Spindle (Two Monarchies Sequence Book 1) (33 page)

Onepiece gave a deep chuckle and darted away across the grass, lurching between hillocks and unexpected patches of briars.

“I hope he knows where he’s going,” said Melchior, offering his arm to Poly. “I don’t! I never could find that blasted stream of Luck’s. I swear it’s somewhere different every time I visit.”

“Yes, he said a bit of Don’t See must have dribbled into the water. I don’t think he’s right.”

“That must be rather good for Luck,” Melchior said reflectively. “I can’t remember the last time someone told him he was wrong.”

“Well, it’s quite easy to see the stream,” Poly pointed out. “I can see it from the window every time I look out, and most times I can see it when I walk in the gate. The trouble is getting to it. I don’t think it exactly stays still: in fact, I don’t think it’s really
here
properly. It feels more like Forest.”

“As much as I love to think myself magically competent, Forest has never been one of my strong points. You’d better lead the way.”

“That must have been very painful for you,” said Poly, with dancing eyes.

“It was, thank you! I prefer not to admit weakness. Hm, your boy seems to have found the stream.”

It would have been more correct to say that Onepiece had pounced on the stream, and having pounced, held it down while it wriggled wildly in an attempt to escape. That attempt proving unsuccessful, the stream had evidently decided to play dead, and was now glimmering more or less solidly not twenty feet away.

“Paddles for Onepiece!” shouted the boy, and leapt into the shallows without regard to his trousers.

Melchior, less careless of his clothing, stopped to roll up his trousers and remove his shoes. Then he pretended not to watch while Poly tucked up her skirts and joined Onepiece in the shallows.

“Considerate of Luck to arrange for such beautiful weather in his little patch of the world,” he said. His thin lips were more than usually sarcastic.

Poly, equally so, said: “Yes, wasn’t it? I think the land does it, actually: Luck doesn’t really notice weather.”

“No!” marvelled Melchior. “I would never have guessed! Sweetheart, must you splash my second best waistcoat?”

“Yes,” said Poly, feeling wonderfully lighter for the laughter. “Yes, I really must!”

It was late afternoon before it occurred to Poly that she ought to be sending Melchior on his way. She would have remembered sooner if Melchior hadn’t been so delightfully and determinedly entertaining. By the time she
did
remember, it was all but impossible to usher him out. He merely sauntered and smiled, and looked mockingly at Poly when she hit him in the arm with one clenched fist.

“A person could think they weren’t welcome,” he said.

“A person would be right,” said Poly crossly. “You’re being deliberately unhelpful!”

“Don’t be like that, sweetheart. Look at the progress you’ve made: you’ve managed to chivvy me past the house already.”

A laugh escaped before Poly could quite help it. “You’re up to something, and I don’t trust you,” she said. “Go home before Luck gets here!”

“Behold me, going! I’ll come for you again tomorrow, shall I?”

“Yes, please,” said Poly, relief warring with amusement. Onepiece was already capering off toward the house, and if she was
very
lucky, Melchior would be outside before Luck got back.

“Oh, and one more thing,” said Melchior. His eyes were dancing with mischief and Poly automatically narrowed her eyes at him. “Now, Poly, it’s for your own good. Please don’t struggle, I don’t think my ego could take the sting.”

Poly wasn’t quite surprised to find herself being kissed. Melchior’s kiss was really very nice; warm and deep with no stand-offishness to it, so she let herself enjoy it without wondering too much what he was up to.

He let it linger pleasantly and then whispered in her ear: “You’re welcome.”

She followed the direction of his gaze and saw Luck sweeping toward them through the grass, his eyes very green and narrow, and his magic standing out around him in sharp golden shards.

Poly valiantly choked down a giggle, feeling at once elated and nervous, and saw Melchior wink.

He said: “You might need this, sweetheart,” and tugged loose the knot that kept her glove laced.

He bowed and made himself scarce before Poly could accuse him of cowardice, which might possibly have been a good thing, since at Luck’s closer approach she swiftly put a tree between him and herself, and it would have seemed perilously close to hypocrisy.

Luck dealt with the tree by exploding it into splinters, and when Poly automatically grew another he disintegrated that as well, striding through the dust without stopping.

Poly’s eyes, wide and startled, took in the way his magic leapt in intensity, and hastily threw up a protective wall that was strong and see-through, and not entirely steady.

“Poly, come out of there!”

