The Thinking Woman's Guide to Real Magic (19 page)

“No change that I've noticed.”

“You wouldn't necessarily notice anything,” he said. “Let's see it.” After a moment's scrutiny, he dropped her hand with a grunt. “The question then is how to keep you away from Ilissa this—ah, Hiriz, there you are!” His voice warmed noticeably with the last words.

“So you did answer the king's summons, Aruendiel.” There was a quicksilver hint of mockery in the voice that spoke from the doorway. Nora turned to see a small but very straight figure step into the room, a dark-skinned woman who looked distinctly different from anyone she had met so far in this world. Hirizjahkinis wore a kimono-like gown of finely pleated linen so thin that the outline of her body was clear beneath it. Her dress did not look particularly warm, now that summer was ending, and perhaps for that reason she had fastened a leopard skin over her shoulders with an immense golden clasp, the leopard's head resting companionably on her breast. There was more gold around her neck and on her arms, and she wore a tight-fitting cap completely covered with rows of pearls, under which her hair fell down in neat, crimson-tinted cornrows threaded with gold and ivory beads. It was hard to estimate how old she was. Her compact, square-shouldered body moved quickly, giving an impression of health and vigor, but when she came closer, Nora could see sharp lines around her smiling mouth.

“You could have told me what was afoot,” Aruendiel said. “And you could have told me sooner.”

Hirizjahkinis laughed and took Aruendiel's hands in hers by way of greeting, then let them fall. “But I only arrived here two days ago myself. Imagine my surprise when I went to pay my respects to your King Abele and discovered him in eager discussions with our Faitoren friend. You should keep a better watch on matters in your part of the world, Aruendiel.”

“Well, what are they discussing so eagerly?”

“What do you think? An alliance. Ilissa has offered to help your king in his next war. He is eyeing some territories to the east; the rights are in dispute. Ironically, it's iron-mining country, I believe.”

“The Meerchinland—and the ownership is
not
in dispute,” Aruendiel snapped. “Abele's great-grandfather traded it to the Pernish in exchange for the entire Sirknon River valley. Now Abele has the notion of taking it back. He floated the idea at the last Assembly—surprisingly, the lords wouldn't go along. Either they remember that last disastrous adventure of his, or they're worried about their tributes going up.”

“Well, now he's found someone who will help him.”

“And what does Ilissa expect to get in return?”

“The treaty with the Faitoren will be torn up, the spells binding the Faitoren lands will be dissolved, the Faitoren will be allowed to come and go as free as wind and rain.”

“They could not dissolve those spells without my consent, and I would never give it.”

“No doubt that is why you were not invited to take part in these very private talks. Your king was not eager to hear from me, either, especially when he heard what I had to say. But I did persuade him that he should consult you, and I sent my own messenger with his to make sure that you actually came.”

“You didn't say a word about Ilissa in your message.”

“My dear Aruendiel!” She threw up her hands. “Ilissa sat glowering at me across the table the entire time that I was doing the magic. I didn't dare be more specific. The important thing, I thought, was simply to get you to Semr, so that you could see for yourself what was happening.”

“What about Bouragonr?” Aruendiel demanded. “He's been chief royal magician for, what, two dozen years now. Bouragonr's no friend of the Faitoren. Surely he's counseled the king against this alliance?”

Hirizjahkinis shook her head with a rueful smile. “I think Bouragonr is senile! He said almost nothing, except that we could learn much from the Faitoren magic. I said that there was already a magician in the kingdom who knew more about the Faitoren magic than possibly even the Faitoren themselves—that's you, Aruendiel!—and that you had never found anything particularly useful in it for anyone who does not happen to be Faitoren. But Bouragonr harrumphed and said it might be time for a fresh look, by magicians who are not prejudiced against the Faitoren, as he put it.”

“He said that? Bouragonr fought against them, too, with the rest of us.”

“I thought it was very odd. But I haven't seen him for years. He's not looking well.”

“I wonder how much magic he actually practices anymore,” Aruendiel said musingly. “All those younger magicians working under him—he may be getting lazy. Is he hoping to shore up his own powers by allying with Ilissa? By the way,” he added, with a quick half bow, “you're looking well yourself, Hiriz.”

