Chapter 1: Babies First
As it brushed the river, the dawn breeze grabbed at Reiffen’s cloak. Around him the
blankets of the dead and dying fluttered. Those still alive coughed wetly, low and
thick from bloody lungs.
He refused to look at them. Any of them. If even a single blanket fell aside from one
of those wretched faces, he might have to notice what he’d done. Already flies
hovered, their hum thick and throbbing as a hive’s. A sweet stink clung to the air,
though there hadn’t been enough time yet for the dead to start rotting.
Knowing the smell would seek the low ground by the river, he climbed the bank in
search of cleaner air. The rows of the dead stretched into the fog around him; after
a few steps he no longer had any idea where he was. His feet kicked up cinders from
the burnt earth until the air was as thick with charred dirt as it was with flies. The
morning fog turned black.
A spotted glow rose from the ground. The dead had opened their eyes.
They didn’t reach for him: Reiffen’s nightmare wasn’t that simple. Reliving their last
moments, his victims crouched on their knees and vomited at his feet. Blood and
rheum spilled across his boots, soaking the earth like rain. His stomach churned.
Other corpses appeared, sissit as well as men, crawling out of the fog to press
against their fellows. Perhaps Reiffen could have forced his way through the
hunched, crooked crowd, but, whether from pity or revulsion, he couldn’t bring
himself to touch them. The dead, too, kept their careful distance, crouching on
hands and knees. Broken jaws retched rotting teeth; cracked lips oozed black
blood. Spittle foamed at their chins.
He decided to flee, but found he couldn’t. Though his boots had barely sunk halfway
into the mud, the ground gripped them with frozen strength. His alarm increased as
he struggled, but every attempt to get free only drove him deeper.
A young woman stumbled out of the mist, her dress tattered. “Help me,” she cried.
Was it Ferris? Reiffen’s fear gripped his throat. But the woman was too thin, her hair
too wild. Her eyes were blue instead of brown. The fog swallowed her like a leaping
nokken as she ran away, her dress streaming behind her.
The Black Wizard followed, towering higher than the trees. Only the Wizard didn’t
charge angrily after the woman as Reiffen expected, but started toward him instead.
Corpses of men and sissit burst in gouts of pus and pale skin at the giant’s every
step. But his color lightened as he came closer, his robes turning from black to gray
as the quickening wind flicked away the ash. Not Ossdonc, after all, but Fornoch.
The one among the Three whom Reiffen hadn’t been able to slay.
Gobbets of earth splashed around him as Reiffen scrabbled to pull himself free. He
coughed at the taste of it, as foul as someone else’s bile, and choked as he tried to
breathe. The mud gulped him down, waist and chest and shoulders, till his eyes
were at the level of the Wizard’s enormous ankle. Clean toes showed at the edge of
a spotless sandal. Fingers reached down for Reiffen’s face.
“Take my hand,” said the Wizard. “Your time has not yet come.”
To be saved again by Fornoch was more than Reiffen could bear. And it felt so good
to give up, to let his whole body relax and accept the sinking. To forget about all the
things he was supposed to do, all the things his mother and everyone else expected
from him. To leave the magic behind. He let his chin dip into the cold sludge. Mud
and blood seeped between his lips. Soft paste swallowed his eyes.
The Gray Wizard’s thick fingernails gouged Reiffen’s scalp as he grabbed him by the
hair.
“There is no escape,” he warned, his words hammering down like pellets of lead.
Reiffen was drawn out of the earth with a loud pop. “Not for you.”
The Wizard paused. Reiffen’s fear sprouted like a licking flame.
“Nor for your daughter, either.”
He woke with his heart pounding. Throwing off the blankets, he scrambled out of bed
onto the cold dirt floor. Sandy, thinking it was time to play, pattered over to sniff his
master’s knees.
“Are you all right?” Ferris sat up in the bed, her voice cutting the darkness.
“I’m fine,” Reiffen said.
