The Wellspring Read online

  “No, which is pretty much why I wanted you to download it to an easy reader,” she replied with a flippant tone, distracted from her course.

  “Don’t be a bitch,” he scolded, unaffected by her tone. He grabbed her hand. “There’s a credit on here and an instruction list on where to spend it—on you!” He hugged her. “He wants you to shop for clothes!”

  “What?” Yule blinked several times.

  “And honey, we’re not talking about off the rack money.”

  “Hang on, aren’t you the one who said I should be suspicious of his motives and question his actions?”

  “This is shopping, sweetheart! Those rules don’t apply to this!” He seized her hand. “We only have a few hours before you go and so much spending to do!”

  The echo of Yule’s delighted laughter hung in the air a moment after Hermes winded them off for a shopping spree. During their spree, Yule teased Hermes for having a gay shopping gene that he delighted in claiming rather than denying, matching separates with skill and taste. Hours flew by and none of Yule’s worries came to fruition. Marc didn’t try to interfere, Hermes didn’t forbid her to go, and Prosser didn’t call off the whole thing. Hermes insisted on accompanying her to Prosser’s home, winding her to his front door with her new wardrobe tidily packed into her stylish Gucci luggage.

  A maid escorted them into the great room and Yule was dismayed to discover Prosser in the company of the striking goddess type she’d seen in his company days before, when she spied on him from the sidewalk—both dressed for travel.

  “Now I believe he doesn’t plan to seduce you on this trip,” Hermes whispered to her. “Don’t let him talk you into a threesome.”

  Yule couldn’t formulate a retort to this. She was staring at the Grecian beauty in the chic summer dress and white sport fur stole. Her long dark hair fell to her shoulders in perfect waves and her smile fairly sparkled with equal stark perfection. Yule thought her mouth formed an automatic smile in response and hoped it didn’t look like a sneer. All of her fantasies regarding this trip suddenly rearranged themselves back into reality at that moment and she finally acknowledged she’d truly been anticipating adventure. The facts gave her a little shake and asked how she ever thought Magus Teomond might have designs on her virtue. She argued that she never really anticipated something happening, but she thought they’d be travelling alone. She was still wallowing in misery when she heard the words sayer and broadcast and the name, Sheirienu.

  “My gods, I should have recognized you immediately!” Hermes was exclaiming, moving forward to take Sheirienu’s extended hand. “You’re so much more stunning than you appear in your broadcasts! You should fire your seer immediately.”

  The woman laughed at this and thanked Hermes while Yule’s spirits rose from under the rock of disappointment that crushed them. Sheirienu! Only the most famous sayer on the social broadcasts! And she was travelling with them to Atlantis to broadcast several important speeches that would be given, Prosser’s among them. Her smile was genuine when she shook Sheirienu’s hand and her spirit remained light even when she hugged Hermes goodbye, promising to speak to him every day or so via the hand mirror he’d powered up for her for her trip. She was still smiling when Prosser winded them away from his home to Atlantis.

  The plateau of black lava rock upon which they appeared jutted out into a serene bay of dazzling teal and deeper blue. Yule squinted under the midday sun and looked around, discovering they stood upon the termination of a long jetty connected to the white sand shore. Several men moved to meet them and her skin crawled as if a million ants were set loose on her to feast. She cried out in reflex, brushing at her skin even though she knew nothing crawled there.

  “It’s all right, girl,” soothed Sheirienu. “They’re Guardians of Atlantis. They’re only searching you. It will do no harm.”

  Yule nodded and recovered her startled wits, annoyed by the way Prosser patiently ignored her antics as if tolerating a child’s outburst. She glared at the Guardians as they stopped before them and the apparent leader spoke to Prosser.

  “Welcome, Magus Teomond, you are expected, as are you, Sayer Sheirienu, but the Stunt is not listed on your servant manifest.”

  Yule bridled at that. “The Stunt isn’t a damn servant!” she snapped. Black poppies suddenly bloomed before her eyes, filling her vision, and she swooned, dropped to her knees, oblivious to the bark of her bare knees on the friction-smoothed black rock.

