The Thinking Woman's Guide to Real Magic (37 page)

Something black flapped past Aruendiel's head—a bat, Nora thought, recoiling instinctively. Aruendiel did not move. Not a bat, she decided after getting another glimpse of it. Not exactly.

With mounting excitement, she watched him work until she was sure. When he had finished all the nails, he began to break the smaller chains into separate links—some cleaving spell, she thought—and then he threw each piece of iron into the air.

“You're making iron birds,” Nora said. Aruendiel nodded tersely, his eyes on the air. “That's how you're going to attack the Faitoren,” she said.

“It's how I will break down the walls of the Faitoren kingdom,” he corrected. “All the spells that Ilissa has wrapped around her lands to keep me out.”

Nora clapped her hands softly. “Your birds will fly there—and iron is poisonous to the Faitoren—”

“And each one carries a reversal spell that can take apart the Faitoren magic. Then I can send a wind—or some other emissary.” Suddenly the largest chain, still lying at Aruendiel's feet, uncoiled itself with a creak and streaked toward the gate, looking less chainlike and more serpentlike with every instant. The other big chain, studded with manacles, gathered itself, then rose on four legs and hurled itself out of the courtyard, following the serpent. “The wolf is for Raclin, the snake is for Ilissa,” Aruendiel added. “Although it does not matter if they switch.”

“Will they be there by dawn?” Nora asked. She had not checked the water clock in the kitchen for some time, but the night was advancing. The Toristels had retired some time ago.

“Oh, yes. They will attack two hours before dawn, all of them together. The timing is very delicate.” He hefted a broken link in his hand, as though weighing it, and then threw it into the air. “The Faitoren defenses must come down at once, before Ilissa realizes what is happening, and then I will have to pull Hirizjahkinis out immediately—”

“And Hirgus Ext.”

“I will save Hirgus if I can. At any rate, the hostages will have to come out quickly—”

“Before Ilissa can kill them,” Nora finished, her momentary elation draining away.

“If they are even alive now,” Aruendiel said. “Give me those helmets, and bring me more iron.”

Nora brought down the rest of the old weapons from the attic—Aruendiel reserved only a broken sword, he did not say why—and then went hunting cautiously in the kitchen and storerooms for ironware. She had a strong feeling that Mrs. Toristel would not be pleased to see her best kitchen implements given wings and sent flying away, and was grateful to find an iron cauldron with the bottom rusted out nestling in a stack of old barrel hoops.

Sometime after midnight Aruendiel let the last of the iron creatures flap away into the night. “There is no use in sending any more,” he said. “They will not arrive in time.”

Nora watched the departing bird. It looked small and clumsy as it clambered upward into the cloudy air. “Do we have a Plan B?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“A second plan, in case this one fails.”

Aruendiel shrugged. “Then I will attack again. In person this time.”

Nora could not keep herself from saying: “You said once it would be suicidal to take on Ilissa in her own territory.”

“Did I?”

Without any more words, they went inside. The fire that Nora had lit in the great hall that afternoon had burned out, and the room was black and almost as chilly as the courtyard. Aruendiel told her that she must go to bed. When she protested, he said seriously: “It is important to sleep before battle. You don't know when you might next have the chance to sleep, in a war.”

Nora had not thought of what they were doing as war, exactly, but then reflected: What else would it be? “I don't want to sleep through the attack,” she said.

“I will rouse you beforehand,” he said, frowning, and she decided it would be better to believe him.

Nora went upstairs and stretched out on top of her bed without changing out of her dress. About a quarter of the night left before the sun rose, Aruendiel had said. Not so long ago she had lain here sleeplessly, worrying about Ilissa, and yet now that moment in the past seemed to be one of almost infinite security and comfort. She pictured the great snake and the wolf racing to the northeast, under the cloud of birds that Aruendiel had made, and wondered how much farther they had to travel. The creatures might be made of metal, but they didn't move like machinery. But not exactly like living animals, either. She watched them reach the top of a ridge and plunge down the other side, starlight gleaming dully on their sleek backs—

Nora's eyes popped open. She sat up and looked toward the window, which was noticeably brighter, the panes catching a reddish glow. Dawn, she thought.

Damnit. Aruendiel let me sleep through the whole thing.

She ran downstairs as fast as she could, a hand against the wall to keep from stumbling in the dark. The silence in the house was ominous. The assault failed, she thought. He's left already to fight Ilissa. He never woke me up, he never said good-bye.

