Finder Tolan Read online

  Of course, Seacrist could at least have the decency to be ugly and coarse and rude and wholly unappealing as most nobles, in Tolan's limited experience, tended to be. This good looking, nice laugh, and sexy voice combination was completely inappropriate and downright despicable.

  Seacrist only laughed in reply to the question, and holding Tolan tight, quietly spoke the necessary spell.

  Tolan shivered as they reappeared wherever the hells on Seabolt territory they were. "That's r-really cold."

  "You get used to it," Seacrist replied. "I still want to know how you can do it," Tolan muttered. He pushed away and made certain his pack was still in place, stamped his feet to warm up a bit, and tilted his head up—and up—to ask, "So what now?"

  Seacrist looked around with a frown. "Now we have to find them, which is much easier said than done."

  "Do they all have Blocks?" Tolan asked.

  "Yes," Seacrist replied, absently reaching with one hand to his own head, briefly touching the space behind his ear. "It's dangerous, of course, to keep yourself from being Found, but safer, too." "Yes, I can see it's working so well right now," Tolan retorted. He ignored the amusement on Seacrist's face and pulled out his scry crystal. There was no time for nonsense, they had to find Goss before it was too late. But how? What could he Find that would take him to Goss?

  He held all the necessary images in his head, setting them mentally as he would physically on a scry board. All he lacked was the object of the Find…there had to be something…

  "You can do mental scrying?" Seacrist asked. Tolan's concentration slipped, and he scowled. "Yes," he said. "It's sort of necessary, at times." And other times he was simply too lazy to go to all the fuss and bother of setting up the board. Learning it had been hard, but the kids on the street were always willing to help him by 'losing' things for him to try and find.

  "You're only a third year apprentice," Seacrist said. "There's no way you should have the mental strength for that yet—scrying without tools is something even the best Finders can't learn until the fifth year."

  "Most Finders," Tolan snapped, "don't have to do all the bloody work while their masters get drunk or sleep off hangovers, or try to get their own hands under the skirts or tunics of the cheating bastards we're helping. Most Finders get lessons and tests and encouragement. I get to struggle alone to keep the business afloat and learn my lessons from books and whatever I can beat out of my master."

  He jerked back around and raised his crystal again. A Finder of Seacrist's capabilities would not need even that, but Tolan never had the time or energy to learn how to scry without a crystal. Pulling the spell together again, stubbornly ignoring the warm, solid weight he could feel at his back—what was Seacrist up to?—he focused again on Goss.

  Goss…

  "How old is Goss?" he asked.

  "Hmm? Oh, he is a few months from being two. Why?" Prickles trailed across Tolan's neck, though if it was from the rush of realization or the way Seacrist's breath brushed along it, he couldn't say for certain. Damn it, why was the man standing so close? Scowling, he focused on his one tiny chance.

  Less than two years old. Then, in Goss' mind, he wasn't Goss. The Block had been made to protect Goss Ralien Seabolt—but when asked his name, Goss had told Tolan his name was 'Goz'. That's who he was, in his child's mind.

  A name was the most important part of finding something. It was all well and good to search for a misplaced pearl necklace—but was it Katrin's pearl necklace, or Rudi's pearl necklace? Who really owned them? Who had paid for them? With a person, the name became extremely crucial, because it had to be the right name. The one the person in question thought himself to be. If a man was called Bill his entire life, the he probably did not regard himself as William, even if that was his given name.

  It was only one of many complications involved with names and Finding.

  He hoped that it was something everyone in this great debacle had overlooked. Goss did not think of himself as Goss—he thought of himself as Goz.

  Tolan closed his eyes. Firmly holding the spell inhis mind, crystal at the ready, he added Goz's name to it and silently cast the spell. "Don't let go of the spell," Seacrist murmured in his ear, and Tolan shivered despite himself, but obediently managed not to let go of the spell. He left a leather-encased hand wrap around his wrist. "Keep the spell, let go of the crystal."

  Tolan glared, or tried, but it was hard to glare at someone when his eyes were closed and the object of the glare was behind him. He started to argue, but was immediately prevented. "Do as you're told, apprentice," Seacrist said firmly, but with a thread of amusement.

