The Scofflaw Magician (The Artifactor Book 3) (20 page)

The boar
charged, screaming in a deranged whine as he cleared the logs, hooves digging
into the ground as he ran.

Aran didn’t
flinch, didn’t startle, simply lifted the bow completely up and aimed. The boar
was twenty feet away and he remained unmoved by the proximity. With a
twang
,
the arrow released and hit unerringly between the boar’s eyes.

The momentum
was such that the boar still managed another three steps before his nose dove
into the ground, skidded forward, flipped once, then lay still. Sevana let out
a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “Good shot,” she praised in true
admiration. Hitting something that was moving like that, and was coming
straight at you, was incredibly hard to do.

Aran gave her a
boyish grin, the smile lighting up his features in a way she had never seen
before. “I’m glad you were at my back. It steadied my nerves.”

Sevana didn’t
believe him for one second but it was nice of him to say so. “I don’t recommend
leaving it here.”

“The disease
will spread,” he agreed, smile fading. “I will burn his corpse clean.”

She had been
about to suggest something similar, but if he wanted to do so, she had no
problem with that.

Lifting a hand,
Aran concentrated, and a burst of flame shot out of his fingertips. It was
almost pure white leaving his hand, but by the time it settled on the boar’s
corpse, it was in the usual golden tones of a fire.

“How do you do
that?”

“Create fire?”
Aran spread his hand in a shrug. “We carry the sun within us.”

Meaning that
fire was easy to create at any time because they carried captured sunlight
within their core? That made sense, but heavens, that must mean the Fae never
got cold. How could they, with a piece of the sun riding along inside of them?

Aran moved to
the boar, sinking down two feet away from it, to kneel on one knee. “I am sorry
you met this end. Let your spirit go in peace. There is no need to linger
here.”

This respect
for the slain was expected. Sevana knelt next to him, offering quietly, “When
you are done, I’ll create a grave for him. Unless you are going to burn even
his bones?”

“The infection
does not spread that far. Only into his blood and organs. A grave would be
nice.”

Satisfied, she
waited as the fire kept burning. The smell was like roasting meat, only somehow
foul, but it wasn’t enough to make her gag. Fortunately. Also, to her
amusement, the fire didn’t attempt to spread even one nth degree away from the
boar. Fae fire was apparently very well behaved and it stayed on task.

“You move
extremely well on the hunt,” Aran observed with a quick glance at her face.
“Who taught you?”

“My mountain
lion.”

“Ah?” Aran looked
taken aback for only a moment before chuckling. “Ah, him. Yes, he is a regular
visitor in our woods. He taught you? I know few humans that will let an animal
teach them anything.”

“They’re fools.
Animals know more than we do, sometimes. Oftentimes.”

“It’s really no
wonder that you became part of us. The way you think is just like the Fae.”

Perhaps it
wasn’t so strange a thing after all. He was right, in many respects; she
thought and reacted like the Fae did. Not in all ways, but when it came to
managing the forest and animals, she was exactly like them. “You know Baby
well?”

“I do. He has
helped me on some occasions, tracking down trouble that was brewing. He told me
he did it for your sake, to make sure the danger did not come near you. He is a
good cat.”

“He is,” Sevana
agreed, strangely proud of her mischievous, four-legged friend. “Unless beds
are concerned. Then he’s a terror.”

Aran snorted in
amusement. “I take it something happened.”

“Oh did it
ever.” Sevana related the story of the
Grow for true love bed
and how
she couldn’t keep a certain cat off of it. Aran openly chuckled during the
story, nodding as if he could completely envision this playing out.

“Sounds like
him,” Aran agreed after the tale was told. “I believe he taught your prince
hunting skills as well.”

“Yes, Bel was
an avid student. Although those two often brought home more trouble than I
could handle. I was glad Baby took him on, though, as I had my hands full
trying to break his curse and didn’t have time to teach him everything he
needed to know.” Looking critically at the fire, she opined, “I think it’s
ready for burial.”

