The Wizard Heir (20 page)

“I planned to move up here if it ever got
finished,” Jack explained. “Maybe now it'll finally happen. I hope
you're not allergic to dust.” He dropped the linens on the bed and muscled
one of the windows open while Seph went to work on the other, which seemed to
be painted shut. With the windows open, a cool breeze carried in the soft
sounds of the summer night.

Jack and Seph rolled back the comforter and laid the
sheet over the pad. Seph worked quickly and efficiently, despite being half
asleep. He'd made a thousand beds in his lifetime.

“Look,” he said to Jack as he crafted a
perfect corner. “I'm sorry about moving in on you like this.” He
couldn't seem to remember that wizards never say they are sorry.

Jack finished up his side too, less expertly.
“It's okay. Really. I don't mean to be rude. I just need to get used to
the idea. I guess you'd say I've had a lot of trouble with wizards.” He
straightened and looked across the bed at Seph. “So you and Aunt Linda
have known each other for a long time.” There was a question hidden in the
statement.

“I met her for the first time yesterday,”
Seph replied. “She said she's been my guardian for years, but it was news
to me.”

Jack frowned. “Yeah, well…” his voice
trailed off. “I'm sure there's a good explanation.”

“I guess.” Seph shrugged. “Is it true
you used to go out with Alicia Middleton?”

“What?” Jack straightened, almost bumping
his head against the ceiling.

“Nothing. I ran into her in Toronto is all. She
mentioned your name.” He raised an eyebrow. “She seemed like bad news
to me.”

Jack stared at Seph. Then shook his head. “Look,
I don't know what's going on, either. But I'll tell you this: I had the year
from hell two years ago. It started with Leesha and ended with the tournament
at Raven's Ghyll. Ellen was the only good thing that came out of it. That and
the establishment of the Sanctuary.”

He leaned on the bedframe, and the muscles stood out
along his arms. “This past year has been nice and quiet. In Trinity, at
least. I don't know how long it'll last, but I just hope you're not the one to
mess it up.” He smiled, as if to take the edge off, but his blue eyes were
cold and direct. “I'll get you some shorts to sleep in.”

When Jack came back up the stairs with an armload of
clothes, Seph was already fast asleep on top of the comforter.

The
Sanctuary

When Seph awoke, the sun was sliding through the
branches, dappling everything in the room. It took him a moment to remember
where he was. It had been a long time since he'd slept so long or so soundly.
He was still lying on top of the comforter.

A pile of clothes lay heaped at the foot of the bed.
He found a toothbrush and towels and soap in his bathroom, and it was obvious
that someone had cleaned in there. He washed his face carefully. The swelling
in his lip had gone down, but the rest still looked pretty bad, having gone
from red and purple to purple and yellow. What he really wanted to do was take
a long, hot bath. Instead, he tried on clothes until he found a workable pair
of jeans. He pulled on a T-shirt that said trinity
SOCCER and walked downstairs.

The house had emptied out while he was asleep. Dirty
coffee cups and glasses sat in the sink, boxes of cereal on the counter, and a
newspaper lay spread out on the table. He poured himself some juice.

“Seph, is that you?” Linda appeared in the
doorway, barefoot, wearing jeans and a tank top. She didn't look much older
than Seph. “We're on the porch.”

Seph walked out onto the screened porch. The stone
floor was cool under Seph's bare feet. Linda and Nick Snowbeard were sitting in
two wicker chairs. Linda had a mug of tea in front of her on the glass table.

“Hi.” Seph paused. He still hadn't figured
out what he should call Linda Downey. She noticed his hesitation.

“Why don't you call me Aunt Linda,” she
suggested. “Everybody else does. I guess I'm a pretty good aunt,” she
added, as if reassuring herself.

Seph set his juice on the table, and drew up a chair.

“Where is everybody?” he asked.

“Jack's at school. Becka's at the
university.” Linda drew her feet up under her and settled the mug of tea
onto her lap. “So it's just us.”

Seph took a sip of juice. His lips and tongue still
felt swollen and clumsy. “What did you tell your sister about me?”

“I told her you were hiding from an abusive
family. Your parents beat you, and I was unable to get you removed from the
home, so I spirited you away.”

“Isn't that illegal?” Seth asked.

“Becka doesn't always play by the rules. She has
a soft heart for children in trouble. I knew she would take you in.”

“I finally get a family, and they beat me
up.” Seph looked at Linda out of the corner of his eye. “Well. If I'm
going to be here all summer, I'd like to find some kind of part-time job.”

She frowned. “If you need money, I'll …”

“I'm used to working. I'd like to earn my
spending money, at least.” Seph wanted a source of income that didn't go
through Linda Downey. That wouldn't involve questions and explanations and
contacting Sloane's.

“Maybe he could work for Harold Fry,” Nick
suggested. “Jack's crewing for him this summer, so he might need someone
at dockside and in the office.”

“Who's Harold Fry?” Seph asked.

“He runs fishing charters to the western basin of
Lake Erie,” Nick explained. “He's one of my chess partners. I could
put in a word.”

