Magic Under Stone (18 page)

“I’ll explain everything. I told you once, but I had to make you forget. This time, write it down, if you have anything to write with.”

Etana produced pen, ink, and paper. To ask them to write this down was somewhat a breach of Luka’s instructions, but not so much that Ifra couldn’t manage it. The scratch of the pen felt like pinpricks on his skin.

He told them the whole story, even showed them Violet’s ribbon, watched fear bloom on their faces. Only Sery wandered off to play with her dolls, with a child’s trust that politics were merely boring and nothing bad could ever happen.

“Ifra, you look awful,” Etana said. “There’s no way to ... break free of this?”

“A part of me is no longer my own. I can stop to eat and rest, but if I dawdle too long, I start to feel ... sick.” And worse. Ifra had started to have visions of destroying Erris. He imagined different ways that he could hurt him, his clockwork body blown to bits, Violet snatched from the scene, bound and gagged if necessary. These thoughts came not from his brain—at least, he hoped not—but from some dark, other place, and they were accompanied by a sense of satisfaction. His tutor had warned him that his own thoughts would compel him to grant the most difficult wishes, but Ifra had never really believed, or understood, how bad it could be.

This was how jinns became cruel or, at best, detached, like his tutor.

“Only he can free me.” Ifra covered his eyes. “He never will. I’m his loyal servant, and what king would give that up? His son is worse. I suppose my only hope is to restore Erris to the throne and hope he would free me. But instead, I have to destroy him.”

“Do you want us to come with you?” Keyelle looked like she was ready to go out the door that very moment.

“We can’t take Sery,” Etana said, glancing at the girl. She was making a nest from boughs of pine.

“You can’t come,” Ifra said. “You might get hurt.”

“I might,” Keyelle said. “Or I might not. But why tell us this if you don’t want us to help Erris? Etana can stay here with Sery, and I could alert the other Green Hoods.”

“But how can you cross the gate into Lorinar?” Etana asked.

“They let traders cross. I can make up a story.”

“Maybe you could sneak across, but a group of you? The humans might be suspicious. And what about the cold? What if another storm comes?”

“Oh, always so sensible!” Keyelle snapped, slumping back into her chair.

“You know I’m right. Ifra is telling us this so ...” Her gaze moved to his. “So someone will know he didn’t want to do this. Someone will know how he really feels.”

Keyelle straightened up again. “Is that true? Are you just telling us this so we can sit here, stuck inside for the whole winter, knowing all our plans are crumbling? I’d rather be oblivious! I’d rather keep some hope.”

Ifra thought Etana was probably right about why he was really telling them. This was his confession. But there was another
reason too. “I’m telling you because, if the worst happens, Violet is a Tanharrow too, and Luka’s son wants to marry her. Maybe ... she could help your cause. She’s spoiled, but also unspoiled, in a way, because she’s been kept away from politics. She’ll need help and guidance. Of course, I don’t really know her, or Belin, but within moments I could see that Belin is trouble, and Violet ... just wants to be loved.”

Keyelle groaned and ran her hands through her red curls. “Either way, we’re putting our trust in an untried, unprepared ruler. But we’re just supposed to give up on Erris?”

Ifra hung his head. “Please don’t try and stop me. It’ll be even worse if I have to hurt you.”

“Well,” Etana said. “Erris already isn’t quite alive, is he? He’s a spirit in a clockwork body. It’s possible Erris is doomed either way. Violet is a real girl. And Belin wants to share the throne with this girl. He must think she’s young and foolish, and maybe she is, but if our network could ally with her, advise her, rally behind her ... this could actually be a much better prospect for us.”

“I suppose there is truth in that,” Keyelle said. “I still just feel so hopeless.”

Ifra understood that feeling. Yet, for the first time since Luka bound him, he felt hope. He might not be free, but he could still shape events.

Chapter 18

One afternoon, someone knocked at the door. It was the second Tuesday, normally the day when wizened, wiry Miss Santofair came for our laundry. She was quite late, but as I came downstairs I realized the knock was at the front door and not the kitchen door.

Celestina was heading for it, cursing. “That better be Miss Santofair. My dress is in the laundry bundle. I don’t care that she sees me looking so frightful, she’s a crazy old loon herself, but if it’s anyone else—”

Celestina’s younger brother stood on the other side of the door, flushed, panting and scowling.

