The Ten Guardians: Sacrifice©

Chapter Eleven: Cards on the Table

Jonathan repaired and teleported the pants and shirt into a folded pile on Jareth and Izreea’s bed. Thanks to the cow’s wards, he couldn’t teleport into the room himself, but he could move other objects there if needed. He thought briefly of finding a feral cat to drop in her bed but decided he had caused enough friction with his sister-in-law for one day. Besides, she had a way with animals and would probably decide to keep the blasted thing. That’s the last thing a bird needs in a house.

The effort of repairing and teleporting the clothing was so simple that he did not bother throwing out the shirt. He just sent it along with the pants. He had to change the color of both pieces of clothing for the magically repaired colors to match the slightly faded look of the rest of the clothing, but you can never go wrong with plain white, now can you? At the same time, he teleported himself to a little inn on the opposite end of town, a place he had been to many times in the last six months.

Teleporting the way Jonathan did was only possible because he was in the body of a familiar. Magi could never teleport themselves through planes like that, which is why they use portals. The time he spent in that plane was never longer than the blink of an eye, regardless of how hard he tried to stay there, and all he ever saw was white nothingness before he reappeared in his desired location.

Jonathan appeared on top of a tall corner dresser in one of the most expensive inns in town. He knew it was expensive because he had been paying for the room’s monthly use, transporting the required coin to a box in the innkeeper’s storeroom. The fee for the inn was higher than usual but included additional furnishings and a maid to bring meals and run general errands for his guests. The extra expense was also for the owners’ silence. Jonathan was confident that no one else knew of the occupants of these rooms even after six months of use, and to him, that was money well spent.

The room below him had a large fireplace, a love seat, a small table with two chairs, and a four-pillar bed in the corner. There was also a bookshelf on the far wall filled with books. There hadn’t been any books when his guests arrived, but they needed something to do day in and day out, so Jonathan had “borrowed” the books from the school library. He would return them when they were done with the room. If he remembered, that is.

There were four doors leading from the room, one on each wall. One door led to a washroom and another to an adjoining bedroom. A third door hid a skylighted multipurpose room with a small dining table and an open space to exercise.

On the loveseat, reading a book, sat Myrum, a kanidian like Jaya, although she looked much too young to be a seeker. Her fur was blue with tinges of gray, which meant nothing as far as aging was concerned for her people. Rather than a robe, she wore a custom-made white shirt and brown pants. They had both been altered to include a stretchy material in the shirt’s armpits and the pants’ inseam. The color of the stretchy material matched the rest of the article of clothing, so it was not very noticeable. Without the additional material, the outfit would have been similar to what a human male would wear.

According to her, she was captured by slavers while participating in her mendiage, her coming-of-age ceremony, which would mark her as an adult. Then she would be old enough to seek a mate or begin her journey to become a seeker, or both if she wished. Part of the tradition was to spend five days alone in the desert with only a hunting knife and a single waterskin, finding shelter, food, and additional water needed to survive. The same gendered parent or a surrogate usually took practice trips with their youth to ensure they could survive beforehand.

Jonathan did not believe her story. She was younger than Jaya, without a doubt, even if Jaya looked younger than her actual age because of the use of magic. Yet Myrum was still an adult, not an adolescent. She most likely thought he wouldn’t be able to tell the age of a kanidian and used a prepared cover story to explain why she was in the desert near where Sparrow had been discovered.

On the other side of the room, lying on top of the neatly made bed, also fully clothed in common traveler’s clothing, was a skinny, bearded man named Colsen. He appeared to have grown tired while reading a book, which was now lying open on his chest, one hand still gripping the binding.

Lastly, in a hard chair at the table sat Drock, the emotionless, expressionless, empty shell of a man found by slavers sitting on the ground next to an unconscious boy, who was eventually named Sparrow. ‘Drock’ apparently stood for “dumb rock,” which was Myrum’s nickname for the man … or boy. Age was very hard to determine in that expressionless face. He was tall enough and built enough for a man but did not look old or youthful, even without the ability to grow facial hair. He did not sleep, eat, tire, or speak. He just … existed.