  Reluctantly, Tolan let go of the crystal. The hand around his wrist moved to rest over his own hand, the leather warm and soft, Seacrist's hand completely overwhelming his own.

  "Now," Seacrist said, "hold the crystal in your mind as you would the rest of the spell. It's simply one more element, and if you've managed the rest, this should come easily."

  Tolan attempted to obey, holding the image of his crystal there with all the rest, fingers twitching with a need to hold it, to have that visible, solid focus to direct the Finding. "Good," Seacrist said, and Tolan really wished he'd stop using that soft, low voice in his damned ear and stop standing so close and touching him while he was at it, damn it. "Focus harder; so far I can feel your spell holding fine—now just push it."

  Setting aside his questions as to feeling spells for later, Tolan tried to obey. It…wasn't as hard as he had thought it would be, though he still did not like being without his crystal.

  Then the spell abruptly took, racing through him with the hot rush of success—focusing in his mind, then his hand, as it almost seemed to move of its own volition.

  When he opened his eyes, he was pointing toward the western end of the territory, and he could see clearly in his mind the room in which Goz lay hidden, and how to get there. "It worked," he breathed. "Beautifully," Seacrist murmured, and slowly let go of him, and only then did Tolan realize Seacrist's hand was still covering his own. "Some get overwhelmed by it the first time, and need steadying. You needed no such thing. You're an excellent Finder, little spark."

  Tolan tried to be annoyed by the stupid epithet, but he was too busy flushing with such high praise given by a master Finder—and the Seacrist Finder at that. "We need to go to Goss," he said, and pointed. "That way, there are some steps hidden in the cliffs, leading down to a cavern."

  Seacrist looked at him in surprise. "Goss? How did you Find Goss? I placed that spell myself, and I know it works."

  "You placed it, and tested it, on Goss—I looked for Goz."

  Seacrist looked at him, then smiled and laughed ruefully. "Well done, my little spark, well done indeed." Tolan scowled, but said nothing, merely bent to retrieve his dropped crystal. Tucking it away, he then turned sharply and began to walk toward the cliffs. He got three steps, and then was snatched back, colliding awkwardly with Seacrist, whose hands landed on his shoulders to steady him.

  "Let me go first," Seacrist said. "You seem to have forgotten we're in as much danger as anyone—it is by good luck alone we have not already been seen. Stay behind me, keep close, and do whatever I tell you." Nodding, Tolan fell back and let Seacrist take the lead, following him quickly but carefully to the cliffs. "Ah," Seacrist said softly in satisfaction. "I see the steps you mentioned. Clever, clever. A pity we couldn't share the vision, though, for that would make the going faster." He went down the steps roughly carved into the cliff in such a way that, if you did not know they were there, you would not have seen them.

  Share the vision? That was complex magic, and Finder magic was complicated enough to begin with. He shoved the question away as one more Seacrist probably wouldn't answer, and settled for asking one that might get answered. "Why does Goss call you his guardian?"

  "It's a tradition to appoint a member of one of the other families as guardian to a child. My own guardian, as a boy, came from the Sealore family. Strengthens ties and all tha
t rot," Seacrist replied. "I knew something was strange when they rarely let me see the boy, combined with everything else we knew or suspected about them. Now, silence."

  Tolan obediently fell silent, as they left the stairs behind and vanished into the dark cool of a cavern that, once well away from the entrance, offered no light. He could smell the trace of torches, and wondered why they would use torches instead of magic to light their way.

  It would be nice to have some light, but the need for caution took precedence. Anyway, he knew where to go, and as smoothly as Seacrist was moving he obviously was not impeded by the dark. That just figured. Was there anything the damned man couldn't do?

  He suddenly remembered how it had felt to stand with Seacrist pressed up against his back, the feel of that large hand wrapped over his own, and the cave abruptly seemed hot and stifling. Argh, now was not the time to realize he hadn't played with the pretty bits at the Rabbit in too long. Of course, now all he could think was that none of them had shoulders quite like that…

  Scowling, he focused on Goss. He hoped they were in time. How could anyone slaughter a child just for magic? How could anyone stand to kill, period? Did the other families do the same thing? Surely not—if Seacrist was this mad about it, that must mean he didn't do it. And he had said that Seacrist had its traditions, but blood sacrifice wasn't one of them.

