The King's Spell by E.J. Kitchens

Author:E.J. Kitchens [Kitchens, E.J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Brier Road Press
Published: 2021-06-15T04:00:00+00:00

I returned downstairs after depositing Vilmont in one of the upstairs bedchambers, where a servant was to watch him until he woke, and resumed my duty of welcoming the arrivals. I instructed those who had brought collected items for the new Collector tests where to take the items for the council to inspect them before the meeting.

Sometime later, Leandre joined me. He picked chips of paint from the edge of the doorframe as I greeted an aging merchant. When the hunched man had toddled down the hall, Leandre brushed his hands together, releasing flakes of dun-colored paint. “Lord Marchman’s ready to begin. The items for the Collector tests have been inspected and returned for the presentations during the meeting. What about the other members?”

Raking my hand against my side, I perused the list. My cut throbbed, not hurt, but it seemed determined to get my attention.

Check on Vilmont.

I’m not his nanny. He’s safe here.

Are you sure?

Rubbing the bridge of my nose, I forced my thoughts back to the list. “I imagine everyone who’s coming is here.”

“Good. Let’s go watch the first set’s report.” Leandre led the way along the corridor and down a flight of stairs to a large chamber, similar to the great halls of old, only this one was underground.

About fifty Magic Collectors, the heads of their families or clans and their oldest sons, circled the room, sitting in simple chairs or standing along the wall. This group was divided in two—the Sensors, those who could sense the presence of enchantments and those who cast them, and the Collectors, those who could not only sense but also manipulate cast spells or items of enchantment. Only members of the latter could have collections, and only they could be on the council, with the exception of two representative Sensors. To be a Collector was every half-magic boy’s dream.

The twenty-member council, including Father and Lord Aiken, formed the inner ring of the crowd and sat in heavy, ornate chairs with images of past wars carved into their darkly stained backs and enclosed sides. Directly behind them was a ring of benches, set up especially for those who had procured items or who were ready to undergo spell-manipulation tests. Many of the seats remained unoccupied, as some preferred to sit with their families.

Leandre and I wove our way through the crowd and settled onto the bench behind Father and Lord Aiken. It creaked as I leaned forward to tap my father’s shoulder. “We’re here, Father.”

He turned around, brows furrowed. “What was the trouble at the door? Marchman asked Tom and me to join him upstairs at his signal, but he wouldn’t say why.”

I felt Lord Marchman’s eyes on me as he leaned against his massive wooden desk in the open center of the room. He tugged gently on his earlobe.

“I believe Lord Marchman prefers to explain the situation where there are fewer ears.”

Father frowned and opened his mouth, but Lord Aiken cut him off with a chuckle. “Patience, Averett. Patience.”

A tinkling bell rang, and the clamor of many voices stilled.

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