The Wizard Heir (28 page)

Something had changed, but Seph wasn't sure what or
how. He went and sat down on the bed next to Madison and picked up her hand,
enclosing it between his two. “I'm sorry, Madison. I've been a jerk. It's
just … they threatened to … I don't want you to get hurt.”

“There's more than one way to hurt a person,
Witch Boy,” she said, looking down at their joined hands. “And
different kinds of risks.” She looked up at Hastings. “What was that
you called me in the hallway?”

The wizard turned and leaned against the window seat.
“An elicitor.”

She made a face. “What's that? It sounds, you
know, like something you'd get arrested for.”

“It's not nearly common enough to be
illegal.” Hastings studied her with frank interest. “In fact,
although I've heard of elicitors, I've never encountered one before.”

“Jason never mentioned elicitors when he
described the guilds,” Seph said.

Hastings nodded. “Elicitors are not Weir, since
they have no Weirstones. But they have the ability to elicit magic, to
draw it away from others. And, of course, they're resistant to charms. As
you've probably guessed by now,” he added.

“Are they just resistant to wizards, or to the
Anawizard Weir?”

Hastings toyed with the ring on his right hand.
“My understanding is that they draw magic of all kinds.”

“What happens to the power?” Seph asked.
“Does it just dissipate, or could an elicitor use it herself?”

Hastings shrugged. “I don't know.”

Madison was looking from Seph to Hastings as if they'd
suddenly lapsed into French. “I have no idea what you two are talking
about. Can someone help me out here?”

Seph traced the lines on her palm. “The Weir are
people born with magical gifts. Wizards like us have the broadest range of
powers. Others are specialists; for instance, they can see the future, or make
magical tools and remedies. The witches you knew at home are probably either
wizards or enchanters.”

“How do you two know each other?” Hastings
asked.

Madison kicked off her sandals and dug her bare toes
into the rug. “Seph picked me up on the beach one morning.”

“She works here at the inn,” Seph added.

At that she looked at her watch, and groaned. “My
supervisor's going to kill me. I'm on duty.” She slipped her feet back
into her shoes and stood. “I have to go.”

“I'll call you,” Seph said.

“Right.” And she was out the door.

Hastings looked after her thoughtfully. “There's
another term for elicitors,” he said.

“What's that?”

“Eviscerators.” He smiled wryly. “Coined
by wizards, no doubt. Although they have no magic of their own, they're very
dangerous creatures. Are you sure you can trust her? Unfortunately, there's no
way to determine if she's telling the truth.”

Meaning by a wizard's touch, no doubt. “So I guess
we just have to rely on our judgment, don't we? Like the Anaweir,” Seph
retorted, looking Hastings in the eyes.

The wizard raised his hand. “All right. You're
the best judge, I suppose.” He paused, as if debating what to say next.
“Look. It doesn't matter who you're after or how strong the justification.
You cannot attack anyone at the conference. This wasn't a good day for Gregory
Leicester. He would seize any excuse to undo what's been done.”

“What happened?”

“The council agreed to convene an Interguild
Conference to consider a new constitution based on the revised rules. If
Leicester and D'Orsay can't get their own way within a council of their peers,
it's even less likely where there are warriors and enchanters represented.”

“Seph, you have to promise me you won't do
anything to disrupt the conference. It would play right into Leicester's
hands.”

“Killing Leicester is the best thing that could
happen, it seems to me.” He looked up into Hastings's scowl. Reluctantly,
he said, “Okay, I promise.”

“You'll need to stick with Jack all day tomorrow,
or I'll know about it. And you're not to come near the inn. If you violate
either of those conditions, it doesn't matter what Linda says. I'll put you
away where you can't cause any more mischief.”

Seph nodded. He didn't have much choice.
“Okay.”

“I'll take you home, then,” said Leander
Hastings.

The next day, Jack and Seph left at four a.m. to go
fishing in the western basin. Seph learned to bait hooks, cast a line, and
clean fish. By the time they returned, the meetings at the Legends were over,
and the council had dispersed. Most left the Sanctuary as quickly as possible.

