Page 51 of Seducing the Sorcerer
“But I—”
“No. You promise. And I’ll have a word with him about you learning magic. All right? Can’t say fairer than that.”
“But you mustn’t. You mustn’t ask him to let me in there. He’ll think I’ve asked you. He’ll be angry. He’s already forbidden me. If he thinks I’m pestering you, he’ll send me away. And I can’t, I can’t, I can’t be sent—”
“All right, all right.” Fenn scratched the back of his neck in frustration. Gods they were a pair, Morgrim and Jasper. Both of them twitchy as mares in a midge-cloud. Neither of them telling him the full story about anything. He’d be well off without them.
“Mr. Todd? Has he shown you any magic?” Jasper asked softly. He came closer, pushed one of the chairs out of the way so he could lean against the table, next to Fenn.
Fenn looked at him in puzzlement. The place was crawling with magic—the clouds, the mustering ground, that screaming the night he’d flown in.
“I promise I’ll never climb to the library again if you tell me what you’ve seen,” Jasper added. “I’ll swear on anything. But I have to know. How does he do it? Is it magic words? Runes? Crystals? Or potions, or what?”
“Well, I—” Fenn paused, frowning. “Don’t know. Reckon it just happens.”
“But how? How does it happen? What magic has he done that you’ve seen?”
“There’s the clouds. He’s experimenting. Trying to break the drought.”
“Did you see him conjure them?” Jasper asked, keen as mustard.
Fenn blinked. “No. But they’re there, aren’t they?”
“They’ve been there for two years.”
“Not the same ones, surely?”
Jasper shrugged. “What else have you seen? He must have done some magic.”
“That screaming, the night I arrived.”
“That wasn’t him. I found out about that. It’s old magic. Like the mustering ground. And the way the flames shoot up in the cressets when the tower door opens. I want to know what he actually does. To make new magic.”
Fenn eyed the boy thoughtfully. Because it was a good question. Morgrim had talked a lot about magic in general terms—how it was different from crystal-fixing, how the results could be unexpected, and so on—but Fenn had no idea of the practicalities, no idea how Morgrim actually did anything. And now Jasper had brought it up, it did strike him as odd.
But Fenn was also not going to be side-tracked. He stood up straight.
“Right. This is all very interesting, but conversation’s over. Want your promise. No climbing up or down from there again. Or do I go right now and tell him what I seen?”
“No, no.” Jasper reached for him, let his hand fall. “I promise. I do promise. But you promise me too: you’ll find out and tell me what he does?”
Impossible, because Fenn was being sent away. But he couldn’t bear to discuss that just now with Jasper. The lad would find out soon enough.
Fenn shook his head. “Ain’t promising that.”
“Go on. It’s fair, isn’t it? A promise for a promise?”
“No deal. Go on, now, go to bed.”
Fenn turned away, towards the postern door.
“Wait!” Jasper caught at his arm. “Mr. Todd? If...if you can find out and tell me, then I’ll...I’ll do anything. Whatever you like.” Jasper looked up through his lashes. “Anything.”
Fenn frowned and shook off Jasper’s hand. “Word of advice, lad. You don’t want to do that; making cow eyes and offering to do whatever I want. Might give some people the wrong idea, see?”
“But I would do anything to learn about magic.”
“All right. You’re desperate. And I ain’t judging. I know there’d be some folks as would be happy to do you a favour if it was turn and turn about. But I ain’t one of them. Got it?”