“Could you? I don't know much about fishing, but
I'm willing to learn. Thanks.” Seph was pleased the old wizard was willing
to help him. He turned back to Linda and continued his gentle interrogation.
“So Jack was the warrior who fought in the famous tournament at Raven's
Ghyll.”

“It was Jack and Ellen Stephenson.”

“Jack and Ellen fought each other? Aren't those
tournaments to the death?”

“Well, they refused to go along with killing each
other. That started it all.” She smiled wryly at the expression on Seph's
face, then went on, "The Judges of the Field made the mistake of trying to
amend the rules during the tournament, the first time they'd been opened in
nearly a thousand years. They didn't realize that breaking the Covenant made
them vulnerable. They were forced to make other changes as well. The old rules
codified the rule of wizards over the Weir. Warriors, enchanters, and sorcerers
may be powerful relative to the Anaweir, but we have always been at the mercy
of wizards, treated as playthings, gladiators, and slaves.

“The new rules do away with the old hierarchy and
require the participation of all of the guilds in decision making.” She
shrugged. “That's why there's so much turmoil. No one's sure how to
implement that. There's considerable mistrust among the guilds. The other Weir
aren't eager to sit down in a room with a bunch of wizards. They would be in
fear of their lives.”

“Not all wizards are like that,” Seph
pointed out.

Linda nodded. “Particularly here in America,
families are mixed. Jack is a warrior; I'm an enchanter. Leander Hastings is a
wizard; his sister was a warrior. There are many wizards like Hastings who hate
the old system. They would like to make the new system work.”

Seph pushed his cereal bowl away and settled back in
the wicker chair. “How do Jack and Ellen get along now?”

“Oh, they fight all the time. On and off the
field.” Linda laughed. “Warriors in love.”

Seph digested that for a moment, then decided to
change the subject. He turned to Snowbeard. “When can I start training?
I've already done a lot of reading.” He thought of the library at the
Havens, all those rows of ancient books.

Snowbeard's eyes flicked briefly to Linda. She nodded
reluctantly.

“Is there a Weirbook we could use?” the
wizard asked. Another exchange of meaningful glances between Linda and
Snowbeard.

He's in on the secret, too, whatever it is.

“You could use Jack's,” Linda suggested.

“Would a warrior's Weirbook do me any good?”
Seph asked. Jason's wizard Weirbook had included pages of spells and
incantations. “Warriors don't use charms, do they?”

Linda studied her hands. “It's actually a
wizard's book. Remember, Jack was a wizard born without a stone. A wizard
implanted a warrior stone in him. That's why he can do some wizardry. Nick
taught him, too.”

Seph shook his head. “I don't get it.”

“Jack was dying, so I found him a doctor, a
wizard named Jessamine Longbranch,” Linda said, a little defensively.
“She tricked me and implanted the wrong stone, hoping it wouldn't kill
him. She planned to play Jack in the Game if it worked out. That's how he ended
up in the tournament last summer.”

Seph was beginning to understand Jack a little better.
But just then he was in no mood to be cooperative.

“What if I want to use my own Weirbook?” The
question was intentionally abrupt. He held her gaze, experimentally flexing his
mind a bit, exerting some pressure. She looked startled, then angry, and then
pushed back fiercely. She was a master of mind magic, no doubt about it.

“Don't try that with me,” she snapped.
“You'll have to work with what we have.”

She knows where the book is, Seph thought. He was sure
of it.

“We can start today, if you like.” Snowbeard
looked at Linda for direction.

“Seph, why don't I show you around town a little
first. Then the three of us can get my car. You and Nick can start after lunch.
Can you wait that long?” she asked sarcastically.

“No problem,” said Seph. “I'll get my
shoes.” He carried his dishes into the kitchen.

“We should be back in an hour or so.” Linda
slid her feet into her sandals and stood. “Let's go.”

It was a beautiful late spring day. Now that it was
daylight, Seph could see that Jefferson Street was lined with painted ladies:
lovely old Victorian houses in authentic colors, iced with gingerbread,
lovingly restored. Many of them were flanked by gardens planted with
old-fashioned flowers: peonies, irises, bleeding hearts, and delphinium. Blue
and purple spires of lupine lined the walk of the house across the street.
There must have been money in this town a hundred years ago, he thought, to
have founded a neighborhood like this. It reminded him of Toronto's
Cabbagetown.

Jack had left the Subaru for their use. As they drove
down the street, Linda nodded to a man with close-cropped white hair and layers
of silver jewelry who was retrieving his paper from his driveway. Across the
street, an older woman with clouds of gray hair was working in her garden. She
wore loose trousers and a short, Oriental-looking jacket. She waved at Linda as
if she recognized her, but seemed to be studying Seph.

Seph twisted around to look at them after they had
passed by.

“Do you know them?” he asked, turning
forward again.

