Magic Under Stone (9 page)

“The townspeople ostracize you because you work for Ordorio?”

“Yes.”

“Just for that?” Erris said.

“Well, I suppose our appearance doesn’t help,” I said wryly. I hadn’t told Erris everything Celestina told me about Ordorio’s history with the townspeople, and how Celestina’s parents expected her to stay home with them instead. He wasn’t around enough for such conversations to arise.

“Well, I will try not to think of it all,” Celestina said, with a brisk shake of her head. “We have our groceries. Now we must get the coat and boots for Nimira and pick up the mail.”

Luckily for all of our nerves, no one at the clothing shop paid us hostile attention. There were no young people here, just one old man discussing boots with another equally old man, both wearing battered caps and sweaters, and a tall, energetic woman who helped us select coats and boots. I had never seen a shop like this, selling only ready-to-wear clothes and nothing in the least pretty. There were knit caps and broad-brimmed hats and coats for rain and coats for snow, turtleneck sweaters in drab colors, and all sorts of sporting clothes like vests with numerous pockets, and snowshoes. I knew I would appreciate the coat in the cold, but I was deeply unenthused by the lack of, say, purple, which happened to be my favorite color.

Besides that, Erris would not be talked out of spending money on a silly brown hat that made him look like he ought to be wrangling cows.

“It’ll keep the sun out of my eyes,” he protested. “Anyway, I see other men wearing these, but I don’t see any bowlers.”

He put it on right away, although there was no need to block the sun on the narrow alley we took to the post office. The houses
were built almost touching one another, with balconies overhanging the street, and casting shade on the sidewalks.

Celestina posted our latest batch of letters—I had exchanged a few friendly missives by now with Annalie and Karstor—and picked up those that had come in. I had one from Karstor, but also a fat letter plastered with unfamiliar blue and orange stamps.

“It’s from Hollin,” I said with surprise. I hadn’t realized how quickly mail could travel across the ocean these days; just over three weeks for a reply.

“Hollin?” Erris scoffed. “You’re corresponding with him? I thought he was quite out of the way in New Guinnell.”

I opened my mouth to tease him about being jealous, but then I thought,
Might he really be jealous?
That could be a marvelous thing. Maybe he wouldn’t take my company for granted if he was. I tucked the letter away with a secret little smile. “Well, of course I’m curious to know what he’s up to there. I wrote everyone as soon as we arrived.”

“New Guinnell,” Celestina said. “Oh my. That is so exotic. I would love to hear your letter, if you are willing to share later.”

“Well, I don’t know, I’ll have to see what it says,” I said with a dismissive shrug.

“I should hope he doesn’t write you letters full of secrets,” Erris grumbled.

I was not actually sure what to expect from Hollin. When we arrived home, I went to my room and unfolded it, the paper releasing a sweet scent that stirred memories of home. Until then I had never realized paper had different smells. Hollin was hundreds of miles from Tiansher, but much closer than I was.

Dear Nimira
,

I can’t tell you how pleased I was to receive your letter. Everything here is so exotic, and I can’t help but think of you. I can’t imagine you coming to my country, at a younger age than I am now, without family or work to give you direction in such a strange place. I know New Guinnell is far from your home, and yet I am reminded of you at every turn ....

My heart was pounding fast. Even if he did think of me, it wasn’t proper to say so.

I have only just got settled in to my work and my new quarters. My room is almost all white—white walls, white bed linens, white sun streaming in. Quite the difference from Vestenveld! This week I’ve been going around with a Mr. Quendley, checking on local schools to inquire about their curriculum. The government wants to know if they are teaching magic to children
.

Mr. Quendley is very much like the usual sort of well-to-do sorcerer of Lorinar; he is also quite obese and continually holds a handkerchief to wipe sweat from his face, and he has little use for anyone who isn’t from Lorinar or Dolland. But society is different here, there are not as many women, although many men have brought their wives, and there is something both arrogant and wild about my peers,
as if they are afraid this country will seduce them even as they are half-seduced already
.

