Torin's Legacy: The Mages' Guild Chronicles, #1

Chapter 1 - Periwinkle

Mac walked up the steps of a plain-looking church, and I followed not too far behind, the sober air weighing heavily on me like a thick winter cloak.

I straightened my black robes. They felt weird—in the Mages’ Guild, scarlet was the official mourning color. But Rosalee had insisted that in the grander scheme of today, black would feel less weird. Rosalee always looked out for me, even when she wasn’t there. Of course, Mac got to wear red like she always did, but today her robes were a deeper red than normal. And she was still carrying her red paisley carpetbag. She never went anywhere without the carpetbag.

Mac opened the door, and it creaked as if the doors hadn’t been oiled in a long time. Luckily for us, the service hadn’t started, but people still stopped and stared. The priest and several others made the sign against evil at Mac. She merely smiled and led us to the rearmost pew.

The church was split evenly. The front half was full of human mourners in black. In the back sat row after row of mages in bright scarlet-red robes, all whispering. I was able to catch a few words here and there, but never quite a whole sentence. As soon as the mages saw Mac they shut the hell up. Damn it, I wanted to know what they were saying… but Mac had that effect on people.

Why are they doing that? I asked.

Mac sighed. Some people never let go of the past. Apparently there would be no lesson on the persecution of mages today.

I wanted to ask more questions, but the service started and Mac shushed me. It shut me up, but my mind raced as the priest spoke. He was talking about God and being saved and whatnot, most of which I didn’t really understand. The Mages’ Guild was an agnostic organization with no official opinion on the existence of God. The priest droned on and I struggled to listen, or at least to look like I was listening.

Finally something changed: he called Delilah to the pulpit to speak about her husband.

Mac’s sister looked fashionable in an ankle length black wrap-around dress. Her short dark hair was swept off her face with a black headband. I could see her hand trembling, and the piece of paper shook. She stood at the pulpit for a moment, composing herself. When she finally spoke, her voice had a quaver I’d never heard in it before.

Thank you all for being here in this time of loss. Torin and I have been separated, trying to work out what is best for our family. She paused, wiping away tears. I have never stopped loving him. He was a kind, loving, generous man who gave freely to his family and his community. She sniffled and wiped away some more tears.

Delilah tried to speak again, but no words came out. She sobbed, once, and then it took several minutes for her to regain her composure. After that long, awkward silence, she said, I know God will take Torin into his arms and welcome him home. Thank you again.

The priest stood again, ready to continue with his service, but before he could climb back to the pulpit, Mac stood up and made her way towards it. The room sat silent, staring; I could hear everyone’s collective breaths held. A ripple went through the red half of the crowd as the mages tittered in excitement—here would be the magical part of the funeral. I crackled with that same restless energy. As much as I wanted to pay my respects to Torin, my first experience with church had proved to be pretty dull so far.

Mac stepped up to the microphone and took a deep breath, then started to speak. I know I was not officially asked to speak today. But I ask that you please be patient and hear me out. Torin Fasthoof was my best friend.

She didn’t cry like her sister, but she gripped the pulpit so hard that her knuckles turned white.

We met when we were both twelve and my father took him into our home. We grew up together. I shared my books with him and in return he showed me how to be still and quiet in the forest. I confided all my secrets to him and he never once betrayed my confidence.

Mac looked to the ceiling. She didn’t want anyone to see it, but I could hear the hoarseness in her voice: she was crying now. After a brief moment, she continued, He was the bravest, smartest, and quite simply the best man I have ever met. I loved him. Thank you again for hearing me. She bowed her head and walked back down the aisle.

The priest returned to his place, but he looked slightly stunned, and it took him several moments to regain the traction of his service and finish it. From her spot in the first pew, Delilah glared at Mac, hatred bright in her eyes.

At Delilah’s side, Andrew’s head turned, and I saw him looked back briefly, but then his mother tutted loudly and he turned forward again.

