Disbelief quickly aged Connall’s usually peaceful face and Alyce dismayed as she watched his eyes turn bleak and facial wrinkles deepen. Although he was Is’et’s governing lord, the man had always believed the people as the territory’s true stewards, placing great faith in his citizens.

  But now he sat quietly by the fireplace, his face hardened, so stone-like that the fire’s orange light only brought shadows upon his skin. And in between his hands was the reason for his severe composure. A pail, and at the bottom, a painted sigil that still glistened a wet maroon though the ink had long dried. An illicit rune.

  Though Alyce’s recount had finished long ago, the drawing room remained silent, burdened with the recent news. A Lament had been sung in their beloved orchard. Had the song not been quelled and the second act begun, a Threnody would have ensued, spelling the town’s imminent end. Worst yet, the inciters were not felons or of wicked heart, but orchardists, their orchardists. Civilians who nearly doomed their home.

  Patient spectators, the Sanctus mages stood in their corner of the room. Teacher and apprentice unknowingly mirroring one another in stance, arms folded across their chests, left foot favoring their weight rather than the right. Both were keenly aware of their duty next. However, their expressions differed greatly. Watching the manor’s residents behind polished spectacles, Hollis’ gaze was heedful and sharp while Kytes’ eyes were deep with exhaustion. Through half lidded eyes, he stared blankly at the low piled woven rugs spread across the floor and on the trio cloistered at the center of the room.

  Huddled within a nest made of skirts, Ryles sat directly under Alyce’s chin, his small hands ensuring that he was securely trapped in her embrace. The child was too young to fear an illicit rune and its implications, but he had screamed when his favorite maid and the young Esphyr returned muddied and disheveled, with dried blood smeared across Kytes’ chin and splatters of it staining Alyce’s sleeves. It was only after they had changed that Ryles finally began to calm, and he was only truly consoled after he found safety in Alyce’s arms.

  The third individual snuggling next to the clustered pair was trying her best to extend reassurance, but with arms tucked around her knees, hugging them like a favored toy, Bea was more distress personified than consolation. The blonde maid had spoken very little since their return to the manor, perhaps it was because she was the first to arrive at the foyer when Ryles cried out. Alyce imagined the shock Bea must have felt, for how did an everyday jaunt to a well turn to torn skirts and sullied fabrics?

  Equally speechless was Haddie, braced against the drawing room’s door, but instead of dismay, she was mute with fury. Her back was so firmly pressed against the door, that Alyce heard the lock creak against the mortise from time to time. Had she expected someone, a townsperson perhaps, to barge in mid conversation? Not that anyone would, of course. Besides the stained glass church, the rest of the manor was not public ground. Yet Haddie seemed to have forgotten that, her body rigid with resolve to shut the world out.

  Finally, the pail was set down with a rattling clack, Connall’s calm voice breaking the prolonged silence with an uncharacteristic boom. “Esphyrs, how long do you suppose this illicit rune has been in use?”

  Upon hearing the baron’s question, Kytes’ eyes cleared but he glanced at his teacher with uncertainty. With a senior mage present, an apprentice would not be expected to answer in their stead, and oftentimes, it was the voice of a more authoritative figure that people would want to hear. However, Hollis gave Kytes a curt nod, an encouraging indication. She was not the one, who weathered the well nymph’s Lament with Alyce.

  Kytes selected his choice of words with great measure, not wanting to accidentally antagonize his own craft. To those unfamiliar with runes and magic, there was little difference between a standard sigil and one of illegal origin.

  “Illicit runes are not like the ones used on hearths or lights, their power is fleeting for the source comes not from mages but nymphs. And once the spell gutters, they cannot be renewed, the runes would need to be replaced,” he explained carefully. “The bottom of the orchard well was littered with perhaps a few dozen, each lasting about a week or so.”

  “A recent thing then,” Connall growled to himself. “Many times I have refused requests to purchase more communal runes, thinking that fire with its temperament and notable risks would be enough. Not out of pure unwillingness but because an agricultural county simply cannot afford more..” Burrowing the lower half of his face in between cupped hands, Connall closed his eyes. “Síle knew the county was not rich in coin, but she had tirelessly researched and hoped that the people could be rich instead with mundane knowledge, without relying purely on runes.”

