Read The Stepsister Scheme Online
Authors: Jim C. Hines
The Stepsister Scheme (9 page)
Danielle gently tapped the sword against a small rock in the mud. It chimed like crystal, but not a scratch marred the blade. The glass was so much lighter than steel.
“My mother knew how much I loved my father’s work,” she said. “He could make magic with nothing but a blob of molten glass, a blow tube, and a hot fire.” She smiled, remembering. “When I was little, I used to gather up the splatters of glass after they cooled. They were like glass pebbles, smooth as water on the top, but rough beneath where they captured the imprint of the hearth. I’m sure he let the glass drip on purpose, just for me.”
She flexed her fingers and winced. The skin felt raw and tight. She raised the sword into a guard position, smiling at the way the glass caught the sun.
“Hold the tip lower and fix your elbow,” said Talia, her jaw clenched. “Your arm looks like a chicken wing.”
“You don’t want to have to protect me? Teach me how to protect myself.”
“The best way to protect yourself is to go home,” Talia muttered.
Danielle ignored her. To Snow, she said, “My stepsisters knew nothing of magic before the wedding. Someone had to guide them.”
“Fairies,” Talia said. “They’ve got a real thing for wolves. Always sending them out to stalk humans through the woods or sneak into houses or—” She hissed in pain as Snow tied off the final stitch.
“The spell was cast using witchcraft,” Snow said firmly. “The signs in the attic were unmistakable. But the ingredients to summon and control a Chirka are rare. Most of them are illegal.”
“Where would they go to get them?” Danielle asked.
Snow folded her needle and thread into a small bundle, then rummaged through her satchel until she found a brown jar. She dabbed greenish ointment over the cuts on Talia’s stomach, rubbing it into the skin.
“There are only two places in Lorindar. We need to visit the troll.”
Snow took Danielle’s hand and began rubbing the ointment onto the burns. A cool, tingling feeling spread through her skin. The ointment smelled like fresh-cut hay.
Danielle flexed her hand. “You said there were two places to find those illegal ingredients. What’s the second?”
“My room at the palace.”
Danielle nibbled a seed cake, barely tasting the sweetness, as she followed the others through the Holy Crossroads toward the southern gates of the city. Church bells clamored to either side, signaling noon-time worship. On the steps of Saint Thomas, a preacher in plain cotton robes shouted at the crowds, condemning the use of divine magic by mortal hands. “Magic is not meant for beings as fallible as ourselves,” he shouted.
Normally, the preachers annoyed Danielle with their taunts and condemnations, but this time, she found herself in agreement.
On the other side of the street, a man wearing a blue cloak edged with gold symbols pointed and jeered. “Magic is a gift of the savior,” he shouted. He drew a crucifix from inside his cloak. A winged fairy, cast from bronze, hung from the small cross. “The First Fairy, who lived and died as one of us.”
“Idiots,” Talia said. “The only reason the people haven’t run the Followers of the Fey out of town is all the money the fairies send to push their farce of a church.”
From the sound of things, the group gathered at the Church of the Iron Cross felt the same as Talia. Their taunts soon drowned out the cries of the Fey Church.
“Come on, while everyone is busy watching the show.” said Snow, threading her way through the crowds.
Talia pointed toward the small, gruesomely decorated Chapel of the Baptism of Blood, where a man and woman in crimson hurled epithets at the other churches. “It’s nothing but an act to rile the crowds and put gold in their coffers, the same as any actor or tumbler.”
“You don’t believe?” Danielle asked.
“In them?” She snorted. “By the end of the night, most of these priests will gather at one of the churches and drink together like brothers.”
“So what do you believe?”
Talia shrugged. “My teachers told me magic was brought to our world by Pravesh, Giver of Light. His sister Shiev was angry, wanting to keep that magic for the gods. She tore him into eight pieces and scattered the parts across the world. The fey rose from his spilled blood and spread throughout the world. They had Pravesh’s magic, but were forever tainted by the violence and betrayal of their birth.”
“Is that why you don’t like the fairies?” Danielle asked. Talia said nothing.
Danielle finished her seed cake as she followed. She kept her head bowed, but it didn’t seem to matter. Few people paid them any attention, and those who did would be unlikely to recognize her. Even Snow passed with little notice.
Snow had left her fancy gown and jewelry at the house, donning one of Danielle’s old outfits instead. Charlotte and Stacia hadn’t touched Danielle’s things, probably deciding they were no good for anything but rags. The shirt and trousers were well worn, but clean. Snow was thinner than Danielle, so the clothes hung loosely on her slender frame, except in the chest and hips. An old apron provided a bit more modesty, and a moth-eaten scarf concealed her choker.
A yawning guardsman waved them through the open gates of the city. The hot, heavy air of the crowd gave way to a cool breeze, and the cobblestones beneath their feet changed to hard, dusty earth.
Danielle carried her sword under one arm, tied within a roll of blankets. Talia had bundled it so that Danielle could reach into the blankets and draw the sword without too much trouble, though they would have to unroll everything to get the sword back in.
She squeezed the blankets as she walked, feeling the crossguard press against her ribs. She wanted to take the sword and hold it in her hands, to feel the last gift her mother would ever give her.
“I should have come back sooner,” she whispered. How long had that demon been trapped within the tree, weakening her mother’s spirit?
Snow shook her head. “Your mother chose her death the moment she drew the Chirka into herself.”
“This isn’t how things were supposed to be.”
“She died to save you,” said Talia, her expression distant. “It’s what any good mother would have done.”
Tents and carts lined either side of the dirt road, spreading outward along the city wall. Prostitutes and lepers and actors, all those who found themselves less than welcome inside the city, gathered here around the gates.
“How long until we find the troll?” Danielle asked. Flies buzzed in annoyance as she stepped over a pile of horse dung.
