The Thinking Woman's Guide to Real Magic (18 page)

She shot an inquiring glance at Aruendiel. He waved her forward impatiently. “Go ahead. He won't hurt you.”

Nora put her hand on the creature's unmoving shoulder. It seemed to her that at first there was a flurry of panicked, angry movement under her fingers, as though she had laid her hand on a door behind which a trapped animal was scuffling, and then she felt only the quiet roughness of the stone, barely warmed by the late-afternoon sun.

“How long will this spell last?” she asked, straightening. “A week? Five minutes?” She wished that Aruendiel were not quite so scrupulous about his honor.

“In theory, until the bones of the earth crumble, the seas go dry, and the power of the sun is no more, as the old wizards used to say,” Aruendiel said, sounding more cheerful than he had all day. “In reality, until Ilissa finds him and frees him. Long enough for us to finish our journey in peace, at any rate.”

Nora touched the rock again, reassuring herself that it was dead mineral matter. Turning away, she felt taut muscles in her shoulders and neck begin to relax, although—she reminded herself—there was still the rest of the flight to Semr to endure.

“Why didn't you turn him to stone before? When he was chasing us?” she asked Aruendiel.

Aruendiel had already settled himself onto the branch, whose wings were beginning to beat in a slow cadence. “I was occupied with flying,” he said shortly. Nora climbed on behind him, twisting slightly as she tried to find a comfortable spot on the tree limb. After a second's hesitation, she took hold of his shoulder again.

The sprawling form of Raclin-turned-statue dwindled beneath them, dark against the yellowing grass. It looked like a broken toy. Nora watched it steadily until the meadow disappeared behind them. Aruendiel did not look back once.

B
y the close of the day, they had reached the sea. Aruendiel guided their craft along a coast of craggy rocks and narrow beaches, until they came to the mouth of a broad river.

The far side of the river bristled with the masts of ships at anchor. More ships headed for port, their colored sails fat with the evening breeze. Beyond the docks Nora could see a crush of roofs and domes and a few slender towers. It was a city, a real city, although it was difficult, in the fading light, to estimate just how large. The wind brought the smell of smoke, dried fish, and sewage to her nostrils.

Aruendiel followed the coast past the river and the lights of the city, then veered sharply inland. They flew over dark ground, and then a lighter strip appeared below. Aruendiel jerked the branch downward, and they landed with a bump, cobblestones under their feet.

“Where are we?” she asked.

“We're outside the main gate of Semr,” Aruendiel said. “I see from those torches that the gate is still open, so we will have no trouble entering the city, and yet we have arrived a little too late to wait upon His Majesty at this evening's palace banquet. Our timing could not be improved upon.”

Nora stood up, clutching her bag. “Actually, I'm a little hungry.”

“Then a palace banquet is the last place you would want to be. No one can eat until the king is served or after he has stopped eating. We'll do what the courtiers do and stop at the palace kitchens.” He clapped his hands, and the flying contraption collapsed into three rough branches lying on the cobblestones. Aruendiel kicked the wood to the side of the road. “I'll travel home by different means,” he added.

Again, no mention of taking her back with him. “How?” she asked, but he had already turned toward the gate, moving quickly despite his limp.

The city gate had studded bronze doors, set in a limestone wall and topped with an enormous bas-relief that showed a strapping beast with two heads—a wolf's and a lion's—standing upright. It held a sword in one paw and a sheaf of grain in the other. Part of the majesty of the entrance was lost, however, because of the mass of shanties, built of wood and animal hide, that huddled at the base of the wall. The same pungent mix of smells that Nora had caught before was overpowering here, although now she could also discern notes of rotten vegetables and beer.

The soldiers at the gate were occupied with a group of farmers who had evidently come into the city earlier to sell their goods at market and now were leaving. Each had to present his cart or pack for inspection. It took some time. Aruendiel seemed grimly amused. “They stayed too late,” he said to Nora.

“Too late?”

“If they had left earlier, the gate would still have been manned by the first watch—which already took its cut this morning. Now the second watch wants its share.” Nora wondered whether she and Aruendiel would have to bribe their way into the city, too, but the sergeant obviously recognized the magician's name. Waving them in, he dispatched a runner to notify the palace of their arrival.

The narrow streets of the city were still busy, although most of the small shops they passed were already boarded up for the night. There was no shortage of inns, one on almost every corner, spilling light and noise from their doors. In the streets were other late travelers; beggars, all with more than one limb missing—it took a lot to get sympathy here, Nora thought; drunkards; buskers playing drums or pipes; and small clusters of women and girls—some mere children—wearing low-cut dresses and purple ribbons in their hair. Nora saw instantly what the purple ribbons meant. Some of the women called out to Aruendiel as he passed. He nodded back with surprising graciousness, without breaking stride.

