Chapter Nine
You glance down at the little hand wrapped around three of your fingers, smiling. A little girl is hanging on, skipping along gleefully. A little girl, perhaps four or five, dressed in a child’s dress, with a huge smile on her face. Cassie’s green eyes sparkle back up at you, eliciting a smile. You stroke Cassie’s curls softly, making the little girl giggle. “C’mon, Cass,” you say in a deep voice; a man’s voice, full of a rich, warm timbre that you recognise instantly. Yet this time his – your – voice doesn’t seem to be laced through with grief and pain, so it seems… better. Nicer. “Let’s go home.”
The scene blurs in front of your eyes. All you know is time is shifting.
You shrug on his long black coat, letting the heavy garment settle into place on his shoulders. “Cass!” you call in the voice that isn’t yours, smiling at the girl. She is a small spark of light in his – your – life, which has fast turned bad with the coming of the Nosfer. She’s eight now, still full of a child’s mischief, undulled by time in the city of Shas’Ria. “Stay here, okay? I’m going out for a while. There was a scream, and I’m going to go look.”
The scene blurs in front of your eyes. All you know is time is shifting.
You make your way down the familiar steps in a hurry, not even noticing the trip. There is a tugging at your nose; you follow it down the street, silently praying to be in time. Deep down, though, you know it’s already too late. After all, you already know the end of this memory.
You practically fly down the street, tears pouring out of your eyes and down his cheeks. You strain harder and harder, pushing your body to his limits; time seems to speed up around you, the air turning into molasses, holding you back. Just there, just had to get to that alleyway… You howl your frustration at the same time as he does, the world around you slowly breaking apart into the oblivion that you know so well.
You finally make it to the alley’s mouth, screeching to a halt. Ten metres in are two Nosfer standing, waiting their turn, while the third one finishes desecrating the body beneath his hips. You catch a glimpse of their eyes, you can dimly see their skin; they were all once Tremere. The three Nosfer-Ratu, free of the madness, take no notice of you.
The fires of Hell pale next to the blaze that you summon, incinerating the two standing Nosfer instantly. The third dies a second later as you kick it in the throat, snapping its neck and crushing its windpipe.
You drop to your knees next to Cassie’s broken, twelve-year-old form. Blood is leaking from hundreds of cuts all over her body, lacerations covering what small part of her skin wasn’t bruised. A large, ominously black one rapidly spreading across her small, just developing chest reveals that a broken rib has pierced her lung. “NO!” you howl, hugging the naked body to his chest. “No! No, you’ll live! Please, open your eyes!” you beg, crying into the girl’s soft, red curls.
“Daddy?” comes a small, tired voice. “Daddy? Is that you?” Cassie coughs, her eyes slowly opening. You almost recoil; the green eyes are dull, lifeless. Cassie’s left hand slowly rises, stroking his – your – lightly-bearded cheek. “Daddy… it hurts…” she breathes. It’s then that you notice the blood; a huge pool of it, stemming from the slick wetness on Cassie’s back. The girl coughs again, struggling for breath, before falling back into your arms.
Around you, the world shatters. The shards of your reality fall away; you wish it would reform without you, you wish you could die. You can feel pain, emanating from your chest, down your arms to the tips of your fingers still wrapped around your daughter’s corpse. In the space of a few careless minutes, in the time it took for you to slip your coat on, your world has ended.
There are no tears big enough, there are no words powerful enough, to describe the grief you can feel permeating through your body. There is only one word that you can consciously put together.
Oblivion.
***
The next day dawned grey and muggy; it seemed that winter had finally chased summer out of the city. Maas grumbled and woke when the rain began to patter on his face; blinking, he realised that he had fallen asleep on the balcony. Well done. You could have rolled over and killed yourself, you idiot.
Last night had shaken Maas badly. He had been able to hear Ria’s screams even through his thick wooden door, he had been able to hear her calling out Cassie’s name over and over again. He knew exactly what she was dreaming about; those screams still echoed in his soul, as they had since the night he had made them.
It had taken a long time for Ria to stop screaming, and another two hours before she stopped sobbing and slipped into a dreamless sleep. Maas shivered; last night was most certainly not one of his better nights.
A small part of him knew that he would know the exact moment that Ria woke up. He had had that selfsame dream many, many times before, and he always woke in exactly the same way.
With a sigh, he stood up, stretching, before he headed inside. He wanted to be there for Ria when she woke.