“As are you. You must have been doing a lot of magic lately.”

Aruendiel made a dismissive gesture. “We crossed paths with Ilissa's son on the way here.”

For the first time, Hirizjahkinis looked directly at Nora, although Nora had the feeling that the other woman had been carefully observing her the entire time. There was a moment's pause, as though Hirizjahkinis was making one final appraisal, and then she smiled so warmly that Nora felt unreasonably elated, as though she'd passed a test and met an old friend in the same instant.

“We—?” Hirizjahkinis asked, glancing back at Aruendiel.

“This is Mistress Nora, who accompanied me—for safekeeping,” he said. “She is Ilissa's daughter-in-law.”

“Former daughter-in-law,” Nora said.

Hirizjahkinis raised her chin slightly, but otherwise showed no trace of surprise. “I am Hirizjahkinis,” she said, extending her hands to Nora, as she had done to Aruendiel. “I am very happy to meet you. Are you here for a reunion with your former husband's family—”

Nora shook her head. “Oh, no—”

Aruendiel broke in: “Mistress Nora has been a guest in my household for some months, ever since she fled from the Faitoren.”

Now Hirizjahkinis did look surprised, her eyes widening. “You escaped from the Faitoren, Mistress Nora! Well, that would explain something Ilissa let drop yesterday.”

“What was it?” Aruendiel asked.

“Not worth repeating,” said Hirizjahkinis. “But you obviously managed to provoke her, Aruendiel.”

Aruendiel made a sound deep in his throat indicating a lack of concern with Ilissa's displeasure. “I want to talk to the king as soon as possible. Where is he?”

“At this hour, I imagine he is still engaged in the morning's ceremonial reveille. You could go and join in, as a peer of the realm.”

“Thank you, I have no desire to help my sovereign pull on his breeches.”

“But you could talk to him without Ilissa being present. You might not get such a chance for the rest of the day.”

“Is she spending so much time with the king?”

“As much as she can. He does not seem to be averse to her company.”

“Very well,” he said reluctantly, with a twist of his mouth. “I'll go now, and hope His Majesty does not ask me to demonstrate my loyalty by washing the royal buttocks. But we need to find a place to stow Mistress Nora, out of Ilissa's way,” he added. “The easiest thing to do would be to turn her into a buckle or a necklace or some other small ornament, and one of us could wear her for the rest of the day.”

Nora stared at him, incredulous. “No! Absolutely not.”

“Do you want to fall into Ilissa's hands again?”

“No, but I don't care to be transformed into anything, either.” It would be so easy—and convenient—for Aruendiel to forget to change her back.

“Perhaps the Kavareen could watch her for a few hours,” Hirizjahkinis interjected. “Ilissa wouldn't dare try to get past him.”

At this suggestion, Aruendiel looked even more irritated. “It's absurd that you're still carrying that thing around with you,” he said. “You don't need it—you have plenty of your own magic. And, you know, it's not entirely safe.”

“He's been a good servant, very useful at the most unexpected times. Right now, for instance.”

Aruendiel seemed ready to dispute further, but then he checked himself. “As you like. There's no time to argue. You will join me in the king's presence as soon as he is washed and dressed, Hiriz?” At her nod, he went out of the room without another word.

“Well,” said Hirizjahkinis to Nora, “let's find a comfortable place for you to wait.”

“Excuse me, but what is the Kavareen?”

Hirizjahkinis unfastened the gold clasp that held the leopard skin around her neck, and then shrugged the hide off her shoulders. Carefully she spread it on the floor. The black-spotted fur had a rumpled, worn look, as though Hirizjahkinis had been wearing the skin for many years. The eyeballs in the dead cat's head gleamed a dark yellow—glass, or some semiprecious stone like topaz, Nora thought. Hirizjahkinis stepped quickly onto the hide and then off it.

The leopard skin quivered, collected itself, and then got to its feet with a hiss. The hide was obviously covering a body—a leopard-shaped body—but in the gaps where the skin didn't reach, Nora had a glimpse of roiling darkness, shadow that churned like thick smoke.

