3)
Trace pushed himself up, quickly set his clothes right, and extended a hand to Lydia, who smiled at the gesture.
He turned his back as she adjusted her clothes too.
“Such a gentleman,” she teased.
He smiled, but she couldn’t see it.
“Thank you for not leering, after…”
He just nodded.
“So many men just stare…”
“I get it; you don’t need to explain.” He remembered the view the king had as she knelt before him…
She nodded, finished dressing.
“I’m sorry, Lydia. I was…”
“Trace, I swear, if you say ‘weak,’ I’m going to thrash you. We’re not betrothed.”
She laughed, “We’re not even lovers, in the real sense of the word, and we’re certainly not family.
“You were tense, and I…helped you.”
He smiled again, and this time she saw it, and returned it.
“So what happens now?”
“You help me solve the murders, and we’ll take…
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Author’s Note: Because although you didn’t ask, I wrote it anyway…Chapter 3
3)
Trace pushed himself up, quickly set his clothes right, and extended a hand to Lydia, who smiled at the gesture.
He turned his back as she adjusted her clothes too.
“Such a gentleman,” she teased.
He smiled, but she couldn’t see it.
“Thank you for not leering, after…”
He just nodded.
“So many men just stare…”
“I get it; you don’t need to explain.” He remembered the view the king had as she knelt before him…
She nodded, finished dressing. “I’m done.”
He turned around.
“I’m sorry, Lydia. I was…”
“Trace, I swear, if you say ‘weak,’ I’m going to thrash you. We’re not betrothed.”
She laughed, “We’re not even lovers, in the real sense of the word, and we’re certainly not family.
“You were tense, and I…helped you.”
He smiled again, and she returned it.
“So what happens now?”
“You help me solve the murders, and we’ll take it from there.”
She turned it over a moment.
“Fair enough.”
“Who’s the child? What’s his name?”
“Arrick, but he’s asleep by now.”
“We’ll have to wake him up.”
“I wouldn’t; his mother’s a bear of a woman, in temperament. If she thinks you’re up to no good, I warn you, she really will thrash you; I haven’t seen you in action, but if you lock horns with her, unless you use magic, you’re not sure money.”
“Where are you going after work, you know all this stuff?”
She grew peevish from something she sensed he was implying.
“I’m not riffraff, Trace. I have to navigate the back roads sometimes; they’re not savory places. You’re not the only one with an edgy circle of friends and rivals.”
“Fair enough. I didn’t mean anything by it, Lydia. No need to get defensive, at least with me.”
“Forget it; no offense taken. Let’s be on with it.”
“You know this place better than I do.”
“And I know that you’re a mage, and I need not wander creation to find what you can easily summon.”
Trace found his respect for her growing; for a serving girl, she had a bit too much spine, and he found himself wanting to know more about her, but in her reprimand she overlooked one very simple truth, and he teased her with it now.
“But Lydia, you know what he looks like.”
“Oh.” She reddened, and he smiled, and she swatted his arm playfully as she walked out ahead of him.
**********************
Lydia knocked, and Arrick’s mother answered, not pleased at the late night interruption.
“Arrick? I’ll not wake him!”
She went to slam the door in their faces, and it didn’t budge.
Hissing, she clutched her wrist at the sudden resistance to the force of pushing it.
Trace moved in, and something in his eyes brought Arrick’s mom to a quivering stillness.
“Wake him.”
She turned away, leaving the door open so they could see her, and she woke Arrick, who rose quietly, and rubbing his eyes, looked at the stranger standing in the door. The blonde girl next to him he knew from the kitchens. She was kind to him, and snuck him chocolate treats; sometimes he shared them with his mother, but sometimes he didn’t, though he always felt guilty then.
“Arrick, you know what happened tonight at the banquet, right?” Lydia prompted to warm him up to the subject as he continued staring at Trace.
“Yes. The king and queen were killed.”
They were taken aback by how articulate he was for his age.
“You saw who did it, Arrick?”
“No. Their head was covered.”
“Was it a male or female?”
“A female; there was a perfume smell.”
Lydia smiled at that, and as his story unfolded, Trace realized the murderer was far more powerful than he thought.
This was going to be a battle of wills as much as a physical war.
And now there was Lydia to consider as well.
If she still wants to go….