As Jonathan regarded the man, his head turned, and his dead, empty eyes stared back at him. It had happened that way every time Jonathan had appeared in the room, no matter how much or little noise he had made. Within seconds the man’s head would turn toward Jonathan, and he would stare at him for the duration of his visit.

Jonathan had been hiding Myrum and Colson in this inn for almost five months, ever since the school had finished questioning them about the boy from the auction block. When the school was satisfied with their answers, they were given freedom and enough money to return home.

Jonathan believed this group was important to their journey, but it was more of a hunch than anything else, most likely from decades of researching magic. Coincidences were all too convenient when magic and prophecies were concerned. Convincing Colson to stay in the city for an undetermined period of time had been far easier than he had anticipated. Colson put on a show of refusing, even asking for pay, but ultimately gave over for free room and board as if he had nothing better to do in the world. Myrum was apparently a package deal, deferring to Colson as if he was her father.

On the other hand, Drock was brought to the inn some months later by other means entirely. The high council knew he was somehow linked to the boy, and stealing him from the school was not easy. Thankfully, Jaya had assisted Jonathan in secreting him away from the castle. Even if someone suspected her, they would need solid proof before accusing the Seeker of anything like that.

“He do be starin’ at you a’ain, Jonathan,” Colson said from the bed in his odd Acondan accent, one eye open a slit to regard the bird.

Jonathan had never spoken of how Drock stared at him, but Colson had repeatedly proven that he was no simpleton. Jonathan could feel the man’s magical talent being in the same room with him, but he had never seen Colson use magic. Colson’s ability felt almost as limited as it was strong, which likely meant he was an Elementalist. Elemental magi could only use magic from one element, not using spells or words of power, just feeling the element and manipulating it.

Jonathan flew from the dresser to land on one of the bed’s four posts before looking down at the man.

“You noticed as well? If he really wants to stare me down, he sure can try. I’m a bird. I don’t blink. I’ll always win a staring match,” Jonathan said.

“You do blink, just not with your eyelid,” Colson said with a chuckle.

Colson got out of bed and walked to the other chair by the small table next to Drock. Sitting next to him, Colson studied Drock’s face with a considering look. Drock ignored him and continued to stare at Jonathan.

Jonathan waited patiently for Colson to speak. Jonathan had realized early that the man was extremely observant, and it was always worth the wait when he was puzzling something out. After several minutes, Colson stood up from the table and moved to the door, which opened into the adjoining room. He returned moments later with a tray holding a glass pitcher and three small glasses. He placed the tray on the table, then sat and poured water into one of the glasses from the pitcher.

“Watch what happens when I do move the water just a little,” Colson said.

Colson held out his hand and lifted the water out of the glass and into the air, keeping the shape of the cup as the water moved. He sat there staring at Drock, but Drock ignored him and continued staring at Jonathan on the bedpost.

“Now watch what happens when I slowly ramp up the ma’ic,” Colson said, leaving out the ‘g’ in magic.

The water began swirling and spinning in the air, making loops and rings that wove in and out of each other. Although the display was impressive, Colson did it almost absentmindedly, as if he had done this a thousand times before.

Drock’s head began to turn towards Colson, a slow, resistant turning of the head as if his eyes were locked center in their eye sockets, and the whole head had to move for him to change his vision. He also appeared torn between staring at Colson and Jonathan, not knowing which direction to look.

Colson lifted the water from the pitcher into the air, adding four or five times the amount of water to the show and expanding it until the loops and swirls spread out above their heads, half the room’s length. Drock’s hesitation at turning his head was gone, and he twisted his body and head completely in Colson’s direction and stared at him the same way he had been staring at Jonathan before.

