Free The Eighth Day by Dianne K. Salerni

muscle and no fat. With his buzz cut and gravel voice and a handshake that cut off Jax’s circulation, he reminded Jax of a drill sergeant. He and his wife both looked like drill sergeants.
    â€œI didn’t expect him to start interrogating people on his own,” Riley was saying. “Melinda’s going to meet with him on Grunsday. I thought that was soon enough. Plus,like I told you before, I’m not sure how much to tell him.”
    â€œEverything,” Jax piped up. “I want to know everything.”
    â€œ Everything covers a lot of territory,” Mr. Crandall said. “If you’re not sworn on as Riley’s vassal, then some things aren’t your business to know.”
    â€œWhat do you mean, vassal ?” Jax stared at the man blankly.
    The Crandalls looked at each other, then at Riley. Mrs. Crandall raised her oven mitt again, but Riley sidestepped out of range. “ You try to explain it!” Riley said.
    Mrs. Crandall moved her hands to her hips. “Sit down, Jax. I know this has been a shock, but if it’s any comfort, there’s dinner afterwards. You could probably use a good meal.”
    â€œYes, ma’am,” Jax said eagerly. “I could.”
    Riley flung himself into an armchair, looking chastised.
    The Crandalls seated themselves across from Jax, while A.J. leaned against the back of Riley’s chair. “All right, Jaxon,” said Mr. Crandall. “You studied feudalism in school, didn’t you?”
    Studied, yes. Learned? Not so much. But Jax nodded.
    â€œWell, Riley is my liege lord, like his father was before him. I’m his sworn vassal, and so are my wife and son.”
    â€œYou’re kidding,” Jax said flatly.
    â€œNot in the slightest.”
    The liege lord slumped in his chair, picking dirt from beneath his fingernails. “It’s just a chain of command.”
    Chain of command? With Riley in charge? Jax scowled. “My father wasn’t, was he?”
    â€œYour father was independent,” Mr. Crandall said. “No clan, no vassals, no liege lord. Which is why, when he needed help, he came to Riley. And it’s why, for your own protection, you really ought to—”
    â€œNo.” Riley sat up. “His father didn’t want him sworn to me. I don’t want it. I’m sure Jax doesn’t want it. He goes back to his cousins as soon as he’s trained.”
    Mr. Crandall looked like he was sucking on lemons. “Listen to Riley,” his wife said softly, and Mr. Crandall grunted and nodded.
    Holy cow. He really is the boss of them!
    â€œWhat about Niviane and Merlin?” Jax asked. “What does an everlasting forest have to do with the eighth day?”
    Mr. Crandall ticked off on his fingers. “The real Niviane was a Britannic queen. The real Merlin was a spell caster from a race of sorcerers called the Kin. And what the stories call an everlasting forest is Grunsday—a place cut off from the rest of time. Niviane conceived of the idea; Merlin cast the spell, and—” He glanced at his wife and seemed to edit his words. “And more than a dozen Welsh clan lords contributed their talents and magic to make it happen. We Transitioners are descended from the rulers and clan leaders who helped cast the spell.”
    â€œWelsh clan leaders with magic powers?” Jax scratched his head. It still sounded ridiculous.
    â€œThere are people with a talent for magic all over the world,” Mrs. Crandall said. “On every continent. Mystics and shamans and fakirs. We aren’t the only ones.”
    â€œBut who are the Kin?” Jax looked at Riley. “Are they the people who live only on Grunsday—like the girl?”
    â€œThe Kin are a race of people far more powerful in magic than most,” Mr. Crandall explained. “They arrived in the British Isles maybe three thousand years ago. Legends say they came down from the north, but I