“No,” said Poly. “You’d only start throwing magic at me.”

“I’m not going to throw magic at you,” snarled Luck. To his credit, he was holding his magic in very tight check: Poly could see it straining to break against her wall. “I’m going to give you a good spanking!”

“Oh. Well, I think I’ll stay in here, then.” Poly looked at him speculatively, and added with a hint of mendacity: “I don’t see why you’re so upset.”

Luck’s eyes locked on hers, glowing with molten gold, and Poly found that she couldn’t look away.

He said tightly: “I told you not to let anyone in! These people are raving, cannibalistic, prairie-creepers. I
told
you, Poly. The Royalists want to chain you to the throne, the Old Parrasians want to kill you, and the Council wants to–”

“Yes?” prompted Poly, well aware that Luck had tumbled over the reminder that Melissa was very much a part of the Council.

“Well, at least they’re honest about it. Nobody has ever known which side Melchior’s on.”

“He’s on my side,” said Poly. It was the one thing she was really sure of when it came to Melchior.

Luck said something rude not entirely under his breath, and added: “You’ve no business consorting with him. I won’t have people sniggering behind their hands at us.”

“Nobody is sniggering at us!”

“Melchior is sniggering,” said Luck obstinately.

Fairmindedly, Poly said: “Well, yes, probably; but Melchior sniggers at everyone, I think.”

“And what do you mean by letting him kiss you?” demanded Luck, reminded of her perfidy. “You didn’t hit
him.
”

“Well. No,” said Poly, and added hastily: “Luck, I need to talk to you about Mordion.”

“I don’t want to talk about Mordion. I want to know why you hit me every time I kiss you and don’t hit Melchior.”

“Luck, it’s the same Mordion I used to know. He’s the one that–”

“Rubbish. I told you that before, Poly.”

“Don’t tell me ‘rubbish’!” said Poly heatedly. “I
remembered
it!”

“Then you must have got the magic wrong,” said Luck.

“I didn’t get the magic wrong. Mordion was–”

“Mordion’s not an enchanter. He’s not even a particularly good wizard. Your magic must have gotten too old and decayed.”

Poly very precisely pushed her glasses up on her nose. She had a feeling that she would hit Luck if she didn’t do something else with her hands.

“My magic is perfectly fine, and I remembered perfectly clearly,” she told him.

“Poly, you’re not to go trysting with wizards when you’ve nominated me as your Champion.”

“Don’t change the subject!”

“And you’re not to keep going out for the day as soon as I leave.”

“Why not?” demanded Poly. “And if it comes to that, why can’t I talk to whomever I please?
You’re
off with Melissa all day!”

There was a brief moment of pause. Then Luck said: “Yes. Well. That’s different.”

“No, it’s not,” said Poly bitterly. Melissa’s magic was still twined in and around Luck’s: and, if anything, only seemed to have multiplied in amount and tenacity since the morning.

“
Completely
different,” said Luck. “Poly–”

“What?” Poly prompted, when it became evident that Luck wasn’t going to continue the thought.

“You’re being very difficult today. You don’t listen to anything I say and you’ve gotten prickly again.”

“I’m not prickly!”

“And you haven’t been paying attention! If you’d been paying attention you wouldn’t be making things difficult.”

“
Me?
” gasped Poly. “
Me
making things difficult!”

“Yes,” said Luck, with dignity. “I’m tired, and I’m going to bed. I will be out all day tomorrow, and I expect you to stay at home.”

He swept away toward the house, leaving Poly dumbstruck for just a moment too long.

“You can expect what you want!” she shouted after him. “I shall be out all day as well!”

By the time she got back to the house Luck was nowhere to be seen. Poly, sitting down crossly in one of the chairs she’d coaxed to grow in the living room, thought that it was just as well. She laced her glove again, conscious of a feeling of grating disappointment as the unmagic spiral disappeared beneath a layer of lace.

“Angry wizard,” said Onepiece’s voice, making her jump. He was crouched in one of the corners, dismantling a small, rusty spell. “Angry mum.”

“We’re not– oh, well, I suppose we are angry. Don’t worry, darling; we’re not angry with you.”

“Not bedtime,” said Onepiece, correctly anticipating the result of being brought to her notice again. “Am splashy-wet and will catcherdeath.”

“You won’t catch your death because I shall dry you,” said Poly firmly. “
Must
you take that messy thing with you?”