Colson stopped his airborne display and immediately spun the water back into the pitcher as a quick whirlpool. The instant he stopped using magic, Drock began to look around hesitantly as if he was trying to find something but unsure of what he was looking for. After a few moments, his body and head twisted to stare at Jonathan again.

“Do you think he is gifted in magic?” Jonathan asked.

“I have no idea, but that was not the point of my venture,” Colson said without a trace of his Acondan accent, pausing to drink.

Jonathan knew better than to ask him what his point was. He had months to get to know the man, and he was as plain-spoken and up-front of a person as any Jonathan had met. He waited for him to finish his drink and make his point. Eventually, Colson put his empty glass down and spoke in his tactful accent while continuing to stare at Drock.

“Pardon, as I be sayin’. The man can feel ma’ic being used for some reason. I no think he can feel the power in other people. Otherwise, he’d be starin’ at me all the time. No, I do believe he be drawn to the use of ma’ic itself.” After a meaningful pause and a sidewise look at Jonathan, he continued. “Which brin’s to question why he do be starin’ at you all the time?”

“Because I am in the body of a familiar,” Jonathan stated as a matter of fact.

“That may be, but his starin’ at you beds me to consider your current body, or something about your body, as a channeled source of ma’ic rather than just existin’ ma’ic.”

Jonathan realized he was beginning to feel a slight irritation at being the source of discussion, an irritation that grew slightly every time Colson mispronounced a word or misused a pronoun. Colson seemed able to control his accent, often speaking with no accent at all. Jonathan was unsure why it irritated him so much, but it grated as surely as nails on a chalkboard.

Jonathan admitted that the man might be onto something, or at least he had an idea worth looking into. He had never considered the possibility of his transformation being a sustained spell. With standard morphing spells, channeling magic is not required once the transformation into the desired form is complete. A sustained spell, though, would have to be maintained by something. It could be a mage channeling, a seal, or written words of power such as runes or glyphs.

“Is it time for us to go?” said a husky female voice from the other side of the room.

Jonathan turned to find Myrum had silently moved from the loveseat and was standing close to the fireplace, staring down into the flames. The book she had been reading was gone, most likely tucked away in a pocket somewhere on her person. Jonathan viewed Myrum as his weakest card on the table regarding the boy. He had no idea if she was part of the tangled web of prophecy and fate wrapped around this boy or just an uninvolved happenstance picked up along the way.

“Tomorrow, Myrum. We leave first thing in the morning. You have not met her yet, but a family member of mine named Izreea is going to help us leave the city. We will arrive via portal here …” Jonathan said while lifting his right wing to point to an open space in the corner close to the small two-person table “… so make sure that space is unused so no one is killed or dismembered when I open it.”

Myrum reacted to the information as she did to anything Jonathan said. Silent and expressionless. He knew she heard him, especially with her massive kanidian ears, but she did not even glance in his direction. She continued staring at the small flames dancing in the fireplace for several seconds, then quietly walked across the room and through the adjacent door to the matching bedroom and closed the door softly behind her.

Jonathan turned back to Colson.

“I suggest you all get some sleep. What we plan on doing tomorrow will be very draining, and this will be the last bed you sleep in for some time,” Jonathan said.

“Understood,” was all Colson said while staring into the cup of water in his hand.

Jonathan hesitated momentarily, waiting for something more from the man, but Colson simply sat there in cold, detached silence. Jonathan gave him another moment before teleporting himself to his room, which was the guest room of Jareth and Izreea’s home.

Jonathan had no use for it, but the room had a large bed in the center with simple nightstands on either end. There was a chest of drawers and an armoire in two corners of the room, full of Jonathan’s clothing, boots, and personal effects from before his transformation. The bed was still made and covered in books and manuscripts Jonathan had summoned magically to study.

Jonathan flew to the top of the armoire, where he had made a nest out of a silk scarf. He hated admitting that he slept in a nest, part of the reason why it was hidden on top of the furniture, but it truly was the most comfortable position for his body to rest in.

