The Sorcerer’s Guardian Page 4

  They’d barely finished their meeting when Loriot had been summoned by the princes once more. Any hope he’d held that Prince Philip had changed his mind was dashed immediately. At least he understood the reason he was being sent with Savarin. He wasn’t certain he would be of much help, since he knew little of how magic worked, and he still wasn’t thrilled about the extended trip, but he would do his utmost to fulfill his duty.

  Loriot went home that evening feeling marginally better about the state of what he would be leaving behind. He still didn’t like leaving, and it wasn’t that he didn’t trust Ruban, but his place was in Jumelle, protecting the royal family. Tomorrow he would pull out a set of mirrors that had been spelled to allow communication from the holder of one mirror to the other. Good ones with any kind of range were exceedingly rare, products of strong magic from a Talent with an affinity for glass and one for sorcery. The set he had access to was years old and had passed into his hands as guard captain. They would allow him to communicate with Ruban while he was away, even though he would still be too far away to help immediately.

  But at the moment, he had something far more pressing to worry about; he had to tell his family. He could hear them as soon as he entered the house, the discordant twang of harp strings, the cadence of Joceline’s voice, though he couldn’t make out the words, the bright sound of Alain’s piping laugh. Smiling, he followed the sounds down the hall to a room at the back of the house they’d turned into a music room when Joceline’s lover came to live with them. Oriana made her living teaching music lessons. She didn’t teach in the house, instead going to her students, but he’d given her the use of the room for her instruments and her practice.

  When he stepped into the open doorway, he found Joceline, Oriana, and Alain all in the room. Oriana sat next to Alain on a small couch, allowing him to pluck the strings on the lap harp she held. Alain seemed happy even if the noises he produced on the instrument were far from music. Joceline and Oriana were smiling too, even though the sounds had to be painful to the music tutor. Or perhaps she was used to something close. She didn’t only give lessons to advanced students, though he didn’t think her students were as young as Alain.

  Joceline noticed him first. She didn’t say anything but nodded in welcome, her eyes dancing with amusement. She could not be more different from Oriana. Joceline was statuesque with thick, dark curls tumbling down her back while Oriana was willowy and blonde, her hair pinned up neatly as it always was. Just as Joceline was far less restrained than Oriana.

  “Papa!”

  Loriot corralled his wandering attention as Alain caught sight of him and promptly forgot about the harp, launching himself across the room at Loriot. He didn’t think he would ever get tired of Alain doing that; he would be sad the day his child grew up too much to do so. He caught Alain and swung him up to balance him on his hip. Alain was getting a little big to hold, but Loriot wasn’t going to give that up either before he had to.

  “Papa, I’m playing music.” Alain smiled brilliantly as he shared his news.

  “I heard you. So Aunt Oriana is giving you lessons, is she?” He glanced at Oriana as he said it.

  She nodded, her expression serene. “Never too early to start.”

  “If you say so.” He looked back at his still-grinning son. “And are you enjoying your music lessons?”

  “Yes!”

  “That’s good. Go wash up for dinner, and you can tell me everything you learned while you eat.” He set Alain back down on his feet and watched as he scampered away, making far more noise than he ever thought such little feet could. When he turned back to Joceline and Oriana, he saw their fond expressions mirrored his own feelings. He’d been lucky when Joceline came to help him with Alain, and lucky again that Oriana liked Alain too and was happy to spend time with him.

  “You’re really giving him music lessons?”

  Oriana shrugged, the movement cool and elegant. “A little. He wants to play with the instruments. I’m giving some instruction as he does.”

  “He may tire of it.” He wanted to caution her, even though he doubted she would be upset with Alain if he did. But Oriana was apparently a bit of a taskmaster with her students.

  Another shrug. “I won’t push him if he does. He has plenty of time.”

  “How is everything at the palace?” Joceline asked.

  “Fine, fine.” He stifled a sigh. Alain’s antics had provided a welcome, but too brief, distraction. “The princes gave me orders today that will take me out of Jumelle for a while.”

  Both Joceline and Oriana stared at him for a long moment, not speaking. He wondered if they were as surprised as he’d been. Prince Philip had never sent him away on a mission like this one. The times he’d been sent outside Jumelle were to travel to the royal estates to assess the security at them. Those trips had never kept him away more than a few days at a time.

  “A while?” Joceline asked.

  “Maybe a few weeks. Maybe more.” He wished he had a better idea of the time frame, both for her and for himself. Another reason Savarin was infuriating.

  “At least a few weeks? You’re not certain?”

  “No, I’m afraid not. I’m accompanying someone, and how long we’re away depends on how long he needs to complete his mission.”

  Silence greeted his statement again. When neither Joceline nor Oriana spoke after a few moments, Loriot continued. “I know this is highly unusual, and to be honest, I don’t love the idea, both because it will take me away from Alain for so long and because it will take me away from the palace.” He could tell them knowing neither would tell anyone that he’d complained of the princes’ orders. Not that the princes didn’t know Loriot had misgivings, but it would be the height of impropriety for him to say so.

  “They can’t send someone else?” Joceline finally asked.