  What were their traditions, then? Something about it had sparked… He oomphed softly as Seacrist came to an abrupt halt.

  "You'll have to lead the way for the time being, little spark, for it's a dead end now to me. But have a care." Tolan nodded, then realized Seacrist couldn't see the nod in the dark, and muttered a stiff yes. Then he moved past, probably imagining the steadying hand that lingered overlong on his hip, and realized they had reached the door he'd seen in his Finding.

  "It's locked," he said quietly. "Unless you want to try and Find the key, I'm not certain…" Seacrist laughed softly, and Tolan jumped, because he hadn't realized he was quite that close. "There are other ways," he said. "If it's a basic lock, which I'm willing to bet it is, then a simple wind-based spell should work fine."

  "How do you know all this?" Tolan groused, still quietly. "You're a Finder."

  "That's only what I'm registered as being," Seacrist said. "The King prefers to keep certain truths off record."

  Tolan had no reply to that, except maybe to roll his eyes because, really, he'd had enough of poor masters and idiot Secrets and baby-killing bastards.

  He startled when a hand wrapped around his own, and pressed it to the lock. "Pay attention," Seacrist said in his ear. "I'll expect you to know how to do it at the end of the month." Before Tolan could summon a retort, Seacrist was speaking the words of a spell that made Tolan's head spin with its complexity. It was, as Seacrist had said, wind-based—but confined to a small space, and a very strict set of movements. He felt it as the spell was released, where his hand was wrapped in Seacrist's and pressed against the lock.

  A lock-picking spell. He had not even known such things existed. He devoutly hoped his customers never learned of it. The door gave a faint creak as it opened, and only as Seacrist stepped away and gave him space did Tolan realize how much difficultly he'd had breathing normally around the damned man. Honestly, he was never helping a child again. He didn't care how pitiful and forlorn it looked.

  Stifling a sigh, he followed him through the door and into another hallway—but this one was lit with torches, and carried dozens of smells. Smoke, ash, some sort of perfume, incense…and blood. Disregarding the way Seacrist had told him to stay back, Tolan bolted forward, throwing himself through the velvet drapes covering a wide archway—into a room that said far too plainly that all the legends were true.

  It was a terrible room, mostly because there was nothing overtly wrong with it. It looked like almost any temple room would. Small marble statues of the various gods lined two walls, with the primary Ocean Mother in niches at the farthest wall, behind the main altar. Soft prayers rugs were rolled up and stacked neatly at the back wall, just a few steps from where he stood. Incense braziers were scattered about, and a shelf below the altar held various prayer books and scrolls.

  The only wrongness to the room was the altar itself—rather, the baby wrapped in blankets and left upon it. Just as he had seen in his Finding, Goss was fast asleep. Drugged or spelled, he didn't know, but he was still alive.

  Crossing the room, he strode up the few short stepsto the altar and scooped Goss up, blankets and all. Goss didn't stir, but he didn't look to be anything more than deeply asleep. Turning away from the nasty altar, and the stains upon it that could only be one thing, he faced Seacrist. "Were they just going to leave him down here, cold and starving?" he demanded. "Just let him rot here until they killed him?"

  "It would have made him too tired to put up much of a fuss," Seacrist said quietly. "Contrary to the popular myths, sacrifices were not well treated before they died. What is the point in wasting so much effort on something that is going to die, anyway?"

  Tolan's lip curled. "Disgusting and pathetic. Are all the families like this? If power starts to fade from Seacrist, to what lengths will they go to restore it?"

  "Do you know the Seacrist family motto?" Seacrist asked, gray eyes sharp and clear even in the dimly lit chamber.

  "No," Tolan said. "Those who take gain nothing. Those who give gain everything. Perhaps in our darkest, earliest days, Seacrist was as guilty of sacrifice as anyone else—but we soon found another way. We tried to share it; some took up that method, others did not. Seabolt,obviously, prefers the oldest of ways."

