The Heir Chronicles: Books I-III

  The conference participants rumbled with anger.

  “I have a story, too,” Linda said, ignoring D’Orsay. She gazed around the room, pausing until she had everyone’s attention. “There are actually many stories I could tell, but I would like to tell you about my son.”

  Madison hesitated at the edge of the trees, scanning the grounds of the winery. No one was around. Naturally, Leicester and the others would be focused on the proceedings in the conference room. Besides, it was a cold, dismal rainy day. A good day to be inside.

  “Do you see it?” Seph whispered. “It goes all around the clearing.” He extended a hand, then drew it back as if he were afraid of touching something.

  “I’ll take your word for it.”

  “You know who you’re looking for?”

  She nodded. “The blond guy from the picnic with the back-combed hair.”

  “Right. He’ll be someplace quiet, watching the barrier. Now, remember, you don’t want to let him get hold of you. You want a power release. Don’t let him think he can get to you without it.”

  “We’ve been over all this,” Maddie muttered. You volunteered for this, she reminded herself. But now, she just wanted to get it over with. She was scared she would let Seph and Jason down. Along with everyone else.

  Seph gripped her arm as if he thought she might charge off before he’d had his say. His dark brows were drawn together in a frown, and his eyes changed in the light, from green to blue to gold. Yet not a trickle of power came through his fingers. She’d never met a witch with that much control.

  But then, Seph McCauley didn’t need any magic to slide the bones right out of her body. She took a deep breath and tried to focus on what he was saying.

  “If he does get hold of you, fight like hell. Make him think he has to use power to keep you from getting away.”

  “Got it.”

  “He’ll probably recognize you from the park. So you know what your story is?”

  “Are you going to talk me to death or what? I’m freezing out here.” Her teeth were chattering.

  “Sorry.” He let go of her arm, looking embarrassed. “I just don’t want anything to happen to you, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  She went to turn away, but he pulled her toward him and kissed her on the forehead. “For luck,” he said.

  She crossed the yard, hoping that she was the kind of girl whose luck could be improved by kisses. She entered the unlocked back door, shaking the excess water from her hair. She stood in the deserted kitchen, surrounded by the debris from meal preparation left for later cleanup. She scanned the room for weapons, pulled a large carving knife from a butcher block, and held it close to her side.

  Where would Warren Barber be? Would he need to be someplace near the wall? She prayed he wouldn’t be hanging out in the conference room where the meeting was taking place.

  She ghosted through the rooms on the ground floor, skirting the great hall. No Barber. Her breath came faster, and her pulse quickened. Time was wasting. She decided to try the garden. Maybe he didn’t know enough to come in out of the rain.

  As soon as she stepped onto the stone patio, she heard someone talking. Crooning, as one might to a small child or a pet. She walked toward the sound, down a crushed-stone pathway, between clipped boxwood hedges and beds crammed with ragged mums, through an arbor intertwined with wisteria.

  And there was Warren Barber, like some kind of grotesque gardener mime, tending to his invisible wizard wall. Making little adjustments and repairs, straightening tangles, twining new additions into place. He must be powerful, Madison thought. It was still raining, a cold drizzle, but he lit up the entire corner of the garden. His clothes were dry, even steaming a little. He was using some kind of charm to keep the wet away.

  He was concentrating so hard that she’d almost reached him when he looked up and noticed her. “Well, well,” he said. “What’s this?”

  “What have you done with Seph?” Madison tried to look scared and determined at the same time. Which wasn’t difficult, since that was how she was feeling anyway.

  Barber looked her up and down and smiled, revealing crooked teeth. His blue eyes were so pale as to be almost colorless, the lashes invisible. “I remember you. You were at the river with McCauley.”

  “Where is he?” she demanded, her voice tremoring a little.

  “How the hell did you get here?” Barber asked.

  “I . . . I came in the raft with him.”

  “Well, now,” Barber said, advancing toward her, hands extended. “Here’s how it works. You be nice to me, and maybe I’ll tell you where he is.”