***
Her eyes flew open, the memories from the night’s dream blazing back into her mind. She sat up straight in the bed, her eyes wide, the face contorting into sadness as the tears welled up again. “Ria,” Maas murmured from the side of the bed; he had dragged a chair over and was sitting there, waiting for her. She whimpered and flung herself into his arms, wrapping hers around him as she sobbed into his shoulder. Her nose was running as much as her eyes were, leaving salty stains on his shirt, but all Maas did was let his arms enfold her as he whispered “It’s okay… it’s okay…” in her ear.
After a few minutes, Ria’s shuddering slowed, then stopped. Maas loosened his arms and Ria squirmed a little, rearranging herself until she was seated more comfortably, perched in his lap with her legs curled up next to her. She leaned against him, rubbing her puffy eyes. “Um…” she started, unsure what to say. “I’m sorry about that… I had a bad dream.”
Maas smiled sadly, handing her a handkerchief from his pocket. “I know. You dreamed about the night…” his throat choked for a second; he swallowed and continued. “The night… Cassie died, correct?” he whispered softly.
Ria nodded glumly, wiping her nose with the handkerchief. “What… what actually happened?” she asked tremulously, afraid of sparking a new round of tears.
Maas looked down at her, meeting her sky blue eyes with his stormy grey ones, yet they seemed to be looking through her. “It happened about six years ago. I was cooking dinner at the time; it was twilight, and Cassie was downstairs at the shop, locking it up no doubt.
“After about twenty minutes, I realised that she should have been back upstairs. There wasn’t any potion that I had taught her that took that long, and it was long since time that she shut the shop and come home.” Maas paused for a second, grimacing. “And as you now know… I pulled on my coat and bolted down the stairs. I got to the bottom; the shop was shut. I searched for her with my magic, and found her straightaway. You know the rest,” he mumbled, pulling himself back to the present.
Ria smiled sadly, wishing she could do something. Something, anything, to take the pain away.
But you can, a voice seemingly made from the whispers of her subconscious mind told her. You have the White Circuit, the Gift of the Angels. You CAN heal him.
Ria reached up, her pupils glowing white. “It hurts, doesn’t it…” she murmured in an angelic, soft voice, the voice of one lost in a dreamland. Her eyes were wide, dull, as if her mind were almost asleep. “Let me take the pain away.”
Maas gripped her wrist, shaking his head wryly. “Little one, didn’t you learn your lesson yet? You can’t heal emotional pain easily. But… you already do take some of the pain away anyway,” he answered, smiling.
His words permeated her dreamlike state, and Ria fought back against the strange, white force that had tried to take control of her. She forced the bright light back down inside, putting it back where it belonged. She blinked, and her pupils turned black again as she suppressed her power. “That was weird,” she muttered. Reaching up again, this time still herself, she stroked the stubble on Maas’ chin. “Maas… you seem like you were a really nice father,” she murmured softly. “Um… can… can I call you my father?” she asked, her eyes pleading with Maas to say yes.
Maas laughed and ruffled her hair. “I prefer ‘dad’, myself, but okay. Why not?”
***
There was a small audience waiting for Maas as he descended that morning, Ria at his side. The grey-haired, whipcord-thin Hawkeye and the other, beefy man – Edward had called him Gin – were standing outside his shop, the former looking bored, the other impatient. Apparently they hadn’t seemed to notice him yet. As Maas watched, Gin pushed off from the wall he was leaning on and rattled the doorhandle. “Come on, Cap’n Hawk! Let’s just break the door down!”
Hawkeye shook his head. “We are the City Guard, not a band of thugs. Besides, do you really think it would be a good idea to annoy one of the most powerful mages in the city?” he asked calmly. Maas stood on the third step up, watching the exchange in amusement.
“Why not? He’s hardly omniscient, now is he?” Gin shot back, rattling the door again.
“No, but he is standing just to your right,” Hawkeye finished, a hint of amusement threading through his dry voice as he nodded in greeting to Maas. Gin leapt back and snapped to attention, his eyes wide and panicking.
“Pray tell, good sirs,” Maas asked dryly, grinning at Hawkeye; “Why did you wish to look inside my shop?”
