The Thinking Woman's Guide to Real Magic (63 page)

“Oh, please.” Nora shook her head. “It doesn't mat—”

“It does matter, especially for you. You are in a more vulnerable position than most women. You have no family—not in this world, at least—and you are a foreigner. I have been remiss, keeping you under my roof all these months.”

“Well, where else would I go?”

“Now Perin Pirekenies offers you a place to go. And,” he went on before she could reply, “since I no longer have a housekeeper to be any kind of chaperone for you, it is all the more advisable that you marry Pirekenies.”

“That's ridiculous.”

“Pirekenies is quite serious.”

“Then why didn't he ask me himself? Why did he talk to you about it?”

“He is acting in the customary way.”

“And you agreed on my behalf?”

“Well, the final decision is yours. A woman should not marry against her will.”

“Oh, thanks for that!” Standing up, Nora put her fists on the table and stared down at him. “What is
wrong
with you? Don't you know any better?” She was afraid as much as angry.

Aruendiel's face tightened. “I am trying to do what is best for you.”

“You have no right to tell me who I should marry!”

“I am only counseling you. And if you had listened to my counsel the first time you married—”

“Oh, this is utter bullshit. You and Perin cooking up this marriage together to save my reputation—who cares about my reputation? Why would you go along with this? Why? It doesn't make any sense! A chaperone! Mrs. Toristel wasn't a
chaperone
. She didn't even sleep in the house—we could have been screwing like rabbits every night, and she would never have known!”

“Well, that is exactly the problem,” Aruendiel said, his voice hard.

“What problem—what people think? Who cares? It doesn't matter.”

“No, that is not true. I can tell you—I know how dangerous it is for a woman to be scorned, to be an outcast. You are a woman of independent spirit, Nora, and it is galling to consider these things. But I am not saying them to humiliate you. I am stating the reality of your situation.”

“Who cares about that? You're a magician.” Nora sat down again, but held on to the edge of the table as though she could draw strength from it. “So what if everyone thinks I'm a whore?” she said. The wizard's whore. “I don't mind.”

Aruendiel's mouth twisted unpleasantly. “If you were married to an honorable young peer like Pirekenies, you would be safe from such calumnies,” he retorted.

“I will tell you something that I did not say to Pirekenies,” he added. “My wife's old estate, Lusul, is the subject of a legal dispute. I have a claim to it. So does Pirekenies, through his father, Lord Pireke—although their claim is inferior to mine. There are other claimants who could also trump the Pirekenies claim.

“I have never had any interest in claiming Lusul. But if you accept Pirekenies's proposal, I will exercise my claim and then turn the estate over to you and your husband.” He pronounced those last words clearly and distinctly. “As a wedding present, since otherwise you will have no dowry.”

“A wedding present,” Nora repeated. It was hopeless. He was hopeless. “Aruendiel—” She looked at him pleadingly, but the ice in his eyes was unbreakable. How could he be so wrongheaded? No, she thought, her heart torn—it's me, I've been wrong all along.

Suddenly she was resolved. “If Perin wants to marry me, he can ask me himself. You can stay out of it, it's not your concern. And I wouldn't take Lusul as a wedding present. It didn't bring
your
wife any luck.”

Aruendiel's eyes narrowed. “Perhaps not.”

“All right, then. As long as we understand each other.”

“You have made yourself clear.”

“Fine.” Of course, this settled nothing. If she didn't marry Perin, then what? Would Aruendiel bar her from his castle to preserve her reputation? She decided not to think about the possibility for the moment. “What was the second thing you wanted to discuss?” Nora asked roughly.

“The other matter, yes. It also bears upon your future.”

“I can't wait,” she muttered, but he ignored her and went on: “You were telling me a few days ago about your struggle with Dorneng and how he tried to kill you.” Nora nodded impatiently. Where was he going with this?

“Dorneng was a traitor and a villain and a fool, but he was a good magician. Micher Samle taught him well. He had found a hole that led to your world—”

“Yes, I know, my ghost was supposed to hold it open. Otherwise it would close up.”

