Dreesman/THE MARKSMITH CURSEFELL CHAPTER ELEVEN The following morning dawned crisp and clear, at least as clear as winter skies got in Stonecrest. The hearty aroma of bacon and spices wafting throughout the cabin and the momentary peek of sunlight streaming through the solitary window in my room had me rushing about to get dressed. Wide awake in spite of the long broken night, I practically ran to the stairs with an urgent appetite. And pulled up suddenly on the top step at the sight of the stranger who had come to see my mother. Tristan had returned with the promise of help he had been sent to find for my mother. The promise came in the guise of the ordinary man loitering, as if he had been waiting, just below me. When I saw him it felt as if the clouds from outside had moved inside the cabin and a shadow had been cast across the room. The man, with his grey hair and smartly dressed tailoring, looked more like a banker than a doctor. His dark suit fit snugly over broad shoulders un-stooped by age. The plum striped tie was tacked high up with a knotted silver pin, tucked under a matching wool vest he wore fully buttoned. He stood at the landing to give me a long look before motioning for me to approach. My instincts told me not to trust him, but my feet moved slowly down the staircase anyway, heart thudding wildly in my chest. I did not like the man. It was a feeling that only intensified as I drew nearer. The hands that cupped mine felt greasy and smelled faintly like a sprig of mint. I wanted to shiver, disgusted. "Nathera. Heir to the first. What a pleasure." He had a leering smile. I guess it wasn't impossible to like him any less. "You must have many questions. You will come with me after I tend to your mother." "Excuse me?" "There is much you need to learn. We shall instruct you." "I don't even know you," I told him, slipping my hand out of his grip. "I'm not going anywhere." "Ah, well now. Call me Mister Rail. You have been told the way of things, have you not?" "Not exactly." "Ah, well then. As you have inherited the gift of the first, you are subject to rules set forth by the conclave of the magi." "The Circle?" "Just so. The Circle. A council of human wizards and witches charged with enforcing laws protecting magic and human interactions." He waited for me to respond, but I gave away nothing. "A covenant exists between the heirs to the first and the Circle. There are rules you must follow being, well, being what you are." "Really." "To be sure. To ignore them would be less than good for you." "Less than good for me. Like becoming some sort of monster is better than good?" I mocked him. Maybe not the smartest thing to do when the situation you find yourself in could be dangerous, but this authoritarian attitude rankled me. "Even monsters have masters, dear girl." "Well I didn't sign any contract or covenant with your council. And I didn't elect anyone either," I spat sarcasm in response. "You're feisty, sure enough. But have a care now." The drop in his tone was a warning. "Same to you." "You may have not voted for us, and what a quaint notion that is," he chuckled. It was haughty and mocking. The sound of security bloomed from the powerful without limits.