***

After the short service in the cemetery chapel, we moved to some kind of a fancy banquet hall. The room in the restaurant was packed much the way the church had been. One side of the room was filled with men and women in black—most of whom I’d never met, excepting Andrew and Delilah. The other side was a sea of scarlet robes. Mac waded through them effortlessly, giving them hugs when they needed it and taking what consolation was offered in return.

I sat in the corner watching the crowd. Although no one was saying anything directly to Mac about it, I knew that the mages disapproved of Torin’s funeral. The Master Research Mage should have had a proper funeral pyre. Not a service in a church of all places—it was unheard-of, even sacrilegious.

But no matter how scandalized, the mages were smart enough to stay out of the cold war between Mac and Delilah. No one really wanted to muck around in the Guild Master’s personal business. I fully agreed with them on that count.

As I mused, a pair of hands settled on my shoulders from behind, and I jumped ever so slightly before I realized it was just Andrew. He’d snuck across the unmarked line between mages and norms. Hey, Periwinkle, he said, smiling. Nice hair.

I touched my hair, self-conscious: the last time I’d seen him, it must have still been long. For years now I’d been wearing it in a pixie cut. Much easier to take care of that way.

He sat down in Mac’s chair. Only him! No one else a) was stupid enough to do so… or b) could actually get away with it.

I shook off the surprise and let myself really look at him. It had been close to five years since I’d last spent time with him. He’d been little for a twelve-year-old then, but he’d grown into his age. His shoulders had broadened and he’d put on five or six inches, although his hazel eyes still twinkled with mischief. That part must have run in the family from both sides. His plain-brown hair had been cropped short, and he ran a hand through it absently.

I smiled. Long time, no see.

He nodded, then winced. Crap.

What?

I have to go. Delilah is looking for me. Tell Mac I said hi. And he ducked through the crowds, disappearing in the mass of scarlet robes. I didn’t know how someone in black could sink into a sea of red like he did.

Not too long afterward, Mac sat down in her chair with a sigh.

You okay? I asked.

She rubbed her temple. Yeah, she said. It’s been a long day… and tomorrow is going to be longer.

Oh?

Yeah, she said. I just learned that Delilah will be there when the will is read.

I nodded.

And so will you, Mac said.

Me?

Yes, you, she said. You seem surprised.

I sighed.

You’re my apprentice, she said, You need to be there.

Yeah, I said. No problem. Is it almost time to go yet?

No, Mac said. She took a sip of water. I need to see as many mages as possible today; you know that. Torin is the third high-ranking mage to die in six months, and we didn’t see it coming with any of them. If folks were shaken when we lost Master Justice Mage and the Duke of Australia, imagine how they feel now. She straightened, her face impassive. I need to reassure the entire Mages’ Guild that everything is under control. That as their Guild Master I am doing my job.

I nodded.

I mean it, Peri, Mac said with a sigh. People are starting to get scared. I’m the only one who can reassure them that everything is going to be okay.

Right, I said. So we’ll be here until the bitter end.

Basically, Mac said. She looked around the room. The Duchess of North America just walked in. I have to go schmooze.

I’ll be here, I said, holding down the fort.

Hang tight, she said, It will be okay.

Thanks, I said, although I wanted to tell her she didn’t have to reassure me. She was already pushing out her chair, walking away. It didn’t feel like it would be okay. I looked around the banquet hall. It was like the straight line drawn down the middle of the over-starched white linen. Torin wouldn’t want it to be this way. He’d want there to be unity and peace.

I sighed and took a sip of my soda. I vaguely wished for something stronger, but knew it wouldn’t be worth my hide. Mac would flay me if I got intoxicated when I still had so much work to do on my control. That was fair, if I was honest with myself. There was no knowing what could happen when an out-of-control apprentice lost her last few ounces of inhibitions. But it still stung: no matter how much practice I did or how many hours I spent in weekly meditation, I wasn’t able to keep my power as well in check as I should have been.

