Page 15 of The Mage’s Rake (Catkin Trilogy #2)

“Indeed. The very same. In fact, I could almost say… I could make a very good guess… It’s almost as if…

” Alan blurted it out in a rush: “It’s the same batch of perallin.

At the very least, the herbs were the same age, type, and quality.

A coincidence? Perhaps. Undoubtedly. But what if… I cannot help but wonder… what if.”

It made sense. As crazy as it sounded, I could see someone targeting me, if only to remove one of Landis’s key supports.

Everyone knew that Gareth and I had been particularly instrumental in keeping the young prince alive during the war.

The reason why Landis had been nowhere near the battlefield of Marrasol was due to our strategic plan to whisk Landis away from Rimefrost. For a good year, we had guarded him at Baywaters, Gareth’s estate to the east.

“After last night, I am more inclined to think it very probable,” I said. “I don’t mean to puff up my importance, but someone like Lord Morne could be working to isolate Landis.”

“Yes.”

Alan didn’t look too happy about his discovery, but I felt more optimistic.

Alan had uncovered so much already that I was certain that he’d be able to figure out how to nullify the curse.

I battled the urge to cross the short space between us and take him into my arms. Alan’s slender shoulders sagged a little, but I beamed at him, sending him as much cheer as I could.

“So what do we have on the docket today?” I asked rhetorically.

I had a few ideas of what I wanted to get done today—more skulking about Lower Rime, spending more time with Alan if possible, and perhaps finding a way into Alan’s bed in the evening.

All in a day’s work, but I had great faith in my abilities.

Not that I was about to tell Alan my entire plans for the day.

Some things are best left as a surprise.

“I figured you’d wish to go out for further investigations in Lower Rime,” Alan said. “I hoped to join you, if so. I have another spare elixir for the sick kit.”

“Eleven Derry Lane?”

“Yes.” Alan removed his feet from the edge of the hearth and rose to his feet. “Are you alright with that?”

“It’s my pleasure! Anything for my favorite high mage,” I said.

And I meant it. Dammit.

Returning to Lower Rime was easily achieved, but once we slowly made our way down Derry Lane, I couldn’t help but shiver a little.

The weather was bitterly cold, and the looming grey clouds overhead promised more snow.

Landis would be cheered at the thought of a white Wintermas, but I knew that Alan was probably feeling rather miserable. There was nothing I could do about it.

Our mood turned even more gloomy at the sight of the rickety home before us.

There was only one window by the door. The glass was covered by paper and wood in a vain attempt to block the winter cold that undoubtedly felt its way through the cracks between the uneven planks.

Knocking on the door highlighted how thin the doors were.

My metal gauntlet nearly jarred the door from its very hinges.

The disgruntled look on Ian’s face as he opened his front door disappeared at the sight of Alan and me.

Pasting a smile on his face, he ushered us into his hovel, revealing a single room lit by a scanty fire.

In the only bed, which was in the corner, a small lump huddled beneath a thick blanket.

Alan instantly busied himself with little Tommie, allowing me to carry on a desultory conversation about weather and trade with Ian.

After dosing Tommie, Alan pulled a package of food out from the canvas satchel he had secured on the back of his horse earlier.

He encouraged the famished kit to eat a slice of buttered bread.

Besides the bread, there was a hank of venison, some potatoes, and carrots.

Simple ingredients that could make a hearty stew.

At the sight of the food, Ian’s face lit up, and his posture relaxed even more with relief.

Alan had remembered to bring some food. It wasn’t a lot, but it would certainly bring more cheer to the impoverished home. If only there was a way to help everyone else in Lower Rime in a similar fashion.

“Tommie still needs rest,” Alan said in a soft voice after rejoining us after the lad had been encouraged to sleep again. “Stew, I think, would be best. Soften the meat as best you can before serving.”

“I will. Thank you, m’lord.”

“It’s the least I could do.”

“And I did ask about,” Ian added. “After you made mention, there was quite the buzz in the market. I heard a fair few things in the past day or two… about what Ser Starr was asking about, potions and the like.”

“You hear anything?” I asked, perking up.

Ian nodded, glanced about nervously out of habit, and then lowered his voice.

“Let’s just say that every now and then a tom looks for work, see?”

“Of course. For your kit, you need the money,” I said.

“Yes. Exactly. So a tom can’t be too picky, and he might end up doing some work quiet-like at night. Standing guard for gennelkin going about other sorts of business that I’m sure you don’t wish to hear too many details on. Nor would a catkin of his word share them details.”

“Of course not.”

“But there were other gennelkin—well, to be honest, rogues might be the better word—who were talkin’ in one corner, and I happened to pass by, and I paused to have a little listen since the undermarket was mentioned and your good self, Ser Starr.”

“Indeed?”

