“In a manner of speaking. The collar?”
The Iblis wizard had to be a low-level—not surprising for one running a small shop in this backwater harbor town—but he was also unusually dense not to notice how Gabriel’s magic intensified in the small room. Nic expected silver to begin to rain from the air. She put a hand on Gabriel’s arm, the muscle there tense, and gave him a smile. He relaxed minutely, acknowledging with a slight nod. “Get it done,” he told the locksmith, stepping back to give him room.
The locksmith grabbed Nic by the shoulders, turning her to face a bright mage light as if she couldn’t understand verbal instructions. Once he had her positioned, the wizard seized the collar, turning it ungently. It scraped painfully over her raw skin, but Nic steeled herself to show no reaction. Gabriel didn’t need any more incentive to lose his temper with this lout. “Where are you?” he muttered at the collar. “Ah. Gotcha. Whoever sealed this meant it to stay,” he told Gabriel, “until the maker released it.”
“Then it’s beyond your skills?” Gabriel sounded increasingly dangerous.
“Your lucky day, Wizard Phel. I happen to know this maker and his tricks. You came to the right locksmith. Narlis!”
The old woman stood creakily and shuffled over to lay an arthritically gnarled hand on the locksmith’s shoulder. A burst of metallic-tanged magic spread heat over Nic’s throat, and the collar fell free. Being freed of the weight of it, metaphorically and physically, had her nearly sobbing in relief. Gabriel drew her back against him, arm wrapped protectively around her, as if he understood.
“Go back to your stool,” the locksmith snapped at the older woman, who shuffled away, sagging from even that small magic drain. Gabriel observed it, too, and for a moment Nic thought he might cause trouble, but he said nothing.
“Here you go, darling,” he murmured, draping her in the cloak again, fastening it and drawing up the hood, as if it might protect her. He passed the locksmith a few coins—an exorbitant price for such a small job. Nic considered advising Gabriel that it was too much, but she really wanted out of there.
The Iblis wizard took the money, held the collar out to Gabriel.
“No.” Gabriel’s lip curled in distaste. “Dispose of it.”
“Your loss is my resale.” The locksmith cackled. “Good punishment collar, as I said. You sure you want to give it up? I can key it to you, so you’re the only one who can put it on her—or take it off. Better bond that one quick, lest someone else be tempted to take her off your hands.” He licked his lips. “Tasty morsel, that one. I have an idea who you stole her from.”
“I paid you well,” Gabriel replied, voice soft with menace. “To ensure your silence, remember?”
The Iblis wizard held up his hands. “I won’t tell anyone. I’m just saying I have a lovely selection of collars here.” He swept a hand at a display case of the things, from simple to garish. “Or, like I said, I can custom design something. Nothing shouts legal ownership like an expensive collar.”
Gabriel turned his back and guided Nic out of the store. “I should’ve picked a better place,” he growled in annoyance. “I’m sorry you had to endure that asshole.”
“They’re probably all the same,” Nic soothed him. “Those minor wizards are so riddled with jealousy that they try to lord it over anyone weaker than them. Did you see how he needed his familiar for even that simple task? I bet he’s no more than a three on the MP scale. Barely a wizard at all.”
“Was that woman his… wife?” Gabriel asked hesitantly.
“With that age difference? Not likely, especially since she was unbonded. No, probably she belonged to another Iblis wizard in his family—maybe his grandfather or a great-uncle, judging by her age. He’d have inherited her. That’s the only way a wizard like him would get a familiar, even an aged one.”
“She should be living out her last years in comfort, not slaving in a shop for her grandchildren.” Gabriel sounded angrier, silver sharp in the air.
Nic shrugged, trying to downplay the situation, though it had bothered her, too. “Some families allow their familiars to retire when their wizards die; some don’t. Just like some families put their older livestock out to pasture and others keep them in harness until they die.”
“Please stop,” he bit out savagely, “comparing yourself to livestock.”
She gave him a look, showing him her scrupulously closed lips.
He snorted a humorless laugh. “How did he know I hadn’t bonded you?”
“Even a minor wizard can sense that,” she replied promptly. “Didn’t you sense Jan’s seal on Daniel?”
He nodded reluctantly, getting that lip-curled expression of distaste again. “And Narlis didn’t have that. I didn’t know to look for it, but I get what you mean. I take it you can sense the bonding?”
“Yes. We have the same ability that way. I can recognize most magic just as well as you can.”
“Then why can’t you manipulate it like I can?”
She tapped her forehead. “My brain never developed that extra something, for whatever reason. Basically, we all start the same, but wizards go one step farther. No one knows why familiars don’t develop into wizards, but they just… don’t. Believe me, people tried to force it. There was a lot of dissecting of familiars and experimentation on them in the bad old days before the Convocation stepped in and put a stop to it.”
Gabriel had a hard look on his face. “I didn’t know that.”
“History of the Convocation101. Mostly a lot of pennant-waving about how glorious the Convocation is and how lucky we are to be protected by it.” She snorted.
“Why isn’t Narlis bonded?” he asked after a moment of quiet thought.