"I know it might not be a good thing to bring up with Mom—Cloudsong, you know, but those kids." Ry didn't finish his statement. He'd seen the thin, emaciated bodies that the documentary crew had recorded.
"Yeah, but she's always done things for kids," Tory nodded. "Maybe we can get her interested in this."
"It won't bring Sissy back." Ry rubbed his eyes. He was scared witless, if he were honest with himself. Nobody had come forward demanding a ransom or anything. "Why would somebody break through the Grey House barriers, just to take Sissy? There are multiple fortunes in spelled jewelry, weapons and artwork. If they wanted money, all they'd have to take was a little of that."
"I know. I heard Uncle Tony and Uncle Rigo say the same thing earlier." Tory slumped on the bed. "What are we going to do, Ry? We have to get Sissy back. Next week is her birthday."
* * *
"Be sure you get the corners." Toff wondered what Narissa had done before she'd acquired him as her personal slave. He had no idea what to do to get away from her—she watched him every waking moment. He was wearing some of her old clothing, too—old tops and pants that hung loosely about his small frame. He was using a ragged cloth to clean the corners of the floor while he wondered what she'd set him to doing next.
"Tomorrow is food day—we'll pick it up at the western boundary," Narissa was smiling. "You can handle the wheelbarrow, I think." Toff looked up at her briefly—she sat at the tiny kitchen table sipping tea. She hadn't offered him any, he noticed.
"The western boundary?" he asked casually. Toff didn't want to express too much interest in case Narissa decided to withhold the information. He'd made the mistake earlier of asking her why she was alone inside the boundary. She'd cursed and then ordered him to clean the corners of the stone floor in the kitchen. The stones were fitted tightly against one another—whoever laid them had been a master at building. They were sealed and watertight, too. Toff discovered that when he'd mopped the floor before starting on the corners.
"The one between me and the comesuli farms, of course. You think those Fae would share anything without payment?" Narissa hmmphed again. Toff was beginning to dislike that sound intensely.
"What about those others—what did you call them—to the east?"
"Elemaiya. They don't share either, as a rule. They'll talk if I find one of them down on that side, but they don't often come in this direction. They stay farther south; it's warmer there."
"I've never heard of that race—what do they look like?" Toff asked.
"Just like most other humanoids. They used to have power." Narissa sniffed at the admission.
"What happened?"
"The Queen of Le-Ath Veronis happened. No more questions." Narissa got up and walked out of the kitchen, leaving Toff alone with his questions and his task.
* * *
"We're going to have to use power." Gren's statement made Laral and Clover cringe. Who knew what kind of trouble they might be in if their parents learned of this? Laral and Clover had very little power, though they were Halves, just as Gren was. Gren had increased his power lately and his two disciples were at a loss to explain it.
"But what are we going to do?" Laral felt helpless—he'd thought that cozying up with Gren would allow him access to Tiearan and better lessons. It didn't. Tiearan would take Gren and two of the older ones and teach them apart from the others. Rain would take the ones with lesser ability and work with them during their lessons. Neither Laral nor Clover had ever gotten to work with the sun crystal and that was Laral's chief desire. Now he found himself trapped in Gren's plot to do away with the baby-faced worm.
Yes, they all called him that; even Laral's parents, for some reason. Toff was generally despised across the village and Laral had no idea why. None of the adults spoke about it and Gren refused to explain why he thought Toff should die.
"We lost the knives—that's why we have to use power. I'll try to sneak away with some sun crystal—we can use that to focus," Gren replied. "We can use the nut breaking chant, only we aim it at his head instead of the thick-shelled nuts that Father Oak grows."
"But his head will explode." Even Clover wanted to back away from this idea. "This is what we're going to do, and you'll help or I'll tell the entire village that it was you who tried to jump him with Barthe's missing knives. You know Tiearan wanted to know where they went, don't you?" Gren gave both boys a threatening look. Laral swallowed hard. Theft would get them banished outside the barrier. Theft and attempted violence would see their power removed and they would still be banished. It wasn't an attractive prospect. Clover and Laral paid attention while Gren outlined his plan.
Chapter 7
"These are not our ceremonial daggers." The Prime Minister for the newly crowned King of Invardine bade his two escorts dump two large boxes on the reception desk. The Second-Tier Wizard who manned the desk in the antechamber of Grey House's sales office stared at the Invardinian Prime Minister in shock.
"But those were never out of our possession until you came to take them four days ago," the Second-Tier Wizard blustered. "We cannot be responsible for anything that has been outside our control for several days."
"These are the daggers we were given, and they are new. These have been checked carefully—the jewels are the same but the metal is not ancient. We have had our experts examine them carefully. The ancient method used to create the metal for these ceremonial daggers was not as sophisticated as it is now and there were impurities in the steel that are no longer present. I suggest you get someone here who can explain what has happened to our original daggers. I am at a loss as to why you would keep the old knives yet return the jewels—the knives have no value except to us—as heirlooms of our kingdom." The Prime Minister had white hair, piercing green eyes and wrinkles everywhere—he was ancient but determined.
"Let me see who I can find to speak with you," the Second-Tier Wizard muttered and sent out mindspeech. Calebert and Glendes both appeared moments later.
"What is this?" Calebert lifted one of the daggers from the box. "These are what we sent back—I detect the residual power around them. Are all the daggers like this?" He looked across the tall desk at the ancient Prime Minister.
"No, two were as they should be. All the others have been replaced with new blades."
"Let me take a look." Glendes reached out for the blade Calebert held in his hand. His eyes unfocused for several moments while the Prime Minister waited impatiently.