Trace’s lips twisted in a rueful smile, but then he noticed Arrick’s face paled.
*********************
There was a perfume smell, and it receded, along with the unnerving weight of the kitchen girl’s subtly threatening stare, which she gave him over the mage’s shoulder.
She would kill him if he told the truth; Arrick didn’t doubt that for a second. In the doing, she would not be kind, and it would not be a treat.
How could he be a mage, and not feel the evil emanating from her? She was standing just over his shoulder.
Arrick grew cautious, and his first instinct was to protect himself and his mother.
“All I saw, sir, is whatever you saw me see in your vision. I didn’t follow whoever it was.”
“That’s fine,” said Trace, not believing it for an instant.
Arrick wondered if she’d seen his knee sticking up; he’d slid on the floor up against the cabinet, and had to bend his knees.
Lydia shifted restlessly.
“It’s late, Trace.”
He spent a moment longer staring at Arrick, then turned to Lydia.
“All right.”
He turned back to Arrick and put his hand out, and Arrick shook it lightly.
“Thanks for your help, Arrick.”
He shrugged as his mother all but stumbled over him to close the door.
“So what happens now,” Lydia said, another nervous smile on her face.
“I’m going home; the royal brats haven’t left yet, so you’ll stay here. Meet me tomorrow, late morning, and we’ll pick it up from there.”
“What if someone comes to kill me later?”
“You can handle yourself, Lydia. Don’t pretend otherwise; there’s more to you than you’re letting me see.”
He walked past her, and left her staring after him, though she said nothing, and didn’t try to catch up to him.
She looked at the closed door once more, her eyes narrowing, and then, smoothing out the frown, she went back to her own place, and went to bed, a knife under the pillow.
And dreamed of Trace.
His naked back was to her, and she slipped the knife from beneath her pillow…© Alfred W. Smith Jr. 2015
She has the power to summon spirits, but only by the ocean…a mystery she’s going to work on solving, before it might be too late.
Chapter 2:
She was in the servants’ quarters, taking comfort from a friend.
“That royal bitch, pouring wine on me!”
“Watch your tongue, Lydia. Tongues wag, and ears are on the walls.”
“I don’t care…”
“You will if the the princess gets wind of it; here, drink this, and hush.”
“Thank you, Gaile.”
“Excuse me,” Trace said.
Gaile jumped, and Lydia spilled a little of her drink; they looked at each other, and Gaile’s frightened eyes had an ‘I-told-you-so’ look in them, and then she gave the man in the doorway a challenging glare.
“I need to speak to Lydia, alone.”
Gaile huffed, looked again at Lydia, who nodded. “I’ll be all right.”
Gaile left. bumping the man’s shoulder as she pushed past him.
He ignored the not-so-subtle assault, and turned his attention to the girl sitting in the chair, wine cup in hand, trying to pretend nothing happened.
“What happened?”
“The queen bitch poured wine down my blouse because the king stared at my breasts, sir.”
She gave a bitter laugh. “That only made him stare harder.”
“Call me Trace. And I’m sorry…”
“Why? Have you never been in a castle before? It goes on all the time, the abuse.”
Trace let that pass so he could get to his questions.
“Did anyone taste the wine first?”
“I wouldn’t have brought it out otherwise; yes, the taster did his job.”
“Where can I find him?”
“I…” she gave it some thought. “You’ll probably find him down in the kitchen, rifling through the silver before he leaves.”
“What does he look like?”
She gave that some thought, too.
“Short, round, wide, and pasty; he won’t be hard to spot.
Her brow furrowed as a change of thought came to her.
“Did you speak to the heirs?”
“I did,” Trace said. “They don’t plan to stay.”
“I hope the Council can convince them otherwise; if there’s no kitchen work, I’ll have to resort to…tavern work.”
“Thank you, Lydia.”
“Wait.”
Trace turned.
“Can I…can I go with you?”
“To find the taster?”
“I can help you with that,” she stood up, put the drink aside, “but I meant…can I come with you, travel with you?”
“We can discuss that on the way.”
***************************
She walked with him toward the kitchens, her large blue eyes focused on him with a hint of desperation.
“I can cook, clean your place, mend your clothing, wash…”
Trace sighed.
