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  Seasons’ Beginnings

  Book One of the Season Avatars

  Sandra Ulbrich Almazan

  Copyright © 2014 by Sandra Ulbrich Almazan

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or trans-

  mitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.

  Sandra Ulbrich Almazan

  www.sandraulbrichalmazan.com

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are

  a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead,

  or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Book Layout © 2014 BookDesignTemplates.com

  Seasons’ Beginnings/ Sandra Ulbrich Almazan. -- 1st ed.

  ISBN 978-1500652548

  This book is dedicated to all my friends and family members who

  have supported my writing efforts over the years.

  CONTENTS

  Part One: The Magicians ...................................................................... 7

  The Meeting ..................................................................................... 9

  Salth ............................................................................................... 16

  An Apprentice? .............................................................................. 22

  Breaking the Spell .......................................................................... 28

  The Magic Institute ........................................................................ 32

  A Midnight Visit ............................................................................ 41

  The Golden Haze ........................................................................... 58

  Part Two: The Avatars ....................................................................... 65

  Pagli ............................................................................................... 67

  The Four ......................................................................................... 76

  Timeless Artifacts .......................................................................... 83

  The Crystal House .......................................................................... 96

  A House for Thirteen ................................................................... 107

  The Avatars .................................................................................. 118

  Chaos Season ............................................................................... 127

  Spring Returns ............................................................................. 136

  The Summer Avatars ................................................................... 143

  Crystal, Gold, and a Shell ............................................................ 163

  Departure ...................................................................................... 174

  A Sinking Boat ............................................................................. 189

  An Encounter ............................................................................... 196

  Two Krons ................................................................................... 224

  The Water Clock .......................................................................... 240

  Afterword ..................................................................................... 250

  The Season Avatars of Seasons’ Beginnings ................................ 251

  Scattered Seasons (Book Two of the Season Avatars) ................. 252

  Other Works By the Author ......................................................... 257

  About the Author .......................................................................... 259

  Part One: The Magicians

  C H A P T E R O N E

  The Meeting

  Kron Evenhanded was packing up his many unsold artifacts when a

  woman in a scoop-necked dress pushed her way through the crowd and

  halted in front of him. She had a grim expression on her face and one

  hand behind her back. “I hear you’re a magic-user, stranger.” Her tone

  made it clear she didn’t think much of his kind.

  “I’m an artificer,” he replied. He waved his hand over his collection:

  scraps of wood embedded with pebbles, a couple of bronze mirrors with

  words carved into the handles, soapstone figures, cloth bags, and more.

  He had the most eclectic merchandise in the city—and the most misun-

  derstood. She didn’t seem like a customer, but he had to treat her like

  one. “Each of these items is enchanted. Do you want me to demonstrate

  what they can do, Dame, or should I make an item just for you—”

  “Can any of your items do this?”

  She thrust a white, bloodless chicken a thumbspan from his nose.

  Kron blinked as he stared at the carcass. Its head was on backward,

  melded smoothly to the neck as if the bird had been born like that.

  Kron had only arrived in Vistichia a few days ago, but he hadn’t

  encountered any other artificers—or other magicians, for that matter.

  Many people blamed magicians for the recent plague of disasters that

  had inspired Kron to return to his own family in Delns. What if they

  blamed him for this? He could end up as dead as the chicken.

  He smiled at the woman while wishing his tunic and leggings were

  less torn and stained. “That’s not my type of magic, Dame. I work with

  made objects, not natural creatures.”

  “Well, could this be a side effect of your magic?” she asked.

  1 0 · S a n d r a U l b r i c h A l m a z a n

  Kron shook his head. “None of my artifacts can do that to a living

  thing. Where did you find the hen?”

  “In my henhouse. She was one of my best layers.” The woman shook

  the carcass at him. “We have laws in this city, magician. There’s a fine

  for destroying someone else’s property.”

  “But Dame, I didn’t—”

  “Phebe, that’s enough.” Another woman, younger than the first,

  stepped forward, her arms draped with baskets full of bread, vegetables,

  and fish. “He’s not that kind of magician. Can’t you tell from looking

  at his wares that he doesn’t practice magic on animals? Someone else

  was cruel to our poor Mama Hen.” Her gentle voice became grieved at

  the final words.

  “She was an egg-layer, Bella, not a pet.” But Phebe looked down

  and stepped away from Kron’s temporary shop as if ashamed by her

  earlier accusation.