This failing left me cold, because I had more power than average. I sipped my soda and looked around, wishing Rosalee had come with us. Then again, she probably didn’t want to be in the middle of the cold war either. With that in mind, I took out my notebook and scribbled some notes. Mac hadn’t let me take it into the church, but here, she wasn’t about to notice. She was going to be working the crowd for hours, and I had nothing better to do.

Chapter 2 - Andrew

As much as I wanted to be impressed with Los Angeles’s ostentatious Mages’ Guild building, all I could think as I approached it was, Really? Who needs gold plating in the twenty-first century? Still, it stood high amid the skyline. Behind me, I could hear Delilah approaching with a sigh, and I shot her a glance. She wore a navy blue pencil skirt with a puffy white blouse and her hair swept up in a bun. Even when mother freaked out, she did it in style.

She looked up at the building, tapping her foot on the concrete, and said brusquely, This is a bad idea.

I crossed my arms. No, Mother, I said, this is not a bad idea.

It is, Delilah said, reaching out to clasp my forearm and trying to unfold my arms.

I’m sorry, Delilah, I said, but I don’t want to walk into this office with a negative attitude. Please. It’s not a bad idea. It’s just what we have to do.

"I am your mother and you will address me as such, Delilah said through her teeth. And for the last time, I am telling you this is a terrible idea. She shook me slightly, but considering she weighed less than I did, it didn’t hurt. You’ll see."

Listen, you left Dad and I when I was twelve, I said, keeping my voice cool and neutral as I could. "I’ve barely seen you since then. A couple times a year, if that. So don’t tell me how to address you. And for the last time, I’m telling you: this man is a lawyer, not a monster. Stop freaking out and let’s do this."

The traffic on the sidewalk flowed around us as we argued. I loved the anonymity of the big city at moments such as these.

The man you speak of is a lawyer for the Mages’ Guild, Delilah said and made the sign against evil. I sighed. What? she said, pouting.

I shook my head. Nothing—the sooner we get this over with, the better.

Hallelujah, she said and made the sign of the cross.

Beyond the front doors was a desk, behind which sat a secretary donned in red. I approached her, letting Mother trail sullenly behind me, and asked her to remind me the office number of the lawyer, Benedict Bailey. It was 1313, and she directed us to the elevators.

They have a thirteenth floor on this building, Delilah whispered.

Mother, I said, groaning, At this moment, I am hard pressed to believe you are related to Aunt Mackey at all, let alone her twin.

Well, she said, with a sigh, sadly, blood doesn’t lie.

I could say the same damn thing in the same mournful tone, but I kept my mouth shut.

When we reached the thirteenth floor, the hallways were painted in a subtle off-white with solid wooden doors and golden numbers on each door. Even numbers were on the right hand side of the hallway and odd were on the left. The lawyer’s office was the last odd number before the straight hallway split.

I knocked firmly on the door.

No one responded.

Delilah said, Maybe he’s not in.

Don’t be ridiculous, Mother, I said. The secretary wouldn’t have sent us up if he wasn’t here.

Knock again, Delilah said.

No, I said, He will answer in his own good time.

Fine, then I’ll knock, she said.

The door opened with a squeak that made us jump. No need, Benedict Bailey said. He was like no lawyer I’d ever seen. He stood six-foot-three or six-four easily, possibly taller, and he had wavy black hair that fell to his shoulders. He wore a striking scarlet suit, but that part made sense to me: Dad always said scarlet was the Mages’ Guild’s color of mourning, and after all, we were here for the man to read us Dad’s will.

Delilah looked shaken. I smiled.

The man said, Hello, my name is Benedict Bailey. You must be Andrew Fasthoof and Delilah Lawrence. Please come in. He stepped back and gestured for us to enter. Have a seat. There were four chairs set up across from a huge walnut desk, behind which was Bailey’s own chair. The walls were painted in gold wash and behind his desk stood large walnut bookcases stuffed with what I assumed were legal texts.

I sat in the middle chair, closer to the door. Delilah stood.

Please, sit, Benedict said again.

Frowning, she gestured to the chairs. Why are there four chairs here?

Master Research Mage Torin Fasthoof requested four parties be present for the reading of his will, he said.

