The Scofflaw Magician (The Artifactor Book 3) (14 page)

Oh? It didn’t
sound like something he was saying out of politeness’s sake. Sevana was still
having a hard time reading him, even after their long conversation that day. He
was a quiet, reserved man in many respects but also seemed to have a very
gentle nature to him. Arandur was the type of man that she was never sure could
be taken at face value. He would probably say things he didn’t entirely mean
just to put the people around him at ease. At least, he struck her as the sort
to do so.

Deciding it was
past time to try and break the ice with him, she said, “I’ll be pleased to take
you. But I do have a request.”

“Ask,” he
encouraged.

“I’m calling
you Aran.” Shooting him a look over her shoulder, she added, “Because the only
time I call someone by their full name is when I’m mad at them.”

A slow smile
spread over his face. “Is that so. Then call me Aran.”

He was not
nearly as stiff as his first impression led her to believe. Relieved by that,
she grinned back. “Call me Sev or Sevana or Sellion as you wish. I’ll answer to
any of it.”

“Understood.
Sev.”

She chuckled,
more because of the devilish grin on his face than the way he promptly used her
nickname. Sevana had a feeling that they’d get along just fine. “So tell me, do
Fae burn wood?”

“And waste a
valuable resource? Of course not.” With a perfectly straight face, he pointed a
finger at the cast iron pan in his hand. It started sizzling the food within
seconds.

Fascinated, she
drifted closer, trying to figure out how he was doing that. “The Fae don’t use
magics, or spells, or anything of that sort?”

“It is not
necessary. We speak directly with the elements. They do as we request.”

Sevana felt a
flash of envy. She had to bargain and weigh and measure every single thing she
did when it came to magic. Even the simplest of spells were quite complicated
if you broke them down. What would it be like to just point a finger at
something and have it leap to do your bidding?

“Do not envy
us,” Arandur scolded lightly, more amused than chiding. “After all, you can
create things we cannot because your magic can be more complex in structure.
Ours is simplistic.”

“And
unimaginably strong,” she drawled back, not the least appeased by these words.

Unoffended, he
unbent enough to give her a small grin. “I am hoping that you brought some of
your complex magic with you? To make sleeping easier.”

“I might have
brought a tent with me.” Snorting, she went for her own pack and dug out the
camping equipment. Not for one second did she believe that he was looking
forward to using any of her things. He could probably talk grass into being
soft and cushiony if he was of the mind to. But she played along as he cooked
dinner. Who knew? Maybe he’d get comfortable enough with her to share a few
secrets.

They made North
Woods (or in human terms, Brennan Woods) in three days as Aran had said they
would. Sevana had him teach her at least the basics of Fae customs as they
rode. Normally pomp and ceremony could go take a flying leap as far as she was
concerned, but when dealing with beings that could kill you as easily as
someone would an irritating fly, basic courtesy became terribly important.

The Fae didn’t
seem to have any rules about dress code—as long as you weren’t showing an
outrageous level of skin—but they were particular about not being an imposition
to others. Kindness was the key word with them.

Sevana fully
expected to put both feet into her mouth within the first three hours.

Late in the
afternoon they reached the edge of Brennan Woods. Sevana had passed by here
several times but had never tried to actually go in. The closest that she had
come was when she’d gone into the Desolate Mountains with Bel and Aren to break
the king’s curse. But that was only the outskirts of the woods. This time, she would
be going into the heart of them.

Aran slowed
them to a walk, partially because of the thickness of the foliage, partially
because it was rude to run right over someone’s figurative doorstep. It gave
her a chance to properly look around. The trees here were ancient, as old or
older than Noppers Woods. It put the phrase ‘primeval forest’ on a whole new
level. Or maybe it just felt that way to her. She was used to going into
Noppers, so she rather thought herself immune to this feeling of antiquity, but
perhaps not.

“What do you
think of this place?” Aran asked her in a quiet tone.

“It feels
beyond ancient,” she answered back, unwittingly speaking in the same soft
voice. “As if it has been here since the very creation of the world.” There was
something else about it, too, that was right on the tip of her tongue, but she
found it hard to put into words. “There’s this thrum, too, as if the place has
its own pulse.”

“Oh, so you can
feel that?”

She blinked and
turned, trying to see his expression. He looked mildly surprised and approving.
“What am I feeling?”

“All of the
tools and items of the Fae are made here. What you are sensing is magic being
actively used, on a near continuous level.”

Sevana’s eyes
crossed. “That’s how your magic feels?”