“That depends on whether or not he wants to be found,” said Snow.
It wasn’t the most comforting of answers. “If he sells dark magic, why hasn’t the queen done something about him?”
“It’s hard to explain,” Snow said, glancing at Talia. “He’s exiled from Fairytown, but he’s still of fey blood. And he doesn’t actually perform any illegal magic himself. So the queen—”
“Abides by the treaty,” Talia finished. She spat. “Letting him pollute our city with his foul magic.”
Snow’s face brightened. “But if he’s the one who helped Charlotte and Stacia, that would be a clear violation of sections nine and twenty-two of Malindar’s Treaty. Not only did he ‘perform or otherwise facilitate the use of dark magic in a clear and deliberate attempt to cause harm to one of noble birth,’ but Charlotte used magic when she tried to kill Danielle in her room, which means he ‘aided in the use of dark magics on palace grounds.’”
Talia snorted. “Don’t get her started. She’ll recite the whole treaty from memory, then cite every case in the past century where humans or fairies were found guilty of violations.”
“I like to read,” said Snow, blushing. “There are so many books. I’ve read everything in the palace library at least once.”
By now, scattered evergreens had taken the place of the makeshift town outside the walls, and the noise of the city was a distant whisper.
“And did any of those books tell you where to find the troll?” Talia asked.
“He’s a troll, silly,” said Snow. “We’ll find him under a bridge!”
“I don’t suppose there’s another troll,” Talia asked, her nose wrinkled. “One who lives beneath a less putrid bridge?”
Snow shook her head. “I check on him from time to time with my mirrors. He’s there, halfway up Fisherman’s Canal.”
Fisherman’s Canal ran along the inner edge of the wharf, a rocky strip of land at the base of the cliffs which had grown into a small town of shipbuilders, fishermen, and sailors. Seagulls filled the sky, occasionally diving toward one of the boats to try to swipe a meal. Others hovered over the canal, fighting the rats for the remains of those fish which had already been gutted. Their cries were a pleasant change from the shouts of the town.
Danielle cupped her hand over her eyes, grateful for the chance to rest. Palace life had spoiled her more than she realized, to be so out of breath.
Four footbridges crossed the canal, spread evenly between here and the end of the wharf. A short distance downstream, two rag-clad children had chased the birds away and were gathering bits of gut and meat from the water.
“What are they doing?” asked Snow.
“They use it for bait.” Danielle grimaced. “At least, I hope that’s what they’re doing.”
“They’re standing right beside the troll’s bridge.” Talia muttered a word in a language Danielle didn’t understand. “I’d rather not tell every kid in Lorindar what we’re doing. Bad enough your neighbor saw you.”
“Erik won’t tell anyone,” said Danielle. She glanced at a pair of gulls who were squabbling over a small black crab. Lowering her voice, she called out, “Come here, friends. I need your help.”
“That’s a neat trick,” said Snow, as the birds swooped toward Danielle’s head.
A few whispered instructions later, the gulls were flying past the bridge, the crab forgotten. They swooped low, their barking cries loud as they pretended to squabble over the gold coin Danielle had given the larger gull. The coin dropped into the water, and the gulls flew onward.
At first, Danielle wasn’t sure the children had seen, but then the girl began wading away from the bridge. Danielle couldn’t hear what she was saying, but the boy soon followed, shaking his head over what he probably thought was another childish fantasy. He yelped with surprise when the girl snatched the coin from the water, and then they were both running along the docks toward the road.
“Was that inconspicuous enough?” Danielle asked.
Talia rubbed her forehead. “It would be, if Snow would stop flirting with the sailors.”
Snow stopped in mid-wave. She blushed as she clasped her hands together and turned away from the sweaty, shirtless men who were rolling barrels from one of the ships. “Sorry.”
“Snow’s not very good at ‘subtle,’” Talia said.
Snow tugged her scarf off of her neck, earning a sharp whistle from the ship. She started to smile, then sighed when she spotted Talia’s expression. “Fine. Subtle it is.”
She brushed her fingertips over the front mirror of her choker. The whistling stopped, though the men continued to stare.
“That doesn’t appear to have helped,” Talia said.
“Wait for it.” Snow smiled and waved again.
As one, the men turned away and went back to their work.
“What did you do?” Danielle asked.
“A small spell.” She giggled. “They think we’re men.”
Not one of the dockworkers looked up as Snow walked down to the canal. Danielle grimaced as she followed Snow into the cold, slowly flowing water. The stones at the bottom were slick with dark green muck, and the buzz of insects was louder here as flies feasted on discarded bits of fish.
Cobwebs tickled her face as she stepped beneath the bridge. The air was cooler, the light dimmer than she expected. She kept her head and shoulders hunched to avoid disturbing the spiders. Dead insects filled huge triangular webs by the water and at the base of the bridge.
“Now what?” asked Talia.
Snow stepped to one side of the bridge. Weeds and spiderwebs hid the base of the archway, and black mildew covered much of the stone. “Now we search for the door.”
She touched her choker. “Mirror, mirror . . .” Her voice trailed off.
“What’s wrong?” Danielle asked.
“I need something that rhymes with door.” Snow flushed and looked away. “A true master wouldn’t need to speak at all, but the rhymes help me to focus the harder spells.”
“Gore?” suggested Talia. She nudged a slimy mound downstream with her toe. “War? Whore?”
“I don’t think we want that kind of spell,” said Snow.
“Chore?” asked Danielle.
“Wait, I’ve got one,” said Snow. “Mirror, mirror, small and round. Let the hidden door be found.”
Nothing happened. All three of them leaned closer, peering at the stones.
“There,” said Snow. She scraped one of the stones with her fingernail, dislodging a chunk of moss to reveal a thin hole the size of her little fingernail.
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