They had been walking for about ten minutes when a young man in red-and-gold livery came running up with a torch to light their way. After that, they made faster progress, as the other pedestrians gave them a clear path. Eventually, the streets sloped upward and the crowds thinned. The buildings uptown were larger, made of stone and brick, their tall windows gated with iron shutters.

“Take us into the palace by the side entrance, I pray you,” Aruendiel said to their guide.

“His Majesty still holds court in the main hall,” the young man objected.

“All the more reason for us to enter quietly.”

The torchbearer led them down several narrow streets to an arched gate guarded by soldiers in red-and-gold tunics. On the other side Aruendiel threaded his way expertly through a series of courtyards until they reached the kitchens, where a skinny boy in a dirty apron served them fish pastries and the palace chamberlain found them a few minutes later. He informed Aruendiel that, regrettably, His Majesty had just retired and would not be available for an interview until the following morning. Aruendiel took the news with equanimity and asked that they be shown to their rooms.

For the length of several corridors and two staircases, the chamberlain spoke fluently about the unusually warm weather the capital had been enjoying, the state of the palace lawns, and the prospects for the king's annual
ben
tournament, an Ors word that Nora had not encountered, but which seemed to denote a game played on a grassy court, something like bowling. The chamberlain smiled at her at intervals, but his eyes constantly flicked back to Aruendiel, as though he were nervous about letting the magician out of his sight for an instant. Eventually they arrived at a large bedroom where a fire was already burning cozily in the fireplace. The chamberlain said something to Aruendiel that Nora couldn't quite catch.

“Certainly not!” Aruendiel said, with a sideways glance at Nora. “Please find Mistress Nora lodgings elsewhere.” He swept into the bedroom and closed the door behind him.

The chamberlain led Nora up several more staircases, each narrower than the last. He seemed to have run out of comments about the
ben
tournament. The bedroom he brought her to was very small, almost completely filled by a large canopied bed. “You will be sharing the room with Lady Inristian, Countess of the Valley of the River of the White Boar and Chatelaine of Inris House.”

“I hope she doesn't mind having me as a roommate,” Nora said.

“I am sure she will not mind sharing with such a charming young lady as yourself,” said the chamberlain. “The palace is so crowded at this time of year.” He bowed and disappeared.

Nora considered waiting up for Lady Inristian, to introduce herself, but she fell asleep almost as soon as she got into bed. She was awakened sometime later by voices in the room. Someone else slid into bed with her. Then, she noticed sleepily, another person.

Afraid that she was about to know more about her roommate's romantic life than she wanted to know, Nora sat up and cleared her throat.

“Oh, for shame, Daisy, you've wakened our bedmate,” said the person next to Nora.

“Lady Inristian?” Nora asked. “My name is Nora. I'm so sorry—the chamberlain put me in your room. I hope I'm not disturbing you.”

“No, not at all,” said her neighbor in an accent that Nora had not heard before, a slushier version of Ors. “I hope that you do not mind that my maid sleeps with us. They did not have a proper bed for her, and besides, when one is in Semr, I always think that it is safer to sleep with a chaperone. The palace can be very busy at night, if you know what I mean.”

“Oh,” said Nora. “Well, no one will disturb you on my account.” The other women only giggled. It took some time for Nora to fall asleep again, but in the end she slept better than she would have expected. Lady Inristian wheezed, but very softly.

In the morning, Nora awoke before the others and dressed quietly. She glanced at the sleeping Lady Inristian and noticed that the pale skin of her otherwise pleasant face was lunar-rough with pockmarks. Either she'd had the worst case of acne ever, or they had smallpox here; Nora wondered somberly whether the magician could cure smallpox, if she happened to contract it. She went over to the bedroom's small window and peered out.

There was a view over the palace gardens, which, as the chamberlain had remarked, were lush and green—the grass still fogged with dew. She was just letting her gaze wander over the curving paths and the lines of neatly trimmed beeches when her eye fell upon the slender figure of a woman dressed in white, walking by herself. The woman had her back turned, but there was something about her posture—defiantly, almost aggressively graceful—that made Nora catch her breath. How many women walked just that way, and had chestnut hair exactly that shade?

Lady Inristian was shaking her maid's shoulder. “Daisy, get up and fetch a fresh chamber pot, I need to make water.” She called over a greeting to Nora.

“Oh—good morning,” Nora said, trying not to appear rattled. She glanced out the window again. The woman in white was just disappearing behind a hedge.

