"You've already done more than the last two lords."
"As I've been told repeatedly, they died young. Maybe I'm not counting on a long tenure."
"I wish you wouldn't joke like that."
"Who's joking?"
Neirin looked out over the fields. "I'm not a mage, but even I know that things were better here before Arontala disturbed the currents of magic beneath the manor house. I've heard my father and my grandfather talk about how it was before. Ever since Arontala ripped out that damned orb, things have gotten worse."
"Last year, when I heard Tris and the Sisterhood talk about the Flow, I didn't actually believe them," Jonmarc mused. "Now, I'm living on top of the damn thing. I've got no magic, but even to me, something feels
wrong whenever I'm in the vaults below the manor."
A powerful current of magic flowed beneath the manor house and through its foundation. It was in this Flow that the great mage Bava K'aa imprisoned the' orb containing the soul of the Obsidian King more than fifty years ago. The manor's foundation had shattered and one wing of the building had collapsed when Foor Aronta-la wrested the orb of the Obsidian King free eleven years ago. Mages swore that it created a disruption in the Flow, a dislocation that could be felt the breadth of the Winter Kingdoms.
A chill wind blasted past him, and leaves swirled around his feet. Once more, the manor house bustled with life and the activity of those who, if not alive, were not entirely dead. Dark Haven was the ancestral home of the vayash moru, and Jonmarc, who earned its lordship as a gift from the king of Principality, was its newest lord. "Are you ready for tonight?" Jonmarc gave Neirin a hard stare. "Sure. I'm as ready as I'm going to be. I'm being introduced to the Blood Council. Only mortal in the place. The last time Gabriel arranged a Council meeting I almost died-and I wasn't even officially invited. I'm not at' all sure they're happy about a new lord, and a mortal one at that."
Neirin walked alongside Jonmarc as they surveyed the progress of the building crews.
"You'll be on Lord Gabriel's lands. That gives you sanctuary. He'll have his brood there to watch over you. No one will dare move against you. Even if they wanted to."
"Thanks. That makes me feel much better."
Jonmarc pulled his cloak around him, watching the workers. By daylight, the laborers were mortal. By night, vayash moru craftsmen worked to restore the manor to its previous glory. Gabriel had begun the process of rebuilding before Jonmarc was able to travel from Margolan. Within a few weeks of Jon-marc's arrival, the pantries were provisioned, the sheds filled with firewood and necessities, and the stables full with horses and their tack. Dark Haven was livable for mortals once more.