Chapter Fifteen

 

One of the side effects of the ghost storms was that it seemed to drain the color out of everything. Granted, it was the part of the winter where everything looked dreary and old and gray, but things that William expected to see look bright and cheerful had a sad cast, as if something had been drained from them.

Maybe ’tis just me. He yawned hugely. The chair had not been the most comfortable thing in the world to sit in, and as grateful as he was that everyone was safe and sound, he really just wanted to go to bed and forget the world. He had gone out to the warehouse, reckoned with the books, stopping only at the fish market to bring home something to cook for dinner.

Tasmin was chewing on the end of her stylus, looking over her notes, which were spread all over the one of the tables closest to the kitchen. Bits of wire, a canister of salt, crystal beads and tiny bags told him that the table had seen a lot of amulet work that morning, too. “But someone must be dead.” William eased down into one of the chairs at the table, careful not to jostle things. He’d have to take the fish into the kitchen but for now he was content to sit with his wife.

“I’ve been all over the place. No one has seen anything or heard anything at all,” Ailiani said. Magda, who had been reluctantly rousted onto the street, nodded in agreement.

“The elementalists?”

“Even they say that all is well.”

“I am glad to hear it, of course, that there are no new deaths, but it does not make sense,” Tasmin said. “The theory that I have cobbled together says that ghost storms are drawn by angry ghosts, right? Our ancestors must have sent the ghost storm out to sea.”

“Instead of destroying it like a sensible person would,” Magda interjected.

“I have to agree with you, after all, destroying it would be immensely preferable, but sadly it doesn’t seem possible.”

Magda threw her hands up. “How do we know that? Books? You are relying on Creighton’s, for Light’s sake!”

“Point taken, again, but sadly I can only go by what I know. And for hundreds of years, we have thought that the ghost storms were a terrible weapon with undeniable side effects. It is well documented.”

“No one in Pandroth would have created a weapon that could not be undone!”

“Well, if you know any Pandrazzi magic that will help, you will find me a willing student.” Tasmin’s voice brought down the temperature in the room by a few degrees.

“Please, not another hour of this,” Ailiani said, slumping in her chair.

Tasmin felt like going back to bed and pulling the covers over her head. Instead, she said, “Perhaps, Magda, you will find a solution if you think upon it. You cannot be the only Pandrazzi mage in the kingdom. Is there a way to put out a call?”

Magda looked like she would say no, but she took a breath. “Yes. I will think on it.” Magda nodded.

William looked at Tasmin and shrugged a little. She nodded, and smiled. “If you need anything, let me know.”