As he sat there, he remembered the feeling in the room of the inn just before he left. There was something about the way Colson had spoken and the way he sat staring thoughtfully into the nothingness of his cup, which unnerved Jonathan, but he couldn’t quite place the reason for his discomfort. He knew the man quite well at this point, and he had thoroughly warded the inn to ensure he could not give or receive information from anyone else without his knowledge.

Jonathan’s only concern thus far had been how willingly the man had agreed to sit in an inn for an unknown length of time just to get close to this boy. Not uttering a single complaint after months of waiting. The time alone would have driven Jonathan mad. He decided to take precautions in the morning just to be on the safe side.

He looked down at the only personal decoration he had placed on top of the armoire next to his nest, a small pocket mirror that he had nicked from Izreea. The mirror was so he could remind himself of his condition daily, and it held more than one mark on its once-perfect surface. He could have repaired it easily enough, but the dents and marks from his beak and claws reminded him that he had not given up hope yet. He would find a way to become a human, even if it meant going through puberty again.

*****

Izreea opened the door leading to their bedroom from the bathroom, wearing a towering swirl of towel on her head to dry her hair and another wrapped around her body. She had warded her room from Jonathan long ago, so she was not worried about him randomly showing up to find her in nothing but towels.

Even if he did, though, his presence would not have bothered her. Humans were far more obsessed with their bodies and covering them up than her people were. Because of her title as a diplomat in Dule Van, she respected and participated in human customs, including their cumbersome robes and dresses. Still, she was eager to get out of the city and into something she could move in.

Izreea found the folded clothing lying on the covers at the foot of the bed, not recognizing them initially. When she picked them up for a closer look, she realized she was holding her clothing from the bathroom fiasco. Jareth’s old shirt used to be a light gray, and the pants had been a navy blue. They were nothing fancy, but the pants had been her favorite sleepwear.

Once again, Jonathan had done the bare minimum and had changed the color of the clothing to cover his shoddy work. She had even permitted him to destroy one of the pieces of clothing so he could focus on the one she actually liked, and he couldn’t even get that right. With a sigh, she let the matter go and tossed the clothes on top of a basket of other clothing waiting to be put away.

She still wasn’t very good at basic human housework, although it was something Jareth had helped her learn since their marriage. Chores were a staple of students of any background at Dule Van, and most Elders could wash, mend, cook, and clean, as well as any maid at the school. Izreea was no stranger to hard work as every dardwain was expected to contribute to the success of the entire society, and all chores were shared collectively. Still, there was so much work humans did that was not needed among her people.

The homes of the dardwain were made from enchanted coral that looked like a giant underwater Daisy. The center was a large, open chamber for meetings and celebrations. It also had a circular ramp ringing the large chamber that led to an access port in the center of the roof which held the only access to the surface via an enclosed lift system. The lift system was a series of pressure pumps that would pump water below the lift to push it to the surface or slowly release the water to lower the lift from the surface.

The outer chambers of the coral, which branched from the center, contained a honeycomb of rooms of all sizes. Each room was unique, being created and molded for different-sized families. Since female dardwain could typically only have one or two pregnancies in a lifetime, three in rare circumstances, Individual families were never very large. However, to save space, married couples typically stay with the daughter’s parents, with up to five generations living in a single chamber at any given time.

No matter what size, every chamber had over a dozen bioluminescent threads running through the walls for light. These threads could be touched to produce heat for warmth, and you could slide your hand up and down along each thread to increase or decrease the light in the room. There was no need for firewood or coal for heat, tallow candles and oil lamps for light, and all of the ash, grime, and smells that came with those objects.

The enchanted coral was a living organism that breathed similarly to a plant. First, it filters breathable air from the water around it into every living chamber inside it and then absorbs the bad air the dardwain exhale as its energy source. Because of this, there was rarely a reason to sweep or dust; if something did become dirty, all that was needed was to open the sluice gate to that room. Anything not enchanted to repel water and stay still during flooding would be swept into the depths and consumed by the sea. It was unlawful to sluice anything harmful to the sea since it provided everything necessary for her people’s survival.