My cheeks were hot, reading the word “seduce” from Hollin, even in this context. He went on about people he had met and parties he had been to, and commented rather guiltily that it didn’t seem like much of a punishment at all. Then, suddenly, his tone changed.

The people are so different here. They wear such colors! I see women in the street, with bare arms and half-bare legs, all wrapped in gold and emerald. They are quick to laugh. People move differently here too. They look somehow more alive. Some of the women practice magic, even. All I can think of is home, and how dark it is, and how dark I felt, and how cold. We always behaved as if someone was watching us, even if it wasn’t true. Remember how reluctant I was to dance with you, to sing with you?

And yet I feel different here. I am trying to hide it, and maybe everyone is. I keep my head down and follow all the rules. But I do think of you, and how I think you planted something in me that wants to blossom under the sun. And if it did, I don’t know what anyone would think of me
.

I must beg your forgiveness for being so candid. I’m not sure if my letter will be at all welcome to you. But right now you are an ocean away, and I am sitting at my desk drinking in the heavy scent
of flowers outside my window, and you feel like the only person I can safely be honest with. You and I, I think, will always feel a little bit alone no matter where our lives take us. I don’t think you shall tell anyone. My thoughts are a muddle and I need to sort them. I beg your indulgence
.

Most sincerely,

Hollin Parry

I was not sure at all what to make of this letter. A part of me liked it very much, and I knew I should not.

From the start, Hollin had appreciated me more than most other men of Lorinar, but he had still not seen me for what I was. He had seen a beautiful, exotic creature from some far-off land that he dreamed of escaping to. It had always been escape with Hollin.

Yet, even while half of me despised him, he knew how to slip a hand under my skin and twist at my heart, appealing to my own sense of isolation. And, for all his many mistakes, I thought his feelings were genuine.

I made three false starts before I finally began to craft my reply. Of course, I still started with pleasantries, that I hoped the climate agreed with him and so on, and I spoke of the attractive grounds and my friendship with Celestina, as if we were all a happy family without any troubles. I didn’t want to sound like someone who felt alone.

But I understood what he meant about being honest an ocean away. He was so far from me now, and I would not see him for almost a year, if then, which felt an eternity. I might as well have been throwing letters into the fireplace, for all that he felt accessible. I
should have politely reminded him that he was a married man and left it at that, but I found myself spilling words onto the paper instead.

Hollin, I know you always wanted to travel. You finally have your chance. Make use of it. If you truly believe that all people are equal, and you truly are fascinated by foreign lands, don’t be held back by men like Mr. Quendley
.

But I also hope you realize that New Guinnell is not necessarily a balm to your problems. The country is not there to lull you any more than I was. The people there don’t think they are different, they are going about their normal business, and sometimes I felt that, while you respected me more than other men, you romanticized me. Someone or someplace that is romanticized can’t be real
.

This is a lesson I myself learned. I came to this country thinking the streets were paved with gold. I was struck down time and time again, and I came to loathe it, and close myself off, but I still had another lesson to learn. Not all people here are cruel either. Fortunes and happiness alike come with work, wherever you are
.

I was only sitting in a room with the nonthreatening objects of everyday life—pen and paper, candle, desk—and yet, my skin was burning. This was a bold way to speak to a man. Especially a prominent man like Hollin Parry.

I read the letter over, trying to think as he might think when he read it.

In the end, I decided I didn’t care. It felt true. It even felt a bit wise, certainly more wise than anything I would say in person. Would I be happier sending him a frothy thing full of pleasantries?

No.

And so I sealed the letter away, readying it for an ocean journey.

Chapter 9

When I came downstairs to put Hollin’s letter in the basket where outgoing mail was kept, Erris was there to tease me.

“We’re not going to hear what you wrote to him? What did his letter say? Don’t make me guess! ‘Dear Nimira, I am terribly sunburned and red as a lobster. If only you were here to do your traditional Slathering Cream on a Sunburned Man dance.’”

