A Lonely Magic (17 page)

Oh, hell.

The wolf dropped away from the tree and crouched, front down, back half up, tail wagging furiously.

Fen scowled at it. “Go away,” she mouthed.

“She can’t be out here. She’s in the castle somewhere. That slob Mishka doesn’t want to admit she snuck by him. He must have been asleep at his post.”

Two more wolves appeared below her. One of them bounced playfully on the first which promptly abandoned its post at the base of Fen’s tree. The other sniffed around the ground with interest before lifting its leg on the trunk.

Fen pressed her lips together, not sure if she wanted to laugh or cry. The itch along her leg was still spreading, moving up her back now, so desperately annoying she wanted to scrape her skin against the tree to relieve the irritation.

“He’s a good guy,” Number Two voice responded peaceably. Fen shivered. His voice reminded her of Kaio’s, with hints of the same deep resonance. “And which would you rather do, chase the dogs around or stand by a door for three hours?”

“Eh, whatever,” Number One voice grumbled. A light appeared below the tree and shone up into the branches. “These damn dogs couldn’t find a bone in a butcher shop. Waste of time.”

Blinded by the light, unable to see beyond it to determine what he looked like, Fen waited for him to change his tone, to shout in surprised recognition, but his light moved on.

And then so did the voices.

One of the wolves lingered by the base of the tree. It looked up at her, its tail still wagging. In the shadowy light, its eyes looked golden, its fur grey.

In a whisper so soft it was nearly sub-vocal, Fen asked, “You don’t have werewolves here, do you?”

“No,” the library voice answered. “The consequences of attempting to use magic to transform your shape are unpleasant. It is ill-advised.”

Fen breathed again.

A whistle summoned the dog, and it bounded away from the tree.

Fen stood on the branch, her arms wrapped around the trunk, her cheek resting against the rough bark. She trembled, cold with sweat, her stomach queasy with fear and frustration and tangled-up fury. What just happened?

Whisper slightly louder, she asked the library voice, “Why didn’t they see me?”

The library voice was silent for a moment before saying, “Response includes speculation. Reliability not assured.”

“Go ahead."

“Gaelith Del Mar is an extraordinarily gifted healer. It is possible that one of the non-traditional patterns she activated provides you with the ability to go unseen. Note, however, that this is supposition. There are stories of such magics but nothing in Library Level One that would allow for calculation of a percentage chance of such an eventuality.”

Her ivy.

Fen didn’t strain to see it.

She didn’t need to.

She stood, clutching the tree, until her trembling had eased and her breathing was calm and her sweat had dried and the only sounds she could hear were the random buzzing of bugs and chirping of birds. And then, cautiously, one branch at a time, she made her way down.

On the ground again, she headed straight for the wall. She paused in the shadows of the trees when it was within easy reach. A grassy gap separated the wall from the trees, and the wall was taller than she’d imagined from a distance, at least ten feet high.

It was also smooth. She’d hoped for a stone wall, with handholds and footholds she could pull herself over, but the surface was flat. And she wouldn’t be able to climb a tree and drop over—none of the branches extended across the wall.

She could find a door—they must exist—and hope her ivy would help her slip out.

Or she could try something else.

She looked in both directions.

No one within sight.

As lightly, quietly, as she could, she ran across the grassy expanse and crouched next to the wall. She put her hand on it.

The wall was still. None of the quiver she’d felt from the wall of her cell.

Door
, she thought.

Ah, there it was. A shifting. An uncertain wiggle. But nothing that indicated a door would melt into place the way she wanted it to.

She touched her pocket on the outside of her pants, feeling the solid lump of crystal within it. It might work. But it might also summon guards down upon her and she wasn’t quite ready to trust her ivy.

Lifting her head, she gazed at the wall. What would be easiest for it? What would make a wall want to change?

Stairs
? She suggested to the wall, picturing blocks sliding out that would lead up and over.

It felt as if the wall sighed and settled down deeper into itself.

Fen grimaced. But her eyebrows arched as the part of the wall directly under her hand warmed and jumped. The rest of the wall wanted no part of her but the part she was touching was stirring, shifting uneasily.

“Come on,” she coaxed, voice soft. “Come with me.” She pulled her hand out from the wall, two inches, no more.

The wall followed her. It stopped when she did and she could feel its relief, its reluctance to keep moving.

Magic.

She loved magic. Or nanomites, whatever. She wasn’t picky.

One handhold at a time, Fen built herself a ladder over the wall. At the top, she looked back at how she’d climbed.
Home
, she ordered her handholds. They slid into the wall so fast she could barely see them move.

The ground was a long way down, but she turned, facing the wall and bracing herself on her stomach. Eesh. But she knew she could do this. She slid off, dangling for a second or two, all her weight on her fingertips, before letting go and dropping to the ground. She landed hard, her knees bent, but her feet stayed steady under her.

“All right. Where to now?”

“You have exited the Queen’s residence using highly unorthodox means.”

Fen glanced over her shoulder. The Queen’s residence? Shit. She’d been in the royal dungeon. And she’d busted loose. She wondered whether she should be proud of herself or totally freaked out. Freaked out was definitely winning.

“Have you an intended destination?” the voice continued.

“Someplace to hide. Any ideas?”

“Searching.” The voice’s tone was abstracted.

“We need a place with people. It’s easier to get lost in a crowd than it is to hide out someplace isolated.”

“Adding parameters to search.”

“Okey-dokey.” Fen needed crowds, chaos, color, places where she’d be invisible among throngs of people. She waited for a minute and then prompted her librarian. “How’s that search going?”

“The most heavily populated region of the city at any given moment appears to be the Water Causeway.”