The resurrected animal stretched lazily, curving its back and flexing its claws, and then hissed again, looking up at Hirizjahkinis. Its eyes looked just as glassy as before.

“This is the Kavareen,” Hirizjahkinis said.

“Was it—is it a leopard?” Nora asked.

“No. He happened to look like a leopard when I killed him,” Hirizjahkinis said, a hint of pride in her voice. “He has been with me ever since, as my slave.” She spoke to the Kavareen rapidly in a singsong language, and the animal responded with a snarl and a lash of its tail. Hirizjahkinis spoke again, more sharply. The Kavareen snarled a second time, not as loudly. It stalked a few steps away and settled into a watchful crouch that reminded Nora of how her cat Astrophel used to sulk when feeding time was delayed.

“Don't mind his crankiness,” Hirizjahkinis said.

“Um, did he say something?”

“It was not very polite. He didn't appreciate being awakened, and he's a little hungry. But don't worry, you'll be fine with him. He is under strict orders to keep you safe, and I have told him that he may eat Ilissa if she makes any effort to take you.”

When the Kavareen had snarled, through its open mouth Nora had again seen that agitated blackness, coiling in secret currents. Now it came to her that the interior of the beast was larger—perhaps much, much larger—than its exterior would indicate.

“I thought Aruendiel said he wasn't completely safe,” Nora said.

“Aruendiel is my dear friend, and when it comes to natural magic, he knows more than any other magician alive,” Hirizjahkinis said. “But, if you haven't noticed, he does have very strong prejudices. He doesn't trust ghosts or demons. Cannot abide them!”

The amused incredulity in her tone implied that Aruendiel's view in this area was one of those incomprehensible eccentricities that one tries to overlook in one's close friends—the way that Nora used to tolerate Adam's ridiculous aversion to tomatoes. On ghosts and demons, however, Nora felt that Aruendiel was on solid ground. “He doesn't?” she said politely.

Hirizjahkinis shook her head emphatically. “No! He thinks it's a lazy way of doing magic, summoning spirits to do your work. Come along, I must find a safe place to leave you.”

Outside in the corridor, Hirizjahkinis commandeered one of the red-and-gold-liveried servants, who, after a cautious glance at the Kavareen, led them by a circuitous route to a small room where several divans, covered with brightly colored pillows, made a semicircle in front of the fireplace. Over the mantel hung a tapestry that showed a young woman riding on the back of the two-headed animal that Nora had seen on the city gates.

“This is the unfashionable end of the palace now. No one will stumble across you here,” Hirizjahkinis said to Nora. She addressed a few more remarks in the singsong language to the Kavareen, who merely yawned, and then she followed the servant out of the room.

Nora sat down on one of the divans and watched the Kavareen move restlessly around the chamber. She couldn't help wishing that Hirizjahkinis had picked a bigger room, so that the Kavareen would not pace endlessly like a zoo animal in a too-small cage; she thought about how cats hated to be told what to do and wished that Hirizjahkinis had happened to kill the Kavareen when it was in the shape of a wolf or, better yet, a dog; and she wondered exactly how hungry the Kavareen was and what it usually ate and what happened to the things that fell into its dark interior.

She was trying to imagine exactly how Hirizjahkinis might have killed the creature, and whether it could be killed a second time, when the Kavareen came over and stood directly in front of her. Its dead golden eyes stared into hers. She sat very still while it sniffed her knee. And then suddenly, with a light jump, the Kavareen was on the divan with her, its head level with her own. Nora gasped. The creature made a half turn and lay down on the cushions, curling its lithe body tight against Nora's.

“Aw,” said Nora, in spite of her fears, remembering how Astrophel used to settle down to sleep in exactly the same way. Whether it was a ghost or a demon—or both—the bulk of the creature was warm and solid. She raised her hand to stroke the spotted fur, and then thought better of it.

After a while, the Kavareen began to snore.

W
e're making no headway at all,” Hirizjahkinis said.