  He turned to the other woman. She wore a simple white tunic with a

  matching headcloth covering her dark hair. Her large eyes, flecked with

  green and gold like gems, would have made deer envious. As Kron met

  her gaze, she smiled and looked away. He couldn’t blame her; he was

  hardly as lovely to look at as she was.

  “Thank you, Dame.” He honored her with a slight bow.

  “It’s Dama.” Bella smiled at him again, making his stomach feel like

  a thousand butterflies were trapped inside. If he remembered the title


  correctly, “Dama” meant she was unmarried. The men in this city were

  fools to overlook someone this kind and pretty.

  Phebe cleared her throat. “I still want to know what happened to my

  chicken and who did it.”

  Without looking away from Bella, Kron heard himself saying, “I’m

  done with the marketplace for the day, Dame and Dama. Perhaps I

  might be able to find out who killed your hen.” He picked up a finder.

  “With this, I can track magic.”

  Phebe didn’t seem impressed, but Bella stared at the finder, a silver

  arrow mounted on a wooden base with a cat’s eye gem embedded in a

  Sea so n s’ Be gin n in gs · 1 1

  corner. Kron wondered if she was sensitive to magic. Only one person

  in a hundred possessed enough sensitivity and power to use magic. No

  wonder he’d always been so isolated.

  Kron packed all of his artifacts except for the magic finder into his

  sacks, then followed Phebe and Bella out of the marketplace. A white-

  haired woman wearing a midwife’s orange dress waved to Phebe as she

  passed, while a youth with a strong resemblance to the midwife winked

  at Bella. Kron grit his teeth, but Bella barely glanced at the other man.

  She stopped instead at a weaver’s booth to finger finely woven wool.

  The weaver, short and dark-haired, seemed even shyer than Bella.

  “Not now, Bella,” Phebe said before Bella could ask the weaver the

  price.

  Bella’s shoulders drooped. Even though Kron already carried a

  heavy load, he took a basket from her. Relief shone in Bella’s eyes.

  “Who is she to you?” he asked Bella when Phebe was halfway up

  the street from them. She led them to an area neither markedly rich or

  poor. The houses here were mostly two-story and made of fired brick

  strong enough to endure harsh weather, but they shared walls and had

  small dirt yards.

  “My sister.”

  She seemed like a bossy sister. “What about your parents?”

  “Both dead in the last plague.”

  “I’m sorry.” Kron wondered if that was why Bella wasn’t married

  yet.

  “I was lucky to survive myself,” she said. “Phebe nursed me through

  it, even though she has her own husband and children to look after. So

  now I’m helping her care for her family until I have a chance to sing at

  the palace. I missed my audition because of the plague.”

  Kron tried not to wince. He might be a stranger in this town, but

  even he’d heard that the palace wasn’t the safest place for young, at-

  tractive women.

  1 2 · S a n d r a U l b r i c h A l m a z a n

  Bella snuck a sideways glance at him. “What about you? I don’t

  think I’ve seen you in the marketplace before. You’re not from

  Vistichia, are you?”

  “No, from Delns, northeast of here. I’m on my way to see my family.

  I haven’t been back there for twenty years.” Normally Kron could have

  created a portal to travel instantly to a place he’d been to before, but his

  family home must have changed too much with the recent wars and

  other catastrophes all over the known world. Although he’d resented

  walking from the Magic Institute across the Western Mountains, then

  sailing down the Chikasi River to Vistichia, he’d had more adventures

  by traveling like a person without magic than he would have otherwise.

  Phebe led Bella and Kron around one house, indistinguishable from

  the rest, to the back. Part of the area was paved with stone, while a

  chicken coop and a small garden of vegetables occupied the rest of the

  space. Although Kron cautiously picked his way through the dirt and

  droppings to the henhouse, something disgusting splattered into his san-

  dal.

  “Bella, go put our purchases away, then start preparing dinner.”

  Phebe began weeding, but she positioned herself so she could watch

  Kron at the same time. He suspected she was more worried about what

  he might do to the rest of her hens than interested in his magic.

  “Good luck,” Bella mouthed at him before leaving.

  Kron would have liked to linger—perhaps Bella would find a reason

  to come outside—but he could feel Phebe’s stare boring into his back.

  Ignoring her, Kron brought out the finder he’d shown the women ear-

  lier, then circled the henhouse. He was three-fourths of the way around

  before the arrow jerked and swung off in another direction. Before he

  could follow it, the arrow spun and landed in the opposite direction.