  “That will be enough, Guardian,” Prosser’s order was distant in her cotton-thick ears. “Miss Fiore is my temporary assistant and she will not be treated like a criminal.”

  “As you wish, Magus,” the Guardian assented and Yule felt her head clear and her vision return.

  “Are you all right, Miss Fiore?” Prosser asked, his hands under her arms as he helped her back to her feet.

  “I’m fine,” she told him, fighting to sound annoyed and well rather than pissed off and shaken. She watched the Guardians turn on their heels and stride back to the shore, passing a pair of Atlantis employees in crisp cream shorts and teal polo shirts who stopped before the arrival party and bowed politely.

  “I am here to transport you to your hotel, Sayer Sheirienu,” the man told the sayer.

  “And it is my honor to transport you to your hearth, Magus Teomond,” the redheaded woman told Prosser.

  For a moment Yule thought she said heart and wondered why that notion troubled her, but she quickly corrected herself and realized she said hearth, which was less troubling, but more surprising. Hearth was the old, magic folk term for home and it was only used in reference to a permanent dwelling, never a vacation residence. But if Prosser had a hearth on Atlantis that meant this was his base of power and—she looked at him with startled eyes, but he ignored her, nodding at their porter. Just before they vanished from the plateau Yule thought, Prosser’s Family Grove is here, on Atlantis! He belongs to one of the Founding Families!

  The moment the porter delivered them to the marble terrace, she vanished, and Yule stood perfectly still—waiting. Household staff hurried out to welcome Prosser home and collect the luggage, but Yule ignored all of this.

  “Miss Fiore?” he asked when she remained standing where she’d arrived. “Are you—waiting for something?”

  “Yes.”

  After a moment he moved to stand beside her. “May I ask what you are waiting for?” He looked around when she didn’t answer after a minute.

  Finally she sighed. “I guess I thought—I’d feel something.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Yule turned to him. “It’s Atlantis. Shouldn’t I feel something?”

  His expression was understanding and kind. “The Guardians shouldn’t have treated you the way that they did. I didn’t intend for your first experience of Atlantis to be an unpleasant one.”

  Yule shrugged. “I’m accustomed to it, Magus. Hermes says magic folk feel hostile toward Stunts because we remind them that magic is leaving this world.”

  Prosser’s expression became stern. “Don’t let me hear you calling yourself a Stunt. Your magic is underdeveloped, but you are not stunted by that circumstance. In fact, except for that rather unsightly chip on your pretty shoulder, it seems to have strengthened you. Now, come inside and unpack then I will familiarize you with my hearth.”

  Yule did as he bade her, swathed in a soft glow of unexpected pleasure. He meant nothing intimate by it, but Prosser Teomond said she had a pretty shoulder! As minute and unintended it was, it was still a compliment and Yule couldn’t help being flattered.

  The hearth, Prosser called it Drowsingfaire, seemed built to a scale just overlarge of average. It made every column and drapery, each molding and balustrade appear somehow humbling and Yule had to tell herself whispering and tiptoeing were not expected here. The room to which he directed her appeared larger than the entire condominium she shared with Hermes and she eyed the lavish vista with awe until the sheer immensity of it suddenly struck her as r
idiculous in proportion and she leapt onto the bed, bouncing twice on the extravagantly designed coverlet then collapsing in a fit of giggles.

  When the bout of hilarity left her she rolled onto her stomach and let her eyes wander the spacious room and artistic furnishings. On the far side, pale silk volumes of curtains billowed gently inward from a balcony bringing the tang of sea breezes into the room along with the scent of ginger and plumeria. She propped her chin on her hands and envisioned the next few days where she roamed sparkling white beaches under a hot sun: the scent of sea and exotic flowers filling the air while a turquoise sea flung cottony foam at her bare feet. A man who looked not unlike Prosser strolled casually toward her on that beach, his dark hair windblown and unruly, white shirt hanging open, the arms rolled up, revealing tanned and muscular arms and chest. She smiled blissfully at the little fantasy until her eyes fell on the easy reader crystal to which Hermes transferred the information Prosser provided regarding this trip. These three weeks could still be magical even if she had work to accomplish, it was all a matter of planning.