“Yus,” he said, gathering all the pieces of the spell with surprising care. “Wizard doesn’t like little pieces everywhere.”

“Very well, but no playing with it when you’re supposed to be sleeping.”

“Pft,” said Onepiece in dissatisfaction, but he followed her to his bedroom obediently enough. He stood still to let Poly dry him off, turning his pieces of spell over in his hands, and when she was finished he put each piece precisely on the wash-stand, making a semicircle.

“Can do it myself,” he said, when she went to unbutton his shirt.

“We’ll see,” said Poly, but she resisted the urge to help him when he attempted to put his head through the arms of his nightshirt.

She chivvied him into bed, cocooning him tightly in the blanket to make him giggle, then left a tiny moonshine glow of magic to keep him company and went in search of the kitchen. She was still simmering with annoyance, so when her attempts to settle in front of the gently glowing stove with a cup of tea failed, Poly brought out the fashion plates that Isabella had brought her, and crossly made frock after frock for the pleasure of disintegrating them with a wave of her hand. The process was obliquely satisfying, and by the time she began to think that she could sleep, Poly had amassed five or six of the ensembles that she had not been able to bring herself to destroy.

Now
let Melissa try to look down her lovely nose at Poly! The militant thought brought with it a renewed sense of sourness, but Poly pushed it aside. After all, it wasn’t as though she had made a push to interest Luck when she’d had the chance. If she had, Luck might not now be enscorcelled to Melissa.

Poly thought about that, then thought about Luck’s utter obliviousness to any of the young ladies in the village.

“Oh, what utter nonsense,” she said to herself. “He probably wouldn’t even have noticed.”

Chapter Nineteen

Luck was already gone when Poly and Onepiece finished breakfast. Poly wasn’t surprised by that, but she was surprised that Isabella hadn’t yet made an appearance, and a sneaking suspicion made her stroll to the gate with Onepiece prancing beside her. Having done so, she found Isabella leaning elegantly against one of the alley walls and sighing at her polished fingernails.

When she saw the gate open, Isabella said resignedly: “What’s Luck done this time?”

“Silenced the hailer, by the looks,” said Poly, giving the door magic a brief overlook. She ushered Isabella in, finding in the process that when open, the doorway strenuously resisted any attempt she made to approach closer than a foot towards it.

“Dear me!” said Isabella. “Luck
has
been busy, hasn’t he?”

Poly, struggling to close the gate again, gave her an expressive look.

“How wonderful!” Isabella said, laughing delightedly. “Luck is becoming more interesting than ever! Shall you be confined to the premises, then?”

“I don’t think so,” said Poly grimly, succeeding at last.

“Good for you! Will you be going out straight away?”

“No: I need your advice first.”

“Even more wonderful! I delight in giving out advice!”

“Amongst other things,” said Poly, with a rather dry laugh. Isabella was younger even than Margaret, but her quickness of mind made it difficult to remember that she was two years younger than the other girl, and some three or four years younger than Poly herself.

Isabella’s grey eyes danced. “Oh yes! Amongst many other things! But I do believe you and Luck are my favouritest thing at the moment. Shall you be wanting advice on matters of dress?”

“Yes: I made a few things last night.”

“Just made a few things last night!” sighed Isabella enviously. “Oh, what I wouldn’t give for your talent! Very well: show me to the goodies.”

Much to Poly’s secret satisfaction, Isabella immediately pointed to Poly’s favourite emerald-green ensemble.

“This one, without a doubt. Lengthen the cuffs a trifle, and make the bustle more of a suggestion than an actual bustle, and you’ll be the most fashionable lady traversing the streets of the Capital. Excepting myself, of course.”

“Of course,” agreed Poly, making the suggested changes with a few tweaks. “Anything else?

“Well, that depends.”

“On?”

“Well, were I making this particular ensemble for
myself
–and do feel free to take that as a hint, by the bye–I’d put in an extra fall of material just here, beneath the bustle.”

“That’ll make it heavier, won’t it?” said Poly curiously, making a few more tweaks. Her experience with Isabella’s sense of style had led her to believe that Isabella preferred a certain simplicity and elegance of cut.

“Oh, certainly; but the benefits far outweigh the drawback of an extra pound or so of weight. The cut will still look slim and tight, but should you need to run–”

“Now, where would you get the idea that I might need to run?” asked Poly, her eyes bright with amusement.