“The hole is still there,” Aruendiel said.

“How do you know?”

“I have detected it, and Nansis agrees with my observation. Either it has lasted longer than Dorneng expected, or it has re-formed in the interim. But the hole exists now.”

“So I can go home. Is that what you're saying?” Nora looked at him half-suspiciously, as though he were offering her another affront.

“It's possible. The gap may not be large enough, or—as Dorneng feared—it might close up yet. But it is likely that, yes, you can return home, if you choose.”

If she chose. She felt strangely flummoxed, paralyzed by the sudden opportunity to escape. On some level, she had come to accept that she would stay in this ridiculous, alien, hidebound, primitive world for the rest of her life. Otherwise she would have simply laughed at this notion of marrying Perin. And Aruendiel's blind stupidity, his callousness, his treachery—she could not even decide what to call it—would not be so scorchingly painful.

There was nothing to decide. She had been looking for this chance for a long time. Now it was finally here.

“Of course I want to go home,” Nora said.

Aruendiel nodded. “Then we will leave immediately.”

“Today?” Not even a night to think it over.

“The gap could close at any time. We must move quickly.”

“Oh. Well, I don't have much to pack.” There was nothing to pack, actually. At home she would have no need for the clothes she wore here. “I should say good-bye to Nansis Abora—and thank Lady Nurkasa—and I must talk to Perin. Tell him that I am leaving.” She gave Aruendiel a hard look.

“Be quick about it,” he said.

As the door closed behind Nora, Aruendiel remained seated at the table. His eyes moved over Lolona's letter one more time, but the words did not register. Pirekenies was on duty just outside the castle. Easy enough to work an eavesdropping spell to find out what foolishness he and Nora were talking—but no, he had no desire to know.

He could still hear Pirekenies's voice, annoyingly earnest. “Lady Nora—” Why did he insist on calling her “Lady Nora”? She had no such title, not unless someone like Pirekenies married her. “Lady Nora has told me that you have behaved honorably and respected her chastity, and I believe her.” Absurd—why shouldn't Pirekenies believe her? Nora was as truthful as clear water. Although there was no reason for her to talk about such matters with this young idiot. She'd had a similar discussion once with Hirizjahkinis, too. Was the whole world so fascinated by what went on—or didn't go on—in his bed?

Apparently so, Aruendiel thought angrily, remembering the lout in the courtyard the other night, taking hold of Nora. Everyone knows you're the wizard's whore. The girl was too clever for him—she kept her head and magicked the soup all over the man. Aruendiel had seen it all from the top of the stairs. Then, before he could teach the thug a lesson, young Pirekenies knocked the bastard down first.

“But even if you have behaved correctly, sir, you must see what an awkward position you have placed Lady Nora in. To be associated with a man of your reputation—let's be candid—exposes her to constant ridicule and disrespect.” Insufferable presumption, but the worst of it was, Aruendiel could not deny the truth of what the boy said.

He should have just bedded the girl. What had he gained from being honorable, when everyone assumed the worst? On more than one night, watching Nora's smile across the table, savoring her talk and the sweet chime of her voice, he'd wanted to suggest that they continue the conversation in his bed. Not that they would have done much talking. But he had held back. He would not copy that Faitoren filth, taking advantage of her helplessness. The fearful fate of a woman alone—any man's plaything—it would never be Nora's, if he could help it. And besides, Aruendiel thought with dry and bitter logic, what sort of lover would he make now, with his ravaged face and body? Nora deserved better. He'd been so careful, all those months of restraint, not even brushing against her. It was an evil joke that when he could finally lean against her—her strong, warm shoulder under his hand—he was barely alive, tottering out of that cursed dungeon a skeleton, a doddering wreck.

But far better for Nora to know him as he really was. And for him to know it too. It was too easy, when he was with her, to forget the burden of all his years, his broken body, the toxin of regret. He felt somehow restored in her presence, as though he'd found his true self again—but he knew it was an illusion. How swiftly all his power had disappeared once Dorneng trapped him in that chamber. And then the long slow slide into infirmity, exhaustion. He had given up, and then
she
was there. Holding hands with Pirekenies—he was almost sure of it, although his vision had been weak and the room full of mist.