“You don’t look fine. Was it the dream about Rimwich again?”
“Yes.”
“There’s still some milk left from yesterday. I could heat it for you.”
“I said I was fine.”
“Oh, please.”
Though he could only see the outline of her face in the fireglow, he caught Ferris’s
irritation easily enough. Which reassured him greatly. Some things never changed.
“If you think you can have a nightmare that bad without talking to me about it,” she
said, “then I’m going home to Valing right now.”
“You can’t cast the traveling spell on your own.”
“I’m sure you’re gentleman enough to take me, if I ask.” She patted the empty spot
on the bed. “It’ll be easier for both of us if you come back and let me make you feel
better.”
Checking to make sure the owl he had set to stand watch in the woods outside had
noticed nothing unusual, Reiffen allowed his wife to pull him back into the comfort of
the covers. Already the late summer nights in the northern forest were as cold as a
Valing fall.
“Not you, Sandy.” Ferris pushed the yellow dog back to the floor as it tried to
scramble up beside them.
Wrapped in his wife’s arms, Reiffen told her about his dream. Except for the part at
the end, when Fornoch had mentioned a child.
“I wish I’d never done any of it,” he said.
Soft breath caressed his ear. “It was war. Ossdonc and his army would have killed
us all if you hadn’t stopped them.”
“I know. But there’s no honor in killing men, or sissit, in their sleep.”
“As far as I’m concerned, there’s no honor in killing anyone, ever. Sometimes it’s just
something you have to do. The Wizards wouldn’t have thought twice about it.”
“I didn’t learn magic in order to be a Wizard.”
“And you aren’t. A magician, maybe, but not a Wizard. Believe me, no one thinks
less of you for what you did. Redburr told me he thought you’d done it very cleverly.”
“Redburr isn’t human. He doesn’t understand.”
“That doesn’t mean he isn’t right.”
“It doesn’t mean he understands, either. You have no idea what that night was like.
No one does. All those people, with no idea what was happening to them. I killed
them all so easily. Sometimes I wish there was a way I could go back and undo
everything. Too bad the traveling spell won’t work for time as well as place.”
“I know you’d make everything better if you could, dear heart.” Ferris kissed his
cheek softly. “It’s one of the reasons I love you, and why you shouldn’t feel so guilty.
But the main thing is no one’s going to bother Banking and Wayland again any time
soon. The Keeadini are back across the Westing, scared to death you’re going to
put the plague on them the way you did the Wizards’ army. And there was talk in
Malmoret before I left that Cuspor has already pledged never to attack another
Banking ship.”
“Lovely.” Bitterness edged Reiffen’s voice. “The world’s at peace because everyone’
s afraid I’ll kill them. Meanwhile Fornoch, who’s the real danger, is still out there
somewhere dreaming up who knows what wickedness. For all we know, he’s found
another child to teach everything he taught me.”
“Then maybe we should get to work.” Ferris threw the blanket off her shoulders and
sat up. Her long hair danced free in the firelight, frosting her skin. “The quicker you
teach me magic, the quicker there will be two of us to stand against them.”
Laughing at the way she waved her hands while pretending to cast spells, Reiffen
pulled her down beside him. He liked the way she never flinched at the touch of his
thimbles. As he didn’t flinch at hers.
“Be careful,” he said, “or I’ll think you’re too eager. Magic is a sacred trust, not to be
granted lightly.”
“Fiddle.” Ferris slapped her husband’s chest playfully. “I’d never have dragged you
back to Valing for father to marry us if I thought you weren’t going to teach me
magic. After the way you held off Usseis all by yourself, I’m sure the two of us will
defeat Fornoch easily.”
“In an open fight, yes. But fighting Fornoch in the open isn’t what worries me. That’s
exactly the sort of thing he’ll most avoid. More likely he’ll try to set us against each
another.”
“As if that could ever happen.”