That evening, Leander Hastings, Ellen Stephenson, and
Madison Moss came to dinner. Becka was attending a concert at the Institute. It
was one of the warm nights at the end of summer that make promises that won't
be kept. Seph and Madison rolled lake perch in cracker crumbs and fried them
while Linda and Jack made salads and roasted the corn. Although everyone was
eager to hear what had transpired at the Legends, Linda would allow no
discussion of events at the conference until dessert was served.

“So how'd it go?” Jack demanded, when the
ban was finally lifted. They were eating ice cream on the screened porch. Seph
and Madison had claimed the wicker swing and were pleasantly crowded in
together.

“I'd say the outcome was mixed today,”
Hastings replied. “Leicester and D'Orsay introduced an alternative
constitution and put it on the agenda for consideration at the joint meeting.”
He shook his head. “I don't know how it could possibly pass. It's a nasty
document. Worse than the original rules.” He looked over at Linda, as if
to get her reaction, but she seemed to be deep in thought.

“One concern is the location of the conference.
They were unable to change the composition of the Interguild Council, but they
argued against holding the next meeting in the Sanctuary. They say that this is
a hostile environment, that the whole concept was forced on the Wizard Council
at the tournament last summer. Which it was.”

Hastings shrugged. “Leicester and his group had
already lost on many of the important issues. I think there was some desire on
the part of the Wizard Council to appease them somehow.”

“Where will the meeting be held?” Seph asked.

“Second Sister. It's an island in Lake Erie, in
the western basin, actually Canadian.” Hastings explained. “Privately
owned.”

“Second Sister?”Jack raised an eyebrow.
“I didn't think there was anything there.”

“There's an old winery, rather like a great stone
castle. It's been renovated into a guesthouse. The feeling was that this would
be a good compromise. Close to the Sanctuary, convenient for everyone.”

“They didn't want to have it in Raven's
Ghyll?”Jack asked. That had been the site of the tournament the summer
before, in England. It was Claude D'Orsay's ancestral home, a stronghold of
wizards. D'Orsay was the hereditary Gamemaster for the tournaments. Seph knew
all this from Jack and Ellen.

Hastings shook his head. "Frankly, none of the
other Weir would set foot in the Ghyll. It will be hard enough to convince them
to sit down in the same room with members of the Wizard Council.

“They also insisted that members of the Wizard
Council be present as observers. That notion was popular with wizards, of
course, those on both sides of the issue who want to keep an eye on the
process. I just hope we haven't given up something important. The location was
suggested by Adam Sedgwick. He's an ally of D'Orsay's. And D'Orsay and
Leicester seconded it right away.”

“Have you found out who owns it?” Linda
asked.

“A group of investors from Detroit. Friends of
Sedgwick's.” He shrugged.

“When will the meeting be?” Seph asked.

“In two weeks,” said Hastings.
“Invitations will go out in a week. A subcommittee is going to decide who
gets invited. That's me, Ravenstock, Leicester, and D'Orsay.”

Seph became alert at the name Ravenstock. “I hope
Ravenstock is on our side,” he said.

“He's with us now. So the subcommittee is evenly
divided. It won't be easy coming to an agreement on the membership.”

“I don't think wizards should pick the
attendees,” Linda said, as if coming out of her trance. “Seems like
the other guilds should choose their own representatives.”

“Seems like,” Hastings agreed. “Only,
they're not well organized. Until this year, they were either hiding out or in
service to wizards.” He turned to Jack and Ellen. “Don't be surprised
if you are named to the Interguild Council.”

Ellen sat up straighter, looking dismayed. “Can't
you find someone else? How am I supposed to negotiate with a bunch of
wizards?”

“Don't worry.” Hastings smiled at her.
“There will be a whole team there. Besides, I think you underestimate
yourself.”

Seph heard this exchange as if from a distance,
distracted by Madison's hip pressing against his and her long hair brushing his
arm, her bare back with its scattering of freckles. He knew he didn't have to
worry about being invited to the council meeting. He was small change in the
wizard world.