“Worse than that,” said Aruendiel with a sort of dark satisfaction, as though he enjoyed having his worst suspicions realized. “The more we argue against the alliance, the more deaf the king seems.”

They were standing in the middle of a colonnaded courtyard, next to a pool where a bronze statue of the river god Semisl sent fat jets of water into the air. Although it was technically forbidden to work magic in the palace without permission from the chief royal magician, Hirizjahkinis had cast a discreet spell to amplify the sound of water splashing as a precaution against eavesdroppers.

“It would help if you could keep your temper. Your king didn't appreciate being called a fool and a puppet.”

“I didn't call him those things. I only said that one would have to be a fool to even contemplate an alliance with Ilissa, and that his grandfather was no Faitoren puppet.”

“I think your meaning was very clear. You should be more careful, Aruendiel. They're trying to provoke you. It was dangerous to say that you would never, under any conditions, support a Faitoren alliance.”

“It would be a lie to say otherwise.”

“But, because you said those words, it will be easier for them to paint you as a rebel and a traitor, if they wish.”

He frowned, narrowing his eyes. “Do you think that is what they are driving at?”

“I do,” Hirizjahkinis said slowly. “Both Ilissa and Bouragonr looked very smug after you made that declaration, and the king was colder. Think about it from your king's perspective, Aruendiel. If the most powerful magician in the kingdom refuses to support him, Abele will have all the more need to ally with Ilissa.”

“If he did ally with Ilissa, I would not hesitate to stand against him,” Aruendiel said matter-of-factly. “I have defied other kings for less reason.” After a moment he shook his head. “But how tiresome it would be. The game grows old, very old. Yet another greedy, dunderheaded king—”

Hirizjahkinis's mouth tightened slightly. “There doesn't have to be a war, if we keep our heads.”

“You're right, though, they are baiting me. When Bouragonr had the temerity to suggest that my opposition to the Faitoren stemmed from personal hurt and animosity—”

“But, my dear old friend, he was quite right.”

“Ah, he doesn't know the half of it!” Aruendiel said with a humorless grin. “But there's plenty of other evidence to damn Ilissa and her people. Look at the record of promises broken by the Faitoren, the lands seized, free people enslaved, women kidnapped—which they are still doing, by the way. You should have seen that girl Nora in Ilissa's hands. Enchanted to the ends of her hairs, brain like a cabbage.”

“She seems normal enough now.”

“Oh, she's made some sort of recovery. The point is, if you can't trust Ilissa to abide by the existing treaty, it's supreme insanity to enter into an alliance with her.”

“Here comes Bouragonr's secretary. The king must be back from his ride, ready to receive us again.”

“This is going to be an utter waste of time, do you realize that?”

“Just don't let them push you too far.”

“And how far is that?” Aruendiel demanded, but the secretary was already within earshot.

•   •   •

Ilissa was the last to arrive in the chamber allotted for the discussions, a long room with a wall fresco showing the sea battle that had placed the current king's great-grandfather on the throne. It had been painted some years after the fact; Aruendiel, who had been present at the battle, had given up trying to count all of the historical inaccuracies. The others were already seated—the king in the canopied chair at the head of the table, waxy-faced but resplendent in a scarlet robe; Bouragonr at his side, his hair streaked with gray, his cheeks purpled with a network of fine veins (Hiriz was right, Aruendiel thought, the court magician was not looking well); Visonis, the king's chief military adviser; on the other side, Hirizjahkinis and Aruendiel. Hirizjahkinis had taken the seat immediately opposite Ilissa's, on the theory that it would be imprudent to let her face Aruendiel directly.

While they were waiting for Ilissa, Visonis spoke lovingly of the advantages to be gained from an invasion of the Meerchinland—how easy it would be to seize the Lower Meerchin River—how the Pernish could be distracted with a second, Faitoren front. Aruendiel offered up a series of counterarguments, citing the Autumn Campaign of the Third Pernish War, but the king listened with a perfunctory air, as though his mind were already made up.