“I agree.” Aran
blinked, and the fire winked out, leaving nothing but trace tendrils of smoke
behind.

Sevana lifted
her wand in a small, circular motion, saying the spell so that the ground moved
up and over what was left of the corpse. It wasn’t a smooth job, it was obvious
the ground had been disturbed, but it was deep enough that no other animals
would think to disturb the grave. Satisfied, she rocked back on her heels and
pushed herself to her feet. “Shall we go finish our dinner?”

Joining her,
Aran turned and led them back the way they had come. “While we go, tell me
where your wolf came from.”

“Grydon? Ah,
well, that’s a tale in itself.”

Aran flashed
her a small smile. “We have time.”

Sevana had
never been so glad to see Big in her life. Four days on horseback (or chellomi-back,
same difference) was enough to half-cripple her. Her lower back was in knots,
her thighs were almost shaking from being stretched in that unnatural position,
and there was a bruise on her ankle from where it had been rubbing against the
girth. The only thing that had made the trip bearable was Aran. He was a truly
marvelous traveling companion. Not only was the conversation intellectually
stimulating, but he was a good cook, too.

Still, nothing
was like being home, and she felt like hugging Big the minute he came into view
on the horizon. Aran pulled up in front of the main door and slid off before
offering her a hand down. She gratefully let him lift her off, as frankly, if
she tried to dismount her shaking legs would send her straight to the ground.

As if sensing
that her legs were not to be trusted, Aran kept an arm around her waist. There
was a concerned frown gathering on his forehead. “You’re truly not used to
riding at all.”

“I avoid it as
much as possible.” Pointing toward the door, she directed, “Forward.”

Aran amiably
became her crutch and steered her into Big. She called out a greeting as she
entered, trailing a hand along the walls. “Hello, Big.”

Sevana
,
the mountain sighed. The warm gust of wind made it into a warm welcome.

“Is she finally
here?” Master’s head popped around a doorframe, spectacles slightly askew on
his nose, a long streak of black ink along his chin, and a bright smile on his
weather-beaten face. “Took you long enough, sweetling.”

Sevana grimaced
in return. “It’s a painfully long trip.”

Master popped
out of sight again, only for a moment, before he came fully into the hallway
and offered a small dark brown vial.

She took it,
uncapped the cork, and got a good wiff before venturing, “Muscle relaxant
potion?”

“Extra
strength,” Master confirmed.

“Bless you,”
she responded fervently before tossing the vial down. She’d run out two days
ago, hence her current situation.

“Arandur,”
Master greeted with a respectful bow of the head. “Nice to meet you in person.”

“The same,
Master Joles.” Aran tentatively let go of her, and when she stayed standing,
straightened into his usual posture. “I will need to tend to a few things.”

“After that,
stay here,” Sevana half-requested, half-ordered.

Aran’s mouth
parted in surprise but he was obviously delighted by the invitation. “You want
me here?”

“You know far
more about Fae magic than you inclined me to believe, you know these woods like
the back of your hand so you can help me track down materials as I need them,
and I’ll need your help in both regards if my plans don’t work.” As an
afterthought, she added, “And Master can’t cook, so I need someone to switch
out with that won’t poison us all.”

Master gave an
affronted huff.

Aran out and
out grinned, not at all buying her list of excuses. Sevana was trying not to
make it obvious that she just liked having him nearby, but from that expression
on his face, he’d seen right through her facade. “I’ll stay, of course. I’ll
dart home, though, give a report to Aranhil first. He’ll want to know what’s
going on.”

Good point. “Do
I need to report as well?”

“Not now,” Aran
denied with a single shake of the head. “Later, when you have succeeded, he’ll
want the full report. For now, I know enough to catch him up to date.”

“Fetch Baby and
Grydon back when you do?” Master requested. “They’re still in Fae territory.”

“Still?” Sevana
demanded, flabbergasted.