“Ander? What is it?” Celestina cried.

“There’s a bunch of people coming after you.” He glanced backward, but the woods were still. “I just ran all the way from town, but I don’t want anybody to see me. I’m not about to lose my skin just because you had to mess around with sorcerers.”

“Wait. Calm down. Who’s after me?” She stepped back to let
him in, because he looked like he’d go into a complete panic if he had to keep standing outside.

“This man came into town this morning—a weird man with funny clothes and gold. A jinn, they said. I don’t know what happened. I heard one thing from Louis and another thing from Riley.”

“Well, try and piece it together as best you can.”

“People have been talking about you all winter, you know,” Ander said. “Saying you’re hosting a house full of witches.” He wouldn’t even make eye contact with me. “Like I said, this funny-looking man, he came along and said he’s a jinn and he’s coming for the guy who lives here with you. Said he’s the fairy prince. And some girl named Violet. Said she’s Valdana’s daughter, but everybody knows his daughter’s dead. Anyway, the people in town were saying they’d be better off without Valdana or any of you, and the jinn said anyone who wanted to take down Valdana was welcome to join him. They were all supposed to get their torches and guns and things and meet in the town square.”

Celestina had a mixture of confusion and alarm on her face that I likely shared. “Are—are you sure about this?”

“Sure as the sunset.”

“What do they mean to do?”

Ander suddenly looked very distressed, close to tears. “Celestina, I don’t know! I think they could hurt you! Bad! You should really just get out of this town because people say all kinds of nasty things about you, and I know they aren’t true, but you don’t want to be here. And I need to go because I don’t want them to know I warned you.”

Celestina’s mouth folded up into itself. Ander moved to the door.

“What about Mama and Daddy?”

“They’re at home. They’re not going to come after you, but they’re not going to stand in anybody’s way, either. You know we can’t. You could’ve gone to St. Simona’s.”

She didn’t say anything else. Ander opened the door and ran out into the snow, steering away from the paths.

“St. Simona’s?” I said.

Celestina started walking back to the kitchen. “The convent,” she said. “They said it was the only way a girl who’d been marked by magic could ever be respectable.” She grabbed her coat and thrust her arms through the sleeves. She was crying. It was late afternoon and she’d just started dinner—the kitchen table was covered in potato peelings, a pot of beans was simmering, a jar of tomatoes awaited use.

I knew we wouldn’t be eating that dinner.

“Should I find the others?” I asked, trying to sound soothing. Because she was crying, I was focused on staying very collected. Someone had to be collected.

“Yes. Yes. I’ll pack some food. Tell Violet to bundle up.”

“I will.” Now that Violet had recovered to a large degree, she had a tendency to traipse outside without a hat or gloves and come in half-frozen. Erris was teaching her in the house lately—something about growing plants without light or soil. One of the useless little side rooms was slowly turning into a greenhouse, and I found them there now. Annalie was in her bedroom writing letters—I was dying to know if they were to Hollin, but of course I didn’t ask. I told them all, as quickly as I could, what had happened and ran to my room.

I was terrified the jinn would burn down the house to get to Erris. I put the dancing shoes my mother had embroidered, all my letters, and the elephant bracelet in my pockets. I briefly considered
bundling up all my lovely dresses and stashing them in the shed, but we didn’t have time for that.

I met Erris on the stairs. I had started not to notice his limp, but now I realized anew how painfully slow he was. He was clutching Ordorio’s journals and a wooden box.

“Mel’s jewelry,” he said. “It’s locked but I remember the box. She’d want Violet to have these things, I’m sure.”

Violet gathered all the family photos, in three big leather-bound albums, and a battered copy of
The Poppenpuffer Family Goes to the Sea
. Only Annalie was empty-handed and quiet. Celestina regarded us all with a somewhat frantic expression. “What are you doing? We’re running from some sort of jinn-led mob, not emigrating with our most prized possessions!”

“I’m not running away without my photos of Mama!” Violet said. “And Papa gave me this book when I was seven and it’s my favorite! Anyway, the jinn isn’t going to hurt us!”