“I travel a lot, Lydia, and I don’t hang around nice places with nice people. I’m sure out there somewhere, there’s a price on my head.
“The things I’m involved in are high stakes and gruesome, with supernatural overtones.
“In short, as much as I’d love to have someone to talk to and share ideas with, I’m not someone to be around for the long term.”
“I understand, but-“
“No, Lydia. No, you don’t understand.”
“There he is. Walcroft is his name.”
“Walcroft!”
Walcroft turned, saw the mage walking toward him, and was caught somewhere between frozen and bolting from the room.
Trace incanted a holding spell just as Walcroft decided on flight, and found himself held fast.
“Leave me alone! I didn’t kill them!”
“No one accused you of murder, so there’s no need to run, is there? If you promise to be still, I’ll remove the incant. If you try to run, I’ll bind you again, more thoroughly. Do you understand?”
“I understand, taint.”
“What?”
“Walcroft doesn’t like magic, Trace.”
“Ah.”
“Your kind are a blight on the land, and I would see you all dead, were the crown mine. Our king, gods rest his soul, had the disease of compassion on him, though he was a lusty man; the queen, not so much. She would have made a better ruler, but the law of the land being what it is, would not surrender the throne to a woman.
“Pity.”
“Not here to debate the political merits of regicide, friend, I just need the cups they drank from. Where are they?”
Trace was as calm as Walcroft was agitated, and though the smaller man seemed to be spoiling for a fight, he could see that the mage would not indulge him, and something in his tone conveyed that Walcroft better not push the issue.
“Over there.”
Trace walked to where they were, and Lydia followed.
He gave a cursory glance behind him, and she gave him a quick, nervous smile.
“Stand behind me.”
She did.
******************
The cups were two different temperatures, and he saw the faces of those who used them.
The queen’s cup was hot with rage, and the king’s cool with drunken lust; in the vision, Trace could see the long line of Lydia’s cleavage, the slope of her breasts under the serving blouse drawing the king’s eye like a moth to flame.
There was nothing to be done for it, though he was embarrassed for her.
He could smell the poison in the wine, a bittersweet berry, tart and acrid, and feel it too; it was heating his blood, singeing his hands, and he began to sweat.
He summoned to go further back, and felt the energy drain from him: a blurred face could be seen, walking toward the cups with the bottle of wine, but whoever it was had their eyes covered by the top of the black hood they wore, so he couldn’t see if it was male or female, their hair, or the color of their eyes.
From the angle, he could see no good details, because he was looking up at the cups from underneath. Someone had been hiding there, someone who could see part of the poisoner’s face, though the poisoner couldn’t see them.
He focused on what he could see.
The lips were small, though, the chin not strong, but it was darker, as if the person spent their time in the sun.
It was either a woman or a thin man, which Walcroft was definitely not.
********************
Lydia wiped his brow with a cool cloth, looked at his hands, and hissed in apprehension.
“They’ll heal,” said Trace.
She looked at him.
“They always do.”
He could see the fright in her eyes, see the things he’d told her about him sinking in as she watched the scars begin to recede and disappear..
“There was someone here, hiding under the counter, and someone in a hooded robe who poisoned the wine. Whoever was under the counter saw part of their face.
“Do any children hang around here, looking for scraps?”
She was finally able to tear her gaze away from his hands.
“It’s not encouraged, but we have a few adventurous ones willing to risk Kiyo’s wooden paddle on their backside.”
“The head cook?”
“The Giantess, we call her, but not to her face.”
Trace thought.
“It’s late. I’ll need a place to stay.”
“I’ll make a room up for you.”
She walked past him, but he put his hand on her arm, and shook his head.
“It can’t be here.”
She sighed, took a step into his space.
“I have to come with you, Trace. There’s no future for me here, and I don’t want to be a whore.”
“Lydia, please…”
“Please don’t abandon me.”
“I’ll have to think-“
She kissed him, and he gently pushed her back.
“That’s not going to work.”
“Trace, it’s all over you; you need someone.”
“No I—“
She kissed him again.
“Stop it, Lydia.”
She stepped back, looked up into his eyes.
“You stop me,” she said, moving in once more.
He could have; he even wanted to…
But he didn’t.
© Alfred W. Smith Jr. 2015
Arlun encounters a fellow traveler, and the journey changes…
Beyond Panic 