  Madison brought the butcher knife from behind her back. “You tell me where he is and I won’t use this.”

  Barber’s eyes widened at the sight of the blade. Then he grinned. “Not the way to win me over, sweetheart.” He extended his hands toward her and spoke a charm.

  Seph and Jason crouched in the trees, their eyes focused on the wizard wall.

  “I hope she’s okay,” Jason muttered, for perhaps the third time. “Maybe one of us should have gone with her. I mean, Barber’s a nasty son of a . . .”

  “She knows what she’s doing.” Seph checked his watch. Almost noon. Madison had been gone half an hour, and the wall was still up. But then, it would take time for her to find Barber and get the plan underway. But what if she’d run into someone else along the way, or several someones?

  “What could be taking so long?” Jason swiped rainwater from his face. “What if she can’t find him?”

  “If she can’t find him, she’ll keep looking.” Seph looked at his watch again. Noon. Where could she be? Maybe they should go after her.

  Seph looked back at the winery building. Blinked and looked again. The Weirweb was wavering, fading, dissolving into wisps of mist that broke and swirled against the building. For a moment it lingered like a vapor on the stones. And then it was gone.

  Seph and Jason grinned at each other like idiots.

  “I knew she could do it,” Jason said happily.

  “Let’s go.” They pushed to their feet and loped across the grounds, squelching in the wet leaves. They ducked into the entrance that Madison had used.

  Madison met them in the kitchen, effervescent with relief. “He’s out in the garden.” She pointed with a large knife, slicing the air with it like a scimitar.

  Barber lay flat on his back on the crushed stone path, totally drained, soaking wet and furious. He would have been steaming had he been able to muster the power to do so. When he saw Seph and Jason, his eyes widened in amazement and alarm.

  “Back from the dead,” Jason said, grinning. “Boo!”

  “How long will this last, d’you think?” Seph asked, looking down at Barber dispassionately.

  Madison shrugged. “You’re the witch. I have no idea.”

  “We’d better make sure he stays quiet,” Seph said.

  Seph knelt beside Barber, placed his hands on his collarbone, and spilled the immobilization charm into him. Barber twitched once, and was still.

  Seph looked up to find Madison staring at him, blue eyes standing out against her paler face. “What did you ...?”

  “Don’t worry. He’s just in for a long sleep.” Seph and Jason dragged Barber’s unresisting body into the bushes, where it was less likely to be found at an inopportune moment.

  Seph turned to Madison. “Now. Jason and I are going to make ourselves unnoticeable, sneak into the hall, and see what’s going on. There’s a little corridor that leads from the butler’s pantry to the hall. Hide in there until we come get you.”

  Madison frowned and fingered her hair, which was beginning to dry into long waves. “I don’t like it. I think we should stay together.”

  Seph touched her arm reassuringly. “Unfortunately, there’s no way to sneak you in there. Please, Madison.”

  She finally nodded, still scowling.

  Bruce Hays and Kenyon King were stationed at the doors into the great hall. Occ
asionally one of the other alumni came or went to replenish the refreshments for the attendees or deliver a message to Leicester. At one of those times, unnoticeable Seph and Jason slipped through the doors after them and into the conference room. They drifted the length of the room and stood on the great hearth, from which they could command a good view of the proceedings.

  The Weir representatives were ranged around a polished oak table. Members of the Wizard Council were seated in chairs around the periphery. To Seph’s surprise, Linda Downey stood at the head of the table, running the meeting. She looked angry, pale, and drawn.

  “Which one is your mother?” Jason’s voice came eerily out of the air.

  “She’s the one talking.” It was the first time Seth had seen her since learning she was his mother. He studied her, seeking something of himself in her. He guessed he favored his father, though maybe something about the eyes ...

  “Hey,” Jason whispered. “She’s talking about you.”

  “I had a son named Joseph Downey McCauley,” Linda was saying. “Leander Hastings was his father.”

  She was using the past tense.

  And then Seph finally understood. She thinks I’m dead. That’s why she’s so angry.

