A Ragged Magic (25 page)

Chapter Twenty-Five

H
ugh greets me jovially from the midst of gay party clothes swathed about his chambers. He wears loose golden trousers, a bright purple sash at his waist, and nothing else so far.

I catch Linnet staring at his bare back. She sees me smirking and sticks her tongue out at me, then turns back to sorting tunics.

I keep smirking until Connor walks into the room from the bathing chambers, similarly clad. Swallowing quickly I look at Hugh instead of Connor’s dark skin.

“Rhia, you’re late,” Hugh calls. “Come meet Asa and Preyasi, they will help you to dress.” He ushers me past Connor into the bathing room where four people fuss over stunning gowns of colors I didn’t know existed. Such fabulous dyes are why Da wanted me to travel to Indranah: our dyes here in Talaria don’t render colors of that intensity.

“Rhia, here are Asa, Preyasi, Bhanu and Zelig: the traders from Indranah. I think you’ve met Asa. Zelig, Bhanu, come help Connor and me with these blasted tunics.”

Asa smiles at me, and I offer her a nervous smile of my own. I can’t help but remember our last meeting; I was less than gracious. She doesn’t seem to care as they help us dress and place jewelry carefully on our too-exposed limbs.

Preyasi gasps for a moment at my scars, and she and Asa trade glances, but otherwise don’t comment.

I keep my eyes on the floor. This is the first time I have undressed in front of anyone on purpose. I can feel my hands shaking.

Asa quietly helps me with the skirts. I try to focus other things.

I admire the way both women move: as though always dancing. Hugh’s plan seems impossible to me. No one will ever believe I am Asa, and Linnet is too darting and quick to ever be the languid Preyasi. Even with illusion laid over us, we are ourselves.

We enter the bedchamber for the spell casting. Connor struggles with his tunic. I bite my lips and try not to blush at the sight of his bare skin. Asa catches my eye and grins.

I smile back, feeling my blush deepen. She laughs and pulls his tunic straight, wrapping the end of it under the sash. Then we wait for Hugh to finish admiring the cut of his clothes in the mirror. I catch Connor rolling his eyes.

Standing in a loose circle, Linnet and Hugh and I chant the verse of the spell, joining hands. I spin my magic out to join theirs, and See green and blue light swirl around us. A tight, thin green line of power courses from me to them both.

The glow from our joined power fades as it drops around all of us. I feel dizzy as the chant ends, but blink and smile as Hugh and Linnet turn to us in triumph. And I realize it isn’t them anymore. I see Bhanu and Preyasi in front of me, instead.

“It worked!” Linnet squeals out of Preyasi’s mouth.

Behind her, the real Preyasi smiles at me. “I can’t tell you from Asa!”

Linnet dances around me, gleeful.

“And these complete the vision,” Hugh says as he lifts more jewelry from a wooden box on his bed. Necklaces hang from his fingers, thin silver chains. On each chain hangs an eight-sided star pendant that glows brightly to my Sight. The one I gave to Linnet already hangs about her neck. She looks under her lashes at me as Hugh gives out the others. I smile at her.

“Prophet’s Stars,” Hugh continues. “Many wear them in Indranah. Their blessing-spell will hide the power of the illusion. And … anything else.” Hugh looks sidelong at me.

Hugh clasps the silver Prophet’s Star about my neck, the pendant resting perfectly at my collarbones. He settles my hair back into place and turns me to look at him: but it isn’t his face. Instead I see Bhanu’s smiling visage, with his crooked front tooth and equally crooked smile. Behind that I catch a glimpse of Hugh’s more perfect smile. The double vision dizzies me, as does the sea-colored glow about us all.

The spell rushes under my skin as we maintain it. As we spoke the words together, I felt the drain and pull, as though a river runs through me. The glow surrounds the four of us and shifts when we do.

I lick my dry lips and stare at Hugh. “Are you sure about this?”

He laughs and spins me toward the mirror. I see a grown woman, tall and bronze and graceful, showing more bosom than I’m used to. More than I actually have.

“Look at you. I’m sure. We’ve been over this. Try not to worry too much — the illusion is working perfectly.” Before I can form my next question, he spins me back to face him. “And the Prophet’s Stars were infused with a powerful blessing. They will hide the spell, and you.”