He wondered if the results of the proceedings would
make any difference in his own personal situation. Perhaps a new constitution
would get Leicester off his back, give him something else to keep him occupied,
since the current rules had done nothing to discourage him. It was something to
hope for, but Seph was not optimistic.

There was one other card to play. He looked across at
Linda Downey. Every day his wizardry skills were growing. One day soon, he
would ask his questions, and she would answer him.

The
Storm

The day after the conference, Hastings left for New
York, where the subcommittee was convening. Matters were moving fast. The
invitees would not have much time to make their decisions. Perhaps that was
part of the strategy.

School was scheduled to start in a few weeks, but it
was hard to focus on that with so much going on in the parallel universe of the
Weir. Seph had already registered at the high school and signed up for his
classes. He had never gone to a public school, but he was looking forward to
it, especially now that he might actually stay and graduate.

Linda's house was scheduled to be finished by
Halloween. She and Seph visited daily to monitor its progress. His room had its
own bathroom and a turret with a winding staircase, another special touch the
contractor had suggested.

Madison worked a heavy schedule at the Legends, but
Seph often met her for breakfast before she started her shift. They sometimes
walked on the beach early in the morning or on muggy summer nights after her
shift ended. They attended openings at Trinity's Chapel Gallery. When she
worked a double shift, they would go to afternoon matinees in the
air-conditioned downtown theater, blinking like nocturnal animals when they
emerged into the brilliant sunshine.

She set limits that suggested that she just wanted to
be friends. Seph was hoping for something more. She seemed to look on Seph as a
window into another world.

There was a wistful urgency to summer pastimes in the
last days before school started. Jack made plans to take the sailboat out of
the water, since it was unlikely there would be time to go sailing once school
was in session. So a week after the end of the Wizard Council, Jack invited
Ellen, Seph, and Madison to go sailing one last time.

It was a beautiful late-summer day, not too hot, with
high clouds and a brisk breeze coming out of the west. There were whitecaps out
beyond the cut from the harbor. The spray hit their faces as they headed into
the wind, toward Sandusky. Madison had never been sailing; she couldn't swim,
in fact. Seph had strapped her into a bright orange life jacket before they
left the dock. She'd been pale and snappish, but determined to go.

Now her apprehension seemed to have faded. She sat in
the right rear corner of the boat, one hand trailing in the water, her face
turned up to catch the spray. She'd pulled her hair back into a ponytail,
anchoring a Cincinnati Reds baseball cap.

Ellen's sailing skills were on par with Seph's. She'd
never sailed before coming to Trinity, having spent all her time training to
kill people. But she was strong and willing, and soon Seph and Ellen were
making the boat fly over the waves, while Jack supervised from a seat on the
side of the boat.

Seph loved this business of capturing the wind, of
having his way with it. The breeze made him feel like he was flying. He
suddenly realized that he was very much at home on the water after a summer in
Trinity. The contrast with his season at the Havens was breathtaking.

It was after two when they started out, and by four,
they were already several miles west of Trinity. The weather seemed to be
turning. Great towers of clouds had piled up off to the west, and the sky that
had been blue was rapidly darkening.

“I don't remember hearing anything about
thunderstorms,” Jack said, puzzled. “We'd better head back.”
Seph and Ellen brought the boat about, expecting the sails to fill with the
freshening wind, but it died away suddenly, then changed direction, now blowing
strongly from the east. They continued to have to tack back and forth, finding
it just as hard to head back as it had been to head out, against the wind.

“That's weird,” Jack said. “Especially
with what's coming out of the west.” He looked apprehensively over his
shoulder. The ragged edges of the cloud bank were overtaking them. The surface
winds were blowing one way, and the winds aloft another. “We'd better use
the engine or we'll never outrun it. I'll bring her in a little closer to
shore.” He sat down in the captain's chair and tried to start up the engine.
There was no response— no sound, save the slap of water against the hull of the
boat.

Jack lifted the cowling, peered into the tangle of
metal, made a few adjustments, and tried again. Still nothing. He shook his
head. “This thing worked fine two hours ago when we left the harbor.”
He stood carefully and looked about, scanning the horizon. The few boats that
were left were far ahead of them, scurrying for shore.