  “I hid my son to keep him out of harm’s way, to keep him away from wizards who might use him as a weapon against his father. I gave him up to protect him.” She paused. “Last year he ended up at Gregory Leicester’s private school. Dr. Leicester tortured him for almost a year.”

  “McCauley was a wizard,” Leicester protested. More past tense. “Whatever happened, this is a matter between wizards.”

  “An attack on my son is an attack on me,” Linda Downey said. “I was able to rescue him from the Havens, but then last week, Dr. Leicester kidnapped him again.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous!” Leicester snapped. “The boy was lost in a storm on the lake. I didn’t have anything to do with that. It’s impossible, in fact.”

  Linda ignored him. “Dr. Leicester did it to keep Leander Hastings away from the conference.”

  “You have no proof I was behind any of this,” Leicester objected.

  Linda handed a jump drive to Jack. “Can you bring these pictures up on the display?” Jack put it into his port. He struck a few keys, and in a few moments, a picture materialized on their screens, replacing the agenda. It was Seph, hands tied behind his back. Seph in the library.

  “Dr. Leicester sent these photographs to Hastings. They were taken here in the winery. If you like, I can show you the very spot.”

  Leicester sat back in his chair and placed his hands flat on the table. “I don’t understand the purpose of this,” he said. “After all, I didn’t kill the boy. Hastings did.” And in saying it, he confirmed everything.

  Once again, the room fell silent. Jack was pale, his knuckles white where he gripped the arms of his chair. Ellen scrubbed away tears and glared at Leicester. Blaise and Mercedes stared down at the table.

  “What is my purpose?” There were spots of color on Linda’s cheeks, and the gold was back in her eyes. “We are going to consider two possible Weir constitutions to replace the one that was set aside at Raven’s Ghyll a year ago. One more or less resurrects the old system. The other introduces a new order.

  “You’ve been told the current system does not need fixing. I want to make sure that all of the guild representatives remember our history, and the price we’ve paid over the years for the dominance of wizards. I also want them to understand just exactly who these people are.”

  “I’m liking your mother more and more,” Jason said. Seph just nodded wordlessly.

  Linda returned to the agenda. “Now. We’ll allow the sponsors of each of the constitutions ten minutes in which to present the merits and rationale of their proposals. Dr. Leicester, Mr. D’Orsay?”

  Still looking a little shell-shocked, D’Orsay stood and addressed the representatives. The essence of the argument was that, despite some flaws, the old hierarchy was a good system that met everyone’s needs. The role of the various guilds was clear and consistent with their talents. The Rules of Engagement had created a kind of Pax Romana over the centuries, keeping bloodshed and conflict to a minimum. Although there had been some regrettable excesses now and then, on the whole, the wizards had served as benevolent rulers.

  In the end, Leicester put forward a motion to accept the new constitution. D’Orsay seconded it. It was brought up for a vote, and was soundly defeated, four to zero, with the wizards abstaining since they were split on the vote, two to two.

  Jeremy Ravenstock introduced the second constitution, as he was the only one present who had supported it on the Wizard Council. He was a blunt, straightforward speaker, and no poet. Nick said a few words in support of it as well, and then Linda took over.

  She looked around the table, making eye contact with each of the participants. “I know this has been difficult. You all took a risk in agreeing to serve. The fact that you are here proves that you know what the stakes are. I realize you are not used to saying no to wizards.

  “But I want you to think about how your lives have been under the old hierarchy. I want you to think about everything you heard here this morning. This is our opportunity to make sure that it will be different for our ...children.” Her voice broke a little. “Shame on us if we squander it.”

  Seph stared at his mother. She was a small woman, and not a wizard, yet she held the entire joint conference in thrall, wizards as well as Anawizard Weir. Somehow, she made freedom seem possible to the Anawizard Weir, who had been oppressed for years.

  The Hastings/Downey constitution was passed by the Interguild Council, again by a vote of four to zero.

  Leicester gestured, and Bruce Hays left the hall.

  Seph looked up at the gallery windows, trying to judge the time. It probably wasn’t even noon, but the growing storm had diminished the light coming through the windows, and the fitful rain had turned into a gale.