  Tolan grunted, somewhat mollified but not really. He wanted to know what that other method was, except he really shouldn't care because none of this was any of his business past ensuring that Goss would be safe and not killed or lost again.

  He glared at Seacrist. "Take us home."

  Seacrist's mouth curved in an amused smirk. "Gladly." Reaching out, he grasped Tolan's arms and tugged him close. "Hold tight to Goss." "Well, I'm certainly not giving him to you," Tolan said witheringly, ignoring the niggling voice that tried to remind him that this man was of noble blood, and would probably stop finding Tolan's rudeness amusing very soon.

  Laughing, Seacrist looped an arm around his shoulders, held tight to his arm with his other hand, and spoke the words of the Shift spell. Tolan expected to see his master's shop when he opened his eyes, and probably a furious, still-drunk master to go with it. Instead, he saw a beautiful room done all in cream, blue and green. It was circular, with windows spanning the whole, overlooking a breathtaking landscape that had mountains out one window and the sea out another, and a hint of a beautiful castle below.

  "This is not home," he said flatly, even though the deep, soft-looking sofas were vastly appealing and something smelled like cream and honey. Before he could finish demanding an explanation, the bundle in his arms began to stir, and Goss woke abruptly with a shriek.

  "Goss!" Tolan said, clutching him close. "It's okay." Goss sniffled and went still. "Torn?" "Yes, Torn," Tolan said, and smiled as Goss looked at him wide-eyed. "Torn found Goz." He nodded at Seacrist. "Torn found Secret."

  Goss stared, then turned—and shrieked in delight as he saw Seacrist. "Secret! Secret! Torn found Secret!" He all but threw himself out of Tolan's arms in his eagerness to get to Seacrist.

  Chuckling, Seacrist took him, holding Goss close and kissing his cheek. "There, there, little Goss. All is well."

  "Torn found Secret," Goss said, sounding almost awed. Then he wrapped his arms as best he could around Seacrist, and attempted to burrow into him.

  Smiling, Seacrist moved to one of the sofas and settled into it. He motioned for Tolan to join him. "This isn't home," Tolan said again, reaching out to stroke Goss' hair, smiling back when Goss beamed at him and mumbled about 'Torn' and 'Secret'. Whatever had caused him to wake up screaming had already faded into a distant nightmare. He hoped, anyway.

  He wondered how, when Goss was older, anyone
would be able to explain how he'd come to live with the Seacrist rather than the Seabolt. Seacrist smiled. "You said take you home—you didn't say whose home. Obviously Goss' was out, and I saw no good reason to return to yours. So I brought you to mine. I'm certain you'll like it, and we'll get all your things in the next couple of days and settle you right in. I was thinking the sand room. It's close to mine, and plenty spacious, and—"

  "And what in the hell is going on here?" Tolan demanded. "Why would I live with you?" "Because you are going to be my apprentice," Seacrist said, still smiling. "One moment." In his arms, Goss was already drifting back to sleep—if he had been spelled or drugged, then his body now would want to sleep off the effects of that. Seacrist rose and moved to settle him in a deep chair, adjusting the blankets so that he could not fall out by accident.

  Then he strode back to the couch. "You're too brilliant to waste on that little shop and the idiot master you were shouting about," he said, settling in much closer than they had been before.

  "Don't I get a choice here?" Tolan demanded. "I know being bossy comes naturally to your sort, but I was never very good at just following orders."

  Seacrist grinned. "Obviously, since you're practicing magic without a license and not even pretending to be cautious about it." Tolan opened his mouth, then closed it again. Seacrist was right—almost everything he'd done today, he shouldn't have been doing. Not without a license. He was just an apprentice. If Seacrist wanted to turn him for it, he could, and that would be that.

  "If you want to go back to your shop, I'll take you," Seacrist said more seriously. "But, you're a brilliant Finder. In a few more years, I think you'll surpass me."

  "What—that—impossible!" Tolan said. "No, it's quite true," Seacrist said. "I could teach you a great deal more, besides. You have the potential, the talent, and the discipline. You taught yourself to Find without tools—even I had to have someone else teach me. You should stay here and finish your apprenticeship with me."