This is episode 5 of a serial fantasy fiction tale. “Murder Among Mages”
In a city where magic is both a gift and a burden, there exists a library tucked away in an opulent, ancient manor. Zimmerman House. Our protagonist, a mage named Elara, stumbles upon this manor after losing her mentor in a tragic magical accident. She is given the opportunity of a lifetime in exchange for silence and dedication to a woman claiming to be an ancient goddess.
Their magical world is a combination of England’s aristocracy & manners, and our world. Dangerous, dirty, and full of secrets. Bridgerton meets modernity -- a murder mystery mixed with magic.
Elara is tasked with unearthing her former mentor’s killer while making sense of the Zimmerman Library. As she delves deeper into the library, she uncovers the stories of those who came before her, mages who wielded power for purposes both noble and nefarious. The library challenges her understanding of right and wrong, forcing her to question the nature of sacrifice and the true meaning of loss.
In the end, Elara must confront the ultimate question as she faces her mentor’s murderer: Is the power to rewrite fate worth the price of losing one's humanity?
Chapters 1-4 can be found at the Fiction Forge here.
Previously:
‘I’ve decided to keep a record of everything in case I should disappear. I want the truth to be known…’ It seemed that even then, Hallan had been cautious.
And now the continuation…
When the clock on her bedside table chimed six times, Elara set the journal aside, washed her face in the ensuite bathroom, and changed her clothes for dinner. Clean black trousers, a button-down black shirt, and a black satin waistcoat were deemed acceptable for dinner. She slid her arms into a long black and silver brocade coat and headed for the dining room.
She found Agatha already seated.
“Good evening,” Elara said as she pulled out the chair across from her new mentor, the only other place set at the large table.
“I trust your afternoon went well?” Agatha asked.
“It was…informative,” Elara replied as she settled her napkin across her lap. “When Hallan stayed here with you, what room did she have?”
“Yours.”
“I was surprised to discover a book written by Hallan on the shelf upstairs. I didn’t know she’d written one.”
“Three, in fact,” Agatha replied as her gaze shifted to someone coming through the swinging kitchen door with two steaming bowls. “Sheridan, this is Miss Elara Emerson. She’ll be staying in Hallan’s old room.”
The cook set one of the bowls in front of Agatha before coming to set the other in front of Elara. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Emerson. Do you have any food sensitivities or preferences I should know about?”
Elara sniffed discreetly but appreciatively at the steam wafting up from the bowl. “This smells wonderful, what is it?”
Sheridan took a step back before smiling. “Roasted red pepper soup with green onions.”
“My favorite,” Agatha added with a look of pride toward her cook.
“As far as I know, the only thing I absolutely cannot eat is any form of shellfish,” Elara said to Sheridan. The cook seemed a little younger than herself with auburn hair pulled back into a tight braid and piercing and intelligent blue eyes. “I attempted to indulge once and very nearly died,” Elara finished.
Sheridan’s blue eyes widened in alarm. “Oh! I’ll keep that in mind when I shop for ingredients!”
“I did enjoy the pomegranate, cranberry, and grape juice I sampled earlier, though. It’s not something I was able to enjoy often before…” Elara’s voice trailed off.
“I’ll make sure to keep some cold for you then. I’ll leave you both to enjoy your soup,” Sheridan said before returning to the kitchen.
The soup was deep red, flavorful, and topped with bits of green onion. Neither Agatha nor Elara spoke until their bowls were empty.
“Shortly after you had begun studying with Hallan, she told me that she had found you in a workhouse, but that you had no memories of your early life. Did you ever recover your recollections?” Agatha asked.
Elara blinked in surprise. She’d not expected that question! “I never did. My memories only go back to a few months before I met Hallan. All I recall before then are feelings -- cold, hunger, and fear. Studying with Hallan was a gift. It took some time before I stopped hoarding food and wearing two layers of clothing to stay warm,” Elara leaned back in her chair when Sheridan emerged from the kitchen with a tray.
“You don’t remember your family?” Agatha asked as she peered through her spectacles across the table.
“For all I know, Miss Zimmerman, my father could be head of the Adjudicators, and I would still be unaware,” Elara glanced up as her empty bowl was taken away. In its place, a plate was settled in front of her.
“Roasted quail breast with asparagus spears in brandy sauce and potato balls in melted garlic butter. Initially, I would have followed the soup with oysters, but…” Sheridan explained.
“Thank you, Miss Sheridan, I have far too much I want to accomplish to die tonight,” Elara said with a small teasing smile.
“You can just call me Sheridan,” the cook murmured before stepping away to take Agatha’s bowl and replace it with her own quail, asparagus, and potato balls.
After Sheridan had retreated to the kitchen once more, Elara and Agatha ate their meal in silence. Only the tick of a clock and the sound of crockery moving about in the kitchen made any noise beyond their own.
“Speaking of goals,” Agatha said quietly as she set her cutlery across her plate. “I thought it might be best to take some time to grieve before we start making inquiries. You should take time and settle in, make use of the house and library. Learn how things are organized there. After we take a suitable amount of time to mourn our loss, we can start presenting you as my assistant. Perhaps visit the detectives and see if they’ve made any headway into their investigation.”
