Chapter 18

An unrelenting banging on the front door roused Aden from his studies at the master’s desk. Parsing the peculiar slang and shorthand of the master’s secretary was a painstaking process, not the least bit enjoyable, leaving Aden keen to bite the head off any unwary pissant who got in his way. He pushed away the book with a snarl and stood up. As he made his way towards the front door, he twisted and pulled his back in contortions, hoping to work the kinks out.

Building up a sequence of rich curses to heap upon this unfortunate victim as he crossed the training floor, Aden yanked open the door. His mouth was open to let loose a blue streak of invective, and words died in his mouth. Standing before him was the sweetest looking young teen with a head full of bright curls, wearing a beige livery costume that was too old for her. Her eyes were wide with wonder as she stared up at him.

“Excuse me, sir,” she said with a child’s soprano voice, “my mistress begs you to join her for an early evening’s repast at her home. Please accept her invitation,” she said handing him a folded paper with both hands.

Aden glanced at the folded paper in her hands and then back at the girl’s face. He did this twice and was about to do so a third time when he stopped himself. He pinched the proffered paper between his finger and thumb, pulling it slowly out of the girl’s hands. He unfolded the paper and glanced at the highly stylized handwriting.

The girl cleared her throat. “My mistress asks that I return with a reply, sir. Preparing a meal for a man of your stature takes some time.”

“Ah,” Aden said, wondering if he was able to form whole words. Calming himself, he picked his way through the overwrought sentences. Whoever the Contessa Sechelle of Sormarch was, she beseeched his wizardly help for a private matter of importance to her and her family. Would he join her for a private dinner?”

“Er,” Aden said, as he tried to formulate an answer.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes,’ sir,” the girl said as she stepped away quickly. “A carriage will pick you up at sixteen bells.” The horseman took her arm as she swung into the saddle behind him and rode away before Aden could protest.

“Hell and damnation,” Aden said, waving the letter in the air after them. “I’ll lose more time having to take a bath. I’ve been had.”

Aden went inside and closed the door. He sagged against it, letting the letter drop from his hand. “At least I am forewarned that the countess is a manipulative bitch. What will it be – raise the dead, curse the enemy, or find the hidden treasury that was lost when the occupants were butchered?”

He stood up and straightened his clothes, gesturing to the ghosts of generations standing in the hall. “This job would be so much easier without people involved.” At the end of his august announcement, he sneezed so hard he had to bend over, catching himself with his hands on his knees. Resisting the temptation to wipe his nose on his sleeve, he slunk back to the desk.

Clean of stench and somewhat groomed, Aden was ready when the carriage arrived at sixteen bells. He silently thanked the gods for the little tricks of phyzeec trade as he climbed into the sumptuously decorated interior. His garments were clean, and his boots were free of dried mud and whatever else he may have stepped in outside.

As they climbed the southern slopes of the harbor, fifteen bells rang from the heart of the city below. The view of the harbor from the south was revealing, showing the government enclave to his extreme right, docks stretching around the eastern shore, and the waves of commercial and tenement buildings expanding in all directions from the docks, except for the southern shore directly below. The Mage’s Hall was easy to find with its peaked roof and tower poking a head above the surrounding buildings.

A few ocean-going ships were docked and two more were moored out in the harbor. Three islands poked out above the surface of the water, two of them barely large enough to earn the name but Aden knew that the harbor was deep. To the far left of the carriage window, the ocean beckoned, with a high ridge of the south to protect it on one side and undulating hills on the north that dived into the water.

Looking out the other side of the carriage at mansions that were doting the side of the ridge, Aden commented to no one, “This is an expensive view. I wonder how many people had to die to build a house on this ridge?”

Leaning back into the cushions, Aden let the shame wash over him and through. Who was he to judge how a family gained their wealth or used it? He was casting judgments before ever meeting these people, which was a sure way to sabotage himself no matter how carefully he watched his words. Even fools recognize unspoken condescension. He let his hands cup one another in his lap as he settled his mind, concentrating on a proper repose.

