A Summer Wind Down

And this week's story looks like it concludes this current arc of the In Council series.

Oh, I think there are plenty more adventures here to understand. But for now, I think Martha, Russ, and their friends and enemies will be turning to more quiet endeavors, at least for a bit.

That's what usually happens, after all, when entering...

A Summer Wind Down - an In Council story by M. K. Dreysen

Martha Hazard didn't, as a general rule, attend funerals.

This might have had something to do with being from a small family. Parents still doing well, and their parents. Not a lot of cousins and so on, or at least not at that stage of life.

Martha admitted she was young enough the topic just hadn't come up that often.

But she did have an opinion. And that being, Martha would much rather that funerals, if she had to attend them, come in winter.

Clear frosty skies. Or miserable late winter rains. Either way. The north wind should blow and herald that which lay behind it.

Not the wind off the Gulf. All the humidity, where she didn't ever feel like she'd quite dried off after the morning shower. And the heat, of course.

At least the heat pressed in and weighed down the moments. Jessica, first, and the only a week later Len and Dwight's mother.

Martha and Russ stood at her mentor's side, both of them worried whether he'd make it without falling down, and gave what comfort they could. And to Len as well, the younger Thompkins sibling embarrassed at his own tears.

Martha wondered whether the Laughing Man's mask, the one that Len had set aside when Momma began her last day's journey, hid more than Len wanted to admit to. Or if it had turned from mask to crutch in that odd alchemy tools sometimes undergo.

****

The flight back started quiet, three little mice consumed with their thoughts. By the time they'd headed over to the carousel and its winding cargo of bags, they'd started little conversations.

The short ones, a couple of exchanges, a few words here and there, and then more silence. No strain, just short.

The companionable moment came to an end when Renau's apprentice stepped between Martha and her gear. "Ah, this does look like perfect timing then. You without your toys, and me with a grudge."

Martha pulled up short. "There's no way... huh. I guess your boss did take care of you. Memory jar?"

"Or something like it. Weeks of hell re-absorbing my memories. I've spent the last six weeks with the worst headache you can imagine. I'm here for a little pain relief." The guy reached to pull something out from behind his back.

Whatever it was, Martha could feel it, smell it, the power rolled from it and warped the air between the two about-to-be combatants.

Then Dwight stepped between the two of them. "Hold."

And whatever Renau's apprentice had been about to unleash, his muscles stopped participating in the process. "Professor... I... ah..."

"You've chosen an an awfully public venue for this, Martin." Dwight looked around. The almost empty baggage claim and the almost midnight hour belied his words, but Martin couldn't really deny the point.

Dwight nodded. And at his nod, a circle, just the faintest hint of dark purple light, began to inscribe itself around them all, Russ, Dwight included. A shadow wall, one that held their voices and threatened to swallow all the light coming and going, began rising up as well.

Martin visibly, audibly, gulped. "I... you owe me, Martha Hazard. And I intend to collect." Shaking his head, whether at himself, circumstances, or whatever, Renau's apprentice turned and ran for the doors.

"I'll be sure and make time for you, Martin!" Martha called after him.

When she turned back, Russ and Dwight were giggling. Martha cocked an eyebrow at the both of them. "What?"

"How long do you think it'll take him to calm down and figure it out?" Russ asked. "The illusion, I mean?"

Dwight straight out laughed, now. "He'll just add it to Martha's account when he does."

Martha shook her head as she bent to her gear. "Easy enough for you to say."

"It's an unfortunate part of the age you're at. So many of your fellow apprentices view the power they're beginning to understand as an avenue to more immediate gratification. Very human, when you think about it."

"Very annoying."

"That too. Listen," and Dwight waved to include Russ in the conversation. "You two have tuition bills coming up, right?"

Russ groaned. "I've been trying not to think about it. The bill came while we were gone. Mom said they'll take it in three installments..."

Martha's face showed the graduate student's long-suffering financial pain.

Dwight smiled. "It turns out that my Chair funds will cover those tuition bills." He stopped to enjoy the happiness.

Momentarily. "There's only one problem. You two have to go to Accounting to file the paperwork."

Martha frowned; Russ's face echoed ever clueless freshman that had ever been. "Accounting?" Martha started. "But that's just..."

"Not the main office. There's a... well. Let's just say that we have our own branch of the administration. For our particular needs. It's in the basement."

"The basement?"

"You'll need the key. Oh, and the map. We'll get you a list of the guardians, of course, and the pass codes and puzzles. Can't forget the puzzles..."

Martha looked at Russ's face, now gone from clueless to real fear. And Dwight's, lost in contemplation. "Traps," Dwight mumbled. "I need to look up which moon phase we're in..."

Martha Hazard couldn't help but smile and throw one arm over Russ's worried shoulders, and the other arm through Dwight's elbow. "Don't worry, kid. A little blood and some pain, just call it our contribution to the semester bill. And a reminder."

Russ snorted. "Of what?"

"Of why we got into the gig."