Elara nodded. She wanted to say that she and Hallan had been close, after years of study, but she wondered now how close they’d really been. The words she wanted to say stuck in her throat.
With dinner cleared away, Sheridan brought out dessert and coffee, with a cup of herbal tea for her employer. Just before the blue-eyed cook slipped back into the kitchen, Agatha spoke up.
“Oh, Sheridan, before I forget, you remember Garnet don’t you?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“I’ve sent a note ‘round and offered him employment here. He, and a new maid, will be starting tomorrow morning. They’ve been instructed to present themselves at the backdoor at 6 AM sharp. Can you listen for them and show them where things are? Garnet will take over the attic room. The maid, Millicent, lives not far away. She’ll be lunching with you and Garnet, but returning to her home at the end of her day.”
“Yes, Ma’am.” Sheridan nodded and retreated.
Elara was relieved Garnet would be joining the household. Life with Hallan had been comfortable, but Zimmerman House was a step up into unfamiliar wealth. And even though Hallan had trusted Agatha, the old woman was still a mystery.
“Would it be impudent to ask you a personal question?”
“I’m sure you have many, Miss Emerson. You may ask whatever you’d like. I reserve the right to answer any I might find too personal,” Agatha replied before taking a sip of tea.
“Do you remember all of your…experiences?”
Agatha was quiet for a few heartbeats as she considered the question. Finally, she replied. “Do I remember all of my lives? Yes. Each time I have reinvented myself, I have tried to do so in such a way that I build upon knowledge gained before. And as you’ve no doubt ascertained… wealth. There is no point in being immortal if one cannot improve their life as they go. And that of others. I have seen and helped many people through the ages. Lived in many different places. But Denham is…special. I was drawn here a long time ago.”
“How long have you been here?”
“Long enough to tell you with accuracy how The Weave of the Accord was created.”
“You were there?” Elara tried to keep the surprise out of her voice but failed.
“My dear, I am one of the Founders,” Agatha took a small sip before shifting her weight in her chair and explaining further. “When I first arrived here, magic was a wild, untameable force. Crime and unlawful behavior ran rampant. Order was needed. Those of us who were most powerful sought each other out and through much discussion, agreed that for civilization to flourish, we needed to come together under a common understanding—a pact not just in word but in the very essence of magic itself. It was finally decided to create a spell woven from our collective will and combined power, which was surprising even to me.”
“Wait, you helped create The Pact of The Founders?” Elara asked.
Agatha nodded. “The Pact did more than just create a system of governance; it fundamentally changed how magic operated in our world. It tied the use of magic to the fabric of social agreements, etiquette, and the collective belief in the power of one's word. This gave birth to the Weave of Accord, so casually referred to now as ‘The Weave’, an invisible web that connects magically-inclined individuals within our society.”
“In all our discussions about magic and my gifts, Hallan never explained to me how The Weave works…”
“The Weave of Accord draws its strength from the collective adherence to social norms and contracts,” Agatha explained. “It is sustained by the belief in the sanctity of one's word and the mutual respect for the social order. So each time you and I choose to use social graces instead of common references, we strengthen The Weave. The strength of it, and thus the magic it grants, is directly proportional to the collective belief in the importance of social contracts and etiquette. As long as society holds these values dear, the Weave remains strong, and magic flows freely. Acts of social harmony, adherence to etiquette, and the fulfillment of contracts strengthen the Weave, making magic more potent. Conversely, broken promises can weaken it, leading to a decrease in magical abilities across society.” Agatha stopped speaking and studied her assistant.
Elara blinked as she studied her coffee. Then said, “So The Weave is the source of Denham’s magic, strengthened by etiquette, personal honor, and social contracts? And The Founders, including you, shaped it from raw power into a self-perpetuating spell?”
“As long as the fabric of our society is upheld, it is self-perpetuating, yes.”
“Why choose to live a life of secrecy then? Why not take a more active role in the shaping and direction of our society?”
“Because if I step out of the shadows, far too many questions are asked, like yours. Which more commonly would become, ‘Why can I not help the destitute of Denham?’ People would look to me as a savior, which I am not. The way I steer Denham’s future is by anonymous assistance to those organizations that directly better the lives of our citizens who cannot help themselves. I take on particularly talented individuals such as yourself, Hallan, and others throughout the ages, and help shape, and steer their talents in a way that strengthens The Weave and thus, feeds the magic. I’m able to stay in the shadows and indirectly influence Denham’s future. Do you understand?”
Elara set her hands on either side of her coffee cup and nodded slowly. “So what happens now?”
A door chime sounded throughout the house and Sheridan left the kitchen. “I’ll get it, Miss Zimmerman.”
When they were alone again, Agatha replied. “You take the next few days to acquaint yourself with the library. We mourn the loss of Hallan. Once she is passed on to the next part of her journey, we’ll see what we can learn from the investigators of her murder.”
Sheridan reentered the dining room. “You won’t need to visit them, Ma’am. There’s a detective here to see you. She says she has some questions for you.”
Agatha nodded, unsurprised. “Show her in here, please Sheridan. Well, Miss Emerson, it looks like I’ll be introducing you as my new assistant earlier than planned. Are you ready?”
“Of course,” Elara replied with a confidence she did not entirely feel.
You can find Chapter 6 HERE!
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