The horse and carriage turned sharply left and climbed a steep, short hill to a paved courtyard. The two-story house was made of large stone blocks with fluted columns holding up the overhanging, slanted roof. The stones looked weathered, as if they had endured decades of storm and sea. Alighting from the carriage, Aden took in the manicured gardens on either side before turning towards the open double doors of the entrance.

Only after he bounded up the three steps to the foyer did Aden realize he was letting his anxiety show. Bolstering his confidence, he dropped his shoulders and put a gentle smile on his face as he scanned the depths of the front hall. The butler was approaching with an outstretched hand to take his worn travel cloak, which one of Aden’s points of pride.

As he removed his cloak, the lady of the house approached. She stood half-a-head shorter than Aden, with bright eyes and a gracious smile. Her hair was coifed in a manner that brought attention to her long neck. The dress accentuated her womanly curves with a subtle fold here and a pull there that almost caused Aden to open his mouth to draw a sharp breath. He could not stop the smile from growing.

“Contessa,” Aden said, as he bowed his head slightly. “Thank you for the invitation.”

“Welcome, Wizard Aden, to our home,” she said. “Please call me, Sechelle.”

“Aden, if you will,” he said, hiding his grimace by bowing again. If the lady was moving immediately to first names, then her ask must be more audacious than usual. This dinner invitation was not Aden’s first foray into the halls of the rich and powerful, but it was his first time with no nearby temple to back him up or to at least, hide his person if he screwed up.

Whatever cue he had inadvertently offered, the woman shifted gears. She took a step backwards and suggested that he accompany her to the sitting room for a drink before dinner. The wall rug was old and faded on the far wall of the sitting room, yet he could still depict fantastical beasts rising out of the ocean to battle sleek ships racing towards them. The legs of the overstuffed chairs were scuffed, and the wall scones were worn, showing a base metal underneath the brass finish in places. A fabric embellished with lace hid the top of the low table in the middle of the grouping.

The wine was dark and ruddy, giving off the scent of summer fruit. Still, Aden sipped it slowly as Sechelle peppered him with questions that revealed more of her ignorance of his circumstances. He managed his answers to produce as little information as possible for her. Every time his answer was less than forthcoming, the slight crow’s feet on both sides of her face become more pronounced.

He learned that she did not know from where he came, assuming he had arrived quietly on a ship. While she knew nothing about the Hall as expected, she appeared to know nothing about his near-deadly encounter in the streets either. She was quite concerned about her neighbors and whether they had reached out to him recently. Most of all, she was curious about how well he was getting along with the governor, considering how much time he had spent with the man.

In the middle of this velvet interrogation, a young man came and took a seat. He was tall and seemed to carry himself with a perpetual smirk. Helping himself to the carafe, he took a hearty swig of the wine. After listening to the back and forth, and swallowing another glass of wine, he faced the countess and sighed.

“Mother,” he said, “May we dispense with the questions about the families and the governor? It’s obvious he is not going to answer. Everybody knows that wizards bring bad luck with them.”

Aden cleared his throat. “To your point, young man. We do not bring bad luck with us; we only confirm that it has already arrived. As for your mother and her questions, she presents herself with grace and etiquette that I appreciate. She also has tact, a trait that you seem to lack. May I suggest you apologize to your mother, or should I dispense with my good humor and simply turn you into a frog, now.”

“Whatever,” the young man said. “Sorry, MOTHER.” He drained his third glass, stood, and stomped out of the room with as much noise as possible.

“I must apologize,” Sechelle said, but Aden stopped her with a raised hand.

“He is an adult. He speaks for himself alone,” Aden said. “May I refill your glass?”

“Still,” she said, “He is not entirely wrong.”

Aden chuckled in his glass. “You and I have been around long enough to know that nobles do not invite wizards to enter through the front door unless they need something. If it is the backdoor, we can guess the dark nature of the request. If it is the side door, well, naughty things may happen.”

“Naughty? My dear sir, we do not have a side door and apparently, we are poorer for it.”

“I’m sure that a woman of your pedigree would not nor should not admit to the existence of such a thing,” Aden said, pleased with his cleverness. “The circumstances are that I was greeted and made welcome at the front door. Is there some business that you wish to discuss?”