  “But they have gone and forgotten that, haven’t they?” Haddie bristled. “All the time, the years, that my lady spent in town teaching and telling them why we have to be careful about spending coin!”

  “It was… a long time ago,” Bea expressed weakly.

  “And perhaps time has changed their minds,” Connall stated further. “Circumstances change, people change, and conveniences become far more tempting.”

  “That is the case for all the afflicted villages we have visited.” Hollis’ emphasis was not lost on Alyce and the maid saw the Kytes’ fingertips turn white as he gripped his elbows. “Something in their everyday life has given them reason to use illicit runes, magic of great magnitude, powers beyond what can normally be bartered.” She waved an upturned hand at the window. “Your neighbor, Scaidun, used illicit runes to fall and grow trees at spectacular rates. To honor commissions and keep up with incoming demands from high merchants and noble lords, who wanted Scaidun’s excellent woodcraft for their homes and ships. Unfortunately, trees take time to grow, and humans have less of time. It wasn’t long before Scaidun fell alongside their trees, and the populace scarred with the wounds they had inflicted upon the local nymphs.”

  “Scaidun?” Haddie whispered in disbelief, hearing this for the first time. “Fell?”

  “Wounds?” Alyce gasped, her own hand impulsively fleeting to her leg.

  “Yes.” Hollis affirmed to both maids. “And so to protect Neburh, and furthermore, Is’et, I’m afraid certain actions need to be taken. By morning, those who rely on the illicit runes will discover their pails no longer fill with water and surmise the magic has broken prematurely. However, the rogue mage responsible for the spell will not return until the illicit rune’s expected usefulness runs out. And with how many runes lay in the well, how easy they were to acquire, I surmise the mage is a citizen of Is’et —.” Hollis inclined her head toward Alyce, startling the girl. “Not your maid, but another with an affinity to water and of a runic kind.”

  ”A runic water mage,” Alyce surmised. “How do you know that?”

  ”Fire engraves, air sings, earth carves, and water —.” Hollis pointed at the pail. “washes, with a part of the caster. There is blood in that ink.”

  Nausea roiling in her stomach, Alyce ducked her chin down into Ryles’ curly brown hair and shut her eyes. She was still growing accustomed to Kytes’ way of drawing his powers, but in comparison, a scratch or two seemed tame. This m age, this person – had drawn out life’s blood and used it as paint.

  “Kytes and I will depart from Neburh then and search for more runes left by this mage,” Hollis continued. “If they are clumsy, we will find those sigils quickly and dispel them from further use, quelling whatever chance a Threnody might be sung. But this can only be done with your permission, of course. You might recall that most civilians do not take kindly to magic. And being Sanctus mages and related to the Crown, I worry that the mere mention of our search for illicit runes will invite some… inconveniences.”

  Though Neburh was the largest residential town in Is’et and often visited by merchants, the locals were still wary of strangers. A short stay, with promise of trade, invited hospitality, but a mage meant occult things, rune renewals, magical knick knacks, or funeral rites. If their visit made people uneasy, a search would ensure that tenfold.

  Undoubtedly, Is’et’s most populated hamlets, including a coastal scallop farm at the southernmost point of the county and another orchard, far smaller than Neburh’s and sequestered by coastal cliffs, would harbor similar impressions and to a greater extent. Even the handful of households that made their livelihoods as shephards on top of the rolling hills would be disinclined to help a pair of noble mages.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  Baron Connall nodded gravely. “Then it is fortunate that I had commissioned young Esphyr Kytes to light the lanterns two days ago. The lanterns bear House Is’et’s emblem, and I had meant to deliver them myself before winter. But as it stands, I have other things to worry about like the orchard well I want repaired. To make right by the well nymph who resides there still,” Connall added kindly and Alyce allowed herself to share an appreciative smile. “If you deliver the lanterns on my behalf, your search should be judged with a less critical eye.”

  “And we would be glad to distribute them,” Hollis said.

  “And we won’t overstay our welcome,” Kytes promised wearily.