“That’s very contradictory,” Celestina said. “Well, let’s just hurry and go. I sent Lean Joe off to stay with his daughter. And I’ve got food packed.” She took a pail from the kitchen table.

We rushed out into the snow, stopping to listen, but I couldn’t hear any voices or footsteps, just the vague creak and rustle of the forest. It was already dusk. The forest had an ominous look, dark and foreboding, the ice glistening, the evergreens whispering, as if a sorceress had come along and frozen it to keep it silent. Erris took the lead, motioning us forward with a little restless wave.

“There are people coming,” he said. “On horses. We’ve got a little time, but we need to ...” He paused. “This way. There’s a ravine about a mile north. We should be able to cross it, but the horses can’t.”

We started walking.

“A mile,” Celestina whispered. I knew she was thinking of Violet, whose health was never ideal, and Erris’s foot, and knowing it was quite unlikely we could make it there before the horses caught up to us. “How far away are the horses?”

“The forest will do what it can to slow them down,” Erris said.

We fell silent. Erris was moving faster than I’d thought possible, but his gait was unsteady. The snow appeared blue in the fading light, and it slowed us all down with patches of unexpected depth, forcing us to tread carefully and pick up our feet. Violet was soon breathing audibly, a scarf pulled across her face, but no one stopped and no one looked over their shoulders.

My heart nearly stopped when Erris stepped in a depression in the ground, hidden by the snow. He flailed briefly with his walking stick before crashing forward.

I flew to his side. “Are you all right?” I helped him roll onto his back.

He flexed his limbs. “Fine. I’m fine. I just feel stupid.” He groaned and got to his feet.

“Well, slow down a bit. You were being reckless.”

He looked furtive. “I don’t have time to slow down.”

Violet was shivering. “The jinn doesn’t really want to hurt us. I know he doesn’t. And now Uncle Erris is going to break himself, and we’re all going to freeze to death.”

“Violet, the jinn doesn’t have a choice,” I said. “He has to grant wishes. If he has an order to kill you, he’ll have to do it.”

I started walking again. We couldn’t stop and talk, but there was an increasing tension—something creeping and quiet, rather like the cold seeping slowly into our bones. No one really knew
where we were going, what the jinn planned, what the townspeople wanted. Celestina had been especially quiet, a pained look on her scarred face.

I tried to summon my inner heat, to warm my cold fingers and nose. I had trouble finding the core of my magic. Panic blurred my vision. What if I was too cold and too scared to do any magic at all? I rubbed my gloved hands together and took a deep breath, sharp in my lungs. Breathe. I had to remember to breathe.

Erris’s touch surprised me. He took my hand in his, met my eyes. Gave me a small smile in the darkness.

I smiled back, the fearful pattern of my thoughts broken. I dipped into the magic and sent warmth into his hand.

“You’re the strongest person I know,” he whispered.

But something about the way he said it brought the fear back, and I didn’t feel strong at all.

That was when we heard the voices of the mob.

Chapter 19

The light of torches flickered in the distance.

We had mere moments to arrange ourselves as we had practiced. Celestina and I moved to face the crowd, joining hands so the power of our magic would flow together. Annalie and Violet stood to protect Erris, although it was Erris who put an arm around Violet, whose eyes were wide. We couldn’t expect much help from her, but I trusted Erris and Annalie. They looked ready.

I had the fleeting thought that Erris had changed since the day I’d set him free. If I’d grown stronger, well, so had he.

Time moved slow and fast at once, as I forced my mind blank, ready to fight. My skin had grown hot with magic.

The jinn was as frightening and beautiful as I remembered, still barely dressed for the cold, still reminding me of gold and fire made flesh. With my own newly heightened awareness of magic, I could almost feel him more than I saw him—like standing near the bonfire where I had first moved heat. The men from Cernan looked
shabby behind him, bundled up and grim. There must have been eighteen or nineteen of them, between twenty and fifty years old. Most of them had a lantern in one hand and a hunting rifle in the other.

The sight of the terrifying jinn and all those rifles made me fight to keep my blood warm. What was I thinking?

“I have no choice in what I’m about to do,” the jinn said. His voice was rough but expressionless. “I’m sorry.” He shivered slightly, and it didn’t seem to be from cold. No one susceptible to cold would wear a mere jacket and no hat in such frigid air.