But as she crossed the great hall, she heard noises in the courtyard. The stamping of horses. Voices. The orange light that came through the windows flickered and danced.

She yanked open the door. Aruendiel was standing with his back to her, arms folded, a few yards away. In front of him was what Nora took to be an enormous bonfire.

Two figures stepped composedly out of the flames. The smaller one she recognized as Hirizjahkinis.

G
reetings, Aruendiel!” Hirizjahkinis stepped forward, pulling the Kavareen's hide more tightly around her shoulders, and then held out her hands to Aruendiel.

Aruendiel unfolded his arms and stepped forward. Nora could not see his face, but there was tension in the angle of his shoulders. He ignored Hirizjahkinis's proffered hands and looked hard into her face. Then, with one hand on her shoulder—he seemed to be bearing down hard—he grasped her chin and moved her head so he could stare into each of her ears, and finally her nostrils.

Hirizjahkinis submitted, a half smile on her lips. “It is very good to see you, too!”

“What on earth, Hirizjahkinis?” Aruendiel said finally, taking her by both shoulders. Nora had the distinct impression he would like to shake her. Hirizjahkinis perhaps had the same idea, because she gave a discreet wiggle to set herself free.

“No enchantments?” she asked briskly. “Good. We spent the whole drive picking them off each other, Hirgus and I. Ilissa's palace is no better than the inns in this country—you must be careful what you take away with you. You know Hirgus Ext the Shorn, of course?”

The two men bowed. Hirgus Ext—stout, swathed in furs—began to say something about being a keen admirer of the magician Aruendiel and how pleased he was to renew his acquaintance. Nora could stand it no longer. She pushed past Aruendiel and threw her arms around Hirizjahkinis. It was obviously not the correct greeting—Nora could sense the surprise in Hirizjahkinis's small, straight-backed body—but after an instant Hirizjahkinis returned the embrace warmly. “
Now
I begin to feel welcome,” she said to Nora.

“We were so worried,” Nora said. “What happened? Are you all right?”

“I am perfectly fine. Hirgus's conflagration carriage is marvelously warm. I felt no cold at all—until we got here.” She adjusted the Kavareen's hide again and gave an exaggerated shiver. Nora looked back at the bonfire. Now she could make out the black outlines of a carriage under the fire's brilliance. The flames, she noticed, had an oddly stylized quality, curling with rococo flair. Grinning faces in the fire winked and thrust out long tongues. Harnessed to the coach were a pair of black horses, larger than any horses Nora had ever seen.

“But the Faitoren?” Nora asked. “Are you sure you're all right?”

“Yes, except that Hirgus and I are famished!” She smiled up at Aruendiel, who had turned again to her, relief and irritation visibly struggling in his face. “Faitoren food is not as filling as you think it is when you are eating it.”

Aruendiel's face tightened again. “Mistress Nora, let Mrs. Toristel know that we have guests for breakfast,” he said brusquely.

Nora found the Toristels already up. They had seen the glow of the coach in the courtyard, and first had thought the house was on fire.

“So she didn't need him to help her after all,” Mrs. Toristel said, putting a shawl over her shoulders. “All that worry, for nothing.” She sniffed and looked balefully at Nora, as though to reproach her for rousing needless fears. “And what are we supposed to give that Hirizjahkinis for breakfast? She won't eat oatmeal. Oh, no! Last time she was here, she wouldn't touch it.”

“Because black elves eat children's tongues, not oatmeal?” Relief made Nora giddy.

“None of your silliness,” Mrs. Toristel said, amicably enough. “See if she'll have some of that mutton.”

As Nora hurried back through the courtyard, Hirgus Ext was directing Mr. Toristel as he unhitched the black horses from the fire coach. The great hall was empty. Aruendiel and Hirizjahkinis were in the tower, she guessed. She piled logs in the fireplace, then urged them into flame. It took only two tries, although the wood was damp from yesterday's rain.

“Very nice! You are a magician yourself now.” Hirizjahkinis came forward from the entrance to the tower, smiling.

“Not exactly,” Nora said, pleased and abashed. “But Aruendiel's been teaching me.”

“He did not tell me. How do you like him as a teacher? Very strict, is he not? Show me what you have learned.” Nora was dying to ask Hirizjahkinis about her escape from the Faitoren, but Hirizjahkinis looked at her with a calm expectancy that brooked no refusal. She watched gravely as Nora ran through her small repetoire of spells, and provided some useful guidance on the vexing candelabra problem. (“Why are you lighting each candle one by one? Try lighting them all at once—only the ones you want to burn—and leave the rest of them out.”)

