warran is here to speak with you, Aranhil. But she does
not bring us good news.”

“Come closer,
Sevana Warran, and look at me. Speak to me so that I may know more of this.”

Sevana was of
two minds about getting any closer to the man that was probably the strongest
of all the Fae, but came in another five steps before stopping and looking him
straight in the eye. “Aranhil. Thank you for seeing me so promptly.”

“You have given
much to me and mine. Of course I will hear you.” Aranhil leaned forward ever so
slightly, his focus intense and penetrating. “What brings you to me?”

“This.” She
once again drew out the portrait and unrolled it, but this time did so fully so
he could get a good look.

Aranhil shot to
his feet, swearing in a language that she couldn’t understand. But she didn’t
need to, tone and that dark expression were enough to tell her he was probably
making up curse words on the spot. “What travesty is this!”

“I’ve been told
that the only time you gave high quality ink to humans was to create the Book
of Truth?”

He regained
enough of his temper to answer curtly, “That is so. Where did you get this?”

“Sa Kao.
Aranhil, I believe someone has somehow gotten hold of your ink. They’re using
it to create these portraits, trapping the people they’ve painted inside.”

A gasp of
horror came from the group listening in.

Aranhil pointed
a shaking finger at the portrait. “There is a living being inside of that?”

“I believe so.
The spell is complicated, so I’m not sure if they’ve become the portrait or if it’s
being used as a gateway to trap them on a different plane. Either way, they’re
stuck there and I haven’t yet figured out how to get them back.”

For a long
moment, the King of the Fae stared at the portrait. Then he took in a deep
breath and let it out again, regaining control as he did so. “It has been some
time since I’ve seen something so vile. This ink was used without Our
knowledge. We are not aware of any bottles of it in human hands.”

“None at all?”
she pressed. “This might have been given away decades ago and rediscovered.”

Aranhil shook
his head firmly. “The only time we have gifted ink was for the Book of Truth.”

Alright, well,
that certainly narrowed down the possibilities. “Then someone has broken into
your territory and stolen a bottle without you being aware of it.”

The expression
on the king’s face was like a gathering storm cloud. If he’d had a target
handy, the man would have been turned to ash on the spot. “That would be nigh
impossible.”

“This magician,
whoever he is, has managed to curse three different members of the reigning
families without anyone being aware of the attack. One curse went undetected
for nearly a decade. The man’s crafty enough to manage getting even through all
of your protections.”

“Start from the
beginning,” he commanded. “I must hear the full tale.”

“You are aware
of the Sa Kao army that attempted to enter Noppers Woods?” she asked. It was a
stupid question, of course he was, but she had to start from somewhere.

“Of course.”

“Ah, well the
reason why they did that was—” Sevana launched into the full story from there,
giving him a concise series of events. Sometimes she had to backtrack as his
knowledge of human magic and how it worked was limited. It took time to explain
things so that he completely understood what she meant. But his was the type of
mind that retained everything it heard and she only had to explain once. As
intense as the interrogation was, it was still a pleasure to deal with such
intelligence.

Satisfied,
Aranhil lifted a hand to indicate he had heard enough. “This is grave indeed.
We have more sympathy for those that came against us. Starting from this
moment, we will cooperate in finding this man that has caused so much grief.”
Turning to Veassen, he commanded, “Bring me Arandur.”

Veassen bowed
his head sharply before spinning on his heel and taking off at a dead run.

Daring to press
her luck, she continued, “Aranhil, I must know how this ink is made if I’m to
reverse the spell.”

“No human can
know that process.” His tone was enough to shut her up.

Licking her
lips, she tried again. “I don’t need to know the process, but I
must
know the ingredients in the ink. Please. I can’t help these people otherwise.”

He opened his
mouth again, ready to deny her, but paused. “People? How many portraits are
there?”

“Eleven.”
Hoping to tip the scales in her favor, she added, “At least eleven, we’re still
searching for others.”

“Eleven souls,”
he repeated in a bare whisper. “The man dares much with magic that is not his.”
Sinking back into his chair, he stared at the ground for a long moment. “Why
must you know the ingredients of the ink?”

The question
gave her the sense he was softening. “It’s how human magic works. I must know
all the ingredients of a spell so that I can craft its opposite, a more
powerful opposite, to counter and break it.”

He lifted his
eyes up to hers. “Just the ingredients.”

“A sample of
the ingredients?” she gave him her best smile. “I have to know power levels as
well.”

Aranhil eyed
her with an unreadable expression. “I will consider it.”

That didn’t
sound like a no to her. “My thanks, Aranhil.”

“We understand
little of human magic. We request that you give us your aid as needed.”

Sevana understood
that ‘request’ actually meant ‘required’ and that she wouldn’t be able to get
the information she needed if she refused to help. “I have every intention of
aiding you. It will take both of us, I think, to hunt this man down.”

Satisfied, he
gave her a regal nod. “You will start today.”

Sevana’s head
jerked back in surprise. “This minute?”

She got that
inscrutable look again. “You have another task you must perform?”