“The kids are
apparently irresistible.” Master gave a shrug and she could see he found this
situation more amusing than anything. “I haven’t seen hide nor hair of them
since I came here.”

Those scamps.
They were supposed to be guarding Master while she was gone, not playing hooky
with the kids.

“I’ll collect
them,” Aran promised. He slung her two bags off his shoulder and set them
outside the door to her workroom. “I’ll be back before dark.”

It was barely
noon now. Concerned, she asked, “Don’t you want to eat before you go?”

“I’m fine,” he
assured her. “There’s a certain place I can always find food, and you’d have to
cook something for me. It’s easier this way. I’ll be back.” With that, he turned
on his heel and left again. She didn’t see him, but she heard the clattering of
hooves as he went around the bend in the trail, heading for the back of the
mountain.

Master cleared
his throat in a pointed way. “Seems like a nice young man.”

“Get that
parental look off your face,” she ordered, already slipping past him. Clothes
that didn’t smell like horse were her first order of business. That and a quick
bath.

“It was an
innocent observation,” he called after her.

“With you,
there’s no such thing!” she retorted, not turning around. Master had been
teasing her or pestering her into courting someone, but she had shut him down
every time. For one thing, she didn’t know any men that she would care to think
of in that fashion. For another, it was hard to find someone that could live
with her without them eventually losing their sanity. Even she knew that she
wasn’t easy to get along with, some days. Alright, most days.

After a quick
wash at her washstand, she pulled on her usual white shirt, vest, and tan
pants. Feeling more human, she left her room and travelled down to the kitchen
for a quick snack. Master, as expected, had gathered a lot of readily made
foods that let her cobble a sandwich together. Wolfing that down, she grabbed a
hot kettle of tea off the stove, filled two mugs, then wandered off in the
direction of her workroom. The bags Aran had brought in were gone, and she
assumed Master had brought them in, which was proved once she stepped through
the door.

Her workroom
had definitely seen a few changes since she’d last been here. Art easels of
every type and height were scattered around the room, lining the walls like
some sort of eerie imitation of a museum. Master had every diagnostic tool
known to man on the table, four thick journals that seemed filled to the brim
with notes, and six abandoned mugs. The mugs didn’t in the least surprise her.

Master had her
bag open on the workbench, and was setting things out in a line on the only
clear space of the table. “Sweetling, you brought back amazing things.”

“I know it.”
She came around the table to make sure that everything had survived the journey
intact. She’d layered them with so many cushioning spells, she could have
hurled one off a volcano and it would have been fine—but sometimes all the
safeguards in the world failed. “It’s why I insisted on gathering our supplies
up there, if I could. Their levels of purity and power are unrivaled down
here.”

“Truly.” Master
lifted the bottle of kraken ink and examined it with an admiring eye. “Any
chance I can have some of this?”

“If there’s any
left over.” Reminded, she snapped her fingers. “Master, they told me something
astounding while I was up there. Did you know that now that I’m considered part
of the Fae nation, that I can trade with any of the Fae communities?”

Master lowered
his spectacles to the edge of his nose so he could stare at her incredulously.
“They told you that?”

“It’s
mind-blowing, isn’t it? But the Fae up there not only told me this, but
insisted on it. They said it wasn’t fair that I was taking all of the children
to Noppers, and they were interested in some of my devices as well, so they
wanted me to start doing business with them too.”

A gleam of
childlike wonder crossed over his face. “I have a list of things I’d like to
have…?”

“This stays
between me, you, and Sarsen. I won’t trade for anyone else,” she warned. Sevana
was afraid that this was a relationship that others would quickly take
advantage of. She didn’t want to abuse the incredible privilege that she had been
handed.

“That’s wise,
sweetling, I wouldn’t tell anyone else about this. People tend to be selfish
and you don’t want to upset the relationship you have with the Fae.”

“Truly.” Gesturing
toward the journals open on the table, she prompted, “So? I take it you ran the
numbers about my theory?”

