Abaddon's Call

Chapter Fourteen

"Because the university is hardly an appropriate place to raise a child," Luk protested.

It had been an ongoing discussion since Luk arrived with the baby. He protested when Theon selected the name Lukdon, but Gray said he'd deliver the letter to Lady Pan to advise her. He protested when Theon began reading out loud to the child, afraid of what it might retain at such a young age.

Theon had sat Luk down and join their reading session on the basics of appropriate cleansing techniques. The same book Luk had been after him to read since they first met.

When Theon had managed to find the time to speak with Naena about the child and his troubles with Luk, all she had to say was, "did it arrive writing sigils in the birthing fluids? If not, it's a baby. It cries and shits, and things are far too chaotic right now for it to understand anything aside from the fact that it's safe when your voice sounds like that. Take that from him, and you take his safety."

Theon wasn't sure how he felt about Naena's response, but he knew Luk's was more disturbing.

"A rogue elemental from across the seas, Trathor looking to kill him at any chance," Luk protested, ticking items on his fingers, "Jasor! Jasor Salord just wandering the hallways as if—"

"Need I remind you that your son wanders these halls? Mine, technically, does not."

"He has the protection of magics deeper and darker than you will ever study until he completes his proofing," the lord countered. "Your son does not come pre-equipped with protective warding engraved on his bones. You damned fool."

Theon almost said it but bit back the comment about it not being so bad. He bit it back because he felt that rising urge to run and yet giggle at the same time. The giggle was an inappropriate reaction Theon had around a particular type of magic, though Luk never told him what.

It was, however, the kind of magic Luk retreated from if encountered in the field.

"Problem," he said.

"I feel it, too," Luk muttered. "Jasor was here this morning."

The pair met eyes.

As far as they knew, Jasor only recognized the public shields. None of those shields had more than a few jobs under their belts, and those jobs were from the new generation of mages. Jasor was the type of mage once common across the lands.

Thanks to Trathor's spell, he was an oddity.

Theon had finally understood that, but that didn't mean he was any more forgiving of Trathor. If anything, he was more infuriated because if all the mages had been like Jasor, surely there would have been a more intelligent man out there with a better spell.

"Oh, do please, oh Lord Pan, Lord of the Seven, fifteenth or so Grayson Pan but fourth Grayson Pan to sit as Lord of the Seven, please—"

"You're an asshole."

"Oh please," Theon continued sarcastically, "Accept my humble service—"

"There is nothing humble about you. Frankly, I don't understand why people always think you're serious and formal. You're not this catty with other people?"

"I am not catty. You told me there was an alarm for that."

"Never did get that spell working," Luk muttered.

Alarms began going off.

In the moment afterward, Luk pointed upward and gave Theon a firm look.

"That is a very real alarm," Luk said.