The coral was thin enough in certain areas to filter clean water from the ocean, including separating the salt. The youth of her people held the chore of cleaning the salt from the coral filters to maintain the water supply. The salt was then sold to traders as a preservative for travelers while the clean water was deposited like a fountain into molded basins anyone could use for cooking or drinking.

The obvious food staple for her people was anything that lived in the sea, the birds which preyed on the fish, and the occasional sea turtle. However, their hunting was strictly monitored to prevent endangering the species. There was even an underwater seaweed farm adjacent to the coral, which created several chores her people shared.

Izreea finished dressing into her most comfortable tanned pants and a simple gray shirt with a few inches of crisscrossing string at the neck in case she needed to loosen her neckline in the summer, then sat at the white vanity in her room. The desk portion of the vanity was quite beautiful, inlaid with simple blue stones for handles, but the mirror had been crafted to resemble a massive open clamshell with gold leafing pressed into the outer edge. It was as tacky as half the dresses in her wardrobe, all gifts from visiting dignitaries or monarchs looking to gain the favor of her people.

Although her room was quite large, as large as her and her parent’s coral bed chambers combined, it felt crowded with all the furnishings it held. Besides the bed, the vanity, and her wardrobe, there was also Jareth’s Wardrobe, a full-length mirror, and two nightstands.

These furnishings comprised only a quarter of all the gifts she had been presented with since becoming a diplomat, but these were the only ones enchanted to ensure they were not thrown out or re-gifted. It was a tricky business being a diplomat. She learned the hard way from the first gift she had repurposed that she had to check for enchantments before moving the item from the house. She had to either carefully break them or deal with the unwanted gift until the enchantment wore off, which usually took a few years.

Growling at the crowded room, she was reminded that it hadn’t been her idea to be a diplomat, nor had it been her idea to be the wife of a human, although that part turned out much better than she had expected.

When Jareth essentially saved her people’s home, at great risk to himself, Izreea had been presented as his new bride as a way to integrate him into the royal bloodline of her people. Rather than accepting the generous offer from the queen, Izreea’s cousin, he insulted Izreea by turning five shades of red in the face and retreating to his guest chambers to pack.

Izreea expected the insult to outrage her people, especially her parents, but the queen only bellowed with laughter at his reaction and declared Izreea to be the new diplomat to Dule Van. She then commanded her to bring her erkert un, her “declared one,” to the center chamber for the bonding ceremony within the hour.

Looking back, Izreea realized his reaction was not only expected but also planned. After the death of Ferin, Izreea lost her way and had difficulty finding her place among her people. She feared risking the life of another sejuar, so she had taken an extended mourning period from hunting. When Jareth showed up, it had been almost a year since Ferin’s death, and that mourning period was quickly coming to an end, yet Izreea still did not feel like she had come to terms with Ferin’s death.

One of the few bonds that could break the lifelong oath to the night stalkers was the marriage bond. Izreea was not sure who had suggested marrying her off to break her oath without shaming her family, but that is precisely what happened. Fearing that a forced marriage to the only outsider in the Coral would make her feel further alienated, it was suggested she also be made a diplomat and be sent away with her new human husband until she had decided who, or what, she wanted to be.

Izreea finished with the vanity and fished her saddlebags out from under the bed to pack for the journey. They intended on leaving at first light, and she had much to do to prepare the house for their absence. Her husband had been blamed for hospitalizing several members of the High Counsel, and she was not about to leave her possessions lying freely about her home in case they decided to retaliate.

 Besides a chest in the attic, she had everything she needed in this room for the journey and plenty of room in her bags because not a single dress was coming with her. She did make sure to grab a few of Jareth’s shirts he had left behind, just in case he did not have enough for her to sleep in one.