Elementary by Mercedes Lackey Page A

reduced to crumbs. That didn’t stop him. He scooped up the crumbs with his fingers, munching as he propped himself up on his bed and read his letters.
    Ma’s first, thanking him for his letter where he’d told of his swearing-in ceremony. His family had all wanted to attend, but their strong Elemental ties made it impossible. As bound to the Isle of Wight as they were, as foul as London was, it would only have brought them illness and misery.
    He could hear her joyful voice in her words, telling of all the village gossip. Of young lads leaving for the city for work in the mills and factories. Of lasses either pining or following, and the joys and sorrows thereof. She ended with the usual note.
“You have a good position now, son, and I hope and pray that you are seeking a good wife. Someone to make you happy. Someone to make you a home.”
    He rolled his eyes a bit at that one. Unlikely as not that he’d find a woman who’d deal with living in the Tower, his birds, and his magic. Best leave that for another day.
    His brother’s letter next.
“You’re still daft for being there, no matter how the stones call to you,”
and continuing on to insult his intelligence in laughing sentences. But then the letter went on to speak of the crops in a general sense and the rector’s daughter’s flashing eyes with a great deal more detail.
    Tom lifted an eyebrow and smiled. Even if his brother made no mention of an attraction, his ma might soon be busy planning a wedding. Good enough. Take the pressure off his own back.
    With a chuckle, he turned to his da’s letter, good and thick, with his no-nonsense attitude coming through the sprawling words.
    Da started with the fields and the crops, talking about the planting and the condition of the soil. Then there was that far creek, and how it dammed up in a recent storm and washed out the banks, flooding the far most field.
“Little damage, son,”
Tom was relieved to read.
“But I need to rouse your brother and some lads to go in and clear the debris. Just waiting for a fair dry spell to make the work easier. And no worries on your part,”
his da continued.
“I’ll be overseeing the work.”
    Tom snorted. Aye, that his da would, until he waded in to show them all how it was done.
    â€œSomething else, eldest, that you should know
,
”
the letter continued, the writing a bit larger, the ink thicker, as if his da had reached the bottom of the bottle.
    Tom stiffened a bit on that, his attention caught as it was meant to be.
    â€œThere’s been some odd doings here, what with the livestock. The cattle have been gathering in odd ways and bellowing their fool heads off. The sheep have taken to running in panicked circles. The chickens flap their wings and shriek in panic for no reason I can see. Why, even the old cock has taken to crowing at midnight. The songbirds your ma enjoys so much have fled the woods, it seems, and large masses of them have been seen flying off the isle.
    â€œDo you remember Portsmith, a few years back? The earth tremors that hit? Your uncle on your mother’s side talked of seeing such things, of tension in the air and land. And your cousin from Holme-on-Spaulding-Moor, in Yorkshire, back in 1822. Said he never had such a fright as the land shifting below him.
    â€œNever seen the like myself, and I’m wondering if you noticed anything there, in your sprawling city, far from the comforts of home and land. It worries me, what such a thing could do in London.
    â€œBut all’s well here,”
his da continued.
“This family sees to the land, and the land sees to the family. Mind that you see to your own place as well, my son.”
    Tom lingered on his da’s signature, running his thumb over the ink, but there was nothing more, no magical impressions or hidden words. His da would be cautious until he knew such things were safe.
    Tom sighed. Portsmith,