The strange easterly was blowing stronger than ever,
and the boat began to wobble in the heavy seas. Madison crouched in the corner,
holding on to her hat with one hand, gripping the toe rail with the other. Jack
helped Seph and Ellen put up the storm jib and took over the management of the
sails. Despite all their efforts and Jack's expertise, the boat seemed to be
standing still in the water as the storm overtook them. Jack strapped on his
life jacket and made sure everyone else did, too.

The light had fled, and the lake had turned from a
deep blue to a slate gray color, flecked with white-and-yellow foam. The boat
pitched and rolled as the seas grew heavier. Lightning strobed across the sky
and thunder boomed from not far off.

“Try the radio,” Jack directed Ellen. She
played with it for a few minutes. There was no static. Nothing. “Either
I'm not doing it right, or it's not working.” she reported. Leaving the
sails in Seph's hands for a moment, Jack tried it himself. The radio was dead.

By now the wind was a gale, the noise of the wind and
the water so loud they couldn't hear each other, even when they shouted. Jack
moved quickly from one side of the boat to the other, ducking under the boom,
directing them with hand gestures. A few large drops of rain splattered on the
deck, although by now there was so much water aboard it was hard to tell.

Seph realized the boat was actually being driven
backward in the water, stern first, pushed by the wind toward the west. He
looked at Jack, who had stopped fussing with the sails and was staring, one
hand on the tiller, at the rear of the boat. Slipping and sliding on the wet
decking, they lowered the sails with the downhaul sheets and snugged the sails
to the poles. Water slopped over the stern as the boat plowed on, threatening
to founder them. Jack used the rudder to bring the boat about. They picked up
speed, cutting through the tops of waves as if they were under full canvas.
Heading northwest.

And then it came to Seph, a revelation. You're no
longer in the Sanctuary. You're nowhere, but you're going somewhere, and you're
taking three people with you.

The rain was sheeting down in torrents, icy needles
against the skin. Their clothes and hair were plastered to their bodies, and
the noise of the storm was a constant clamor. Madison hung on grimly, shifting
her weight on command to keep the boat righted. Jack was still maneuvering the
rudder, while Seph and Ellen released a little reefed canvas. The boat flew on
toward an unknown destination. Away from Trinity.

Seph had an idea, a desperate one. Being careful to
keep a firm hold on the rail, he worked his way to the stern, where there was a
storage compartment under the seat. He forced the door open and pulled out a
bright yellow, rubbery cylindrical object. Seph staggered back to the rail,
clutching his prize against his chest.

“What are you doing with the raft?” Jack demanded.

Seph hooked both arms over the rail and then lifted
his leg over.

“Seph, don't!” Madison released her death
hold on the rail and slip-slid toward him. Then the boat bucked and she lost
her footing and fell, sliding across the wet deck. She grabbed on to the rail
and pulled herself into a sitting position. A cut above her right eye welled
up, the blood sluicing away in the rain as quickly as it appeared.

“Stay where you are!” he shouted, lifting
his other leg over the rail. He clung to the outside, great swells crashing
over him, trying to maneuver the raft into the right position.

“Seph!” Madison was inching toward him
again. “What's the matter with you?”

“Don't you see? The storm's for me,” Seph
said.

Jack struggled with the tiller, trying to keep the
boat from turning crosswise to the wind. “If you think this is wizardry,
you're wrong! Not even a wizard can control the weather.”

“Explain this, then!” Seph would have waved
his arm had he dared to let go. “I'm going to bail. Maybe you'll be all
right.”

“Come on, man!” Jack said desperately.
“Get back in the boat. We've done okay so far.”

“It's not just the journey, it's the destination
you should worry about.” The boat was still flying west, as if pushed by
an invisible engine.

The next part would be tricky. Somehow he needed to
land in the raft. Turning his back to the rail, he grabbed the cord on the CO2
cartridge in his teeth and gave it a fierce yank. The raft inflated like a
yellow bomb going off and Seph let go of the rail just as a body slammed into
him.