Gin tried to stammer out an answer, his eyes still wild, but Hawk cut him off. “Magister, I’ll cut to the chase. Sometime last night, Edward went missing. He disappeared from the barracks; his sword and cloak are gone, but his armour is still there.” He glanced at Ria, seemingly unsurprised to see the small girl cowering behind Maas’ legs. “Miss, do you happen to know where your friend may have gone to?” he asked, his voice turning kindly. Ria shook her head, cowering even further behind Maas. Hawk sighed and straightened. “What concerns us is he’s dressed as if he were going after Nosfer. We never wear armour when we do – the buggers are too fast.”
Maas nodded. “Well, I can’t help you. I haven’t seen him since yesterday morning, and I was working in my shop the whole day.”
Hawk pinched the bridge of his hooked, predatory nose, resting his elbow in his other hand. “This is fantastic,” he grumbled. “Bloody teenagers.” The air around him shimmered slightly; Maas raised an eyebrow. Hawk took a deep breath in, then let it out slowly, the air around him stilling as he calmed himself down. “Well,” he continued in a much calmer tone; “If you see him, tell him to get his behind back to the barracks so I can grill him.”
***
Two sets of golden eyes watched the small group hungrily. “I used to be a part of that lance,” one of the creatures hissed silently, pointing one khaki hand at the tall, thin man who bore a sabre at his hip and the sleeveless, knee-length dark blue jacket of the Mage Guard. His subservience to the Nosfer-Ratu on his left grated at him; he longed to fall on the group and rip them apart, sinking his fangs into their necks, feasting on their steaming entrails, ravishing the small girl there. Ria, a small voice whispered. That is Ria, the one you used to protect, the girl you looked after for many ye- the Nosfer-Ratu clamped his will down on the voice, blocking it out. How he hated that voice! How he hated the voice of his past self, his weak, forgiving, human self.
The older Nosfer-Ratu watched the younger one silently. The boy seemed to be adjusting very quickly to life as a Nosfer-Ratu; it had only been a few hours since he had changed the boy, yet already he had gained a small measure of command over the cursed lightning. Already, the boy was chafing under the older Nosfer-Ratu’s commands, resisting many of them. This boy was meant to be a Nosfer-Ratu, the older Nosfer-Ratu thought, almost proud of himself for finding such a man. Perhaps he shall even be able to join the Legion.
***
Ria perched once more on her seat, her shirt lying heaped in her lap. Her father sat behind her, his large fingers delicately probing the cuts on her back. “These look to be healing pretty well, little one,” Maas noted, his surprisingly cool fingers running along the length of her largest cut. “This one’s going to take a while longer, but most of the others have closed up pretty well.”
Ria smiled over her shoulder, slipping her tunic back on and turning on the stool to face him. “I’m just glad they didn’t get infected! That would have been awful.”
Maas smirked. “True, it would have. I might then have to force you to drink all sorts of nasty herbal tinctures. Actually…” he muttered thoughtfully; “Maybe I should give you one just in case.”
Ria recoiled in mock-horror. “How could you be so cruel? Besides, I wouldn’t drink it anyway! You can’t make me!”
Maas raised an eyebrow. “My daughter,” he murmured forlornly, shaking his head. “So young, and already disobedient.” He glanced out of the window, ignoring Ria’s tongue poked in his direction, at the sun – or more correctly, the shadows cast by the sun. “Come on, back to work, little one.”
He was teaching her some basic herbalism, at the same time instructing her in how the body functioned; it was vital that she knew how the body worked normally if she was ever to be able to properly heal someone. Maas flowed up to his feet, strolling into the front room to unlock the store’s door. Ria clambered off the stool with much less grace, her still-growing body making her movements awkward as she battled to adjust. Now… what was I supposed to be doing? She thought vaguely, her eyes roving over the bottles. She could recognise a dozen or so ingredients by sight instantly, and could recall another few handfuls with a bit of thinking. So far, Maas – Dad, a small voice in her head whispered – had only asked her to grind up a few different, relatively safe ingredients for him; he handled everything else. Probably a wise thing; I would end up poisoning half of the noblemen in the city otherwise. After a further moment’s thinking, her task came to her mind lackadaisically. That’s right. I was making lavender water. The purpose of the clear, slightly-purple liquid was beyond her, but four separate servants had come in, ordering bottles of it for their noble mistresses. When she had asked Maas why it was so popular, he had grinned and mumbled something about crones and vanity. She didn’t have the faintest idea what a ‘vanity’ was, but didn’t want to ask her newfound father too many more questions, lest he think her stupid or annoying.