She doesn't really want to talk about the Faitoren, Nora thought suddenly. It seemed to her that, even in the soft light of the candles, Hirizjahkinis's face looked grooved and tired, sadness tucked into the corners of her mouth. Should I say something? Nora wondered. Tell her I know what it's like to be the Faitoren's prisoner, to have Ilissa use your dreams and fears to make you her plaything? And then the kitchen door swung open: Mrs. Toristel with a pair of mutton chops on a plate, catching Nora's eye in a way that meant there was something to be done in the kitchen.

By the time Nora came back, bringing ale and bread and a fierce solicitude for whatever Hirizjahkinis had endured, she found Aruendiel, Hirgus Ext, and Hirizjahkinis already seated. The sound of Hirizjahkinis's laughter greeted her.

“—I think you are disappointed to see us alive, Aruendiel. We have ruined your plans for a war with Ilissa.”

Aruendiel did not smile. “I have stayed my attack,” he said, brows knotted, “as you asked. But not willingly. The Faitoren have repeatedly taken prisoners and broken treaty terms. They will continue to do so until they are punished for it.”

“You are probably right.” Hirizjahkinis leaned forward. With her arms stretched before her on the table, she looked like a small, proud lioness. “But you cannot wage war against Ilissa alone. Even you, Aruendiel! Your king in Semr is a little wiser than he was—he will not trust her so easily again—but he has no stomach to take up arms against the Faitoren. Not without good reason.” She smiled broadly. “And as you say, there is no reason now. The prisoners have freed themselves.”

Hirgus Ext the Shorn gave a rumble of assent. “While I objected very strongly to being deprived of liberty, I can't say that the Faitoren mistreated us. No, they were quite civilized.” Aruendiel grunted malevolently, but Hirgus Ext continued to smile with imperturbable bonhomie. He was stout and, as his name indicated, completely bald, but he was evidently a man who elected to grow as much hair as possible on his chin if he could not grow it on his head. Gold and silver threads and a few jewels were woven into the graying strands of his long, pointed beard. He wore one earring shaped like the sun, another like the moon, and his blue velvet robe was embroidered in silver with a text in a language that was foreign to Nora, although it used the Ors alphabet. He was the first person that Nora had met in this world whom she would have identified unhesitatingly as a wizard even before she knew such beings really existed.

Nora put the ale and bread on the table and sat down next to Hirizjahkinis as inconspicuously as possible.

“I fail to understand,” Aruendiel said, “exactly why two experienced magic-workers would put themselves in the power of the Faitoren. Why they would abandon all good sense and visit the Faitoren realm in the first place.” His eyes rested on Hirizjahkinis.

“There were promises made, guarantees of safe conduct—” Hirgus began.

“And you believed them.”

“Oh, no. Give me credit for that much good sense, as you put it, Aruendiel,” Hirizjahkinis said with some passion. “I have heard you say it often enough—that the Faitoren cannot be trusted! And that is exactly what I told Hirgus when I met him at the inn in Foluks Port.”

Aruendiel raised his eyebrows. He looked genuinely shocked. “What were you doing in Foluks Port?”

“A dreadful place,” agreed Hirizjahkinis. “But I was not there by chance. I went there as a favor, let us call it, to your king.”

She glanced around the table as though challenging any of the others to turn their attention away, and seemed pleased by what she saw. “You remember that portrait spell you taught me, Aruendiel? I must thank you for it again—it made my time in Semr very profitable. Everyone wanted their pictures to speak! I was hired many, many times. One of the king's ministers—ah, it doesn't matter who!—summoned me to work the spell for him. And then he asked me afterward if I would undertake a different sort of job on behalf of the king.”

“Was it Falfn?” Aruendiel asked.

“It was a lord who had some heated words with the portrait of his mother,” Hirizjahkinis said. “But that is not important. He told me they had it on good authority that the emperor in Mirne Klep had been exchanging messages with the Faitoren for some months now.”

“Only one emissary every three years, they are allowed under the treaty,” Aruendiel said.

“Yes, well, we ought to have known that Ilissa would not stop at trying to charm only your Semran king. She wants to get out of her little prison very badly. But I am going ahead of my story.

“In Semr they knew the emperor and Ilissa were in communication, but they did not know exactly what sort of messages were going back and forth. Your king needs better spies in Mirne Klep, Aruendiel. They did know that the wizard Hirgus Ext had left Mirne Klep for a tour of the northern countries in the middle of autumn, an odd time to be heading north.

