Spellbreaker (Spellbreaker Duology, #1)(38)

“I don’t know why you have it in your mind that the duke means to make enemies of his own tenants.” He sounded tired. “Those spells are new, besides.”

She paused for a moment. Only a moment, for Mr. Kelsey’s long strides easily put distance between them, and she’d rather not run after him in front of so many onlookers. Mr. Kelsey had placed the spells, then. Recently. To strengthen the houses. That could be helpful only to the people who lived here.

Perhaps it had been done in an effort to save the duke money, but it was kind regardless. Not that she’d mention it.

Elsie saw the field in question up ahead—rows and rows of young plants, perhaps corn. She’d never been a farmer, but they did indeed look waterlogged and sickly, almost more brown than green, and spots dotted the leaves like freckles. She paused at the edge of it and crouched down, touching the soil. It wasn’t any damper than the rest of the county.

“Anything?” Mr. Kelsey asked.

She stood. Glanced over her shoulder, feeling the prickling of distant stares.

“They’ll lose interest soon enough,” he assured her.

She took two handfuls of her skirt and hoisted it to the top of her boots. “May I?”

Mr. Kelsey gestured ahead.

She walked down the row, trying to avoid hurting the sad crops at her feet. A few had given up hope and lay uselessly on the dirt, stems too weak to stand.

Please let there be a spell, she thought, chewing on the edge of her tongue. I can’t fix it if there isn’t. And then these people might be denied even their cabbage.

She walked the entire row without so much as a glimpse, sound, or smell of a spell. Mr. Kelsey stood a third of the way into the field, watching her. Skipping a few rows, Elsie stepped carefully back, searching. Smelling, listening. Keeping her senses open.

Again, nothing. Perhaps the tenants would have to move the field. It wasn’t too late to plant anew . . . but preparing another piece of land this size would be a difficult task.

She passed a few more rows and traversed the farmland once again. She was a quarter of the way through when she thought she heard something—a sound like a cricket’s cry, punching the air before vanishing altogether. She stepped back. Nothing. Crouched—

There.

She gently pushed apart two plants. This time she heard it more clearly, the chirp subtle yet distinct, too wrong to be a hiding insect. A spiritual spell, then. After removing her gloves and shoving them into her collar, she gave up hope for manicured nails and dug into the dirt, the chirping becoming stronger until she found it nearly a foot down. Tiny but strong, its song buzzed in her ears, the sound clear enough now that she saw its knots in her mind’s eye.

Mr. Kelsey approached from the west. “Did you find something?”

“Can you hear it?”

He shook his head.

She touched it. “There. It’s a spiritual spell, but one I don’t recognize. Does the duke or any of the people here employ magic in the fields? To help the plants grow?”

“Often, yes. Did you not find them?”

Elsie shook her head, wondering if a spellbreaker had also been present recently or if, perhaps, the aspector hired to initially boost the crops had never made it to his appointment. “This might very well be the curse you suspected, Mr. Kelsey.” She wondered if the Cowls knew about it, but she doubted it. It was very well hidden.

Mr. Kelsey cursed. Or so she thought. It was under his breath and hard to decipher, but it had the sharpness of a curse.

Without waiting for his command, Elsie poked at the spell, searching for its threads. It took her a full minute to find the first one. Her concentration must have been obvious, for Mr. Kelsey didn’t interrupt her until she was finished. She stood up and brushed off her skirts, then blinked as blood rushed back to her head.

Mr. Kelsey took her elbow.

“I’m quite all right,” she said, but she didn’t pull away until she was sure she wouldn’t fall and ruin the dress completely. He had a firm but gentle grip, unlike when he’d manhandled her a week ago. She didn’t dislike it. “I wonder if there are more.”

“We’ll look,” he said. Elsie liked that he included himself in the work, though his aspector blindness made him quite useless.

She studied his face. “You know who did it?”

“I have a very strong suspicion.”

She did love a bit of gossip. “Do tell.”

He set his jaw, relaxed it. Rubbed his forehead. “The Duke of East Sussex. His wife is a master spiritual aspector and a jealous cow of a woman.”

“My, my.” Elsie pulled her gloves from her collar. “Such a sharp tongue you have.”

“You would call her worse, I’m sure. She wears spells like a heavy perfume and deals them out as freely as the law will allow. The rest she does where the law can’t see.”

She frowned. “What business is it of hers if this farm fails or succeeds?”

Mr. Kelsey shook his head. “She’s a jealous woman. Envies Duchess Abigail a great deal. Perhaps she’s cross about Master Merton’s interest in Miss Ida; rumor is she’s topped off on her magical potential and it’s made her bitter.”

Topped off. Elsie thought of Ogden’s struggle to learn a new physical spell. He was only a novice-level aspector, and he had already emptied his magical cup. She understood discussing one’s magical potential was a taboo topic in polite society.