Later, after Ferris had finally driven the nightmare from his mind, she rested on her
side while Reiffen snuggled behind her, his arm around her waist. Her belly felt warm
and smooth beneath his fingers, except for the empty spot where the thimble covered
the end of his pinky.
“Where shall we live, dear heart?” he asked.
“Is there any question?” she murmured. “Valing, of course.”
“I don’t think that would work at all.”
She rolled around to face him. “You know perfectly well everyone’s forgiven you,
now they know Skimmer and Rollby are safe. And Icer’s forgotten his burns
completely.”
“Only because he’s moved in with Old Mortin on the Lower Dock. The two of them
are starting to make Redburr look like an abstainer.”
“That’s right.” Ferris poked Reiffen gently on the nose with the tip of her finger.
“You do have that to answer for, dearest.”
“Yes, and I’d like to keep nokken drunkenness the vilest thing I can be blamed for in
Valing. Which might not be the case if we bring magic there. Our power is not
always going to attract the best sort of people.”
“We’ve already discussed that. We’re going to choose our apprentices only from
people who want to do good. Even if we make mistakes, we’ll weed out the bad
ones.”
“I’d still rather establish ourselves somewhere where we hurt as few people as
possible. Grangore, perhaps, where we’ll be close to the Dwarves. And there’s
another thing.”
Sitting up, Reiffen retrieved a small pouch from the pile of clothes at the foot of the
bed. Sandy’s head poked up hopefully as a shadow before the fire.
“We have to discuss this as well.” He poured a small, glowing stone out of the bag
and into his hand. Not nearly as bright as a Dwarf lamp, the gem pulsed like Ferris’s
moonstone necklace. But the throbs of blue color that came from Reiffen’s stone
were as regular as heartbeats, where the moonstones flickered wild as frightened
birds. Each steady flash from Reiffen’s stone faded slowly, the light retreating. But
even at its brightest the glow was only enough to cast a dark blue shadow on his
hand.
“I’ve been meaning to give you this for several days,” he said.
“What is it?”
“Can’t you guess?”
The stone’s throbbing quickened as Ferris reached for it. The color brightened too.
She drew her hand back, afraid she’d done something wrong, and the pace of the
throbbing ebbed. Reiffen grinned, the same way he had when they were children
and he’d just proven his cleverness by swiping cake from Hern’s kitchen.
“Is it something of Uhle’s?” she asked.
“Fashioning this is far beyond Uhle’s power. Or any other Dwarf’s.”
His wife’s eyes narrowed as she realized what he was offering her, and sparked in
time with the flashing jewel. “Is it...a Living Stone?”
He nodded. This time Ferris accepted the gem when he offered it. It glowed brighter
than ever in her palm, its beating quick as her heart. Unlike the sharp facets of a
Dwarf lamp, the Living Stone was like Durk, smooth as a river-rounded pebble. Its
color was darker than a Dwarf lamp as well, perhaps because it put out less light.
“Did you make it?” she asked.
“No.” Reiffen shook his head. “Fornoch made it.”
Ferris handed the stone straight back to him. “I don’t want it then.”
“He made it for you. I asked him to.”
“And you trust him?”
“He made my stone. And Giserre’s. It saved her life once, as mine saved me when
Usseis broke my neck. They have never done anything but what Fornoch said they
would.”
“Giserre told me her monthlies stopped after you gave her one of those.”
Reiffen’s brows arched. “Really? She never told me that.”
“It’s not the sort of thing you tell your son.” With a firm gesture, Ferris folded Reiffen’
s hand around his gift. Rock and thimble clicked together. “I haven’t married you
just for your magic,” she went on. “None of our parents will be happy if we make
them wait for grandchildren. Nor will I. Hern is dying for someone to call her Mims.”
“There will be plenty of time for that later, love. Once you’re settled into your power,
the risk will be less. It is painful, but the stone can be removed.”
Ferris waggled her thimble in the air. “Less painful than this was?”
