season avatars 01 - seasons beginnings (2 page)

yet.

“I was lucky to survive myself,” she said. “Phebe nursed me through

it, even though she has her own husband and children to look after. So

now I’m helping her care for her family until I have a chance to sing at

the palace. I missed my audition because of the plague.”

Kron tried not to wince. He might be a stranger in this town, but

even he’d heard that the palace wasn’t the safest place for young, at-

tractive women.

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Bella snuck a sideways glance at him. “What about you? I don’t

think I’ve seen you in the marketplace before. You’re not from

Vistichia, are you?”

“No, from Delns, northeast of here. I’m on my way to see my family.

I haven’t been back there for twenty years.” Normally Kron could have

created a portal to travel instantly to a place he’d been to before, but his

family home must have changed too much with the recent wars and

other catastrophes all over the known world. Although he’d resented

walking from the Magic Institute across the Western Mountains, then

sailing down the Chikasi River to Vistichia, he’d had more adventures

by traveling like a person without magic than he would have otherwise.

Phebe led Bella and Kron around one house, indistinguishable from

the rest, to the back. Part of the area was paved with stone, while a

chicken coop and a small garden of vegetables occupied the rest of the

space. Although Kron cautiously picked his way through the dirt and

droppings to the henhouse, something disgusting splattered into his san-

dal.

“Bella, go put our purchases away, then start preparing dinner.”

Phebe began weeding, but she positioned herself so she could watch

Kron at the same time. He suspected she was more worried about what

he might do to the rest of her hens than interested in his magic.

“Good luck,” Bella mouthed at him before leaving.

Kron would have liked to linger—perhaps Bella would find a reason

to come outside—but he could feel Phebe’s stare boring into his back.

Ignoring her, Kron brought out the finder he’d shown the women ear-

lier, then circled the henhouse. He was three-fourths of the way around

before the arrow jerked and swung off in another direction. Before he

could follow it, the arrow spun and landed in the opposite direction.

Either the magician was transporting him or herself around, or else the

finder was picking up more than one source of magic. Kron hoped it

was the former.

For the next few hours he wandered all over Vistichia, following his

finder to ripe-smelling midden piles, windowsills of homes and bakery

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shops, and the harbor where the Chikasi met the Salt Waters. Each time

the finder brought him to a place where someone could hide, although

some of the places, such as a wine barrel or a nook in a wall, were too

small for Kron to enter. Perhaps he was following the traces of a magic

spy, someone or something sent to learn the weaknesses of the town

before invaders arrived. But the spy avoided the gates and other sources

of military information; very strange. And what kind of spy would mu-

tilate a chicken? Kron drummed his fingers on the finder as he tried to

make sense of it.

By sunset, the traces became clustered in the northwest section of

the town, near the forest. As Kron followed the finder to the edge of

Vistichia, the cat’s-eye embedded in the base began to glow, a sign he

was coming to a stronger source of magic. The arrow pointed to the

forest. To get there, Kron waded through knee-high grass that poked

through his leggings.

The finder pointed him to a tangle of undergrowth. Kron pushed

sticky branches away from his face as he squeezed through the brush

surrounding the narrow path. The glow from the cat’s-eye provided

much-needed light. What sort of magician could use a trail like this?

Perhaps he or she had shrunk in size or changed into an animal. Or per-

haps….

“From north to south, you are dead! Wash your face and go to bed!”

The cat’s-eye scorched the finder as something dropped from a tree

into the bushes. A brown bear rose and roared, jaws gaping and sharp

claws extended. Kron’s heart raced even as he realized it was an illu-

sion. He tried to banish it but failed. How could this unknown magician

be so strong? He hadn’t met anyone of this caliber since leaving the

Magic Institute. Was this a peer, a rival, or an enemy?

Kron ripped a white thread from his tunic and enchanted it to turn

strong and sticky, then threw it at the other magician as a distraction

while he prepared another weapon. To his surprise, the illusion of the

bear dissipated, and a high voice cried out, “That’s not fair! Let me go,

or I’ll call my mother!”

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“Your mother?” Kron pushed through the branches to reveal his cap-

tive: a boy, about six or seven, with apple-round cheeks and dark brown

hair dappled by the sunlight pouring through the half-grown leaves. He

had an extra finger on each hand, and as he squirmed, his joints bent

backward as naturally as they did forward.

“What’s your name, son?” Kron asked.

The boy stopped struggling and looked at him, dark eyelashes

shielding his fearless eyes, so green they made the leaves above seem

dull. “Are you my father? Mother never told me who he was, but I know

he can’t be a Nil.”

“A Nil?”

“You know, one of them.” The boy’s voice dripped adult scorn on

the last word. “The ones without magic. Mother says the only thing

they’re good for is serving us magicians.”

Kron frowned. Didn’t this child know any ordinary people? Why

wasn’t his mother teaching this child more respect for others? Kron

knew only one magician who was so contemptuous of those without

magic, but she was nowhere near here. Still… “Is your mother’s name

Salth?” Kron asked.

The boy nodded. “My name’s Sal-thaath. What’s yours?”

“Kron Evenhanded. I’m a … I knew your mother. We studied magic

together about ten years ago.”

He couldn’t really say he had been a friend of Salth’s; he didn’t re-

member her having any friends at all. She had spent all her time at the

Magic Institute studying. She’d done well on her own but refused to

perform group magic, saying she couldn’t trust anyone. Rumor had it

that she was the sister of a city-king far to the east. When he summoned

her home to be his personal magician, she’d sent the messenger back in

animal form, though no one was sure exactly what type of animal. Had

she thawed enough to take a lover since leaving the Magic Institute?