  Loriot had been wondering that all afternoon, but he didn’t say so. “Prince Philip wants me to go. He has his reasons.”

  Oriana had been quiet throughout the exchange, but now she spoke, her voice quiet, her gaze cool and direct. “Will it be dangerous?”

  “What? Dangerous?” Joceline’s head snapped around to look at her, then back to Loriot. “Loriot?”

  “Joceline, you know what I do, and you know it involves the potential for danger.”

  “But usually you’re in the palace coordinating the rest of the guards and the royal family’s security, not haring about on some mission that could be dangerous.” She folded her arms over her chest and glared at him. Oriana reached over to place a hand on her leg, restraining or soothing, Loriot wasn’t certain. Perhaps both.

  “There is some potential for danger. I am being sent to protect this person. However I don’t see that great a risk.”

  “Then why are you being sent?”

  “Prince Philip is worried because of bandit attacks in the area, but the army is searching for them, if they’re even still there. The prince is being cautious.” Loriot hoped he wasn’t lying to his sister. He truly didn’t believe Master Savarin would need his protection; they’d probably return to Jumelle after an uneventful trip.

  Joceline’s eyes narrowed, as if she was trying to assess his truthfulness. Oriana looked rather skeptical herself, but she only said, “What will you tell Alain?”

  He sighed and rubbed a hand over his chin, the hairs of his beard catching on his palm. He needed to trim it. “That I have to go away for a little while on an assignment for Prince Philip and Prince Amory.”

  “He’s not going to understand. He hates it when you’re gone even for a few days,” Joceline said.

  He knew that, and he couldn’t do anything about it, despite how much it hurt him. He wished he could communicate with Alain while he was gone, but the most he might manage was a letter or two. The mirrors he would use to contact Ruban couldn’t help him see Alain, not if he wanted his family to continue to remain separate from his work at the palace. And he did; it was safer.

  “I know.” He sat heavil
y in a chair. “It kills me to think of him upset, and it kills me to think of being away from him for so long. I don’t want to go, but I have to do this. And you’re not making it any easier.”

  Joceline looked stricken. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to make it harder on you, but I don’t like your leaving for so long. Alain is going to miss you so much.”

  “I know, and I’m relying on you to help him while I’m away. Make sure he isn’t too upset.” He knew he could trust Joceline and Oriana with Alain. He did so every day, and they’d been with Alain when Loriot had had to make shorter trips out of Jumelle. They were more than capable of looking after him and distracting him from Loriot’s absence. Or they always had been—the difference was this absence would be much longer.

  “Of course we will,” Oriana said in her customary serene, slightly cool way, but he knew her well enough to not take the tone to mean that she didn’t care about what she said.

  “We will,” Joceline said staunchly. “We’ll distract him with outings and visits to his friends and new toys, if we have to.”

  He laughed. “Try not to spoil him too terribly while I’m away.”

  “No promises.” Joceline grinned at him, but he knew better than to think she was happy with him. He also knew better than to think she actually would spoil Alain rotten. It might have been an aunt’s prerogative to do so, but she played a role in Alain’s life much closer to that of mother. “We have to make him happy after all. More of those little toy horses he likes, or sweets.”

  He shook his head, but he couldn’t help smiling.

  “You know we’ll look after him,” Oriana said. Her serious tone seemed to sober his sister.

  “You don’t have to worry about Alain while you’re away,” she said.

  “I know. Thank you.” But he would worry. Of course he would. How could he not worry about his son even with his sister caring for him?

  Chapter 5

  SAVARIN’S HOUSEHOLD servants were well used to his traveling, sometimes on very little notice, so preparations for his trip went smoothly. He was well used to it too by this point in his life, though there had been a time back when he was a child that he’d never imagined leaving the city, let alone Tournai itself. Nevertheless his confidence at travel made it simple enough for him to gather everything he needed.

  His servants weren’t allowed in his workroom, not even to clean, nor did they have keys to the locked and magically protected bookcases that held his spell books in his study. Far too many delicate—and sometimes dangerous—items were kept in those places to let anyone near them. He tidied his workroom, readying it for his long absence and packing what he might need from the room as he did. It didn’t amount to much. He wasn’t planning to perform any complicated spells on the trip for which he would need particular supplies. He pulled a few books he thought might be useful from his shelves and placed them and some leather-bound notebooks in a bag he would keep close. The notebooks held all his research on the project thus far. He’d been keeping them under lock and key, magically reinforced, at home. It would do Tournai no good for the books to fall into the wrong hands.

  Before he left on his trip, he would set additional wards on the doors of his workroom and his study. His servants were unlikely to try to enter any place they weren’t allowed, but there was the chance, slight as it was, that an intruder would find a way into the house, even with all the magical protections he’d placed on the building. In that unlikely scenario, he wanted more protections for the dangerous and sensitive items contained in those rooms. He left much of the rest of the preparations to his servants. But there was one thing he had to do himself. He needed to see his parents.

  He considered a note to them, but he hadn’t visited in weeks, and with the length of time he would be gone, he felt wrong only sending a note. So he set off to see his family the day before he would leave Jumelle. His parents still lived in the house where he grew up, his older brother and his brother’s wife and children now living with them. His sister had married and left the house, but she only lived a few streets away from their parents.