  Either the magician was transporting him or herself around, or else the

  finder was picking up more than one source of magic. Kron hoped it

  was the former.

  For the next few hours he wandered all over Vistichia, following his

  finder to ripe-smelling midden piles, windowsills of homes and bakery

  Sea so n s’ Be gin n in gs · 1 3

  shops, and the harbor where the Chikasi met the Salt Waters. Each time

  the finder brought him to a place where someone could hide, although

  some of the places, such as a wine barrel or a nook in a wall, were too

  small for Kron to enter. Perhaps he was following the traces of a magic

  spy, someone or something sent to learn the weaknesses of the town

  before invaders arrived. But the spy avoided the gates and other sources

  of military information; very strange. And what kind of spy would mu-

  tilate a chicken? Kron drummed his fingers on the finder as he tried to

  make sense of it.

  By sunset, the traces became clustered in the northwest section of

  the town, near the forest. As Kron followed the finder to the edge of

  Vistichia, the cat’s-eye embedded in the base began to glow, a sign he

  was coming to a stronger source of magic. The arrow pointed to the

  forest. To get there, Kron waded through knee-high grass that poked

  through his leggings.

  The finder pointed him to a tangle of undergrowth. Kron pushed

  sticky branches away from his face as he squeezed through the brush

  surrounding the narrow path. The glow from the cat’s-eye provided

  much-needed light. What sort of magician could use a trail like this?

  Perhaps he or she had shrunk in size or changed into an animal. Or per-

  haps….

  “From north to south, you are dead! Wash your face and go to bed!”

  The cat’s-eye scorched the finder as something dropped from a tree

  into the bushes. A brown bear rose and roared, jaws gaping and sharp

  claws extended. Kron’s heart raced even as he realized it was an illu-

  sion. He tried to banish it but failed. How could this unknown magician

  be so strong? He hadn’t met anyone of this caliber since leaving the

  Magic Institute. Was this a peer, a rival, or an enemy?

  Kron ripped a white thread from his tunic and enchanted it to turn

  strong and sticky, then threw it at the other magician as a distraction

  while he prepared another weapon. To his surprise, the illusion of the

  bear dissipated, and a high voice cried out, “That’s not fair! Let me go,

  or I’ll call my mother!”

  1 4 · S a n d r a U l b r i c h A l m a z a n

  “Your mother?” Kron pushed through the branches to reveal his cap-


  tive: a boy, about six or seven, with apple-round cheeks and dark brown

  hair dappled by the sunlight pouring through the half-grown leaves. He

  had an extra finger on each hand, and as he squirmed, his joints bent

  backward as naturally as they did forward.

  “What’s your name, son?” Kron asked.

  The boy stopped struggling and looked at him, dark eyelashes

  shielding his fearless eyes, so green they made the leaves above seem

  dull. “Are you my father? Mother never told me who he was, but I know

  he can’t be a Nil.”

  “A Nil?”

  “You know, one of them.” The boy’s voice dripped adult scorn on

  the last word. “The ones without magic. Mother says the only thing

  they’re good for is serving us magicians.”

  Kron frowned. Didn’t this child know any ordinary people? Why

  wasn’t his mother teaching this child more respect for others? Kron

  knew only one magician who was so contemptuous of those without

  magic, but she was nowhere near here. Still… “Is your mother’s name

  Salth?” Kron asked.

  The boy nodded. “My name’s Sal-thaath. What’s yours?”

  “Kron Evenhanded. I’m a … I knew your mother. We studied magic

  together about ten years ago.”

  He couldn’t really say he had been a friend of Salth’s; he didn’t re-

  member her having any friends at all. She had spent all her time at the

  Magic Institute studying. She’d done well on her own but refused to

  perform group magic, saying she couldn’t trust anyone. Rumor had it

  that she was the sister of a city-king far to the east. When he summoned

  her home to be his personal magician, she’d sent the messenger back in

  animal form, though no one was sure exactly what type of animal. Had

  she thawed enough to take a lover since leaving the Magic Institute?

  Kron wouldn’t have believed it, but Sal-thaath’s existence proved oth-

  erwise.

  Sea so n s’ Be gin n in gs · 1 5

  “Sal-thaath,” he said, “if you don’t like ordinary people, why were

  you spying on them?”

  “I wanted to see what they were like. We don’t have any close to

  home.”

  “And the chicken?”

  The child’s expression never changed. “Oh, that. I was just playing

  around.”

  “Playing around! You can’t do that. You could hurt someone.”