“I did, and I
believe it will work.” Master sat the last ingredient on the table. “At least,
according to the numbers that you gave me, it’ll work. There’s two points that
are still in question.”

Sevana stopped
skimming through his notes and looked up. “Which are?”

“First, I’m not
sure if the ink wash alone will suffice in activating the portal magic. Holding
up the canvas in front of the mirror certainly lets them speak to us, but it’s
a reflection only, and there’s no direct magical link. I don’t think activating
the magic in the ink will change that.”

That was a
point she had not properly considered. But then, Sevana had been focused on
understanding all of the properties of the ink, not on the spells’ interactions.
“What’s your proposal?”

“I think we
need a work-around solution. After the wash is applied, I think we’ll have to
apply another spell on top of it so that they are transported from the drawing
and into the mirror.”

She saw where
he was going with this and continued, “And once they are in the mirror,
activate a portal spell on it, letting them step out?”

“We
do
know how to put a portal spell on a mirror,” Master pointed out. “It’s not a
common practice, but people travel through them consistently.”

Yes, so they
did. The spell was similar in nature to the one she used for her clocks. “This
sounds like the safest method to use, certainly the most guaranteed, but are
you sure about layering yet another spell on those portraits? It’s rather
powerful and complicated enough as it is.”

“The portal
spell is not complex and nothing about it clashes with the elements in the
other spell. Rather, I think we can tap into the portal spell already in place
and just extend it so that people can step directly into the mirror.”

Sevana couldn’t
see one reason why it wouldn’t work. And it was certainly a more viable plan
than anything else she had come up with so far. She just had this nagging
feeling that they were missing something. “Trying this will either work or fail
but it shouldn’t cause any harm to the people in the portraits.”

“None at all, I
wouldn’t think,” Master agreed. “So, sweetling, let’s start making that wash.
How long will that take?”

“Roughly three
days. The first step is to mix the pine tree resin and dragon ash together. It
needs to be a mud-like consistency.”

“Right.” Master
rubbed his hands together in excited anticipation as he reached for the two
bottles.

Sevana went
rummaging for the only container she had that was big enough to make the wash.
It was more of a ceramic bucket than anything else, but it was perfect for this
job. Kraken ink spoiled unless it was contained by either glass or ceramic. It
was part of the reason why it was so hard to attain without it losing some of
its potency. Everyone always wanted to put it into wooden tubs or kegs and that
was exactly the wrong thing to use.

She finally
found what she was looking for, crammed under a table and in the far corner. Of
course it was dusty beyond belief, so she carted it to the washroom for a quick
scrub before bringing it back. Master had found a long ceramic spoon from her
drawers and was waiting impatiently for her return.

Setting the
bucket down with a plop, she waited while he poured half the contents of the
vials into the bucket. “Let’s start with this amount first,” he suggested as he
poured.

It was wise of
him, to hold some back, as there was no guarantee that they could mix up the
right consistency on the first try.

With the
ingredients in there, Master started stirring with slow and steady strokes.
Sevana bent just enough to peer inside the bucket, watching. They wanted
something that would look much like molasses.

“What next,
after this?”

“We mix in the
dragon ash. Then we let that set for twenty-four hours. It needs to chemically
mix and react. While we’re waiting on that, we mix the Fae blood and spring
water together and let that react as well. The amount of spring water is what’s
going to be hard to judge,” this last part she said as much to herself as to
him. “For this to be a wash, we’ll need to dilute the recipe of the ink quite a
bit.”

“How much does
the original recipe call for?”

“Equal parts
with all of the other ingredients. The exception to that is the Fae blood. That
requires six drops.”

Master
ruminated on that for a moment. “Doubling the water won’t throw off the magical
balance?”

“I asked that
very question of them. Apparently their mixture has as much to do with the
texture and volume as it does of the power level. To make a good, thick ink, it
requires equal parts of all ingredients. But the main source of power is from
their blood.”