Four? she said. His son and I are his only living relatives.

These are Master Fasthoof’s instructions, Benedict said.

Who aside from us? she said, biting her lower lip. She looked paler than before.

Benedict sighed and read from a paper in front of him. Master Research Mage Torin Fasthoof requests the following be present at the reading of his will: Ms. Delilah Josephina Lawrence, Andrew Fasthoof, Master of the Guild Mac Ashalana Lawrence, and her apprentice Periwinkle Amaryllis.

Delilah’s mouth dropped open.

Problem? he asked with a bemused expression.

Before she could answer a knock came at the door.

Benedict said, One moment, and opened the door to reveal Aunt Mackey and her apprentice. I’d seen her a bit yesterday, but she’d been washed out by the black robes and it had been a stolen couple of minutes.

We hadn’t seen each other much since we were twelve, and in five years she’d changed from a fluffy-haired tomboy with an attitude into an almost dignified young woman. Her blond pixie cut made me want to run my fingers across the back of neck. She carried a notebook with her, clutched to her chest.

Benedict was talking again. I didn’t quite catch what he said, but Aunt Mackey and Periwinkle entered the room and sat down. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.

Sit still, Delilah said, giving me a death glare.

Aunt Mackey smiled at me and winked.

I gave Periwinkle a half-smile, but before I could say anything Aunt Mackey spoke. Good to see you again, Benedict.

He smiled. The pleasure is all mine, Guild Master Lawrence.

Aunt Mackey grinned and said, That may be, but now is not the time or the place.

Benedict blushed. I-I-I meant…

Bah, Aunt Mackey said and dismissed him with a wave of her hand.

Apologies, Guild Master…

Shh, she said, We’re all friends here. Call me Mac.

He nodded. If I may?

Aunt Mackey nodded.

We’re gathered here for the reading of Master Research Mage Torin Fasthoof, Benedict began. A few crocodile tears fell down Delilah’s face and Benedict handed her a tissue. He continued, Master Fasthoof was a particular man in life. So I’m sure it’s no surprise to any of you that he wanted me to do this in a particular order.

We all nodded.

To Ms. Delilah Lawrence, Master Fasthoof left the house in Los Angeles county, he said.

Delilah smiled triumphantly—Dad had bought that house when they were married.

Benedict continued, To Andrew Fasthoof he left his fortune. You are set for life, if you reach the journeyman stage of mage’s training. Otherwise the money will be donated to the Mages’ Guild. The money will be held in trust until such time as you meet those conditions.

Delilah’s mouth dropped, the triumph wiped from her face, but I only nodded. Dad had said as much to me already.

Undaunted, Benedict continued, The Lawrence family jewels are to be donated to the Mages’ Guild.

Wait a minute, Delilah said. "Those jewels are my family’s heirlooms."

You were married by a Mages’ Guild court, Mattienx said, And by Guild law you had a year to collect any property left in the family home. You have been gone for five years.

But we were still married, Delilah said.

Torin Fasthoof filed the divorce papers six months after the separation, Benedict said. According to the records, one Delilah Lawrence never agreed to sign the papers affirming the divorce. Mages’ Guild law states that a mage has twelve months to reclaim all property from a residence they have left before forfeiting the rights of the items left behind to the owner of the property. The deed for the house is in the name of Torin Fasthoof.

Delilah’s mouth fell to the floor. But—but, but, she stammered. Tears streaked her flaming red cheeks.

Your marital status does not change the fact that he owned the residence, Benedict said, Therefore, according to Mages’ Guild law, the ownership of the Lawrence Family jewels transferred to him by the twelfth month after you were gone for five years – a vast amount beyond the grace period.

She wiped the tears from her face with a handkerchief. I’ve left the Mages’ Guild entirely, Delilah said. I spent these five years trying to reconcile with my husband.

Benedict nodded. Even so, those jewels were his by Guild law, and so he has willed them as he saw fit. Because your marriage was through the Mages’ Guild, there is no other legal body with standing to govern the disposition of this property. May we move on, Ms. Lawrence?