  Their house was located across the city from his and could fit inside it many times over. The neighborhood hadn’t changed since his childhood, something he noted every time he visited, which probably wasn’t as often as a dutiful son should, but he’d never pretended to himself that he was a dutiful son. It was a maze of narrow, twisting streets lined by closely packed buildings, some with laundry hung out from the windows. He garnered his share of looks from those on the streets despite his deliberate choice of less rich materials and less formal cuts in his clothing. The attention wasn’t unexpected; people who looked as he did didn’t often walk through this laborers’ neighborhood.

  It wasn’t a dangerous neighborhood by any means, but it wasn’t a rich one either. Both Savarin’s father and brother labored at shipbuilding and repair; his mother and his sister by marriage took in sewing for extra money. His sister had married a baker. Savarin had offered to buy his family a new home in a nicer neighborhood, to take care of them, but his father and brother had refused. They refused everything from him, except gifts for the children. So he always brought gifts for them when he came.

  He tucked the parcels under one arm as he knocked at the door to the house. The house was in good repair and freshly painted, something his brother and father did themselves. He knew better by now than to offer to hire help for them. The windows were sparkling clean and the doorstep recently swept. Bright flowers grew in a large pot to one side of it. It looked exactly as it always had. Only he could see the difference—the magical protections in place. He’d put them there years ago when he couldn’t convince his family to move. He doubted most of them would ever be needed. No one outside the close-knit neighborhood would ever connect the residents of this house to him, and the members of the community didn’t talk easily to outsiders. So even if anyone remembered their odd son, his family would likely never be in danger, but the wards against theft and fire were useful. And the others eased his mind.

  He glanced up and down the narrow street as he waited for someone to answer his knock, taking note of the people bustling up and down the lane, going about their own days and calling out to each other even if they didn’t stop to talk.

  A slight creak signaled the door’s opening, and Savarin turned back. His mother’s surprised face greeted him. “Good afternoon, Mother.”

  “Savarin, this is a surprise.” She glanced beyond him into the street. “Come in, please.”

  He stepped through the door and into the house’s main room. It was sitting room, dining room, and kitchen combined. A door at the back led to a bedchamber that had belonged to his grandparents when he was a child. After their deaths his parents had moved into it. Two more small bedchambers were on the upper floor, occupied by his brother’s family. He’d slept in one of them with his siblings when he was a child. Everything was worn but scrupulously clean.

  His mother closed the door behind him and led him farther into the room. “Louna, look who’s here.”

  His sister by marriage sat in a chair near the fireplace, her mending spread over her lap. It fell as she jumped to her feet, and she glanced down at it then back up at him, her fingers practically twitching to pick it up. She seemed frozen.

  “Oh, Louna,” Mother said.

  “I’m sorry, Mother Neve.” She looked down at the mending scattered around her feet and bent to gather it up.

  “Let me help,” he said, stepping over to her.

  “No, no. There’s no need.” Louna grabbed everything up quickly, before he managed to reach her, and deposited it all in her basket.

  All right, then. “I brought a few things for my nieces and nephews.”

  “Oh, thank you, but you didn’t have to.” Still, Louna took the parcels he handed her.

  “You’ll spoil them, Savarin,” his mother said, as she always did when he came.

  “It’s my responsibility as their uncle to do so, isn’t it?”
He said it, but he didn’t have any firsthand knowledge. Neither of his uncles had spoiled him as a child, but then there hadn’t been the money for frivolous pursuits beyond a sweet or two and small birthday tokens. “It’s just a few toys and books.”

  There had been few books in the house when he was a child, and he wanted that to be different for these children. Only the oldest boy was old enough to read now, but the others would get there soon enough. He hoped to persuade his brother to allow him to sponsor the children in furthering their education when they were older. Every child in Tournai was provided a certain level of education, but beyond that, a family had to pay to send its children to academies or private tutors and perhaps on to the university. He was also keen to see if any of his nieces and nephews developed a Talent as he had. No one else in their family had, not to anyone’s knowledge anyway, but that didn’t mean one of the children wouldn’t.

  But that was all for the future.

  “Thank you, Savarin,” Louna said again. “Denis isn’t home from school yet, and the little ones are having their afternoon nap. I could wake them.”

  He shook his head almost before she finished speaking. Even he knew not to wake toddlers and a baby just to give them some small gifts. “No need for that. I don’t want to interrupt their naps.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Sit, Louna. And you, Savarin,” his mother said. “Let me get you something to drink and eat. We baked this morning.” His mother bustled off to the kitchen area on the other side of the room.

  “Don’t trouble yourself for me, Mother.”

  “No trouble at all.” She glanced over at him with a bright smile and went back to gathering refreshments. She laid everything out on the table, and he and Louna joined her there. “So, Savarin, tell us how you’ve been.”

  “I’ve been well. Busy with my work and my studies. I lectured at the university recently.” He’d learned long ago not to discuss magic or his studies in any depth. His family didn’t understand what he did or even why he did it, but they were proud of him nonetheless, as his mother’s smile proved.