“Can we help get dinner ready?” Beth offered.
“Sure, if you can do it with one hand.” Charles laughed.
*****
“So,” Abaddon mused, stroking his neatly trimmed beard with his fingers, “the girl tried to transport you?”
“Yes. And she almost succeeded, despite Carrion’s protective wards.” Vindrake’s lips contorted in a sneer. “She managed to open a speaking channel. She could see my face as I could see hers. I hope you have more skill than your predecessor demonstrated.”
“Yes, I think you will discover my talents are quite impressive, since I’ve finally been given the opportunity I deserve. You said the girl told you her name?”
“Yes, Wendelle left before the fortnight naming ceremony could take place. So, I was fortunate my daughter confessed her name to me. Lena… an odd name. But perhaps it is fitting for a girl with such extraordinary power to have a singular name.”
“The knowledge of her name could be useful to us. I must do some research in the scrolls.”
“Can you strengthen the wards placed by Carrion? Or should we shield the house with iron as he suggested?”
“On the contrary,” Abaddon replied. “We should remove Carrion’s wards. If the girl attempts to transport you again, you should go to her. Then you can simply bring her back here. If she is untrained, as you say she must be, she will be defenseless against you.”
“True.” Vindrake stroked his beard. “She would be no match for me, but she was speaking with someone she called ‘uncle.’ Of course he’s not really an uncle—Wendelle had no siblings. But this man must have placed some powerful wards around her to shield her from my detection. If so, this uncle could be quite gifted, and perhaps not so easy to overcome.”
“Perhaps,” agreed Abaddon. “But I think it is more likely the protective wards were placed by Wendelle before she died. Only a power such as hers could accomplish such a feat.”
“Wendelle was a powerful bearer, but she was no shaman. She wouldn’t have been able to ward the child from my sight.”
“But she did possess a red-heart wander-jewel. No one really knows all the secrets of such a stone. And even as powerful a shaman as I am, I know of no ward that would have protected the child from your discovery.”
“Perhaps. Your argument has some merit,” Vindrake conceded.
“It’s a shame about Wendelle’s escape and subsequent death—such a waste of extraordinary talent. I wouldn’t have left killing wards
on Wendelle to prevent her escape had I been chief shaman fifteen years ago. Once the child was born, one only needed to move the killing wards to the baby to guarantee Wendelle’s continued presence. She would never have left the caverns knowing it meant her child would die.” He gazed skyward and spoke with dramatic flare, “But alas... I was not consulted at the time.”
Vindrake pinned him with cold blue eyes. “I sincerely hope you aren’t criticizing my decisions.” The air crackled with power as Vindrake’s ire rose.
“No, Sire. Of course not. I would never question your judgment.” He’d pushed his point too far. Vindrake was known for lashing out in anger. He tried to hide the tremor in his voice. “I should have worked harder to make you aware of my talents.”
“Why did you not speak if you recognized a fault in Carrion’s plan?” The blood pulsed visibly in Vindrake’s temple.
“Sire, I apologize—I was totally unaware of the danger at that time. I wasn’t privy to the entirety of Carrion’s work. He was jealous of my superior power and intellect, and purposely kept me on the outside.”
Vindrake huffed and turned away, but the sizzle drained from the atmosphere. Abaddon released the breath he’d been holding.
“No matter... I am here now, and you will be very pleased with my work. I can assure you.”
“Yes. I had best be pleased.”
*****
Alora eyed her uncle as she fought to eat her spaghetti with one hand. He seemed to be amused at their struggles, especially Kaevin and Beth, who were both forced to grapple their forks with their left hands.
“You could call a temporary time-out during dinner,” Uncle Charles suggested. “Or perhaps the four of you could simply agree on which movie to watch.”
“Oh no,” Beth insisted. “It’s a matter of honor now. We have to prove we can do it.”
“Okay.” Charles stood up quickly, the legs of his chair scraping against the oak floor. “Would anyone like something else to drink? We’ve got more iced tea, or I could get you a soda.”
“I’d love a Coke if you have one,” said Beth.