Delilah gave him a slight nod. Aunt Mackey wrote furiously in her notebook.

All contents of Torin Fasthoof’s library are left to Ms. Periwinkle Amaryllis, he said, and we all knew that was no small bequest. Dad’s library literally filled a warehouse. Periwinkle looked surprised and squirmed a bit in her chair, but Aunt Mackey shot her a look and she stilled.

Benedict continued, The body of journals Torin Fasthoof left behind are bequeathed to Master of the Guild Mac Lawrence.

Is that everything? Delilah asked abruptly.

No, he said. You are free to do what you wish with the household items and clothing, but you must wait thirty days for the house to be cleared of all other items. Also, there is one more item Torin specified.

What? Delilah asked.

Andrew Fasthoof’s apprenticeship paperwork, he said.

And? she asked.

"Torin Fasthoof left his son’s apprenticeship paperwork to Andrew’s aunt and godmother, Master of the Guild Mac Lawrence.’

Delilah gasped. Aunt Mackey smiled: clearly she’d seen this coming. Periwinkle just looked perplexed.

Delilah said, He is not yet eighteen. I am his legal guardian.

Ms. Lawrence, Benedict said, You are aware that in the Mages’ Guild, the age of majority is sixteen. Your son is seventeen. That means with the guidance of his aunt he may make any decision he chooses; she will not and cannot force him to make a specific decision. Further, due to his majority, he does not need the signature of a parent or guardian as a proxy to his own signature. He can legally sign the paperwork for himself and enter into a contract with the Master of his choice, within reason.

Delilah’s face looked unhappy, but a bit hopeful. She looked at me.

I told the room at large, The only reason Dad hadn’t apprenticed me out was because Mother wouldn’t sign the apprenticeship paperwork. Plus, last year he needed my help around the shop, so I delayed my start. With Aunt Mac’s guidance, I have every intention of becoming an apprentice.

Delilah’s face fell.

Mac said, In that case, I would like to arrange and file the papers to make Andrew my second apprentice.

We can arrange for a private meeting shortly, Benedict said.

Is there anything else? Delilah asked.

No, Benedict said. Please, remember that you must wait thirty days before you may take possession of the house.

Talk about trust, Delilah said, gripping her handkerchief.

Benedict shrugged. There is nothing else. You may go.

Come, Delilah said, rising haughtily from her chair, we’re going, Andrew.

No, I said, Delilah. You stopped being my mother five years ago when you walked out our front door. For a moment her face contorted as if I’d slapped her, but much more quickly than she had in the church, she regained her composure and turned her back on us, the door slamming behind her.

Aunt Mackey squeezed my shoulder. She and Benedict talked briefly about a time for filing the paperwork while I sat in my chair beside Periwinkle, vaguely aware that she was watching me. I stood when she did, and the three of us walked out of Benedict’s office together.

Stay with me tonight, Mac said. We can pick up your stuff from the house tomorrow or whenever.

I nodded. Thanks. And we left the Mages’ Guild building for the street.

Chapter 3 - Mac

After the reading of Torin’s will, I took Periwinkle and Andrew back to my LA condo. We all needed some down time—especially Andrew. He eyed the foyer, looking impressed, while I peeled off my black combat boots. I followed his gaze to the bright orange walls and sighed. I’d let Rosalee pick the color scheme here, and she went for cheerful.

We walked into the kitchen, and Rosalee set the round table with five spots. She wore an earthy brown dress that complemented her skin, and her dark, wavy hair was swept off her face. She greeted us with a home-cooked meal of venison steaks, broccoli, and rice. I’d never been much a fan of gamey meat and ate sparingly.

All right, Mac? Rosalee asked.

Fine, I answered. Andrew and Periwinkle are to clean up the kitchen. Andrew, once the chores are done you are free for the evening. Periwinkle, I want to see you in my office when you’re done with yours. I pushed the venison around my plate, trying to make it look like I’d eaten more than I actually had.