“Well, maybe not. A lot more painful, actually.”
“Then I’d rather not. Babies first, immortality after. For all you know, some of the
things the Living Stone changes might last even when you remove it. In the
meantime, we’ll work on the other part of the deal. The sooner we have a child, the
sooner I’ll be ready to swallow your stone.”
“As if we needed any fresh incentive.”
True dawn was spilling around the edges of the blanket draped over the window
when Ferris asked him another question. “I don’t suppose you know how to make
these things,” she said, rolling the Living Stone across the quilts with her finger.
“Make one? Why would I want to do that?”
“For our children, of course.”
Reiffen scowled. “I know how, but it’s not a spell I ever want to practice. Or teach.
Nothing comes free in magic. The life in the stone has to come from somewhere.
And someone.”
Taking the gem from her, he cupped it in his hand, cradling the light. “No use
wasting it, though, now we have it. What’s done is done.”
“But what about our children? I don’t want to live forever only to watch them grow
old.”
“Giserre told me she’s going to give hers up the moment she gets a grandchild. She
wants to look a proper grandmother as the child grows up.”
“And our other children? You don’t think we’re going to be happy with just one, do
you?”
Reiffen rolled his eyes. “Let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves, love.”
He still hadn’t told her what Fornoch had said to him in his dream. He wasn’t sure he
would, either. There was always the chance their first child wouldn’t be a daughter at
all.
##
Some months later, and many leagues to the south, Avender danced with Wellin in
the Old Palace. Other couples swept around them in swirls of skirt and stockinged
calf, but Avender saw only the woman in his arms, her laughing mouth and eyes, and
felt only the grip of her fingers on his sleeve.
“So?” she asked, her voice gracing the air more merrily than the music. “Is it
settled? Are you staying with Brizen in Malmoret?”
“Yes.”
“And the rumors are true as well? King Brannis has presented you with an estate in
Wayland to help you make up your mind?”
“The estate had nothing to do with it. I tried to refuse, but the king insisted. He says
no one will take me seriously at court unless I own land. It’s only a small place in East
Wayland called Goose Rock.”
“A charming name. Have you seen it?”
“Not yet. Want to come with me when I do?”
“The king would never approve.”
She smiled, all promise and perfection, even as she glanced toward the dais at the
end of the hall. Avender followed her gaze, though he had seen it all before. The
garlanded columns, the musicians on the balcony above, King Brannis glowering at
the dancers parading on the marble floor. Except that always before the king’s
displeasure had been directed at Ferris and his son. This time it was Avender’s turn.
Before the dance flung them away, he saw the king gesture toward Brizen, who stood
at the side of his father’s chair. The son bent amiably to listen to what Brannis said,
but when the king was finished Brizen said one short, round word, and remained
where he was. The king’s scowl deepened.
“You’re right,” said Avender. “If he doesn’t like our dancing together, your coming to
Goose Rock with me would make him even angrier.”
“It would. But then, if you do not value the king’s gifts, I suspect you care little for his
displeasure either. Unless you have been dissembling about the value of your
acquisition.”
Had Avender’s hands not been so pleasantly occupied with Wellin’s, he would have
snapped his fingers. “Your company is worth far more than a dozen Goose Rocks,
and a duchy beside.”
She smiled. Her fair hair swirled around her shoulders as she spun in her partner’s
hands. Avender’s heart rose. Happily he admired her throat and the ring of bare
arm that showed between the tops of her long gloves and her gown’s puffed sleeves.
“If you flatter the king half so well as you flatter me,” she told him, “I have no doubt
you will soon have that duchy to go with your farm.”
The music stopped. Wellin curtsied demurely; her partner answered with a bow. A
dozen young men darted up from either side, all wanting to have the next dance with
the most beautiful woman in Malmoret.
Brizen was not among them.