“The minister asked me to find out what I could about Hirgus's mission.”

Hirgus held up a plump hand with an air of deprecating protest. “My dear friends, I hope there is no misunderstanding. I travel for pleasure and research only—and of course my conflagration coach is perfectly adapted for cold weather.”

“Hirgus, there is no misunderstanding at all,” Hirizjahkinis said, smiling at him fondly. “You were off to visit Ilissa about a silly toy that she had. And whether you were acting on a hint of the emperor's or his command, it is the same thing.

“I found Hirgus at the Green Head in Foluks Port—that carriage is very easy to track, you know,” she went on before Aruendiel could say anything. “We had a long talk, Hirgus and I, and I told him very frankly that he was mad to go alone to the Faitoren kingdom. It was not so difficult to persuade him that I should go with him. He had heard about Bouragonr already.”

“I am always pleased to have your company, Madame Hirizjahkinis,” Hirgus said.

“But why would you go at all?” Nora asked urgently. Hirizjahkinis turned to her at once, her dark eyes dancing.

“I wanted to see what was afoot! Hirgus was very cagey. I did not find out until we arrived at Ilissa's that he was seeking Voen's Chalice. Yes—” She looked significantly at Aruendiel. “Voen's Chalice.”

Aruendiel uttered a snort that sounded suspiciously like laughter.

Hirgus flushed slightly. He said: “The Chalice has a range of significant magical properties, all worthy of study. Poisoning one's enemies, conveying invulnerability—”

“I'm quite aware of the legends surrounding the Chalice,” Aruendiel interrupted. “And it is part of the empire's official coronation paraphernalia, is it not? Only the rightful emperor can drink from it, the day he's crowned, and live. But it disappeared some years ago.”

Nora was beginning to catch on. “And the emperor would like to have it back? To prove that he's the legitimate emperor?”

“Or to keep someone else from proving that he's the emperor,” Hirizjahkinis said, shrugging a little under the Kavareen's hide. “The Chalice was not always very selective.”

“In fact, the Chalice was a sham,” Aruendiel said, resting his chin on his hand. “There was almost nothing magical about it at all.” He sounded so certain that Nora almost asked how he knew, but Hirgus spoke first.

“I must beg to differ with you, sir,” he said. “There is a long record, going back centuries, of the powers of the Chalice. When I heard that it had come into the hands of the Faitoren queen, and that she was willing to discuss parting with it, quite frankly I was beside myself with anticipation. The opportunity to study a unique magical artifact like the Chalice—” He shook his head as though overcome with emotion, and the sun-shaped earring flashed in the candlelight.

“So Ilissa tried to use the Chalice to bargain with the emperor,” Aruendiel said thoughtfully. “What did she want?”

“Her freedom,” Hirizjahkinis said at once. “She wanted Hirgus to lift the barriers around her kingdom. That was why the emperor sent a magic-worker.”

Aruendiel gave Hirgus a long look and the corners of his mouth twitched once, but he said only: “I see.”

“Of course,” Hirizjahkinis said slyly, “Ilissa's Chalice was a fake. I mean, it was an imitation of the real fake, the original Chalice. She was not pleased when I told Hirgus so, in her presence. And neither was Hirgus, I believe.”

“Disappointed, dear lady! Disappointed beyond all measure. But I am grateful. The Faitoren magic can be quite convincing—up to a point, I mean.”

“You should be grateful to Hirizjahkinis,” Aruendiel said. “The emperor would have been even more disappointed with a false Chalice. I suppose it was really an old shoe or something of the sort, once you got the spell off, Hiriz?” He raised an eyebrow expectantly.

For the first time, Hirizjahkinis seemed chagrined, a ripple of hesitation flexing her wide mouth. Then she laughed. “Most of it came off, Aruendiel. Enough that we could all see that the Chalice wasn't a chalice.”

Aruendiel began to look stormy again, and Nora remembered his scorn back in Semr, when Hirizjahkinis had turned Ilissa's silencing spell into a large, gelatinous insect because she could find no other way to remove it from Nora's throat. Well, Hirizjahkinis did get the damn thing out, Nora thought loyally; not everyone had spent years studying Faitoren magic. But she could tell exactly what Aruendiel was thinking now, because she was thinking the same thing: To go into Ilissa's domain recklessly unprepared—knowing almost nothing about Faitoren magic—it was utter madness—