I glance at Connor, or at who I think is Connor. The Zelig who is dressed for a party. Still tall and dark, only a little darker, now his face is rounder, smiles more easily. But underneath I sense his concern. At least some of us are worried, I think quietly. But Connor nods at me: my thoughts must show in my face. In Asa’s face.

The real Preyasi fusses with Linnet’s gown. Shining a brilliant rose, it molds to her curvy torso and falls gracefully to her ankles. Her black hair cascades around her round shoulders and her teeth flash white against her red mouth when she smiles. Her beauty stuns me; but she is not my sister.

I blink at the aura from the Prophet’s Stars and the illusion that blurs my vision.

“Ready?” Linnet seems eager for this evening. She never had her coming-out ball. And this is Francis’ majority ball as well as an engagement. Everyone for miles will attend this event. Even if she can’t talk to any of her friends, she knows they will be there.

My own coming-out ball was an unfortunate disaster. I managed to spill on my gown almost at once, and I tripped over my tongue the whole evening, trying not to say the wrong thing. So Mum and Da spent more time showing off the manor than they did me. I remember leaving as early as I could without offending anyone, and reading in my room. It wasn’t as if I was trying to get a husband, I reasoned at the time. I was already betrothed to Francis.

And that is another thing, my head reminds me, as Hugh goes over last-minute instructions whispered to the Indrani: the manor. The ball will be held at our home. Aman has taken that from our family as well. If Da hadn’t been executed, if there had been a real trial, we might have gotten it back. But because of the disgrace and rushed circumstances, Aman took advantage, and stole our family holdings as well.

I exit Hugh’s rooms on Connor’s arm. Bhanu and Preyasi are married, and Asa and Zelig are Bhanu’s siblings. We act our parts accordingly as Gervaise escorts us to the carriage we are to take “with His Grace’s blessing and thanks.” I smile Asa’s smile at my “brother” and try to bite back the butterflies that threaten to fly from my mouth.

～

The carriage is sumptuous and as comfortable as a carriage can be. The walls, lined in dark satin, flicker with shadows as darkness falls and the outer lamps are lighted. I huddle in my wrap next to Linnet and hold on to her when we rumble over holes in the road. We ride through the town, mostly in silence.

The window shades are open, but the lamps swinging on their posts obscure the sights as we progress. Only well-lit houses and shops are easily visible, and tonight in Haverston there are few. The storm wind from this afternoon still howls eerily about the trees, but has not erupted into the rain we expect. Connor sighs, and I look at him. He peers out the window as well.

As the carriage pulls up to the brightly lit manor, I am sure we will be recognized. The illusion itches my eyes, and everyone looks blurry. The Prophet’s Stars around all our necks give off a fierce silver glow when I look at them, and I only hope Hugh is right and it will hide my power.

“It’s like looking at the night sky through a lamp glow. The stars still burn, but the lamp hides it from you,” he said when I asked him. Hugh smiles at me as he fingers the necklace about his own neck.

My swirly skirt unnerves me. The women of Indranah wear shorter skirts than we do. The material swirls about my ankles in bright aqua, the color of the sea in Indranah, Asa told me. I have never seen water this color; but she said the sun shines so brightly that Pavas, the ancient water goddess rejoices in it.

The shorter style is pretty, but years of outgrowing my gowns too quickly have taken their toll. I feel juvenile and awkward as I step out of the carriage on Connor’s arm. The shoes — far too large — are of such thin material that the cobbles bite cold into my feet. Asa laughed when she saw how many rags I needed to stuff into the toes.

“My Papi always said I had longboats for feet.”

Knives of jealousy: to be able to speak with such cheer about family. I smiled at her, anyway.

I feel grateful now for the extra warmth of the rags. But those sharp knives still tear my stomach as we approach the banquet hall through the garden entrance of my old home. The wind pulls at my skirts and my thoughts together, and I try to keep my mind on tonight.

The room sparkles and shines with couples who undulate gently like flowers in the breeze, as they dance to harp and flute: a quaint fashion popular with the guilds now. The air smells different than it should — sharp smells of wine where there should be flowers from Mum’s garden. I nearly cough from trying to smell them and failing.