Wellin waved her prospective partners aside, though the warmth in her apologies
enflamed them all the more. “Baron Lavinier, I know I promised you a second dance,
but Avender has worn me out so completely, you must forgive me if I cannot fulfill my
promise now. I really do need to catch my breath. Avender, if you would be so kind
as to give me your arm. I think a pass through the garden is just what I need.”
“But the cold, my lady,” said Baron Lavinier. “It’s as bad as Rimwich.”
“At least let me fetch your shawl,” said another.
“I shan’t need my shawl, Dosset, but thank you all the same. This dancing has
heated me enough for a snowstorm in the Bavadars.” Mustaches bristled as she
rested her gloved fingers on Dosset’s arm, but the young men calmed back down
when her hand returned to Avender. Everyone knew so beautiful and ambitious a
young woman would never settle for the penniless master of Goose Rock, even if he
was a hero.
Collecting a cup of hot punch along the way, Avender escorted his prize out to the
garden. Low shrubbery shadowed them like shrunken crones as they strolled along
the paths. Above them the dark walls of the empty palace rose up against the night,
unlit upper windows darker than the sky. Except for the occasional ball, the Old
Palace was never used at all.
“Are you sure you don’t want a shawl?” Avender asked.
“Thank you, no. The cool will clear my head.”
“Baron Lavinier is right.” He rubbed his hands against the cold. “This weather does
feel more like a Rimwich winter than Malmoret. When I came in, I heard a man say
how, now Reiffen has renounced the throne and Brannis’s triumph is complete, he’s
even brought Wayland’s weather with him to Banking.”
“Nonsense.” Wellin’s arm tugged on his as she lifted her punch glass to her lips.
Pungent spices floated past his nose. “The weather is just unusual, nothing more.
Have you seen them lately? Ferris and Reiffen, that is?”
“Not since we were all in Valing for the wedding, but that was months ago. I haven’t
been to the castle they’re building in Grangore yet.” And was unlikely to go there
any time soon, he thought. Let Ferris and Reiffen have Grangore; his life would be
in Malmoret now. Malmoret had fewer regrets.
Wellin stopped and gazed up at the clear sky. The cold seemed to have chased
away everything but the stars.
“They are very lucky,” she said with a trace of what Avender thought might be
wistfulness. “Everything worked out perfectly. True love overcoming all obstacles,
just as the poets describe. It is too bad not everyone can be so lucky.”
“It certainly is.”
Wellin laughed, her voice joyful enough to make the spying shrubbery nearly turn
away in shame. When she turned to face him, her dark eyes burned. “As if you
would ever have any trouble on that score. Do you have any idea how marvelous it
is, dancing with you? You are the handsomest man in the room.”
Avender’s heart quickened. Ferris had once told him that Wellin thought him
handsome, but he had hardly expected to hear it from the woman herself. Especially
now Brizen was back on the marriage market. But Avender wasn’t someone who
repeated his mistakes and, though he had never told Ferris how he felt, he had seen
what had happened when Brizen had. How, despite Ferris’s hating the prince the
first time they met, she had almost ended up marrying him. And would have married
him, too, had it not turned out that Reiffen was on their side all along in the fight
against the Wizards.
Given the look in her eyes, Avender guessed he had more going for him with Wellin
than Brizen had ever had with Ferris. “If I’m the best looking man in the room,” he
said, “you’re easily the best looking woman. In Malmoret. In Banking. In the entire
world.”
She met his glance steadily, her face a pale oval in the darkness. He laid his hand
on her shoulder as he bent to kiss her and found her skin smoother than Skimmer’s
fur. And warmer, too, despite the courtyard’s cold.
Tapping him sharply with her fan, she twirled away. “I thought you understood,” she
said.
“You mean I don’t?”
“My cap is set for Brizen. You know that.” She examined him straightforwardly with
the same dark eyes that had smitten him a moment before, her fan now lying against
the swell of her lower lip.