  Still, Linda wasn’t finished. She looked over the heads of those at the table and spoke to the Wizard Council representatives ranged against the wall.

  “Dr. Leicester claims that the murder of my son is a wizard issue. Fair enough. The Rules of Engagement have long forbidden warfare among wizards. If Dr. Leicester witnessed the murder of my son at Hastings’s hands, then what has he done about it? Where is Hastings? Hastings is your colleague, a member of the Wizard Council. Perhaps he should be allowed to speak on his own behalf.”

  The wizards in the gallery stirred. Whispers rolled through them like wind through marsh grass. “Where is Hastings?” Longbranch demanded. “I’m surprised he’d miss this event, since he was one of the architects.”

  “I’m surprised you would allow yourself to be directed and interrogated by an enchanter,” Leicester said acidly. “This is wizard business, as I said.”

  “But Hastings is a member of the Wizard Council,” Ravenstock pointed out. “And deserves as much protection under the rules as any of the rest of us.”

  “Leander Hastings is a murderer, a schemer, and a traitor to his kind,” Adam Sedgwick said.

  “Like any other wizard,” Jason muttered.

  Seph recalled that Sedgwick was an ally of Leicester’s, who had supported him at the Legends meeting. He was a tall, aristocratic-looking man, probably the youngest wizard on the council.

  “He’s encouraged this rebellion of the servant guilds by serving as their spokesperson and instigator,” Sedgwick went on. “Do you think they would have succeeded to this degree on their own, without the support of wizards?”

  “Then where is he?” Geoffrey Wylie asked, looking about pointedly. “If this is his scheme, where is the schemer?”

  “If this is his triumph, then why isn’t he here to enjoy it?” Ravenstock added, warming to the subject. “As council member or participant, he should be here.”

  “Perhaps we should search the premises,” Linda suggested. “Perhaps the Council of Wizards would like to ask Dr. Leicester why he
has recruited, tortured, and enslaved more than a dozen young wizards at the school he calls the Havens. Perhaps the council would like to know what Leicester and D’Orsay plan to do with that kind of power. Do you really believe he plans to use it against enchanters, warriors, sorcerers, and seers?” The low buzz from the sidelines increased to a rum-ble. Seph stirred. “I’m going to tell them where Hastings is,” he said.

  Jason gripped his arm. “Something’s coming down. Let them show their hand, first.”

  Bruce Hays returned and handed Gregory Leicester a rolled parchment. Leicester cleared his throat. “We’ll address these issues in a moment. But before we hare off on a tangent, why don’t we finish what we started? We have a new constitution to sign.”

  “That doesn’t make sense.,” Jason said. “He can’t be anxious to sign off on the new constitution.”

  In answer, Seph looked up toward the gallery. Unnoticed by the rest of the conference participants, the alumni were lining up along the rail, looking down at them, everyone but Warren Barber, who lay immobile in the garden.

  Leicester was speaking again. “We’ll need one representative from each guild to sign it. You can decide among yourselves who will have that honor.” He paused. “We’ll start with the Seers Guild.”

  Blaise Highbourne and Aaron Bryan were seated together on one side of the table. Hays brought the parchment around to their side and put it before them. Bryan picked up the pen, but Blaise was reading it. He put his finger to the page, reread a passage.

  Seph was watching his face, saw it change. Blaise looked up at Leicester. “This is not the document we voted on.”

  Leicester shrugged. “The document is different than the ones we considered previously.” His voice hardened. “But you will all sign it, nevertheless.”

  Jeremy Ravenstock stood. “We have already chosen a constitution,” he said coldly. “We are not signing any other.”

  Leicester looked up at the alumni in the gallery, then back at Ravenstock. He extended his hand, and a bolt of blue flame erupted from his fingertips. For a moment, Ravenstock was a silhouette, spinning from the force of the blow, outlined in flames. And the next moment he lay, unmoving, on the floor, the stone scorched under him. A wisp of smoke spiraled upward, and the air was filled with the stench of burning flesh. There was a shocked silence.