Read Online The Watchmage of Old New York (The Watchmage Chronicles Book 1) by C.A. Sanders - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: C.A. Sanders
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that Tom often had garden parties here with other magelings. I hoped that he didn’t take any mundane guests inside.
“Come this way,” said Candace. She led me left, right, and left again, until we reached a cul-de-sac with benches and a fountain sculpted in intricate detail: MacBeth’s trio of witches dancing around a giant cauldron. The cauldron sprayed brilliant blue water into the air and left a mist of magic threads floating in air.
“Very well done,” I said. “Tom must’ve worked very hard on it.”
“He did,” she said. “Oh! Come with me. You have to see what he’s working on in the center.” She took my hand again and pulled me through the maze. I soon lost track of our path.
After a few more twists and turns, we found Tom floating six feet in the air, welding a bronze monstrosity with a glowing wand. He wore green robes instead of a shirt and trousers. A conical green hat flopped to the side of his head. He looked like something out of a fairytale, and I tried not to laugh. Magelings can be very silly people, holding on to traditions that never existed.
The sculpture was of a twelve foot bronze minotaur. Every detail—every ripple of muscle—shone in magnificent relief. I recognized the model, a bull Pooka that lives on Gansevoort Street and works in the freight yards that replaced the old fort. As we approached, Tom was etching striations into the minotaur’s shoulder.
“Darling,” Candace called. “Look who came calling.”
Tom looked down. “Nathaniel, so good to see you.” He floated to the ground and shook my hand. “What do you think,” he said, pointing to the minotaur. “The perfect centerpiece to my little labyrinth.”
“Your talents amaze me.”
The man beamed with pride. “Thank you very much. I’ve been working on it for months. I call it, ‘The King of Crete.’” He looked me over. “So, are you here as my friend Nathaniel, or as Watchmage Hood?”
“The latter, I fear. Is there someplace we can speak in private?”
He put his wand inside a robe pocket. “Yes, yes. I built a new laboratory to replace the exploded one. I used the plans that you gave me this time. I’m anxious to show you my new experiment, anyway. I think that it can be a great boon to New York, if not the world.”
“Agreed, but after we speak.”
I apparated us to the maze opening. Candace looked thrilled at the trip and giggled like a schoolgirl. Tom wanted to do it again.
Candace went back to the house and left Tom and I to our work. Tom led me to the back of the estate, where a small marble house with Dorian columns stood. The house couldn’t have been more than ten foot square, and I saw threads of magic woven into the marble. He half-walked, half-hopped as he led me inside.
The laboratory was expansive—as large as mine—but filled with racks of glass containers, odd coils, and unlit braziers. Books and scrolls lay on all surfaces, in some cases dangerously close to the braziers. At the end of the room was a wooden door, where Tom was leading me.
“You’re going to be amazed at what I’ve created,” Tom said. “I’m a little amazed myself.”
“Before you amaze me, we need to discuss something.”
He stopped and turned back toward me. “Of course. What is it?”
“I’m sure you know about the Vanderlay kidnapping.” I said.
He nodded. “Yes, terrible business, right terrible.”
“Missus Vanderlay says that she called on you and Candace when little Stewart was taken.”
“Yes, she was here.” He clapped his hands together. “Oh! This is about Edna! You must’ve felt it, too.”
“I did,” I admitted. “She has something that she shouldn’t.”
Tom nodded vigorously. “Yes. I’ve no clue what it is, but I felt it. It was almost calling to me. Not actually calling to me, of course. I’m not mad. Do you think it has to do with the kidnapping?”
I nodded. “No one in
“Come this way,” said Candace. She led me left, right, and left again, until we reached a cul-de-sac with benches and a fountain sculpted in intricate detail: MacBeth’s trio of witches dancing around a giant cauldron. The cauldron sprayed brilliant blue water into the air and left a mist of magic threads floating in air.
“Very well done,” I said. “Tom must’ve worked very hard on it.”
“He did,” she said. “Oh! Come with me. You have to see what he’s working on in the center.” She took my hand again and pulled me through the maze. I soon lost track of our path.
After a few more twists and turns, we found Tom floating six feet in the air, welding a bronze monstrosity with a glowing wand. He wore green robes instead of a shirt and trousers. A conical green hat flopped to the side of his head. He looked like something out of a fairytale, and I tried not to laugh. Magelings can be very silly people, holding on to traditions that never existed.
The sculpture was of a twelve foot bronze minotaur. Every detail—every ripple of muscle—shone in magnificent relief. I recognized the model, a bull Pooka that lives on Gansevoort Street and works in the freight yards that replaced the old fort. As we approached, Tom was etching striations into the minotaur’s shoulder.
“Darling,” Candace called. “Look who came calling.”
Tom looked down. “Nathaniel, so good to see you.” He floated to the ground and shook my hand. “What do you think,” he said, pointing to the minotaur. “The perfect centerpiece to my little labyrinth.”
“Your talents amaze me.”
The man beamed with pride. “Thank you very much. I’ve been working on it for months. I call it, ‘The King of Crete.’” He looked me over. “So, are you here as my friend Nathaniel, or as Watchmage Hood?”
“The latter, I fear. Is there someplace we can speak in private?”
He put his wand inside a robe pocket. “Yes, yes. I built a new laboratory to replace the exploded one. I used the plans that you gave me this time. I’m anxious to show you my new experiment, anyway. I think that it can be a great boon to New York, if not the world.”
“Agreed, but after we speak.”
I apparated us to the maze opening. Candace looked thrilled at the trip and giggled like a schoolgirl. Tom wanted to do it again.
Candace went back to the house and left Tom and I to our work. Tom led me to the back of the estate, where a small marble house with Dorian columns stood. The house couldn’t have been more than ten foot square, and I saw threads of magic woven into the marble. He half-walked, half-hopped as he led me inside.
The laboratory was expansive—as large as mine—but filled with racks of glass containers, odd coils, and unlit braziers. Books and scrolls lay on all surfaces, in some cases dangerously close to the braziers. At the end of the room was a wooden door, where Tom was leading me.
“You’re going to be amazed at what I’ve created,” Tom said. “I’m a little amazed myself.”
“Before you amaze me, we need to discuss something.”
He stopped and turned back toward me. “Of course. What is it?”
“I’m sure you know about the Vanderlay kidnapping.” I said.
He nodded. “Yes, terrible business, right terrible.”
“Missus Vanderlay says that she called on you and Candace when little Stewart was taken.”
“Yes, she was here.” He clapped his hands together. “Oh! This is about Edna! You must’ve felt it, too.”
“I did,” I admitted. “She has something that she shouldn’t.”
Tom nodded vigorously. “Yes. I’ve no clue what it is, but I felt it. It was almost calling to me. Not actually calling to me, of course. I’m not mad. Do you think it has to do with the kidnapping?”
I nodded. “No one in
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