“But Brizen hasn’t been paying any attention to you at all. And you seemed to enjoy
my compliments as much as I enjoy yours.”
“I have enjoyed your compliments. Very much. And Brizen has paid attention to no
one. But that will change. He is only a man, after all, just like you. If you can get
over Ferris, I am certain Prince Brizen can as well. When he does, I, for one, am
certainly not going to let a second chance slip away.”
Avender’s hands suddenly felt cold. He pushed them into his pockets. “If you’ve
been paying me compliments you don’t mean, it’s cruel.”
“Oh, I mean them.”
Wellin smiled again, a sly, honest smile that Avender felt as keenly as the kiss he
would have preferred. “I mean them very much. But I am not in love with you and, if
you try too hard to make me so, I shall have to throw you over entirely. The
temptation would be too much. In the meantime, I see no reason not to go on flirting
with you more than anyone else – it is much more pleasant. Not to mention the fact
that Brizen would not be the first man to notice a woman only after she has been
noticed by someone else.”
“That’s hardly fair to me.”
“No. But you cannot accuse me of leading you on, as I have stated my intentions
plainly. If you still wish to dance with me, and promenade in moonlit gardens—”
Raising his hands in frustration, Avender gestured at the empty sky. “What moon?”
Wellin laughed, accepting his small joke as a sign he had finished his sulk. “There
will be other nights, I assure you, before Brizen gets over his broken heart. He is a
good man, and loves truly. I doubt I could bring myself to marry him were he not.
But, as I was saying, if you continue to flirt with me, which I would like very much, what
happens to you is your responsibility, not mine. And who knows? I might even fail to
catch Prince Brizen’s eye a second time, at which point I will require a great deal of
consoling. Though by then I should not be at all surprised if you had moved on to
someone less cruel.”
“At least you’re aware of the damage you’re doing.”
“Oh, I am quite aware.” She gave him another cool glance, more intense than the
first. “And of the damage to myself as well. I have meant every compliment I have
given you as much as you have meant yours. I hope you will forgive me if I do not
permit myself to go further.”
She smiled again, a different sort of smile that revealed more of conspiratorial
friendship than private desire. Then she laid her hand sweetly on his chest. “Now
that we have that straightened out, I think it might be time to return to the ballroom.
Even if Brizen fails to notice we went outside, Brannis and the rest of the room will
not. I think they would all appreciate the sight of us dancing together again, now we
have both cooled.”
Bold as ever, Wellin swept her skirts loudly across the floor as she led Avender back
into the Kings Hall. Every dowager turned to scowl at them, and Brannis showed his
annoyance as well. But if Prince Brizen noticed the couple’s return, he didn’t show it.
For the rest of that season Wellin offered Avender as much attention as she dared.
Once she went so far as to share several quick, deep, kisses with him behind a willow
on a spring afternoon when the Duchess of Winkling thought an outing with boats
would be fun. Perhaps it was the kissing that did it, though Avender was certain no
one had seen them, but it wasn’t much later that Wellin had no time for anyone but
the prince. And even though Avender had thought himself prepared, the loss still
hurt.
Wellin, however, had no regrets. Her wedding was even grander than Ferris’s had
almost been the summer before: this time the king approved of the match as much as
his son. Ferris and Reiffen were unable to attend as Ferris was due that fall, but
everyone else was present, from Valing to Issinlough. Avender watched it all from
Brizen’s side, though he would much rather have been banished to the top of White
Tooth in the Bavadars. For the last month he had been seriously considering
throwing off his allegiance to the prince and seeking his fortune with the Dwarves.
To have lost a second woman to a second friend seemed more than sufficient reason
to vanish from the human portion of the world. But he soon discovered other
advantages to serving at the royal court, especially once the other unmarried ladies
understood Wellin no longer blocked their way to the handsomest man in Malmoret.
And some of the married ones as well.
Chapter 2: Pant and Purr
“Not that one, Mother. The blue.”
