Free Magic Zero by Christopher Golden, Thomas E. Sniegoski Page B

same.”
    Leander nodded. “All the more reason. Your father, may he rest, is gone. This manse is compromised. Nicodemus’s estate is perhaps the most isolated, most secure home in all of Sunderlund. It would be almost impossible to enter uninvited, even if anyone would dare. Which is unlikely in any case. He is the Grandmaster of the Order of Alhazred. It would be tantamount to a declaration of war between guilds.”
    Nicodemus leaned forward, waking and dislodging Alastor from his lap. The cat leaped down and the Grandmaster steepled his hands beneath his chin, gazing at Timothy. “Ifyou are not safe with me,” he said, “then there will be no sanctuary for you anywhere.”
    The boy gave a short, bitter laugh. “Well, that’s a comfort.”
    *  *  *
    The following afternoon a carriage hovered weightlessly in the air at the foot of the stairs that led up to his father’s home. Timothy stood on the last step and studied the floating vehicle that had been sent to take him away. It was the first time he would ride in one, and no matter how difficult things were, he could not stifle his excitement. It was sleek in its design, made of a golden metal that glistened in sunlight. Like Leander’s carriage, it had the image of a dragon at each corner, and it bore Nicodemus’s family crest on each door—a screaming eagle, its wings spread in flight. As a distraction from his anxieties, his brain attempted to devise a way in which a vehicle like this could be made to ride the air without the use of magic.
    A familiar hiss of steam filled the air and Timothy turned to see Sheridan making his way down the steps with Ivar close behind. They were each carrying large satchels containing the boy’s belongings. Behind them Leander was closing up the house with the aid of Nicodemus’s personal assistant, a stout man named Carlyle. Timothy’s eyes grew steely as he watched the men. In the short amount of time he had spent with the Grandmaster’s assistant, he had decided that he did not care for the man even a little. Carlyle treated him like an oddity, meeting everything he said with a condescending smile and a nod.
    I can’t do magic, that’s all! he wanted to scream at the man. I’m not a simpleton. But he was sure that even that would have garnered the same patronizing response.
    Sheridan reached the bottom step.
    “Let me help you with that,” Timothy said, taking the bag from the mechanical man’s hand.
    Sheridan issued a cheery toot from his steam pipe. “Thank you, Timothy.” The metal man studied the sky carriage floating in the air before them. “My, isn’t it a wondrous craft,” he said, the gears and such within his head whining and whirring as if there were insects trapped inside. “It’s even larger than Master Maddox’s.”
    The carriage’s navigation mage, perched upon his seat at the front of the craft, turned to fix his stare on his passengers. He was draped in robes of yellow, similar to the hue of the vehicle itself. His face, as with all transportation mages, was covered in a veil of a darker hue than his robes. Many wore their faces completely covered, using senses other than sight for navigation. But Nicodemus’s navigator wore only a half veil, and his eyes glared intensely at them over the top of the veil. Timothy decided that this was not a person to be trifled with.
    “The machine and the savage will ride in back,” the navigation mage instructed in a gravelly voice, gesturing with an upraised thumb at a separate compartment that was attached to the back of the larger carriage. “Lord Nicodemus’s orders.”
    Timothy’s anger flared and his eyes narrowed as he stared at the navigator. “These are my friends you’re talking about.Nicodemus may not think much of them, but he shouldn’t be so narrow-minded. He’s just going to have to—”
    Ivar’s firm hand fell upon his shoulder, and he felt the Asura’s inner strength flow into him.
    “It is inconsequential,” the warrior