Andrew asked, You in trouble, Peri?

Nah, just lessons, Periwinkle said, Mac would be bright red if I were in trouble.

Odd time for lessons, Andrew said.

Periwinkle shrugged. Mac’s the Master of the Guild. We do lessons when we can. And I get tons of homework.

Ah, Andrew said. Cool, I guess?

I sighed, and pushed the food around my plate one more time.

Mac, you should eat more, Rosalee scolded gently.

I glared at her, but took one more bite. My stomach is turning, I said. I need to get the lessons prepared for Periwinkle anyways.

Okay, she said, do you want anything else this evening?

Would you make some chai and send it with Periwinkle to my study? I asked.

Rosalee nodded. No problem. Don’t drink too much.

It’s going to be a late night anyway, I said, standing to leave.

You have an early morning, she said. Are you planning on getting any sleep tonight?

I shrugged and left the kitchen. I didn’t want to fight with my well-meaning friend about my sleep habits—or lack of them.

As I entered my study, I flipped on the lights and walked over to the bookshelves on the far side of the room. I perused their contents for anything that looked relevant to tonight’s lessons with Periwinkle. Nothing looked particularly useful, so I sat down and flipped the carpetbag open to the library section. From there I pulled a stack of ten books. I’d assign them as needed. Periwinkle studied hard and did diligent work, but I had to stay ten or twelve steps ahead of her curiosity. The power of her mother and the crazy curiosity of her father. I’d never seen a better combination in my life… right.

Just as I sat down to review my notes a knock came at the door. Come in, I said, and Periwinkle entered carrying the tea tray.

Need help? I asked.

She shook her head and brought the tray to my desk and set it down. Want me to pour? she asked.

I shook my head and took the pot and poured a cup for myself. Any for you? I asked.

Rosalee doesn’t want me drinking caffeine after dinner, she said, pouting.

Good policy, I said with a nod, gesturing for her to sit.

Periwinkle rolled her eyes as she settled in. Sometimes I don’t know which of you is the Master, she said.

I am, I said patiently, but Rosalee runs this house, and she has as much say in how you’re raised as I do.

I know, she sighed, but that doesn’t mean that I think it’s always fair.

Generally, I said, child-rearing and teaching are far from fair. Just like life.

Fun times, she said. Ready to get down to business?

Patience, Peri. I’m reviewing my notes from our last session. What haven’t you read?

She said, The History of Magic. I couldn’t get the Old High Elvish translation to match with the original publication in Modern High Elvish.

Try again, I said, and stick to the Old High Elvish. I know it’s challenging, but you need to have a strong proficiency in Old High Elvish.

Periwinkle nodded and jotted down a note in her notebook. Okay.

Anything else? I asked.

I read everything else on the list you gave me last time, she said. Oh, I wanted to ask you what time spell you used the day of the funeral.

Time spell? I said.

Yes, she said. I felt the ripple. Don’t play with me.

You’re not ready to play with time, I said. Time is a journeyman level subject.

You’ve cheated on that before! she said.

I said, "This time I mean it. There are Masters who have trouble with time. There is absolutely no way that I will broach that subject before you pass your examinations to the journeyman stage."

You suck, she said, biting her lower lip.

What did you say, young lady?

She rolled her eyes. Nothing. Not a damn thing.

Glad to hear it, I said, jotting down a note. Moving on, how are your language studies coming along?

Well, she said, Rosie is helping me with Old High Elvish and Modern High Elvish. I am also studying Latin, Greek, and Gaelic. Rosalee suggested Hebrew as a supplement to my current studies. I am partial to Russian or Mandarin myself. She doodled in her notebook.

Well, I tend to agree with Rosalee, I said. "Hebrew is a good starting place. Mandarin’s a slow start—it makes more sense to save that for a time when you can focus on it more exclusively. The characters are more complex than Greek. As for Russian, I am not sure how useful that will be until you start your journeyman studies. I think for the present, starting Hebrew seems wisest. Did Rosalee give you any texts to start with, or do I need to give you