“The old Crone at the edge of Lower Rime is on the up and up, and she turned down some commission, but the one rogue assured his, er, client that there was another alchemist—not one of them quacks—as did work further out. Closer to Shosebury Forest.” Ian’s voice dropped further as he eyed Alan apprehensively. “Dark work, you get me? Shadow work.”

“There are people always looking for that stuff,” Alan said with distaste. “Shosebury Forest?”

Shosebury Forest was a particular stretch of wood that was split by the Rynduin River.

On the far side, it clumped thick and closely before slowly scattering out into the plains and farmlands surrounding the Capital.

There, the forest sheltered small hamlets of hunters and farmers… as well as rogues. Ian nodded.

“Well, looks like we’ll be going for a walk in the woods,” I said, injecting my voice with cheer. “Shall we get going, then, Alan?”

Alan and I bade Ian farewell, leaving as quietly as we could to allow Little Tom his rest. Before I left, I pressed a couple of silvers into Ian’s palm as thanks for his information. Leaving behind a happier family, the two of us resumed our investigation.

Together, we left the inner clusters of Lower Rime and forged our way back to the outer fringes, where the old Crone lived.

Beyond that, the road meandered at a crossroads to the north, the south, and further east. On the road heading north and east, beyond the Rynduin River, we passed the Standing Stones, where Landis had nearly found himself wedded to a foreign princess.

Around it, the Shosebury Forest clustered thickly.

This time of the year, the trees stood together with their naked branches starkly jutting out into the gray sky overhead.

The shrubs were denuded of greenery, and where the snow had not yet taken hold, vast swathes of mud and ice instead clung.

Here, far from the bustle of the city, a heavy silence fell. There was a feeling of watchfulness.

Following the general direction given by Ian, we found a small settlement of houses, but the few catkin there refused to give us much beyond the time of the day.

No one would answer our questions about ancient mollies who brewed potions.

There might have been a flicker of recognition at our words, but it was clear from their deadpan expressions and morose countenances that our presence was far from welcome.

“Wait—“

Alan clutched my arm. We had dismounted, moving from home to home. Now, he raised a mitt and pointed at what looked like an older molly moving away from one of the homes into the forest.

“Oi!”

I shouted. Before I could run after her, however, Alan grunted behind me.

His hand dragged on my cloak as he reeled under the blow of a catkin passing by.

The unwashed scoundrel had deliberately walked into our path and hit Alan.

I knew instantly what the tactic was—an attempt to grab Alan’s satchel.

I hauled the mage back and inserted myself in between them threateningly.

Mumbling half-hearted apologies, the rogue retreated.

“Are you alright, Alan?” I asked.

“I am fine,” said Alan a bit breathlessly. “What is wrong with the cat? Is he blind? I was clearly right beside you! There was so much room on the road too!”

I shook my head.

“Alan, he was trying to rob you!”

“He was?” Alan looked even more alarmed.

Then he twisted about and stared at the direction that he had pointed.

The old molly had long disappeared. He cursed briefly, causing me to raise my eyebrow a little at his uncharacteristic colorful language.

Alan pushed past me, uncaring, and stomped in the direction we had seen the molly.

Leading the horses behind him, I followed as he slowly trailed the footprints into a morass of mud.

Beyond that point, it was impossible to track the molly’s footsteps.

That would require a set of hounds. Still, Alan pushed through the clearing’s furthest bushes.

“There’s a small path here. Let’s see…”

After ten minutes of walking among the trees, pushing past bushes and shrubs, we entered another small clearing.

This one was empty, but there were signs of life here—a bonfire in the middle, an engraved circle carved into the mud on the ground, the carcass of something like a deer stretched on stones at the northern end of the circle, and markings around the trees.

Alan flitted from one tree to another, carefully noting each of the markings and muttering to himself.

On the last, he laid a mitt thoughtfully and nodded.

“I know this,” he finally said, turning to me with a brilliant grin on his face. “This is where it took place, Hugh. Where the curse had been loosed. And I know what it is… Maybe, just maybe, we can attempt a forced reversal, a rending.”

“Rending?” I recalled the Crone’s words.

“Yes,” Alan nodded. “I can call on the energies of the Earth and appeal to the Nyria, Meryn’s sister, the Goddess of Fertility.”

“I see.”

I didn’t, but Alan sounded rather excited, so I felt a surge of hope.

“What do we have to do for this, er, forced reversal?”

“Nothing too out of the ordinary for this kind of ritual.” Alan shrugged. “Drinking potions, of course. Infusing sigils. Presenting a proper offering of flesh. Dancing… and, er, well, physical consummation.”

“Physical consummation? You mean, coupling?”

“Yes.”

Alan’s voice was light as though he were unconcerned about the words emerging from him, but for some reason, his gaze avoided my own. I smirked to myself.

“In fact,” Alan continued, “I think we could attempt it tonight or tomorrow night. Whenever you are free really.”

“Oh,” I grinned as I realized that my plans for the day were finally coming to fruition. “I am free for that anytime, Alan. Any. Time.”