After half an hour, Ilissa arrived, with a rustle of trailing white silk and a delicate furrow of concern in her otherwise flawless brow. “I am devastated to be so late, Your Majesty,” she said. “I was detained by some urgent family matters.” There was a throb of unusual emotion in her low voice that was impossible to miss.

The king did not miss it. He turned his pale broad face toward Ilissa and regarded her carefully as she took her seat. “I hope there is nothing wrong, my lady,” Abele said.

“It is probably nothing at all,” Ilissa said. “Only, I had expected to hear from my son before now. He was due to arrive at Semr last night. He has probably been terribly careless and simply forgotten to let me know that he has been delayed, but you know, as a mother, I can't help but worry.”

“It is very unlikely that any harm would come to your son in our kingdom,” said the king, “especially if he stayed on the main roads.”

Ilissa nodded, with a quick, worried smile. “I know, Your Majesty. But he was traveling alone, and, you see, it has been so long since we have ventured abroad that I'm afraid he may have lost his way.”

“We will do all in our power to see that he is soon found. The Royal Horse Guard will begin searching the roads around the capital. And my chief magician is at your disposal.”

“Of course, of course,” Bouragonr said, bobbing his head. “I will be happy to help.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty. I'm grateful for your thoughtfulness.”

“We would be sad hosts indeed if we did not do everything in our power to ensure safe conduct through our domain for such valued guests,” the king said with a gracious nod.

Aruendiel said calmly, “Allow me to set the Lady Ilissa's mind at ease. Her son, the Lord Raclin, is half a day's ride from here, just south of Lost River Lake.”

“Excellent news,” the king said. “How do you know this, Lord Aruendiel? You met him on your journey here?”

“I did,” Aruendiel said, with a long look at Ilissa. “He attacked me repeatedly, and my peasants as well. In our last encounter, since he refused to let me continue my journey in peace, I turned him to stone.”

Ilissa stood up, hands flat on the table in front of her. “You did what to my son?”

“I turned him to stone,” Aruendiel repeated.

The king said nothing, but his face was as hard as though he had turned to stone, too. Bouragonr, with a glance at his sovereign, got to his feet. “Lord Aruendiel,” he said, “if this is true, it is a serious breach of the safe conduct promised to the Lady Ilissa and her party on their diplomatic mission to Semr. It is a serious embarrassment to the monarchy.”

“A safe conduct granted to an emissary does not include the right to steal livestock or burn houses or launch unprovoked attacks—all of which Lord Raclin has done,” Aruendiel said.

“As you may know,” said Ilissa, turning toward the king, “my poor son suffers from a debilitating condition—a very unpleasant transformation—during daylight hours. During that time, it's quite possible that he might make a perfectly friendly overture that could be seen as hostile.”

“Madame, there can be no doubt that Lord Raclin's intentions were hostile,” Aruendiel said easily, leaning back in his chair.

“Lord Aruendiel, we spent all morning discussing whether to form an alliance with the Faitoren. Why did you not mention these supposed attacks before this?” Bouragonr demanded.

“I did not wish to introduce any personal animosity into this debate.”

The king finally spoke, folding his hands on the table. “Lord Aruendiel, can this spell be removed?”

“It can.”

“Well, then, the easiest solution to this matter is for you to remove the spell and restore the Lady Ilissa's son to his previous condition.”

“I will not.”

“Would you defy a direct command from your sovereign?” Bouragonr asked.

“Sire, simple prudence makes it impossible to agree to your request. I turned Lord Raclin into stone to save my own life and that of a fellow traveler. If I removed the spell—and I would have to travel back to the site to do so—Lord Raclin would only resume his attack. I would have to counter with another spell, possibly something that would cause even more harm to Lady Ilissa's son.”

Sinking back into her chair, Ilissa uttered a small, anguished moan and clenched a fist to her breast. “Lord Aruendiel, you are most unkind.”

Hirizjahkinis spoke for the first time. “It's possible that someone else besides Aruendiel could remove the spell.”

“Why, yes,” Aruendiel said. “Most competent magicians could take it off.” He smiled mockingly at Bouragonr. “Of course,” he added, “there would still be Lord Raclin to contend with, but perhaps he would be better disposed toward another magician besides myself.”