  ***

  Magus Teomond seemed singularly disinterested in starting her employment. When twilight settled over Atlantis and Yule appeared for dinner, she was led out to spreading marble veranda where a table disappointingly set for one glowed invitingly under candlelight, and the view beyond the balustrade momentarily relegated her let down in dining alone to the back of her considerations. The garden below glowed under floating orbs of light giving the grounds a fairytale quality. The travelogue crystals failed to compare to this ethereal presentation.

  Yule didn’t see Magus Teomond the entire evening and while she was disheartened by his failure to appear, it gave her additional time to study her itinerary for the remainder of the trip. He didn’t seem any more inclined to see her working the following morning either, when she came down to breakfast and this time found him waiting at the same table at which she’d dined alone for dinner.

  “I trust you slept well?” he inquired graciously, rising to hold out her chair for her. “I apologize for my absence, but I couldn’t tear myself away from the introductions meeting. Deadly dull, I assure you.”

  “I managed to keep myself occupied and out of trouble,” she replied, unfolding the linen napkin on her plate and settling it on her lap.

  “The first is easy to do here, the second I must commend you for because that is not so easy to do here,” he told her and the lightness of his tone surprised her. Was Prosser teasing her? If he was she couldn’t be convinced by his expression as he poured their coffee and gestured toward a silver tray holding a sugar bowl and a creamer.

  After dosing her coffee liberally with both cream and sugar (“would you like a little coffee with your cream and sugar?” Hermes always teased), she tentatively sipped it and looked across the balustrade again. The view at night was magical, but the view in pink and golden morning was positively exquisite. Bright with color, the gardens were bordered by tan and green palms as well as tulip, trumpet and banana trees. A part in the riotous mixture of color and shade revealed a golden glint of beach. The sea teased the sand with fingers of spume, appearing pale green beyond this as it disappeared toward the horizon. And all of this drowsed dreamily under hues of softest pink and purest gold that seemed to tint the very air around them. Yule imagined she could almost smell the colors, the air was so thick with their vibrancy.

  “Is it better now?” asked Prosser.

  “Better?” She looked across the table.

  “Than when you first arrived in Drowsingfaire,” he elucidated.

  “Oh.” She blushed and lowered her eyes, turning them to the breathtaking images beyond the veranda. “Yes,” she admitted. “It’s much more how I hoped it would be.”

  “But you’re still waiting,” he observed, drawing her eyes back to him. “Whatever it is you think you should feel—you’re still waiting for it?”

  “You’re teasing me,” she chastised with a smile.

  “Not at all,” he defended as their breakfast of fruit, sweet rolls, and fresh tropical fruit juice was served. “But you will let me know when it happens, won’t you? I must admit I am curious as to the identity of this feeling.” He gave her a wink and she laughed lightly.

  “If it happens I will certainly share the information,” she promised before indulging in the light yet satisfying meal.

  “I like to take a short stroll to the beach after breakfast,” he told her when the meal ended. “There’s a little footpath from the gardens to the shore, but if you’re inclined to accompany me I must caution you to screen that creamy complexion against the sun.”

  The way he said creamy didn’t sound like an insult so she smiled. “Are you inviting me, Magus?”

  “Considering the threat of sunburn, perhaps I’m daring you.” He returned her smile, his voice still easy and relaxed, so unlike his professional, clipped tones.

  “Then I accept both,” she said and his eyebrows rose with amusement.

  Yule went up to her room to grab a pair of sunglasses, pausing to anoint her hand with the tanning potion so that her “creamy complexion” grew golden with aesthetic protection. She considered a quick change from the simple white sundress to a pair of shorts and a bikini top, but decided Prosser might think she was behaving too casually. Besides, she didn’t want to keep the Magus waiting.

  She hurried back downstairs and fairly skipped out to the veranda—where she came to an abrupt halt and the smile froze on her lips. Lissome and breathtaking in a tropical print pareo, Sheirienu was shaking back her luxurious black hair and laughing lightly at something Magus Teomond said. Yule felt an odd, sharp stab in the pit of her stomach and a strange urge to retreat before they noticed her. She wasn’t doing anything wrong, but she felt illogically guilty at seeing them together.