Isabella met them, her own dancing. “An extensive knowledge of Luck. Besides, the extra fall of material is decidedly elegant, don’t you think?”

“I do,” agreed Poly, observing the difference. She made a little blue flicking of magic that slithered around her and curled out into green velvet.

“The world is an unfair place,” Isabella sighed, watching with envious interest. “Shall you be walking out with Melchior today?”

“I shall.”

“
So
unfair! Oh, not those shoes, Poly! You can’t wear slippers out for daywear!”

“What if I need to run?” countered Poly.

“Learn to run in heeled boots, naturally! Black, of course, tooled with an elegant version of spats–
not
real ones, thank you very much. If you’re
very
sophisticated you may have a red or gold heel, but I suggest leaving those for evening wear.”

“I’ll probably break an ankle,” said Poly; and then, observing Isabella’s shoes: “Yours aren’t black and white.”

“No, but I am
excessively
sophisticated.”

“And very modest,” nodded Poly.

Isabella gave her an enchanting grin. “So Aunt Oddu says. Is that yelling at the gate, do you suppose?”

“Melchior!” said Poly in dismay. “I’d better go. Onepiece is working on a spell: don’t let him experiment with it in the house, will you?”

“Certainly not,” said Isabella cheerfully. “Do have a lovely day! I’m sure you will: after all, you’ll have some delightful scenery to look at.”

Poly met Isabella’s saucy look with a narrow-eyed one, and hurried off to do battle with Luck’s gate once again.

“I really approve,” said Melchior. “In fact, I congratulate Luck.”

“You
could
have helped,” said Poly. Her cheeks were still hot and flushed. The enchantment Luck had put on the gate hadn’t been easy to bypass. In the end she had been forced to shove through it by sheer brute force, leading to some disarray of her new ensemble and a very high flush. Luck’s enchantment had fared much worse.

“And miss that particularly luscious little blush? I think not. Is the firebrand responsible for your new outfittings?”

“By and large,” said Poly, growing a little pinker. “Melchior, do you
have
to put your arm around my waist?”

“Rhetorically, or essentially?” asked Melchior, his thin lips curling. “I’ve a feeling that my time with you is fleeting. I therefore feel it incumbent upon me to take up every opportunity of putting my arms around you.”

“I’m not going anywhere, you know,” said Poly. “Not with Mordion and Luck, and everything.”

“Yes,” said Melchior, still with that twisted smile. “
Everything.
However, things must eventually change, whether or no I will, and until then I shall enjoy the moment.”

“I thought I was in love once before Luck,” Poly said. “It was silly, now that I come to think of it. Only he was so beautiful, and so much fun, and I got a bit carried away.”

“Are you sharing life lessons, sweetheart? Life goes on, and so on?”

“No,” Poly said slowly: “Only by rights, I should have fallen in love with you: you’re obviously cut out to be the hero of the piece. I’m sure it would have been more comfortable than being in love with Luck.”

“Ah, the double-edged sword,” said Melchior. He was grinning. “One wonders if one is supposed to be inordinately flattered, or mildly insulted. One likes to think that one would be an exciting lover.”

“You’re exciting in all the right ways,” Poly said comfortingly. “Luck is exasperating and annoying– oh, and wonderful and
home
. I’ve never felt at home before. Melchior, you’ve made me maudlin!”

“Then do feel free to consider this arm a comforting rather than a romantic gesture.”

“Very kind of you.”

“Altruistic, in fact,” nodded Melchior. “No, Poly, I think we won’t go down that street.”

Poly looked around him. “Are those people holding sticks?”

“Signs. Someone must have arranged a protest. Shall we go by the back way?”

“Another of your secret passages?”

“I’ve only one talent,” said Melchior, his mouth more than usually sarcastic. “I flaunt it where and when I find myself able. Stay close.”

This hidden corridor was stone instead of brick, and didn’t curve as circuitously as the first had. Poly paid attention this time, running her fingers idly through the sable strands of magic that forged an impossible path through stone and wood and mortar, and thought she understood how it was done.

Melchior gave her a swift look beneath his lashes, but only said: “Here is where you and I part ways, Poly. It would be unfortunate if anyone inconvenient was to see us together in Brackett’s vicinity– especially when it leaks out that he’s Preserved your memories as evidence. I have something of a reputation to uphold.”

“All right,” said Poly, feeling absurdly abandoned. It was ridiculous to feel anxious about something as relatively normal as paying a house call. Luck had dragged her into far more perilous situations.