But he wouldn’t think that, would he? she speculated as she ground up the purple lavender stamen, the soft, warm scent flooding her nostrils. Her apron, stained and old, covered her dark blue tunic; Maas had said he would order a few more for her that afternoon. Knowing him, they had already been ordered. He was a mage, so he could do things like that, surely.
With a sudden surge of insight, she realised that she actually knew very little about what he could and couldn’t do. She actually knew almost nothing about the man named Maas, the enigmatic, mage-come-father who had adopted her as his own child, going completely against the grain of a society which would have shunned her for her Gift and her stark white hair. Once again, she had to ask herself a question she had asked many times before. Just who the hell is he?
She tried to put together what she knew, and became disgruntled at the lack of body to her meagre list. He’s a tall, middle aged man. He knows herbology and can do magic. He used to be married to a woman named Rebecca, and they adopted a small baby named Cassie. And finally… he thinks his destiny is to discover how to heal the Nosfer, which he needs someone like me for. Ria growled and pounded the lavender mercilessly, her mind whirring as she tried to plot how to learn more about him. That damn man is so bloody confusing!
A hand reached around her and snagged the pestle out of her grasp. Ria squeaked and jumped in fright before spinning on her father, one hand covering her pounding heart. “Did I scare you, little one?” Maas asked, grinning widely. “What were you so focused on? Crushing lavender can’t be that interesting, can it?” Ria poked her tongue out at him, gurgling in surprise when his thumb and forefinger fastened onto it. “Now, that’s not necessary,” he chided in a pseudo-stern voice, his mouth twitching as it held back a laugh. “Children must be polite to their parents, you know.”
Ria glared at him until he let go of her tongue, still laughing. “I was trying to figure you out,” she admitted sheepishly. “You’re too… bizarre.”
Maas examined her thoughtfully for a second, as if debating what to do. Sighing, he handed back the pestle as the front doorbell chimed and he slipped through the connecting doorway. Stopping in the doorway, he grinned over his shoulder at her. “I know I’m bizarre, little one,” he said, one corner of his mouth still twitching in a slightly sardonic grin. “Tonight, you can ask your questions and find out just how bizarre.” Humming, he turned back to face his newest customer.
Ria rolled her eyes and turned back to the lavender, picking up a bottle of water to add to the crushed sprigs in the mortar. What was that all about? She wondered, even more confused now than ever. What a strange man.
***
“So, can I ask my questions now?” Ria blurted as soon as the two were across home’s threshold.
Maas gave her that strange, sardonic grin of his again. “You’ve already started by the sounds of it,” he answered. “But, very well. Go ahead, ask me about whatever you want.”
Ria slipped into her customary chair around the wooden table, Maas sitting down fluidly into his. He doesn’t seem to like the idea of this, she thought dolefully. Doesn’t he like people knowing about him? Shrugging inwardly, Ria cast about for a question. She had thought up many that day, but couldn’t for the life of her remember even one. Finally, she latched onto one that glimmered across her mind. “Can you tell me about your magic?” she asked suddenly, drawing a look of surprise from her father. Clearly he hadn’t been expecting that particular question so soon.
“My magic? I don’t really know what there is to tell, or what there is to tell that you will be able to understand,” he said subversively. “When in my mother’s womb, I was touched by Luna, as all mages are. From the age of ten, Dayne’s husband Thom taught me control over the magic which burned in my veins. He taught me control, most importantly control over my anger.
“Anger is a mage’s worst enemy; it causes them to overreach themselves, to use more force than is necessary. This means you get tired out faster, and so become defenceless.”
Ria nodded. So far, it wasn’t that hard to make sense of it. “That explains that time in the markets with the slaver,” she noted, slightly awed.
Maas laughed harshly, his face a grim study in self disgust. “That was nothing, my dear girl. Had I truly lost control, I could have reduced the whole marketplace to cinders. I very nearly did lose control, as a matter of fact.”
Ria shuddered, only just realising how close she had come to dying. “But you didn’t,” she whispered softly, more scared of Maas now than she had ever been before. She was only just realising how destructive he could be.
Maas nodded. “Aye, I controlled myself. And thank the Goddess for that!” He brightened considerably then, his face twitching into a more normal grin. “Thom always said I was too hot-headed. I used to argue with him over just about anything; it was far too easy to provoke me into an argument.” He snorted. “Anyway, as you have likely noticed, my magic is rather destructive. Maskan mages have ties to the physical plane, and as such our magicks have the most visible and the longest lasting effects. Southlanders specialise in crafting illusions; I have seen Viktor create an illusion of himself that was so good it had me fooled for a good week. I could never do anything like that… the limit of my ability is a mirage; I could fool someone, but not if they had any experience at all with illusions. Likewise, Viktor can light a candle but you will never see him get angry and level a market stall.”