  Perhaps it was because of the room’s poor lighting, that Alyce thought the shadows under Kytes’ eyes grew darker. On several occasions, such as this one, Kytes seemed less his age and instead a spirit burdened by responsibilities. Without a doubt, he was proud of his capabilities, his affinity with fire protected and warmed. But he was a boy still, a few months left within his final teens, a few months younger than she. Her heart ached whenever Kytes’ bright eyes would dim into a pensive light. And though he said nothing, she wondered if his nose bleed, much like the lifted scars on his palm, was a price he paid for his own magic.

  He would become wearier when people shun his aid, House Is’et’s lanterns or no. They would suspect the mages’ good will and anger when they learn the truth, the mages search for illicit runes. No one liked being suspected of transgression, especially the hard working folks, even when they have done wrong. And should the mages be denied entry –

  Alyce winced as her calves stung. The nymph would continue to suffer, slowly and surely, procuring more wounds and silently cursing the people.

  “I can go with you,” Alyce said, her musings voiced before she could stop herself. She blushed when the room remained silent and from the corner of her eye, she saw Kytes stiffen and Hollis tilt an inquiring glance at her apprentice. “With the Esphyrs, I mean.”

  “Colleen, I’m afraid we will not be visiting the Chapel, at least not for a long while,” Hollis sought to clarify.

  “Of — of course.” Alyce fidgeted with a loose auburn lock dangling over her shoulder. “But I wish to go with you to — to distribute the lanterns.”

  ”What?”

  Trying her best to ignore Haddie’s cry, Alyce blundered forth with what courage she had mustered. “I am also a resident of Is’et. If I accompany the Esphyrs, they will have little trouble persuading the people that the lanterns are a gift from House Is’et. Folks wouldn’t doubt it.” She tugged on her hair harder. “And they don’t know I’m — that I have magic. I can help the Esphyrs find illicit runes much easier, without making it too obvious that we’re looking for them — if I can see the water nymphs, that is —.”

  Alyce’s confidence failed when her clothes puckered uncomfortably at her waist and Ryles twisted around to stare at her.

  “You… you are leaving.” Ryles whimpered in disbelief. “You said you wouldn’t.”

  She gently wrapped her fingers around the child’s elbows. “Just for a little while, Lord Ryles,” Alyce promised. “Just to check if there are more of those terrible runes elsewhere.”

  “Absolutely not!” Haddie snapped from across the room, her blue eyes blazed with an indignant fire. “This is magic business and this sort of thing will be dangerous for you.”

  “The last few days have all been magic business for me,” Alyce pointed out calmly.

  Haddie’s mouth twisted, fighting for a retort. “That’s… that’s different. At least you were here, at home. And you’re not a mage.” Her eyes darted to Kytes, before landing back on Alyce. “They’re trained for this sort of thing, you’re not like them.”

  “And Esphyr Hollis said folks aren’t always nice to mages, if they find out you’re one too, that might stir up more trouble for you,” Bea peeped next to her shoulder. “You only just learned about your magic, you’ll be found out very quickly if they see the mages helping you with those pretty rocks.”

  “There are ways to – to see nymphs on will,” Alyce tried to assure Bea, though she tossed a half pleading look at Kytes. “Aren’t there?”

  It was clear he remembered that disclosure, but Kytes only nodded and very reluctantly.

  “Then please teach me. Let me help you find the illicit runes,” she urged. “I saw and felt how the nymph suffered, and I think I understand what made her so angry, and should another one be hurting the same, I want to help her.”

  “A nymph’s Lament is a dangerous thing, especially the ones born from illicit runes. Too familiar and too easy for our human minds to understand. And you certainly are not immune to it.” Hollis’ hand flourished from waist to legs much to Alyce’s embarrassment. The maid’s earlier discomforts had not gone unnoticed. “Most mages would be glad to avoid a Lament in their lifetime for too many have gone mad, not knowing which memory is theirs and which were odes told by nymphs. You, who have suffered two, though one weakened by time with a song too old, but two nonetheless, are you not afraid of feeling pain not your own?”

  Alyce gulped. “It was terrible,” she admitted. “I thought a knife was cutting into me, shaping each bulb. I was scared. But the nymph, she was the one who was hurt, not me. She loved the people and she truly did wish to forgive them, as she had so many other times, when more runes were thrown in.”