Linda nodded. “Mercedes Foster is a sorcerer and
a weaver. Blaise Highbourne is a seer and silversmith. We have quite a compound
on Jefferson Street. Wizards. Sorcerers. Seers. Warriors. There are more Weir
in town than ever before. The establishment of the Sanctuary has made Trinity
attractive to Anawizard Weir, the nonwizard guilds that used to be controlled
by wizards.” She braked to allow a fat gray tabby cat to saunter across
the street. “Trinity has always been a refuge for artists and
counterculturists associated with the university. So the Weir fit in quite
well.”

She showed him the high school, a relatively new
building at the western end of town. Because it was exam week, groups of
students hung out in the parking lot, talking or waiting for rides.

Seph thought of the Havens. School would be in session
for another week, and then the Anaweir would disperse to wherever they came
from, leaving the wizards behind. He wondered what story, if any, had been
concocted to explain his disappearance.

The town center had a familiar, European look. It was
anchored by a large town commons surrounded by the nineteenth-century stone
buildings of Trinity College. Small businesses crouched along the edges of the
campus: art stores and bookshops, galleries and restaurants. Linda explained
that both Blaise and Mercedes had shops in the area. They parked in an angle
space along the green.

The air was cool under the trees, and Seph's shoes
were soon soaked from the dewy grass. A crowd of people was gathered around a
brick-and-stone pavilion at the center of the commons, focused on an elaborate
marble structure that extended above their heads. Their excited voices floated
over the lawn.

“It's just a fountain,” Linda said, looking
puzzled. “Kind of a Greek Revival piece. I can't imagine what everyone is
so interested in. Maybe somebody's giving a speech.” Curious, they changed
directions and headed for the fountain. They had nearly made it there when they
were intercepted.

“Ms. Downey?”

He was a large, bulky man with sandy hair and a
graying mustache, wearing a brown sport coat that was worn at the elbows. The
fabric strained across his shoulders and back.

“Ms. Downey,” he repeated. “I thought
that was you. I don't know if you remember me. Ross Childers. My brother Bill's
boy, Will, is good friends with your nephew, Jack. We … uh … met after that
episode at the high school last year.”

Linda smiled. “Of course. It's good to see you
again, Sergeant.”

“Please. Call me Ross.”

“Ross.” She nodded.

“Here for a visit, I guess?” He squinted at
Seph. “Good Lord! What happened to your face, son?”

Seph had almost forgotten about his appearance, and
the question caught him off guard. He blinked at the officer, then said,
“I was hit by a fast pitch.”

“Forgive me,” Linda said hastily. “I
should introduce you. Seph, this is Ross Childers. He's a sergeant with the
Trinity police.”

“Detective now, actually.” He stuffed his
hands into his trouser pockets.

“A detective,” she amended. “Ross is
Will's uncle. Remember, Jack's friend? You met him when we dropped Ellen off
last night. Ross, this is Seph McCauley. He's going to be staying at Becka's
this summer.”

“McCauley?”The detective frowned and glanced
over his shoulder at the crowd around the fountain, then back at Seph.

“What's going on over there?” Linda
inquired, following his gaze.

“There was some vandalism there overnight,”
Ross replied. “Kind of bizarre. Come take a look.” To Seph's
surprise, the detective dropped a hand on his shoulder and propelled him
quickly toward the fountain. Linda had to hurry to keep up.

The crowd parted sufficiently to let them through.
Everyone seemed to know the police detective, but they looked curiously at Seph
and Linda.

The fountain was made of white marble, a collection of
scenes of Greek mythology. At the center of the pool stood a statue of Perseus
holding aloft the Medusa's head. The decapitated Medusa lay crumpled at his
feet, and alongside her lay another headless body, this one dressed in a Toronto
Blue Jays shirt and jeans. Blood was spattered everywhere over the white
marble, draining from the body as the water hit it. Blood sprayed out of the
fountain and fell into the bloody pool below with a soft sound, like rain.

In case the point was missed, a message in large,
violent letters was scrawled in blood across the back of the marble bench that
ringed the fountain. McCauley.

Seph tried to take a step back from the carnage but
Ross Childers's arm was holding him in place.

“Kind of a mess, wouldn't you say?” The
detective studied him shrewdly.

“Do … do you know who it is?” Somehow, Seph
managed to choke the words out.

Ross let him dangle a minute longer, then said,
“It's a mannequin. They dressed it up and chopped its head off. Then they
killed some kind of an animal, a pig we think, let the blood drip into the
fountain. Pretty sick.” He paused. “You sign your work, Seph?”

“I never took you for an idiot, Detective, but
I guess I was wrong,” Linda snapped.

Ross nodded grudgingly. “Okay. If I'm any judge,
this was a complete surprise to him.” He blew out his breath as if unhappy
with this assignment. “But that doesn't mean he can't help us find who did
it. He comes to town, and suddenly there's a crazy stunt in the park with his
name on it. Must be someone he knows.” He moved to one side, in hopes of
addressing Seph directly, but Linda sidestepped into his path, so he had to
speak over her head. “Blue Jays. That your team, Seph?” Seph just
stared down at his hands. “You know anyone who might do something like
this? You ever play around with black magic?”