Ria nodded again, her mind whirring. “I think I understand now,” she said slowly, her brain mentally clicking through the facts. “What about its cost?”
“What other questions did you have, little one?” Maas asked hurriedly, his face going blank as he blatantly avoided her question.
Ria glared at him, but conceded to his desire to move along. “When you saved me that night, you were very fast. Is that from your magic?”
Maas nodded. “A mage’s body is not like a normal human body. It’s much stronger and faster than the average person. Wounds heal quicker and we get over sicknesses faster. Nobody’s quite sure why,” he continued, guessing Ria’s next question that was almost visibly burning on the tip of her tongue. “It just happens.” He stood up in one of his strange, fluidly graceful movements that Ria put down to another side-effect of his magic, and wandered over to his kitchenette. “Come help with dinner, girl,” he said simply; his tone of voice gave her little choice in the matter.
Ria sighed and stood up, strolling over to stand next to Maas as he placed an eggplant on his chopping board. Suddenly she blinked and leaned in, peering closely at the knife he had just picked up. “Maa-Father, is that pure silver?” she asked solemnly, her eyes very wide as she beheld the blade shaped of one of the most valuable metals she knew of.
Maas nodded. “And a right royal b*****d of a knife it is too. Silver is so useless for cutlery.”
“Why don’t you just use a normal knife like everyone else does?”
Maas grinned. “Because if I did, the eggplant would probably explode.” At her blank face, he laughed, the sound making Ria poke her tongue out at him for what was likely the tenth time that day. “Ria, dear, have you never heard the songs of old? The stories of mages who touched iron, and brought ruin to whole cities?” As Ria shook her head to each one, Maas placed his silver knife down and stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Not even the Ballad of the Ironclad Magician?” Ria shook her head dumbly, feeling very stupid. Maas smiled and ruffled her hair, his touch bringing a wan smile back to her saddened face. “I am sorry, little one. Sometimes I forget that your upbringing was not the best. The long and short of it is that when a mage touches iron – or even gets close to it – all goes to Hell around him.”
Ria tilted her head, rubbing her head slightly against Maas’ hand, almost like a cat would. “Why is that?” she asked, her stomach tying itself into knots at the thought of more destruction.
Quick as a flash, Maas picked up the knife and swung it briskly, a thin red line appearing on his fingertip. Dark red blood welled instantly, the smell of rust and salt filling the air. Ria took a step backwards; no stranger to blood, she still felt queasy at Maas’ seemingly careless treatment of his own hand. “Our blood has iron in it, that’s why it is red. The iron in a knife, or in rust, or in the ground sometimes, calls to it; iron calls itself, always.” He held his hand up. A single droplet of blood fell, sparkling in the golden evening shaft of light that slanted in through one window. It seemed to be captured in the shaft of light, a perfect red orb suspended like a dust mote at Ria’s eye level. Ria stared at it, and felt as if she were being pulled in; the orb was mesmerising, a drop of the sanguine fluid that flowed through every living creature around her. The sparkling liquid seemed to almost be like a flawless, polished ruby floating in front of her, refracting the light into brilliant patterns, pulling her inwards, tugging at her core. “Feel the tug,” Maas whispered sibilantly. “Feel your blood rushing through your veins, the vitae of life calling to the world around it.” His voice dropped lower, mesmerising Ria’s ears as the suspended droplet of blood captivated her eyes. She could indeed feel her blood, now that she thought about it. It was a pounding of her heart, a rushing in her ears, a sensation of tingling streams running down her limbs. The orb of blood in front of her seemed to grow in her vision as Maas’ tantalising voice echoed through her. “Hear its mutterings, listen to its pleas to join this blood before you… feel the force within the drop, calling to the iron in you… a magnetic pull…”
Maas’ fingers snapped, and the blood continued to fall. As it hit the wooden floor the orb didn’t splash, as Ria’s tracking eyes expected it to; instead, it bounced. Ria bent and picked it up and found that it indeed was a ruby. “You felt the pulling, didn’t you?” he asked her solemnly. Ria nodded mutely, her eyes transfixed on the precious gemstone. “That pull is dangerous to mages. It pulls our magic out, as our magic is born in our blood,” Maas’ voice continued on softly. Ria was only half-listening, her attention captured by the small gem that was in the palm of her hand.