Only if Luck was with her, Poly thought, she wouldn’t feel anxious. Because Luck, for all his throwing magic and suspicious lack of attention, had always been paying attention at just the right moment.

“I’ll be right here waiting for you,” said Melchior encouragingly. “And Brackett doesn’t bite, after all. He’s a bad-tempered, penny-pinching old miser, but he knows his job. Number eight.”

The memory business must have served Brackett well– his house was the finest in the street, and the street itself was finer than any Poly had yet seen, excepting only the Capital Square. It was certainly nothing like the ordinary little street that Luck’s house was attached to.

There was no door-knocker, nor was there a bell-pull; but when Poly dubiously pressed the little button beside the door, she heard a faint buzzing from the other side of the door. She sent out bright blue tendrils of magic to explore this new phenomenon, and discovered to her surprise that unlike Luck’s hailer, this buzzer was not magical. It sparked with a sharp metal life all of its own. While she was still surveying the metal-wired buzzer the door opened, a soft, inward tug of air that disconcerted Poly.

“The Sleeping Princess to see Doctor Brackett,” she said, startled into a brief staccato of words.

The butler’s face went slightly blank with shock and then firmed into lines of immense rigidity.

“Will you come in, Your Highness? I will place you in the sitting room, if I may be so bold. Doctor Brackett will be with you
immediately
.”

He wheeled in as grand a manner as any steward, and Poly followed his poker-straight back down the grand hall and into a large receiving room. The windows were tall and thin and clear, streaming sunlight into the room from the road: the effect was at once warm and slightly chilling. Poly sat down in one of the elegant chairs, careful of her half-bustle, and was composed enough to cross her ankles and incline her head graciously when the butler said: “May I say, your Highness, what an honour it is to welcome you. I shall fetch the Master.”

Brackett’s examination room was as contradictorily warm and chill as the lower rooms had been. Poly, sitting more gingerly than ever on the leather chair she was offered, watched Brackett pour tea. He was a small, white-haired man in very precisely mended clothing, as if after the extravagance of the best house in the street, he had felt the need to economise. His face was sharp and acquisitive, with clever eyes and a sly smile that Poly wasn’t sure she liked. He looked capable.

“I’ve been expecting you,” he said at last, offering one of the teacups to her.

“So I understand,” Poly said, refusing to be impressed.

Brackett gave a sharp grin. “Friends in high places, Your Highness! Friends in high places, eh? You have some memories for me?”

“I believe so. Our friends would like them– well,
copied
, or whatever it is you do to them.”

“Evidence, is it?” Brackett’s eyes were sharp. “Sorry, highness: I forgot the sugar cubes! Allow me!”

Poly opened her mouth to protest that she didn’t take sugar in her tea, but a cube had already tumbled into her cup from Brackett’s silver sugar tongs.

He said: “Help yourself to biscuits, your Highness. I have a few things to prepare.”

Interested, Poly sipped her tea and watched him. There were magical things about the room, mostly small, uninteresting charms; but Brackett wasn’t tinkering with any of them. When it came right down to it he didn’t seem to be doing much except moving things around on his desk, and that was curious.

Poly blinked at his quick, clever fingers, her teacup tumbling to the carpeted floor, and thought:
That’s funny
.
The room’s gone dark
.

She felt a soft, distant tickle of fear in her stomach. The curse was broken: why was she falling asleep?
What had Brackett put in the tea?

She moved one heavy hand, fingers tangled in the laces of her other, gloved hand, and somewhere across the room, a small magical something
sparked a huge magical Something Else.

“Sit. Still,” said Brackett’s voice. There was something stiff and wrong about it. “I. Will attend. To you. Shortly.”

He was moving his fingers again–this time curiously, jerkily–and Poly thought she understood. The magical Something Else was surrounding Brackett like a haze, seeping into skin and nail, and Someone Else was gradually taking over his body.

Poly fumbled at the laces of her glove again, cold and heavy and clumsy, and felt the warmth of antimagic spiralling up her arm. It pricked at the lethargy in her limbs, sending a shock of wakefulness through her, and Poly gulped in a breath that felt fresh and blissfully alive.

“Don’t bother struggling, darling,” said Brackett. It was still his voice, but Poly knew the cadence of the words: the slightly mocking tone to the endearment. “It’s not a spell– it’s tincture of lilly-pilly. There’s no fighting that, I’m afraid.”