“And why, exactly, is Lord Raclin so ill-disposed toward you?” Bouragonr asked. “Perhaps because his wife is currently residing under your protection?”

“Lord Aruendiel, is this true?” the king asked sharply.

Before Aruendiel could answer, Ilissa broke in. “It is true. My daughter-in-law disappeared from my home almost three months ago. We learned that she was abducted by Lord Aruendiel's magic and that she has been living in his castle ever since. I cannot tell you how my son has been heartbroken by this betrayal.

“I did not want to mention this sad affair before now,” Ilissa added, casting her eyes down. “Since it involves a stain on my family's honor. And as Lord Aruendiel himself said, it would be a shame to taint state business with personal animosities.”

The king looked curiously at Aruendiel, taking in the magician's battered face afresh and perhaps remembering the old stories that were still circulating around the court when Abele was a child. “Lord Aruendiel? What do you have to say about this?”

Aruendiel had been exchanging a look with Hirizjahkinis, but now he turned back to the king with an air of new alertness. He said: “The Lady Ilissa fails to mention that she and her son kidnapped and enchanted the woman who became his wife; that Lord Raclin savagely attacked his wife, to the point that she lost the child that she was carrying; and that the woman left her husband's household willingly. Since then, she has stayed in my household as a respected guest.”

“I see,” said the king. “Well, there seems to be no shortage of personal animosity to go around.”

Hirizjahkinis was the only one to laugh. Ilissa gave her a look of composed dislike, to which the other woman only smiled, straightening her pearl headdress and plucking a small, stray gray feather from her white linen robe. Absently, Hirizjahkinis twirled the feather between her thumb and forefinger, then rubbed it lightly against her earlobe.

“Lord Aruendiel,” Abele continued, “you must know that abducting another man's wife, whether she comes willingly or unwillingly, is a very serious crime.”

“I am aware of that.”

“Men have been killed for this offense.”

“Yes,” Aruendiel said, with a touch of annoyance.

“This is not a court of law, and I am not sitting in judgment, but I must tell you that I cannot condone it, and that in my view it explains and to some extent justifies the attacks that you claim Lord Raclin has committed.”

From the corner of his eye, Aruendiel glanced at Hirizjahkinis, who nodded slightly.

“I would strongly advise you,” the king went on, “to return the lady to her husband, no matter how charming she may be.”

“Sire, you misread the situation.” Now Aruendiel had fully unsheathed his impatience. “There is no liaison. I helped the lady leave her husband's home because she was in danger, and because the Faitoren had—once again—kidnapped a human woman as a bride for Lord Raclin. They show no respect for the treaty that we struck with them almost fifty years ago. Do you think they will respect the treaty that you are negotiating now?”

“My son's wife married him willingly,” Ilissa interjected. “She was not coerced.”

“She was enchanted,” Aruendiel shot back.

“Furthermore, she is not even one of—” Bouragonr said, then caught himself. “I'm sorry, I interrupted the Lord Aruendiel.”

“I believe the Lord Aruendiel had finished speaking,” said the king. “Please go on.”

“I was just going to say, Your Majesty,” said Bouragonr, “that we have only the Lord Aruendiel's word that the Faitoren took this lady against her will.”

“There is the woman's own word,” Aruendiel said quickly.

Bouragonr snorted. “That has no legal weight.”

“We are not in the law courts!”

“Your Majesty!” Ilissa said, lifting one slim hand in a gesture that gracefully begged for quiet. “I would like to thank you for suggesting to Lord Aruendiel that he return my son's wife to her lawful husband. We would welcome her back. No matter what tragic mistakes she has made, she is still a member of my family.”

The king gave an approving nod. “A very enlightened view. Lord Aruendiel, what do you think now?”

“Why not consult the woman herself?” Aruendiel said, although he did not meet Abele's gaze. He glanced at Hirizjahkinis, who was toying with one of her bracelets with an air of slight distraction.

“That is easily done,” said Ilissa smoothly. “She is here at court. I understand that she arrived with Lord Aruendiel last night.”