Kron wouldn’t have believed it, but Sal-thaath’s existence proved oth-

erwise.

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“Sal-thaath,” he said, “if you don’t like ordinary people, why were

you spying on them?”

“I wanted to see what they were like. We don’t have any close to

home.”

“And the chicken?”

The child’s expression never changed. “Oh, that. I was just playing

around.”

“Playing around! You can’t do that. You could hurt someone.”

A puzzled look appeared in the boy’s eyes. “What does hurt mean?”

Kron frowned. “Haven’t you ever fallen, or cut yourself?”

“No.”

Further questioning revealed he’d never been hurt at all; his potent

magic had always protected him. Kron wondered how Salth disciplined

him—if she even did. She had to know that a powerful, untrained ma-

gician with a child’s impulses could wreak an unimaginable amount of

damage.

“Where’s your mother?”

“Back near the mountains.” He said it casually, as if the mountains

were next door instead of close to the Magic Institute. Sal-thaath tried

to break free. “Can I go home now?”

“Only if you take me with you. I need to speak to your mother.”

“Does this mean you’re going to be my father?”

Kron didn’t know how to answer that question. He didn’t want to

take responsibility for this child, but someone had to tame him before

people were hurt. He broke the thread. “Let’s go.”

C H A P T E R T W O

Salth

Sal-thaath took Kron’s hand, but he didn’t lead him to a portal. Be-

fore he could blink, they arrived at the foothills of the Western

Mountains, thousands and thousands of furlongs from Vistichia. Pine

trees scented the air, and an eagle plunged into a nearby stream, emerg-

ing with a fat fish. “Your country is beautiful,” Kron said, wishing

privately that Sal-thaath would stay here instead of traveling to

Vistichia at will. “I didn’t know you can travel without a portal.”

“It’s easy.” Sal-thaath danced, crushing delicate wildflowers under-

foot. He gripped Kron’s hand with all six fingers. “This way, behind the

trees.”

Salth’s home looked as if a stone house from Thaume, the city near

the Magic Institute, had swallowed an abandoned farmhouse. Kron

wondered why she’d bothered to graft the two together. There was no

one here to appreciate her magical talent. Perhaps she’d done it for the

challenge. She’d always been like that, as if she needed to prove her

worth by seeking out the most difficult tasks.

Sal-thaath led Kron inside the farmhouse section. The single large

room was cluttered, with dirty dishes of various types piled in the dusty

hearth. The room smelled moldy, and flies buzzed everywhere. Sal-

thaath raced through the room to the marble section. “Mother,” he

called, “come see! I’ve found a father!”

“I’m not your father, child,” Kron muttered under his breath.

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The marble section of the house was as neat as the farmhouse was

chaotic. Shelves of scrolls and tablets lined the walls from floor to ceil-

ing. Water clocks, sun dials, and striped candles formed an obstacle

course. Salth herself hadn’t changed. She aimed a sight-enhancer—

Kron recognized the piece as one he’d made—out of the window as if

searching for a new star. Next to the sight-enhancer was a scroll with

marks arranged in an uneven circle. Salth’s limbs were as thin and an-

gular as ever, though she had gained matronly curves. Her reddish-

brown skin looked sallow, as if she hadn’t been outside in moons. Her

only feminine traits were her luxurious hair, caught in a jeweled hair

net, and the twisted lines tattooed on her cheeks and hands. Despite the

noise Sal-thaath made as he brandished a stick and knocked over scrolls

and tablets, his mother didn’t look away from the sight-enhancer.

It must be working well.
Kron itched to inspect his old artifact, but

he said nothing and waited for Salth to look up.

After a hundred or so heartbeats, Sal-thaath swung his stick so that

it struck the sight-enhancer. Kron leaped forward, arms extended, to

catch it, but Salth maintained her firm grip. “Sal-thaath, be more care-

ful!” She finally turned her head, blinked a few times, then started as

she stared at Kron.

“I know you,” she said. “You were at the Magic Institute, weren’t

you? Who are you again, and what are you doing here?”

“I’m Kron. Kron Evenhanded.” He dipped his head. “My specialty

is enchanting objects.”

“Ah, yes, I remember. Knickknack work.”

Kron’s smile slipped. “Like the sight-enhancer you’re using? I made

it.”

“Is that true?” She examined the bronze tube, decorated with a scene

of boats in a harbor. “Pretty shell, simple magic.”

“If it’s so simple, why not make your own sight-enhancer?”

She sniffed. “I have more important things to do than make tools. If

you’d actually bothered to use your sight-enhancer to look past the

clouds, you’d know something is coming that will affect us all.”

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Kron didn’t respond. Salth liked to think she knew more about magic

than even her instructors. That was why she’d chosen to leave the Magic

Institute—that, and her refusal to teach, claiming only slaves taught oth-

ers.

“Don’t you even want to know what I’m talking about?” she asked.

“If it’s that important, I’m sure I’ll find out eventually.”

Her frown hardened. “You don’t believe me, do you? Never mind,

then. Talk is a waste of time. I never have enough time for all I want to

study. There must be a way to find more time. Look at how much of it

Nils waste, and they seldom make it to forty or fifty years when they

could live much longer.”

Nils? Does she mean people? Ordinary people, like Phebe and

Bella?

Sal-thaath took a few steps forward. “I thought you said Nils don’t

have magic, Mother, so how could they live longer?”

“They do have some in their souls. Not much, a few drops compared

to the double-mighty waterfalls we carry. But there are so many of them

that they would make a nice source of magic for the magician double-

smart enough to figure out how to collect it—or their time.” Her eye-

brows knitted together as she glowered at Kron. “What are you still