All the tapestries of generations of Owen-Weaversmith are gone. Aman-Weaversmith tapestries hang here now, and banners proclaiming the betrothal of Danwright to Aman, Francis to Melisande. I know months have passed since my parents’ deaths, but this final sacking leaves me weak. I feel Linnet stiffen behind me as she enters, and I clutch her arm with my free hand.

Connor grasps my other and nods graciously to the footman. “Smile,” he whispers at us, and we do, and enter. I let Connor’s momentum carry me into this parody of my family home.

Bowing to the host and hostess, I try to glare only a little, and at the floor, not Jeffrey Aman. He stands in state with his wife, Giselle. Francis and Melisande mill to their right, the Danwrights to their left. The dais where they stand used to hold the first loom that Great-Grandfather made and used in this very home. Images of my father polishing it sting my eyes. I wonder what Aman did with the family things.

The Guildmaster and his family acknowledge our bows, then ignore our party, behavior no doubt inspired by Archbishop Montmoore, if the news of this afternoon has spread. It likely has, and traders friendly with the Duke of Haverston will not find warm welcome with allies of Montmoore. We slip to the sidebar and out of notice. The rest of the party takes their cue from Aman, and we are shunned.

I reach for a cup of wine on the table against the wall. The room is set up for dancing, and large banquet tables line the walls, covered with pitchers of wine, breads and cheeses in baskets, and platters of sausages and fruits braised in sugared wine. An enormous subtlety graces the head table on the dais at the top of the hall. It looks rather like a dog being strangled by vines, but I can’t be certain it isn’t supposed to be a stag in a forest, to represent Francis’ virility.

The tall ceiling of the hall is festooned with ribbons and banners in the families’ colors, which have been altered slightly so they don’t clash. I had forgotten that Danwright colors are topaz and garnet. Aman colors are purple and blue.

I smirk at the played-down threads of violet stitching and edging on things. Green and gold, Owen colors, at least would have matched. I point it out quietly to Linnet, and we both stifle grins.

The mirror that has been here for generations still hangs magnificent on the wall across from me. Its huge golden frame and the enormous size of the glass itself explain why they didn’t move it, despite the subtle Owen family crest stamped in the metal frame.

I catch a glimpse of a tawny woman, her dark eyes wary in her oval face. I recognize the dress before I recognize myself.

Hugh steps in front of me, his purple and gold tunic flashing in the lamplight. “Chins up, folks. These backwater Talarians don’t know how to throw a party.”

Dark looks pierce us from all sides. Connor casually picks up a meat pastry and inspects it. I try not to roll my eyes at Hugh.

In a low voice, Hugh reminds us of our instructions — at the first opportunity he and Connor will slip away to other rooms. Linnet is to stick close to me, and I’m to keep my mind open, use my Sight cautiously. If at any time the spell goes awry, quietly get out and meet in the carriage. If anything at all goes wrong, meet in the carriage. Linnet sniffs at this possibility.

“We have to stay until the second music break, to be polite. After that we’ll leave. Get whatever you need by then.” Hugh grins at us all, Bhanu’s crooked tooth a mischievous gleam in his black beard. “Meanwhile, have fun! We’re at a party, not a funeral!”

Around us the laughter swirls as couples dance to a morisque, my favorite of the modern dances. It looks so pretty: all those colors whirling around, the skirts like flowers blooming.

Hugh whisks Linnet onto the floor in a gap between dancers, and I find myself similarly pulled into Connor’s arms. The heat of his hand on my waist startles me, but I fall into the steps easily. Looking into strange eyes, I see a familiar half-smile lurking. As we step with the rhythm of the dance, he inclines his head toward me.

“You dance very well,” he says.

I grin; something is going right this evening. I feel lighter than I have in months. “It’s the one thing about all the parties I actually liked. And since Francis and I were already engaged, we never needed to court or even talk. All we did was dance the first three dances and then he and our fathers would talk business, and I would either dance with polite young men my mother brought to me, or hide upstairs in the library, reading.”

Connor spins me in a wide turn as the music ends. “Which would explain why you know General Sherron’s speech at the battle of Kiras, but it doesn’t explain why Francis is only coming to majority now, and not three years ago when he should have.”

I look at him in surprise as we start the next dance, a slow pavanne. “Everyone knows that. It’s because Francis is a terrible Jewelsmith. It took him two years longer than most to get his journeyman’s badge. Da wouldn’t pass any of his past projects for his master work.