Michael Manning - Mageborn - The Blacksmith’s Son

“What do you mean?”

“The only person who can safely insult one of the greater peers is someone of equal rank or greater, such as my father, or someone from the royal family,” he explained it as if I were a child.

“Thankfully my best friend is his equal in rank.” I smiled thinking that would make him feel a bi better.

“That only makes it worse, look over there.” he glanced behind me.

Turning so I could casually glance back into the room I saw Devon looking our way, he raised his glass and nodded at me as if in greeting. “So what does that mean?” I asked.

“He’s already caught on that we’re friends, and he probably thinks I put you up to the questions about his brother. We were friendly before, but now he’ll mark me as his enemy. Rather than shielding you, that puts you in danger Mort.”

“I’m not sure I follow,” I said.

“He can’t strike at me directly, so his obvious targets for retaliation will be my allies, particularly those who have limited resources of their own.” Marc looked at me intently as I finally understood what he had been trying to get across to me.

“But I don’t even know him! I certainly never intended to make an enemy of him.” How could things have gone so terribly wrong?

“In these circles, intentions don’t matter,” Marc answered glumly.

“So what do I do?” I was appropriately worried now.

“Avoid him if possible and pray he doesn’t discover much about your family and friends. Let's go back in, we’re only making him more suspicious chatting out here by ourselves.” Marc stepped back inside. I followed a moment after and made my separate way around the room.

I wound up trapped in conversation with Stephen Airedale who was self absorbed enough to refrain from asking me anything about myself. I got bored quickly though since I had absolutely no interest in spice trading, or how much money he had made investing in it. I was about to excuse myself to visit the privies when I saw Penny enter the parlor with a tray of hors d'oeuvres. She met my eye for a moment and then looked away uncomfortably.

I made my way to the privies with a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. In the course of one short day I had managed to become a political liability to my best friend while at the same time convincing another friend I was in league with the powers of darkness. At least I hadn’t caused Dorian any trouble yet, but Marc’s comments had me worrying that he might become another of Devon’s targets if he learned of our friendship.

The rest of the afternoon passed slowly and I finally managed to retire to my room without causing any more problems. I tried to take a nap as the social maneuverings earlier had left me tired, but I was restless. Instead I spent my time practicing the little bit I had learned. After a while I got fairly proficient at controlling the amount of light I produced. I had begun to get a feel for the flow of aythar as I created the light ball. ‘Aythar’ I had learned was the proper name for the force mages use to produce magical effects.

There weren’t any handy subjects to practice my sleep spell on, and the hawk had made me cautious, I still felt a little bad about that. I resolved to retrieve that third book as soon as dinner was over. I couldn't make much more headway with Vestrius’ journal without a better understanding of the Lycian language.

Eventually Benchley came to tell me that it was time to eat. Apparently Penny had arranged to have him handle me to avoid any more difficulties. As dark as my mood was I couldn’t blame her. I wasn’t feeling up to facing more political intrigue so I begged him for mercy, claiming a sudden illness. Benchley had been a valet for many years and he understood immediately.

“Say no more sir, I’ll make your excuses for you,” he promptly left.

After an hour a knock at the door interrupted my thoughts and for a moment I was hopeful that perhaps Penny had forgiven me for frightening her. Opening the door I found Dorian outside with a tray of food. “I thought you might be hungry,” he said.

The sight of fresh bread and cheese reminded me that I had missed breakfast. My stomach rumbled. “Dorian come in, I could use a friend about now.” I put my depression aside and put on my broadest smile for him.

I ate everything he had brought and soon found myself collecting the crumbs from the plate. Now that my belly was relatively more at ease I felt more able to talk, so I spent some time describing my woes to Dorian. He was suitably impressed with the depths of my folly. “You sure don’t do things by halves Mort,” he remarked.

I had to agree.

“At least you got to escort Lady Rose to the parlor,” my friend has always been easy to read.

“Ok let’s hear it, I saw you watching her as we came in. Do you know her somehow?”

He looked embarrassed, “You remember when I was fostered out last year?” It was a common practice for the sons and daughters of nobility to live for a year or two at another lord’s estate. It helped them learn more about the handling of the kingdom, gave them a broader experience of the world, and forged ties with other members of the ruling class.

“I do, someplace in Albamarl wasn’t it?” Then I remembered, Highcastle’s home was in the capitol. “Ohhh…,” I articulated. I have a remarkable vocabulary when I put my mind to it. Finally a concise sentence came to me. “You were smitten huh?”

“Basically,” he replied. “We didn’t speak very much though, so I doubt she even remembers me.”

“You might be wrong there,” I said, remembering her glancing at him earlier, but I didn’t say anything more about it. We talked for a while longer before he left. But neither of us had any decent ideas regarding my problem with Devon Tremont.

Once he had gone I headed to the library to retrieve the third book, A Grammar of Lycian.

It was late as Penelope Cooper walked down the hallway. Her duties had kept her overlong and she was tired. All she could think of was getting to her quarters and finding some much deserved rest. As chance would have it she passed through the same corridor that led to the library. Had she passed through only five minutes earlier she would have encountered Mordecai and things might have gone very differently.

As it was she was alone in the hallway and wrapped in her thoughts. She felt guilty for her behavior earlier. She knew Mort hadn’t meant to frighten her, but she had been completely unprepared when that fiercely brilliant ball of light had blinded her in his room. That had not been what she had expected when he had her draw the curtains and sit on the bed next to him. Truthfully she was not certain how she would have reacted if he had made a pass at her, she had much less experience with men than he seemed to believe.

The subsequent darkness followed by Marcus’ abrupt appearance had thoroughly unnerved her and thrown her into a panic. Her reaction had left her abashed and she hadn’t known how to respond when he had looked at her in the sun room earlier, which made her feel worse.