The damnable irony of it. Kill a man and his ghost comes back fresh and young to torment you. She wasn't going to marry Pirekenies, though. That was some petty comfort.

•   •   •

Perin looked honestly shocked when Nora told him she would not marry him. She had started to feel sorry for him—had been thinking of ways to try to soften the blow—but the perplexity on his face made her angry all over again. As far as he'd been concerned, she saw, their marriage was a settled matter.

“Did Lord Aruendiel not say—”

“Yes, he did,” she snapped. “Why did you have to bring him into it?”

“Well, it's customary—”

“That's what
he
said. Bullshit. This doesn't concern him at all. Not at all.”

He seemed ready to protest, but then he said: “I'm sorry. The last thing I would want to do is offend you, Lady Nora.”

“You can just call me Nora. I don't know who you think I am, but I'm not Lady Nora.” After that she began to feel bad again. “Listen, Perin, I like you. I really do. Somehow you made trudging through the wilderness in the middle of winter with a soul-sucking demon and a soul-sucked would-be murderer seem not so terrible.

“But then you do something as boneheaded as asking Aruendiel if you can marry me. I thought you were different from most men here. I thought you were better than that.”

Perin still looked perplexed. “You still don't see why this bothers me, do you?” she demanded.

“No, not really,” he said. “But if you want me to ask you to marry me, instead of petitioning Lord Aruendiel, I'll gladly dispense with etiquette. You did tell me once that you were not a well-behaved young lady. I should have remembered that better.”

“You should have! But it doesn't matter. I'm leaving, Perin. I'm going home. Back to my own world. There's a door that's open right now, and if I leave tonight, I can go through it.”

“What!” Perin was skeptical, as he was about all things magical, and he tried for a while to convince her otherwise. Only when she told him that she had to return to her family did he abandon his protestations.

He even seemed ever so slightly relieved, Nora thought. Whether it was because her impending departure allowed him to save face, or whether he had had second thoughts about marrying her, she was not certain. Perin would be better off with a girl of his own kind, she thought, with a prick of regret. No doubt he would find one soon enough.

He did remark: “I think I prefer the traditional method of arranging marriages. Somehow it is less pleasant to hear you say no than it would have been to hear Lord Aruendiel say it.”

•   •   •

The sleigh was waiting for her at the main gate of Luklren's castle. Nansis Abora was stroking the nose of one of the four horses, whispering something to it. He smiled at her as she approached. “I hope you don't mind me, Mistress Nora. I would like to help see you off tonight. It should be an interesting display of magic.”

“Of course!” Nora said heartily. So there would be no chance to continue her earlier conversation with Aruendiel.

He came out a minute later, wrapped in his black cloak. “Finished your farewells?” he asked.

“Yes.” She climbed into the back of the sleigh, followed by Nansis Abora. He helped her spread a sheepskin rug across her legs. Aruendiel took up a place at the front.

“These horses are a bit spirited, so we are not bringing a coachman,” Nansis Abora said. “Aruendiel and I will take turns driving.”

There was definitely some sort of swiftness-and-endurance spell on the horses, she could tell as soon as they started. Trees and huts slipped past like ghosts, dissolving instantly in the darkness. The wind in her face made her squint. Within a few minutes they had left behind Luklren's castle and the nearby village and were well launched into the wilder countryside. Aruendiel turned the horses east: Their route, Nora gathered, would skirt the southern border of the Ivory Marshes and take them back to the open plain where Dorneng had taken her.

Nora was not in a conversational mood, but Nansis Abora talked gently and persistently about cooking and gardening, asking her how both arts were practiced in her own world, so that eventually she found herself spending a long time trying to explain tomatoes to him. They did not exist in this world, as far as she could tell. Another reason to leave. After some time, Nansis Abora took up the reins, and Aruendiel moved back, next to Nora. They sat in silence. She thought of asking him some question about magic, just to get him talking, but what would be the point.