“When we are
actively using it. Most of the time, we do not need to, as a request is enough
to grant our desire. But when we are crafting something, our magic feels like
this.” Cocking his head, he pressed, “What does it feel like exactly?”

She didn’t
really have anything to compare it to. The one experience that came to mind
didn’t even come close, but Sevana wasn’t sure how else to answer. “Have you
ever stood inside of a rainbow?”

“At the end of
one, yes. Once. It’s a rare experience.”

Didn’t she know
it. Sevana had only managed it once too. “The air there feels dense and moist
and heavy enough that you feel like you almost can’t breathe, and yet it’s cool
and refreshing at the same time.”

“Ahh, yes, I
can see how our magic would feel similar to you. It feels that way to us as
well.” Aran sat up a little straighter, eyes focusing on something dead ahead.
“Our hosts approach.”

Sevana snapped
back around, eyes straining to see forward. In these dim woods it was hard to
see anything more than twenty feet out. She didn’t see forms so much as she
caught hints of movement. Just how good were a Fae’s eyes?

The chellomi
stallion came to a stop as naturally as if he were the one to decide to do so.
Aran slid gracefully off before reaching up for Sevana. She was used to him doing
this by now, as he didn’t seem to trust her equestrian skills. She had none to
speak of, so that was a good choice. Secretly glad for the help, she put her
hands on his shoulders and let him lift her to the ground. Not being afraid of
the chellomi any longer, she unbent enough to give him a pat on the shoulder,
in the same way she would thank Big. The chellomi turned his head enough to
touch his nose to her hat, knocking it askew.

With a dirty
look at the stallion, she straightened her hat and focused ahead again. Their
Fae hosts were now visible and only a few feet away. She hadn’t expected them
to look different, but they did, in a subtle way. They were slightly paler,
their clothes not as loose and flowing, but more form-fitting. Far from
favoring the light colors that the Noppers Fae did, they chose more subdued
greens, greys, and browns that blended in perfectly with their surroundings. No
wonder she had trouble seeing them.

Man and woman
lifted a hand in greeting, more casually to Aran—did he know these two?—but
with more formality and curiosity with Sevana.

“Arandur,” the
woman said in a warm tone, “it has been many seasons since we last saw you. You
are well.”

“I am, Alyan,”
Aran returned with the same tone of familiarity in his voice. “Rincavornon, you
are well.”

“I am,
Arandur,” Rincavornon stated.

“I present
Sellion, our adopted sister.”

Alyan, a
beautiful redhead with copper tones in her hair and eyes, picked up both
Sevana’s hands. “Sellion, I greet you. I am Alyan.”

This gripping
of the hands didn’t feel like a simple hello to her. Sevana could swear the
woman was doing a check of her, like a magical diagnostic of some sort. “I
greet you, Alyan.”

Alyan didn’t
let go of her hands and the man with her, who could be Aran’s blond cousin with
those looks, didn’t try to budge her. He was satisfied with words alone. “I
greet you, Sellion. I am Rincavornon.”

“I greet you,
Rincavornon,” she returned, wondering when she would be able to get her hands
back.

“Ah, now I know
you,” Alyan said with immense satisfaction. “You have been here before.”

Aran’s voice
rose in surprise. “You have?”

“Not in the
woods proper,” Sevana denied, relieved when Alyan finally let go of her. “But
I’ve been in the Desolate Mountains a time or two. My most recent trip was last
year, actually.”

“You are an
Artifactor, I believe?” Alyan regarded her with a sort of birdlike curiosity.

“That’s right.
My human name is Sevana Warran.”

They made
ahhing sounds of recognition. “You are the one that has brought us children,” Rincavornon
stated. It was obviously not a question—he knew exactly who she was now.

“That’s me,”
she agreed. Whatever system they had to exchange news between the Fae
territories was obviously a good one, as they were fairly up to date. Or maybe
what she was doing was really that unheard of, that her actions were news all
the way up here.

“We will speak
to you on that subject later,” Alyan warned her with a distinct pout. “We are
not pleased that you only bring children to South Woods and not to us.”

Aran cleared
his throat, the sound suspiciously like a chuckle that was being suppressed.
“We
are
nearest her home, Alyan.”

Alyan looked
him dead in the eye. “That is beside the point.”

Sevana had this
feeling she’d be making a lot of trips up here in the near future. If Aranhil
agreed to let her do that. She wasn’t sure if he would. “We can discuss that
later and work something out. Is it too late for me to see where this missing
ink was stored?”

“It is not,”
Rincavornon assured her. “But first, we will see to the chellomi, and give you
a moment’s rest.”