  “Ah, here she is.”

  Too late! Yule realized Prosser spotted her then internally scolded herself for imagining she stood in a cross hairs. Why are you acting like—like what? Like you’re jealous of Magus Teomond. This isn’t a romantic getaway so shake off the daydream and get your mind on the work ahead of you.

  “Lovely to see you again, Yule,” Sheirienu greeted her warmly. “Will you be indulging Prosser in his morning constitutional?”

  “Miss Fiore has graciously accepted my invitation to walk to the beach,” Prosser corrected the sayer with mock stiffness.

  “Be careful it doesn’t evolve into a ten mile hike,” Sheirienu cautioned with amusement, catching up one of Yule’s arms in hers.

  “Oh, I’m sure it won’t—will it?” Yule looked to Prosser for confirmation.

  “I’d better go along to make sure he doesn’t take advantage of having company for an all day sojourn,” Sheirienu laughed, drawing Yule along with her when Prosser motioned for them to take the sweeping stone stairs down to the garden.

  The broad, pea-graveled path led around the grass and into the soft shadows of the jungle where it dipped gently downward until finally vanishing upon meeting the upper edge of the golden beach. Here, the trio formed a loose line as they strolled casually along the water line. Yule tried not to look at Prosser as he parted a short distance from them and removed his shoes so that he could walk through the low ripples as the tide surged across the sand. Watching him refreshed her daydream and she couldn’t have stray thoughts leaking out in a place where there might be magic workers talented in overhearing such things.

  “He should spend more time here,” Sheirienu remarked to Yule. “It relaxes him, although that could be an effect of his present company.”

  “He does seem more relaxed when he’s with you,” Yule wistfully agreed.

  Sheirienu laughed lightly at that. “Not me, silly, you.”

  “Me?” Yule blinked with surprise.

  “Of course, you’re so—charming and uncomplicated.”

  “I—suppose I am,” Yule allowed, feeling complimented and needled. “But I don’t think it’s me, I think it’s Atlantis.”


  “Don’t tell me you’re one of the superstitious folk who believe Atlantis holds some special font of power and unity just because it happens to be our birthplace?”

  It’s not that—really,” Yule didn’t want to sound ignorant. “It’s just so lovely here, away from everything.”

  “It is beautiful,” the sayer agreed, looking around. “I prefer that he brought you this time, not Marissa Snowden.”

  Yule was sure she’d heard the name before, but couldn’t quite put the date and time, or the face for that matter, to it. She didn’t move in Hermes’ social circle so it wasn’t as if she’d forgotten meeting a socialite—maybe he’d mentioned the name? She was just about to ask about the mysterious Marissa Snowden when Sheirienu provided the information.

  "Do you have good instincts about people, Yule?”

  “I’ve never given the question much consideration,” she admitted. “I’ve never actually thought about it at all,” she confessed. “I suppose I’m like everyone, I just get a feeling about a person when I meet them and go with my initial impression. I’m usually right when I go with my gut.”

  Sheirienu nodded. “You’re probably sensitive to auras without really being aware,” she observed and Yule felt the familiar sting of being reminded how disconnected she was to her magic. “I don’t suppose you’ve ever met her,” she said this as if it were a given.

  “Who? Marissa Snowden?” Yule gave a little laugh. “No, not much chance of that, but I think I’ve heard her name somewhere.”

  “I’m sure you have. Her mother is Magus Evelyn Snowden, the realty magnate. She—”

  Yule gasped quietly. Evelyn Snowden was behind the committee trying to disenfranchise powered down Groves and open them to the general real estate market. It was one of her companies seeking to purchase Yule’s Family Grove! A recent memory popped into her mind, St. John telling Prosser that Magus Snowden was waiting for him in his office.

  “You’ve probably heard the usual stories about how she started her company against her father’s wishes so she had to find funding on her own, and eventually she built an empire worth hundreds of millions—some say with the help of magic, but I think that’s envy speaking. The woman is shrewd and ruthless,” Sheirienu continued. “It’s too bad Marissa inherited her mother’s exceptional looks and ruthlessness, but none of her business focus. It means she uses both to lure in men as a hobby.”