The voices around them faded. Or maybe she just stopped paying attention to anything but him.
I did this, she realized as she looked into his blue-gray eyes. I uncovered a veiled mirror and gave him a clear look at what he was, at who he could be. Guide of the Heart. I showed him the path. Now it’s up to him to move on to the next stage of his journey.
She stood to meet him. “Magician.”
People around them sucked in a breath, but he nodded. “That is what I am. Ill-wisher. Luck-bringer.”
“The one who keeps the currents of power balanced in your pieces of the world. The spirit who opens the Door of Locks. That’s who we are, Michael. That’s who we came from—and that’s why we are still here, walking in the world.”
A tingle in the air between them, as if something was trying to get in.
“It’s time,” Glorianna said softly.
“It’s time,” she said, and her music was so beautiful and so bittersweet that it broke his heart.
It was time but…Not yet. A few more hours. Just a few more hours.
He shook his head. “First there’s the music—and the dancing. You’ll dance with me, Glorianna Belladonna.” He raised a hand, brushed a finger down her cheek. “You’ll dance with me.”
Shaney—or maybe it was the Missus who had made the decision—closed the tavern, shooing the last man out as the families who had been invited to the covered-dish dinner began coming in. The others would be back in an hour or two, when Shaney opened the doors again. Then the room would be packed. Not for the music or the dancing. Not tonight, although they would get both. No, tonight they wanted a better look at the woman who had walked into Shaney’s with him, the woman who came from a distant land. The woman who had called him “Magician” in front of them and had given the word a different meaning. Magician. The one who helped maintain the balance between Light and Dark for the sake of the world. The one who, by helping one heart open a door, might help so many.
The one who, by helping that particular heart, would burn the budding promise of his own life to ash.
So he held on to everything that was her. The sound of her voice, both amused and puzzled, as she gave Maeve straightforward answers about home and family that made no sense unless a person had seen Glorianna’s part of the world. The scent of her beneath the milled soap the Missus only put out for special guests—a ripe scent that could get a man drunk before he’d gotten a good taste of her. The way her green eyes filled with a child’s glee when she’d gotten her first look at an Elandar drum—and the way she’d looked when she’d been taught a simple rhythm and had played a song with him, just him, while the other musicians sat quietly and smiled or winked at him.
He held on to the way it felt to dance with her, both of them laughing as she learned the steps, both breathless with desire as they circled, their eyes seeing nothing but each other. Then he kissed her, long and slow and sweet, lifted up by the laughter and applause of the people around them…
…until the tavern door crashed open.
“Lady’s mercy!” the man said, swaying in the doorway. “Almost had to give it up. I’d swear the road kept disappearing on me, or I would have been here hours ago.”
A chill ran down Michael’s spine as he watched the exhausted man stagger toward the bar. He recognized the badge on the man’s coat. Express rider.
He’d asked for a day—and Ephemera, the wild child who liked his music, had done its best to give him that day. So a road had turned elusive in order to delay a message.
“Have a seat, man,” Shaney said, hurrying behind the bar. “You’re done in.”
The man shook his head. “Horse could use some care. Poor beast is almost run off his legs.”
“I’ll see to the horse,” one of the men called.
“There now,” the Missus said. “Sit on that stool there and we’ll get you fixed up with a bit of food and drink.”
Michael slipped an arm around Glorianna’s waist and waited.
Then Shaney finally recognized the badge as he set a glass of ale in front of the rider. “Who would you be looking for?”
“Don’t rightly know. Anyone here know a woman named Doreen?”
A shudder went through him for no reason he could explain. He wasn’t going to hide what he was anymore, so Doreen couldn’t do him any harm no matter whom she chose to tell.
“She used to work here,” Shaney said warily.
The man drew the letter out of his pouch and handed it to Shaney. “Then this is for you.”
Shaney stepped aside as the Missus put a bowl of stew and a plate of cheese and buttered bread in front of the rider.
No one spoke as Shaney broke the seal and read the message.
A broken song of pain and grief—and a little guilt.
“She’s dead,” Shaney said. He looked at Maeve, not his wife, when he said it. “Murdered.”
“Lady of Light, have mercy,” Maeve murmured, sitting down heavily. “We’d had enough of her and wanted her gone, but no one wanted this.”
The Missus burst into tears. Shaney wrapped his arms around her and swayed.
“Where?” Glorianna asked, looking at the rider.
“Kendall,” he replied. “Started out from Kendall late last night with several express letters. Would’ve been here sooner, but I couldn’t find the damned road.”
Michael bent his head and whispered in Glorianna’s ear, “Wait for me by the stairs.”
It’s time.
Yes, he thought as he moved through the crowd to have a word with Shaney. It was time.
Had they been lovers? Glorianna wondered as she waited by the stairs and watched Michael talk to Shaney and Maeve. No, not lovers. Not even friends. But there had been something between them.
The party was breaking up. Families were gathering up their children and going home. No more music, no more laughter. Not tonight.
It’s time.
He came toward her, his face tight with grim sorrow—and resignation. She’d seen that look on her mother’s face. Had seen it in a mirror often enough over the years.
Landscaper, Guide, Guardian, Magician, Shaman, Heart-walker, Heart Seer, Spirit. What difference did the name make? The feeling was the same. Sometimes you opened a door, revealed a path, provided that moment of opportunity and choice—and that choice, despite all its promise, turned bitter, turned tragic. Turned to sorrow.
“Michael?”
He shook his head, cupped his hand under her elbow, and guided her up the stairs. When they reached the door of his room, he stopped. “We need to talk.”
“About Doreen.”
“Not so much.”
He opened the door, then stepped aside, letting her enter first. When he came in, he locked the door. The sound scraped her nerves.
“I think that monster is back in Kendall,” Michael said. “The letter…It was a hard death, Glorianna. Doreen wasn’t a kind person, but no one deserves that kind of death.”
She turned to face him. “What does that have to do with you?”
“Shaney emptied the till, bought her passage to Kendall.” He hesitated. “Being a Magician…It’s not talked about, you understand. It needs to be talked about. I’ve learned that much from you and your mother—and from seeing the people in Darling’s Harbor. Anyway, she tried to cause trouble for me after I left here because I wouldn’t…” He glanced at the bed. “She didn’t belong here. Didn’t fit the music of Foggy Downs anymore.”
“So she used a dark way of achieving her goal of leaving this landscape, and that attracted more darkness.” Glorianna sighed, then sat in the chair. “And her choices in that time and place put her in the path of the Eater of the World.”
“Kendall is a seaport. Ships come in from all over the world. It could slip aboard a ship and end up in some part of the world I’ve barely heard of and you never have. And if It does that, It will keep killing, keep tormenting.”