Daisy stumbled out of bed, yawning, and disappeared into the corridor. Lady Inristian began to chatter about last night's banquet. She seemed to assume that Nora knew the people that she was talking about. Nora, trying to keep an eye on the garden in case the woman in white returned, made distracted sounds of agreement.

When she finally turned away from the window, Lady Inristian gave a little gasp. “You poor thing, that must have hurt!”

“What? Oh,
that.
” Nora raised her hand to her cheek. “It was just a scratch. From an animal.” She did not sound as casual as she wished to.

“How awful.” Lady Inristian pursed her lips in a little pout. “I have some marvelous face powder that can hide almost anything. Just tell me if you'd like to borrow some.”

She meant it kindly enough. Nora felt her cheeks grow warm, and wondered whether the scars stood out more vividly when she blushed. It had been some time since she had really looked in a mirror. “Thank you, I appreciate the offer,” Nora was beginning to say, when someone knocked at the door.

Instead of Daisy and the chamber pot, it was a servant in the red-and-gold livery. “My apologies for disturbing you, ma'am, but I have a message for Mistress Nora,” he said. Nora indicated that he had found the right person. “The Lord Aruendiel would like to see you at once in the minister's council chamber.”

“The Lord Aruendiel!” From the bed, Lady Inristian was all alertness. “I didn't know that he was here in Semr.” She looked hard at Nora, as if demanding an explanation.

“We arrived just last night,” Nora said to her.

“You came with him! And you are—”

“I've been staying in his castle,” Nora said. She went to put on her shoes, conscious of Lady Inristian's unblinking gaze upon her—taking in the gold ring, the scar, the worn dress that had been Mrs. Toristel's, the peasant clogs, the plain, braided hair. “Well,” said Lady Inristian, sinking back onto the pillows, her eyebrows raised. “How interesting.”

Nora smiled at her and fled after the servant.

After ten minutes of corridors, he delivered Nora to a round room, domed with frosted glass through which a pale, oyster-colored light filtered down. Although the table was littered with a variety of maps, a couple of goblets, and a half-eaten loaf of bread, there was no one in the room. The servant directed her to wait.

Nora helped herself to a hunk of bread, then looked at the maps with interest. Sounding out the Ors names carefully, she eventually identified Semr, a dot on the coastline of a large western ocean, at the mouth of a long river that wound out of a mountain range to the east. At the bottom of the map were several very large lakes, completely landlocked. The far northern and northeastern parts of the map seemed virtually blank—perhaps unexplored? She was trying to work out where Aruendiel's castle was located—somewhere in the hilly country to the northeast of Semr, she thought—when she heard footsteps come into the room, a quick tread followed by a slower one.

“Aruendiel!” she said, looking up. “I think I saw Ilissa this morning, in the garden.”

“You did,” he said with a grave face. “She's here in Semr.”

“Why is she here? I thought she couldn't leave her own lands.”

“Normally, she can't, under the terms of the treaty. There are exceptions, though. She has the right to leave her domain for diplomatic missions. And now,” he said, inclining his head, “she is here in Semr to treat with the king. In fact, I learn, they have been sending messengers back and forth these past two months. It is a remarkable piece of royal folly.”

“What is it about?”

“I intend to find out. This misguided affair is most certainly what Hirizjahkinis was referring to in her note yesterday. She could have been much clearer, I have to say. If I had known exactly what she meant, I would have come—oh, faster than I came. And I would not have brought you with me, into the presence of your enemy. I apologize deeply for that miscalculation.”

Nora's heart sank a little to hear how serious he sounded. “But you're a match for her, right?” Aruendiel had stopped Raclin—eventually. “Is that how Raclin got out, because of the mission?”

“Yes, he is considered part of the mission. It's an outrage that I was never consulted about this.”

“I wonder if Ilissa knows yet that Raclin is now a piece of statuary.”

“I doubt it. That piece of information may be useful in our discussions today. As will an account of Raclin's recent attacks on us. In fact,” Aruendiel said, with a lift of his eyebrow, “you might be a valuable witness yourself.”

“Me? Why?”

“Kidnapping young women as brides for Raclin is expressly forbidden by the treaty. Ilissa will say, no doubt, that the clause does not cover visitors from another world, but I think we can argue that she has violated the spirit, if not the letter, of the agreement.”

“Would I have to be in the same room with Ilissa? Because I don't want to see her.”

“No, perhaps that would not be wise.” His face hardened, and she guessed that he was considering again whether Nora might be Ilissa's agent, unknowingly or not. “And the ring?” he added in a colder tone.