“I felt the pull really strongly, though! Did you do that to me with your magic?” Ria asked, the ruby sparkling in her cupped hands.
Maas smiled. “Only a small touch of my magic, to show you what I experience when I pass too close to iron.” As Ria hid the gem from him, he grinned. “Don’t worry. The gem won’t call to me, since I made it myself.” His eyes turned back to the eggplant, and his face melted into a state of impassivity. “It is said that if we could turn magic into solid substance, it would be iron.” He quietly turned back to the chopping board and picked up his knife, the quiet, vaguely wet thud of the knife slicing through and hitting the board the only sound that filled the single roomed house.
***
Maas sat in his customary spot on the balcony, his eyes fastened onto the waning gibbous moon that hung far overhead, its frosty blue light only slightly diminished by the veil the Maiden was drawing across her face. The autumn night was cold, far colder than it had been even three nights before. Winter is coming, he thought diffidently. And with it, that time. That time was the Winter Solstice, a time of grave celebration in his long-destroyed village. It was the day when they had paid homage to the dead and to the Angel of Death, whose domain was the night. It was said that the Maiden, whose physical representation smiled down upon Gaea almost every night, was watching the Angel do his work to make sure he took nobody he was not supposed to take. The more superstitious folk dreaded cloudy nights and the new moon, often hiding themselves behind banks of candles to stay Daniel’s hand.
It is sad to think that Mother Luna cannot even trust her own consort, Maas thought, his silvery-grey eyes a pale shade of blue in the reflected light of the moon. But of all whom were around him, it was Daniel, the angel of Death, whom Maas trusted most of all. We all end up in his realm eventually, after all. Why should he hurry?
Ria had asked him more questions, during dinner, about all kinds of things. Where his village used to be, what kind of mischief he had performed there, what his first magical act had been. That last one was a cause of no small discomfort to Maas, especially in relating it to Ria; His first piece of magic had been at the age of fifteen – it had taken him nearly five years to actually be able to use magic, which Thom had said was not uncommon - and quite accidental. He had been playing hiding games with the rest of the young folk from his village and it had been his turn to seek people out; he had snuck up on Rebecca first, having found her hiding in the middle of a blackberry bush. She had always had a way with plants; he swore that he had seen her talking to trees before. He had tapped her on the shoulder, meaning to scare her, but a spark of magic leapt from his hand into her and she had instead shuddered and fallen over backwards. There she lay, curled up and still shaking, tears leaking from her eyes, the hugest grin on her face as she gasped for breath, her eyes screwed shut.. When Maas had asked her about it later, she had kissed him harder than she had ever before, showing him exactly what it felt like – though he hadn’t told Ria that part. He could feel himself turning red now as he had when he had related the story to Ria, as the memories of the intense hunger that had suffused the two of them for that instant when their mouths had been joined flooded back. Thankfully, they hadn’t gotten too carried away, though Maas recalled he had needed to get a new shirt afterwards.
A small tap from the inside of the oaken door signified Ria finished getting ready for bed. Maas clambered to his feet and opened the door, smiling peacefully at his daughter. Her simple white shift, an old shirt that Maas had altered to suit her, was slightly rumpled from the long time it had spent in his cupboard. He ruffled her long hair and she grinned up at him, her face breaking into childish pleasure. The constant fear and wariness melted away for an instant, and Maas grinned even more. So, this is the child she is meant to be.
Ria skipped across the room to the bed and slid under the covers daintily, squeaking softly. When Maas raised an eyebrow, she made a face. “The sheets are cold,” she explained, bringing a snort forth from Maas’ nose. She lay back sleepily, smiling faintly at him as he tucked her in. One last question drifted up from the depths of her mind, one that she had wondered ever since she had met him. “Father…” she muttered sleepily, turning her already lidded eyes to look up at him. “Why don’t you help people with your magic?”
Maas smiled whimsically and went down on his haunches, putting himself at her eye level. “Magic doesn’t solve everything, little one. Magic actually solves very few problems. I prefer to help them through more… conventional means.”
Ria smiled at him. “That’s so like you,” she mumbled around the sleep filling her body. “Tomorrow, can you tell me about Mother?”
Maas stroked her forehead gently. “Okay, dear one. Now sleep; tomorrow’s a long day.” He leaned in and kissed her forehead, his beard stubble tickling her. “Sleep well.”