  Alyce placed a hand over her wildly beating heart. Truthfully, she was still frightened of the Lament, fearful of the next time when she’ll need to sleep alone and might hear a cry in her ear. Or if the wail would sound when she entered a dark hallway or greet her in a solitary room. But —

  She tried to smile bravely at Ryles, who looked every bit confused. The child was hers to protect, the baroness’ gift to the manor. Ryles shouldn’t have to fear that Neburh would be subjected to a Threnody nor watch anyone succumb to it. He was much too young for that. And if she had magic, she would use it to protect her home.

  “I can help calm the nymphs a little bit. So they won’t cry anymore at night,” she explained to the boy.

  The child blinking intensified. “The ghosts?”

  “No, not ghosts. They’re the nymphs that watch over the water, like the one at the well. I felt their hurt, and even though I could, it’s alright.” She cupped Ryles’ cheek as he hiccuped. “I am House Is’et’s maid, and I promised Lady Síle that I would look after you.” Lifting Ryles from her lap. Alyce rose to her feet, lightheaded with the boldness she somehow acquired. She shouldn’t be so insistent, especially a person of her status, and more so with how little she knew of magic and her abilities. However, if the runes were not destroyed in time, or if the Esphyrs happened to miss one —

  Shoving the thought away, Alyce straightened her back. She won’t think about it. No Threnody will ever rise from Is’et.

  Unlike his son and maids, Baron Connall held more command over his emotions, though his mouth was firmly compressed, a long line that strained the corners with creases.

  “Rarely do you voice your wants, that I — .” Connall faltered, compressing and releasing his grip in a rhythmic manner. “The illicit rune today, had Alyce not been with Esphyr Kytes, would you have known?”

  “No, my lord,” Hollis admitted. “Neither of us have ties with water and our sight is limited to our own affinity. Kytes would have known much later, when the situation had long worsened.”

  Kytes nodded. “But she felt the beginning of it and the circumstances averted.” He met Alyce’s eyes. “With Colleen Alyce, we could locate if there are other illicit runes.”

  “This is foolish, she hasn’t training,” Haddie stressed.

  “If Colleen Alyce is adamant to come and help us with our search, then we will teach her protection spells for her mind. I can even teach her foundationals so she would have a firmer grasp on her magic.” Hollis tapped a finger against her leg, a reminder to Alyce. “But this will not be a pleasant jaunt. With us, you will discover tragic things, terrible truths you must accept and harbor. Even the nymphs we come across, not all of Is’et’s water spirits will be your friend and extend the same favor toward you like Neburh’s well nymphs. You will never be in any danger, of course, but it can become lonely, even with our company.” She smiled wearily. “It is hard to describe, but mages are lonesome creatures. You will quickly discover what that means if you choose to leave Neburh with us.”

  “I was – am still planning to attend the Chapel, would that have been any different?”

  “It is a standard education within a controlled environment. Safe still for budding mages.”

  Alyce inhaled sharply. “I would rather learn slowly, yes, anyone would, “ she said bitterly. “But if I can be helpful now, with time still to keep my home safe, then I don’t mind knowing what I would eventually have to accept anyways. I’ll just learn it sooner.”

  A small hand squeezed her fingers. “You’re not alone, Alyce.” Like the boy, the encouragement was small, but it meant much to the maid.

  “No, I’m not.” She gave Ryles a squeeze back in answer. “And I will remember that.”

  As if echoing the child’s sentiment, warmth pulsed in her pocket, the spelled moonstone offering its faith. Glancing at Kytes, she saw the mage boy smiling weakly back at her. Of course he wasn’t ecstatic at the danger he was imposing on a new mage, but there was gratitude in that delicate expression and she smiled back.

  “If that is your decision, Alyce, then I shall let you go with them,” Connall said, rising from his seat. He walked toward her with authority still but a fatherly gaze. “We will prepare you proper garbs, maps, supplies, and a wagon for the lanterns. You, who know what the gifts signify and how much it means to our people.” He set a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Esphyrs, please do keep this daughter of House Is’et safe.”