That might have
been their polite way of saying the pair of them smelled like horses and needed
to wash up. Sevana was inclined to agree because three days on horseback would
do that to a person. Chellomi might be magical creatures and whatnot, but the
hair and the smell was the same. That and the uncomfortable, hard saddles and
the saddle sores that went with them. As soon as she had some privacy, she was
applying salve to certain tender places. And the
next
time that she
ventured into Fae territory, she was taking her own vehicles, and Fae customs
could go hang.

Aran grabbed
her bags and handed them to her, which she hefted over one shoulder. Alyan took
the lead and struck off to the left. It was only when she did so that Sevana
started to detect the path that was there. It blended in so well that she could
barely discern the difference between normal forest floor and path. Were there
signs? Hopefully? Otherwise she’d need a guide the entire time she was here.

It all looked
like forest to her up until they entered a small clearing. Here, she saw the
same signs of ‘buildings’ that were in Noppers. It was nothing overt, just the
bending of branches in unusual ways to form doorways and roofs. Alyan passed
through one such opening and the air became lighter. Sevana slowed her steps,
lingering, to get a better look. Woven into the branches were hundreds of
fireflies, giving the inside a natural glow. The ‘floor’ was a thick, cushiony
moss that looked like velvet. It would probably feel that way too. She
recognized the type.

Once she passed
through that brief entrance, she entered what must be the main room. It was
almost perfectly round, with other doorways in set intervals. The branches were
woven together in such a way that it was beautiful, like an intricately woven
basket.

“I’ll take my
usual room,” Aran announced in general before splitting off and going into the
first room on the left.

Alyan pointed
to the room dead ahead. “That is a bathing room that is connected to a hot
spring.”

Sevana was
going to make immediate use of that.

“The rest,”
Alyan continued, “are rooms for guests. You choose any that you like.”

To keep things
simple, she might as well take the room to the immediate right. Hopefully she
would keep her bearings that way. These doorways looked almost identical. “Thank
you.” Ducking in through the doorway, she paused long enough to get a good look
around. From the way things were made so far, she fully expected a moss bed,
but the Fae were apparently more practical than that. The bed frame itself was a
growing, woven tree, but it had a perfectly human mattress on top, blanket and
pillows included. Glad to see at least
one
thing she recognized, she put
her packs on the bed and dug out fresh clothes. Then she made a beeline for
that hot spring.

She was almost
through the door when she realized that she couldn’t just strip and jump in.
For one thing, the doorway had a deep inset, to where one couldn’t see the
inside of the room without taking several steps in. There was no way to tell if
it was occupied. Pausing, she called, “Aran?”

“Yes?” he
answered from inside of his room.

“I’m going into
the springs.”

There was a
ruminative pause on his part. “I take it that if I enter while you are there,
you will be displeased.”

“You walk in on
me and I’ll hex you,” she corrected.

What might have
been a chuckle floated in the air. “Understood. Enjoy yourself.”

She didn’t plan
to, as she was here to investigate something, not soak in magical hot springs.
But she needed fifteen minutes to get the worse of the smell off and some of
the aches and pains in her rear to go away. Right now, any bending sent a sharp
ache through her buttocks, which was far from pleasant.

Sevana had
given up trying to predict what anything in Fae territory would look like. She
didn’t expect a traditional bathing area and that was just as well, as she
didn’t get one. It looked like a natural hot spring, the rocks and moss and
plants growing around the springs completely undisturbed by hands. If not for
the fact that the branches wove a ceiling above her head, she would have
thought she had wandered into the woods by accident.

The only
addition to this scene were two wooden tubs, both of them looking as if they
had grown from a Tub Tree, they were so perfectly formed. They sat demurely
near the springs, waiting to be used. Sevana found a flat spot on the rocks to
put her clothes on, stripped, and then gingerly dipped a toe to check the
temperature. It was perhaps a mite hotter than she cared for but not
intolerable. She found a path into the water and then searched about until she
found a rock that was the right height. Settling, she grabbed a bucket and
started scrubbing.

At first, the
heat of the water felt like bliss on aching muscles and joints, but eventually
it got to be too much to her. She was sweating and starting to feel dizzy.
Still a little reluctant to get out, she lingered a few more minutes before
common sense compelled her out of the water. Only then did she slosh free,
grabbing a towel and drying off as she did so.

Sevana had one
foot into her pants when she realized that she was no longer sore. At all. Not
even a trace to be found. Disbelieving, she bent as far she could in all
directions, testing this, but if anything she felt more limber than she
normally did.