Magical Intelligence by M. K. Wiseman

Author:M. K. Wiseman [Wiseman, M. K.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Indie Author Project

Chapter Twenty-Three

The very second Ben had gone, Myra dove into distraction via the strange little device sent her by Griggs.

Fiddling with the tiny clasps and hasps, she discovered that bits were easily pushed, locked, and changed by deft maneuverings. In short minutes Myra had reconfigured the item into a tidy mess. Despair shook her. Oh, bother.

In the entire scope of the pretend romance that she couldn’t quite figure—nor, necessarily want—Myra had botched the one thing that had interested her. Her secret. Something for her that she could call her own.

Never mind the generosity of a roof over your head, wand, clothing . . . It’s not exactly as though you’ve nothing to your name. Myra laid aside Griggs’ trinket. She startled as Aidan’s voice rang within her otherwise silent rooms.

Casting a wide-eyed glance to the door, Myra saw that Benjamin had shut it behind him. So where was it coming from? A soft, lilting verse, akin to a lullaby, she found it rather amusing that Aidan should even be singing such. But not in her room.

Hunting high and low, Myra eventually returned to her desk and the pendant that she had carelessly laid there. Something in her memory caught—Aidan’s voice, low and clear yet lacking depth. Solid. The tone reminded her of . . . of . . . swimming with her sister on a hot summer’s day, their voices curiously muted yet clear beneath the water. They had toyed with a similar discovery later, earning them a scolding for playing with doors. But, Mother, the sound had carried well!

Amplified. Like Aidan’s singing.

Myra reached for Griggs’ bauble, turning it on its side with the flick of a finger. Silence rushed back at her.

Oh, how curious.

She turned the pendant back over onto its face. Nothing. No, wait, there it was. Fainter, halting. Aidan had altered his inflection in his changing of the verse. Less pronounced, more under-his-breath, came the melody.

Myra leaned close. Putting her ear to the wider end of the device she found that she could hear more nuance from up close. She held her breath, willing her pounding heart to quiet so that she might better hear. Changing her mind, she moved the device from table to floor, bending so that her ear again came into contact with the smooth side. Her face lay almost flat along the wood flooring. This was far better. If terribly uncomfortable.

“Not the most clandestine of undertakings,” she noted, flashing a wry grin. But then, perhaps Griggs, being an ord, was not well versed in subtle. He certainly hadn’t appeared that way to her on their one meeting. Shifting, Myra’s thumb knocked against one of the tiny knobs left sticking out from her clumsy manipulations. The sound grew sharp, the audible equivalent of coming into focus.

Words and phrases from Julius’ letter came together in her mind. “Listening.” “Inclining one’s ear to hear the sound of a beloved’s voice.” Messages within messages. A tricky fellow.

“And undoubtedly, in speaking of a beloved’s voice he did not mean for me to listen in on Aidan.

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