Letter V (F.M. to C.D.)

Dearest Cordy,

Strange things are afoot right now and we are in the thick of it. There are so many things to tell so you must bear with me, dear, and no skipping ahead as I know you are wont to do.

Since arriving in the country, I'd done a bit of thinking. It seemed rather odd that my father chose this specific time to visit Seven Oaks. We never go to Grandmother's until midsummer at the earliest, and he never comes here for business. Indeed, for a merchant dependant on the hustle and bustle of a city marketplace, a trip to the country prior to the city's Anniversary week celebration is very unwise. Why would he choose to spend time out here when he should be back in the Realm's capital preparing for the busiest time of the year? After posing these questions to my father on several different occasions and not coming up with much—you know how gifted he is at hemming and hawing and never really telling you what you want to know—I decided to bide my time until an alternate method presented itself.

It came in the form of a midnight trip to the village on the night before last. He thought I was asleep in bed. I was actually pilfering a jam tart from the pantry when I heard footsteps and the soft closing of the kitchen door. I tiptoed to the window just in time to see him hop over the garden fence and head off on the village road. Knowing I wouldn't get another opportunity to rummage, I shoved the tart into my mouth and quickly padded up to his bedroom.

I was surprised at how easy it was to find his satchel until I took it back to my room and tried to open it. Dearest, it had two protection spells—one binding the clasp, the other protecting the contents. You know my father never had the opportunity to cultivate his magical ability, so it surprised me a lot to find him using protection wards. No thanks to Muse, I was able to unravel them after about an hour, and by that time, I only had a few minutes to go through the stack of papers therein, for fear of my father returning and discovering what I'd done.

Muse was rather upset with me at the time. He'd taken to riding around in the air above my shoulder, offering spells anytime he saw fit--which was often, let me tell you. Whenever I declined, he'd go on and on about how unappreciated he is and how he's assisted some of the most powerful magii in the Realm and how I wouldn't believe some of the magical feats he's accomplished, and one feat in particular, if anyone knew about it, would be in the history books! I asked him if it was really that horrible and he couldn't take the joke and got all huffy and puffy and defensive about it. So I apologized and told him that changing creatures into underwear would make a diverting addition to any history book, and he became even more offended. I felt tempted to ask him to conjure up a sense of humor, but I doubt it would have produced the desired effect. But I digress.

There was little of interest in Father's papers except one document detailing how father is training someone to take over the management of his business so he can go into semi-retirement. This was news to me. I had no idea he was planning on retiring, and I would think if he was training a replacement for his shop I would have met the man. This news, of course, casts no light on why he brought me out to Seven Oaks at this time or why he had protection spells guarding his satchel, but I'm not discounting any unusual discoveries at this point. Additionally, I will continue to pry and if I have to pull out my dim-witted persona, I will.

The following morning was my meeting with Sean Valerian. The sunrise was glorious, which was good since I'd stayed up far too late the night before, and I was sitting under the magi oak, enjoying the moment when Muse suddenly appeared and offered to teach me a spell to get rid of my freckles. He was only trying to get back at me, but he couldn't know what a particularly sore spot my freckles are. My exuberant magic reared its ugly head yet again, and I reflexively turned him into a fluffy pink chemise. It was purely reflex! I had practiced the incantation so much that when I was confronted with such a strong emotion, it just popped out! As he began to float gently to the ground, I saw a shimmer of light just behind him and before I knew it, Sean was standing right in front of me.

I was too shocked to say anything. Where did he learn to do that? was my first thought. Only seventh skillhouse magii or higher have the ability to transport. My second thought was what his thoughts might be as he watched my transformed muse complete his descent right before his eyes. Before I could react, he reached over and picked the item up. He fingered it for a moment, before realizing what it was and then he looked at me with a vague expression.

“Yours?” he asked.

“No,” I replied, indignantly, as I snatched it from his hands and stuffed it into my pocket. “It's a friend of mine. I mean, a friend's. Yes, a friend's. But nevermind, Sean Valerian,” I said, putting my hands on my hips. “Where have you been all these years?”

“So you do remember me,” he stated.

“Yes, of course.”

“Hmm,” he said, scratching at his chin. “I think you remember my name, but not much else.”

“No, I remember we used to meet at this tree. And...,” I paused, wracking my brain for something--anything--else. “And I remember feeling sorry for you," I finally said, "but I admit I don't remember why.”