He fell through space in a tangle of arms and legs.
The raft smacked into the water, and Seph and his attacker smacked into the
raft a moment later. Water washed over them, and the raft bobbed to the surface
like a cork. Seph thrashed free, rolled over, and pushed himself into a sitting
position, spitting out saltwater.

Madison lay next to him, coughing and sputtering. He
slid his hands under her arms and hauled her upright, slapping her back to
clear the water from her lungs. Her hair hung in tangles, her teeth were
chattering, and she looked scared to death.

“Why would you do that?” he said, genuinely
bewildered.

She just shook her head. He pulled her in close,
trying to warm her with his body. The sailboat was nowhere to be seen. He and
Madison and the raft were still flying before the wind.

Jack saw the raft momentarily, a yellow spot on the
dark water, before it was swallowed up by the storm. He stood at the railing
where he'd tried to grab Seph at the last minute. Ellen was kneeling, stunned,
in the bottom of the boat.

The boat pitched and shuddered as the swells crashed
into it. Jack lunged and seized the rudder, turning the boat into the wind,
while Ellen pulled to her feet and scanned the water around them for the raft.

The storm seemed to be abating. The wind dwindled, the
rain slowed and stopped. The sickening pitching of the boat receded. Ellen
released her grip on the rail, regaining a little color. Jack looked to the
west, where a dark curtain receded across the sullen waves. To the east, the
sky was brightening.

There was no sign of Seph McCauley or Madison Moss.

Seph soon realized that what he did or did not do had
absolutely no influence on the trajectory or speed of the raft. He lay back,
holding tightly to the rubber handles on the sides, with Madison tucked in next
to him, her head resting on his shoulder. When they hit a particularly fierce
wave, water cascaded over them, but they could not be any wetter than they were
already. The storm raged around them, despite the fact that Seph was
cooperating in the only way he knew how.

Wherever they were going, he was sure it was bad news;
although, if they were going to the Havens, they were heading in the wrong
direction.

He looked down at Madison. She was lying still, eyes
wide open, her left hand still gripping his life jacket. Eventually, like an
animal retreating from too much stimulus, he slept.

When he awoke, it was dark and still storming,
lightning harsh against his eyes, and thunder grumbling like the sound of a
battle moving away from him. But it wasn't thunder or lightning that had woken
him, but the grating crunch as the floor of the raft hit bottom.

Looking over the side, he saw that it had been driven
up in the shallows next to a beach. It was a typical lake beach, a mixture of
sand and rocks. The surface of the water surrounding the boat was littered with
seaweed and debris, driven there by the storm.

He shook Madison awake. She blinked at him, then
floundered a bit, trying to sit up. Gripping her wrist, he pulled her upright.
“We've run aground somewhere. They probably know I'm here, but I doubt
they know about you.”

Seph slid out of the raft into knee-deep water and
helped Madison out after him. They waded toward shore, pushing the raft ahead of
them. Seph was covered in bruises, cuts, and scrapes.

They shoved the raft high on the beach, so it was out
of the water and they were satisfied it wouldn't float away. He put a large
rock in its center to anchor it. It would have made a good shelter, but a
bright yellow raft was just too conspicuous.

Dense forest crowded the beach on three sides. The
sand was spattered with flotsam from the storm, pockmarked from the rain, empty
of footprints. Seph shivered. The air was chilly, and he was soaked through. It
had nearly stopped raining.

“Come on.” Seph was anxious to get off the
open beach.

The late-summer woods were dark and clogged with
underbrush. Water cascaded down on them from above as they fought their way
through it. Seph plowed forward, squinting into the gloom on either side. He
finally found a place where two trees had sagged together, forming a sort of
cave that was reasonably dry and half filled with leaves. Not the best, but
just then he couldn't be choosy.

“Why don't you stay here,” he said to
Madison. “If you burrow down into the leaves it might be warmer.”

She swiped her hair back. “I think it's better if
we stay together. I could help you.”

“If they're looking for me it's better if we
split up. I'm going to try to find out where we are and what's going on, and
then I'll come back for you. If I don't come by sunup, try to find a house or a
police station.” Hopefully, someone other than Leicester or the alumni. It
was the only plan he could come up with.