“Which is what?”

“You would call it a marketplace. Or perhaps a shopping district. Is there a distinction between those terms?”

“Not so much,” Fen said. “Although a shopping district probably has stores—actual buildings—and a marketplace might have stalls.”

“In that case, the Water Causeway is both. Noted vendors include—”

“Good enough,” Fen interrupted her. “How do I get there?”

“Follow the canal to the left.”

Fen nodded and set off along a cobblestoned path that bordered a narrow walled canal overhung with plants and vegetation. “How far away is it?”

“Two point four miles,” the library voice answered.

An easy walk and plenty of time for a few lectures about how to pass as a native in Syl Var. Where to start? She needed to know so much. Before she could decide, she reached an intersection where a wider canal crossed the narrow one. An arched bridge angled above both canals in the shape of a rounded X, meeting in the middle and touching down on every corner. Its railings were made of intricately woven metal, patterned with flowing vines and leaves of copper.

Fen had never seen anything like it. “Oh, that’s just showing off.”

“Clarify, please?” the library voice asked.

“I wasn’t talking to you.” Fen walked up the bridge, one hand caressing the smooth metal railing.

She shouldn’t ask. She didn’t need to know. But she couldn’t help herself.

Magic?

The metal stirred under her fingers, flowing toward her and away, shivering as if she were tickling it. Hastily, Fen removed her hand. She didn’t need the railing to transform. But if she did, it would be ready, she knew, and the thought made her lips curve.

“I am unaware of the presence of other individuals.” The library voice’s tentative tone made the words sound like a question.

“There’s no one else here,” Fen replied.

A boat floated toward her, down the wider canal, a man seated in the front of it. He wasn’t doing anything, not paddling or oaring or whatever it was they did with the long poles and the gondolas in Venice. He simply sat, his feet crossed, looking casual. Should she hide? Run?

But it was too late. He’d spotted her. He dipped his chin in what looked like polite acknowledgement.

Fen nodded back.

Okay, not invisible.

That answered one question.

So was she invisible to people who were dangerous to her and not to others? Or invisible when she was scared? Or had the guard with the light just been an idiot? She wished she knew.

“To whom were you addressing your statement?” The library voice persisted.

“To nobody,” Fen said as she continued down the other side of the bridge. “To myself.”

“That would seem to be an unnecessary mode of communication. Does not thought suffice?”

Fen laughed. The guy on the boat tipped his head in question. She waved to him, acting nonchalant. His expression was confused as his boat passed under the bridge and she hurried on.

Damn it, she should have been more careful. He’d remember the crazy girl talking and laughing to herself on the side of the canal now. If the guards asked him, they’d be looking for her outside the castle in no time.

“That was stupid,” she muttered. But it would be all right. As soon as she got into the more populated part of the city, she’d find a place to go to ground. She’d disappear.

“Clarify, please.”

Fen sighed. “You know what? You need a name.”

“A what?” the voice asked, sounding startled.

“A name,” Fen repeated.

“Data access portals do not require names,” the library voice replied.

“Yeah, well, you do.” Library voice. Librarian. Ell.

“Do you remain uncertain of my nature? I am a data access pattern created by Gaelith Del Mar, year 9925.”

“I know what you are. But it’s not that kind of name. I need a way to let you know when I’m talking to you.”

“Oh.” The library voice seemed startled. “A means of directed inquiry. Yes, that would improve efficiency.”

“So what would you like to be called?”

“I am incapable of liking.” The library voice sounded apologetic.

“LV, then, for library voice,” Fen said. The sound of the initials pleased her and she said them again. “Ell-vie. Better yet, Elfie.” She chuckled, amused at her wordplay.

“Is that humorous?” Elfie asked.

“Not particularly. But I’m easily amused.”

For someone in dire danger, she was in an awfully good mood. But it was hard not to be. The air felt like an evening in April, cool with a hint of chill, and scented with growing things. Perfectly-spaced lamps along the path lit her way, reflecting off the water with a shimmering glow.

Plus, magic.

And a library in her head.

And maybe a tattoo that made her invisible.

Compared to the first time she’d run away to Chicago, she was golden.

No Escape

Two hours
, Fen thought gloomily. It was the shortest prison break in the history of prison breaks.

If only she’d considered the math. Take six cities with a total population of under 60,000, divide by the fact that men outnumbered women by four to one, and then add in their crazily long lifespans, and what you got was not a city.

It was a damn village. And hiding in a village sucked. Especially when it turned out that twenty-one years old—old enough to join the Army and die in America, she wanted to protest—made you something like fourteen as far as the Sia Mara were concerned.

She’d made it all the way to the Water Causeway, probably because she’d been moving fast. She’d seen people along the way but none of them had done more than nod or wave, although sometimes with a puzzled look.

But the Causeway… wow.

She’d never seen anything like it.

She bet nobody ever had.

It was Disneyworld, Mardi Gras in New Orleans, carnival in Brazil or Venice, mixed with the fanciest farmer’s market and craft show ever. Under tiny sparkling lights, around buildings made of tile, decorated with fancy metalwork in copper and silver and gold and a pinkish metal she’d never seen before, open air stalls hawked vegetables, fish and more fish, pastries and baked goods, gorgeous swaths of cloth, jewelry and musical instruments and carvings and beads and… everything. Anything.

Was it any wonder she’d slowed down?

And the people. Oh, God, their clothes were to die for. It turned out Fen’s tunic and trousers were only half an outfit. In the Causeway, everyone wore robes over their tunics. But not robes like bathrobes or academic robes. Robes like sunrises and symphonies and Shakespeare verses.