He shook his head, not quite amused. “It doesn't matter. It's not as though you've missed anything. Besides, I can't change the past, but I can do something about the future." He drew himself up. "About that letter I sent,” he began.

“Yes?” I answered, wondering what in the world he was talking about.

“It's about the Suldan Stones.”

“What about them?”

He looked around before continuing. “Look, they're not something we can talk about lightly. What do you know about them?”

“Not much, honestly. Only that they've caused a lot of trouble.”

“They're very dangerous artifacts and your cousin is now in possession of them.”

“Not technically,” I reminded him. “She doesn't actually carry them about on her person.”

“No, but she has the power to wield them and that makes her a target. There are certain kinds of people who would take drastic measures to gain control of the Stones. There are other people who would like to prevent that.”

“You, for instance?”

“Yes,” he replied firmly. “I owe it to her. And to you.”

“Why?”

He looked down and sighed. “Someday you'll remember why,” he finally answered. “And when you do, just remember that I'm doing everything I can to make up for it.”

“Why so mysterious about everything?”

“I'm sorry if it seems that way. I'm not trying to be mysterious, I'm just trying to help. That's mostly why I've come back to the Realm." He looked around again. "But see, this isn't about me, it's about Cordelimaera."

“If it's about Cordy, then it's about me, too.”

“Yes, which is why I've come to you. Anything unusual that happens to her, we need to know about it, especially if it has to do with the Stones. And the information needs to go through you to me so we don't have to contact her directly.”

“Who is 'we'?” I asked. “And what is their interest in this matter?”

“I'm not at liberty to say just now,” he replied, “but they have no interest in the Stones, only in Cordelimaera's safety.”

“And how do I know I can trust you?” I asked. “Who's to say you're not working for the bad guys?”

He quirked a brow. “Why don't you cast a spell on me and find out?”

I stared at him, trying to read his expression. When his gaze didn't falter, I said, “Well, I suppose I don’t exactly have a reason not to trust you.”

“Good,” he said, giving me the first smile of his I'd seen since the tea shop encounter. “And remember to tell Cordelimaera to keep her eyes open. Have her report anything unusual. Anyone who acts differently. Any strange occurrences. Any information that may fall in her lap. Things like that. But she mustn’t go out of her way to find things out, do you understand me, Foofri? She mustn’t go looking for trouble. It would be extremely foolish.”

I nodded my head. “Yes, I understand. I'll write to her as soon as I get back to Grandmother's.”

“Tell your grandmother hello for me, will you?”

"She knows you, too?"

"Of course. At least, I hope she remembers me."

“You could say hello yourself, if you transport me back to the house,” I replied. “It would save me half an hour, at least.” I have to admit, it wasn’t the time I was thinking of. I’ve only been transported a few times, and it’s such fun I couldn’t resist asking.

Pulling me closer, he began the incantation, when all of a sudden, something darted out from my pocket. I'd forgotten that my protection spell doesn’t last very long. Muse floated up in front of Sean, the only remains of the spell evident in his pink, ruffly beard. “If she wants to transport, she can just ask me for the spell, thank you very much! I don’t need you honing in on my magi!”

He pointed his finger at Sean as though he meant to lay a curse on him, but Sean quickly cast his own spell against the little wretch. I looked down to see a bright red pair of men’s button-flap woolen underwear lying peacefully on the ground.

I looked up at Sean and asked as innocently as he had, “Yours?” We both laughed. I picked up my muse as Sean rewove his incantation and in a few seconds we were standing in the clearing behind the cottage.

“I'll say hello another time,” Sean said. “Right now I have another appointment.”

“How will I find you when I need to?” I asked.

“Don't worry, I'll be around.” Then he disappeared.

When I got inside, the post had come and I read your letter with great interest. I hope this doesn't sound callous, but I’m relieved I’m not related to you on your father’s side or I would be involved in this as well (more than I am right now anyway). It's so odd that we should be mixed up in something like this, but you’re the only Demestheln left, and although this adventure has been thrust upon you through no actions of your own (for once), we must take it seriously. Please heed Sean's advice and do nothing that would be foolish!

With great affection,

Foofri

P.S. Did you find anything in our Sisters of the Midnight Moon club papers? I'd forgotten about the forgetting spell we used (I'm not joking!) and am desperate to know what Sean is talking about. I'll ask Grandmother about it, too, when I get the chance.