I slapped his hand with the letter and put it back in the basket. “Can you be serious for two minutes?”

“Two minutes? I can probably manage that. Are you going to tell me what he said?”

“No! Certainly not with that attitude. Anyway, it was a long letter full of nothing much.”

“You just have an awfully serious look on your face.”

“I don’t have any look on my face. At least, I didn’t. Now I’m cross. You shouldn’t insult my dancing. And Hollin isn’t like that.”

“Hollin is a bigot. With dead animals in his house. And, besides all that, as interesting as tree bark.”

“You hardly—” I stopped. If I defended Hollin, this would become a full-blown quarrel. I suddenly felt entirely irked at Erris, and quickly shook my head to free my thoughts. “I’m not going to discuss this further.”

The trouble with being upset with Erris was that I was attracted to him at the same time. It made it difficult to have a proper argument. Nor was he the arguing sort. Everything was a joke to him.

He laughed now. “No one can look so indignant as you, Nim. Well, unfortunately I can’t prowl around at night and search your room, so I will have to trust you’ll tell me if Hollin says anything unseemly to you.”

“It isn’t as if you’re my suitor, anyway,” I said, hoping to provoke him.

“Well, I should hope that doesn’t mean
he
is your suitor.” Erris still sounded teasing, but there was nothing teasing about the sudden slant of his eyebrows.

“No, it means simply that if he does say something unseemly, I shall defend myself.”

“I have no doubt of that,” he said with a grin. Which only irked me further.

Another couple of weeks passed. It rained frequently, and the evergreens flourished with clusters of cones. The maple, birch, and poplar began to shed their leaves of flame, and one morning I woke to the first snow, falling soft and sparse.

As the world began to tuck in for a long sleep, Violet began to
wake up. Erris’s simple treatment of fresh food and hours of fresh, brisk air didn’t make her catch cold as Celestina feared but instead brought color to her pale cheeks, although she was still thin. But then, she didn’t eat much. She had a hideous tantrum when he tried to feed her raw carrots for breakfast.

The trouble with Violet’s feeling better was that she wanted to follow everyone everywhere. Whether we were cooking or all gathered around the piano, Violet was there chattering as if she had years of stored conversation to unload. She told us stories from books she was reading when we’d rather simply read the book ourselves, and she sulked when we didn’t pay attention to her. She was a champion sulker, capable of keeping the same sullen face and pose for an hour straight until it was impossible to have fun in her presence, but her good moods were almost as irritating.

One afternoon I had just set out on a walk, and Violet came running after me like an excitable puppy. She panted dreadfully when she caught up to me. I thought for a moment she might pass out.

“Nimira—where are you—going? I want to—come.”

“To the bluff.”

“Oh—near—Mother’s grave?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never seen a grave there.”

She paused to breathe a moment and then said, “You haven’t seen it? I’ll show you!” She sounded rather eager about a grave, I thought.

Along with color in her cheeks, Violet now wore proper clothes every day and not nightgowns and robes. Celestina had offered to make her trousers, but Violet had a wardrobe full of dresses and she wanted to wear them. They were the dresses of a girl, not a woman. Today it was a plaid affair with a square white collar. The ribbons in her hair matched the dress, and the whole thing was
topped off by a double-breasted coat with puffed sleeves and white piping.

“When will you put your hair up and your skirts down?” I asked her as we trudged through fallen leaves. The last snow had melted, but the leaves were wet.

“Oh. Should I? What age do girls usually?”

“Fourteen?”

“I’m fifteen! Celestina never told me.”

“Well, it’s no use if you’re in bed all the time anyway, but maybe now you should.”

She nodded. “So I should have all new clothes. But it should have been last year. I wasn’t sick all last year. Is it too late to go to town and get new clothes? We really should go to the city even. That’s where these clothes came from. Papa took me to the city.”