Following her daughter’s orders, Ferris obediently caused the blue dress to pop back
into view. Now there were three - blue, red, and green - hovering in the air at the
center of the workroom.
“See?” said the child. “The blue has nicer sleeves.”
“Can we at least get rid of the red?” asked Ferris.
“Yes,” echoed Giserre. “Hubley, the red is much too brazen for a child your age.
You are not even ten.”
“I will be the month after Wellin’s and Brizen’s ball. Can’t I wear it then?”
“That would mean getting two new dresses.”
“Please, Mother? Please, please, please?”
Giserre held up her hands. “Do not look at me, Ferris. I already think she is too
spoiled. The blue and green, perhaps—”
The door to the workroom burst open and Plum, the youngest of Ferris’s and Reiffen’
s apprentices, rushed in.
“They’re here!” he shouted, breathless from the long dash up the tower stair. “Tar’s
had her kittens!”
Hubley, who had been waiting days for this to happen, raced for the door.
Remembering to ask permission at the last second, she skidded to a stop on the
landing outside.
“Can I go, Mother? You said I could have one.”
“What about the dresses?”
“You decide. But I really, really, like the blue and red best.”
Hoping Queen Wellin would give her the other if her mother wouldn’t let her have
both, she bounded away. Plum, several years her senior, caught up quickly.
“Where?” she demanded.
“The stable. I haven’t seen them myself. Soon as the grooms told me it had
happened, I came looking for you.”
Charging out of the Magicians Tower, they dashed down the polished marble of the
main gallery and onto the central stair. Shafts of morning sunlight reached out after
them from the high windows on either side. Too old to climb much any more, Sandy
joined them when they reached the front hall, his paws clacking on the cobblestones
outside.
They discovered a much larger crowd in the stable than they’d expected. Nearly a
dozen people had gathered inside one of the stalls. Hubley pushed at everyone’s
backs in her haste to get through.
“Mother said I could have one, so I get first pick!”
The crowd parted. Sandy settled in the straw by the door as his mistress strained
forward. Seeing Hubley coming, Trier flipped a blanket over the manger to hide what
was underneath.
She was surprised to find Trier standing guard. Of all her parents’ apprentices, Trier
had always been the least interested in anything that didn’t help her magic. Even
Ahne, who had been senior apprentice until he’d gone out on his own two years
before, had been known to enjoy a song and a glass of beer. Trier, however, spent
all her time studying, or scolding the juniors for not following her example. What use
could she have for kittens?
Hands on hips, Hubley raised her voice insistently. “Why can’t I see them?” she
demanded.
“Because I said so,” her father answered. His voice jabbed like a pitchfork from the
back the stall. “Please, everyone. Step aside. I wish to see what has happened.”
Hubley saw that her father’s eyes were puffy as he joined them. Thin beard sprinkled
his chin too, another sign of another long night spent in the workshops.
“Is it what we expected?” he asked.
Trier nodded. Hubley couldn’t read a thing from the senior apprentice’s face, but her
father’s eyes gleamed.
He waved a commanding arm. Hubley and Plum leaned forward as Trier reached for
a corner of the blanket.
“Reiffen! What is going on here? Do you really think this is appropriate?”
With great impatience, the crowd stepped back once more. Ferris joined her
husband and daughter beside the manger. Though Hubley knew perfectly well that
both her parents had swallowed Living Stones, she was always struck by the way
they looked no older than Trier.
Reiffen met his wife’s glare with the gleam in his own eyes still intact. “Another such
chance might never come again,” he answered. “Do you really wish to deprive
Hubley of this opportunity?”
The sides of Ferris’s mouth curled down. “You’ll just horrify her. What can possibly
be the benefit?”
“There may be many benefits, if my suspicions are correct. The White Wizard used
to breed such creatures to use in spells. We should be thankful such a rare
occurrence has come our way naturally. Hubley and the apprentices will be able to
learn a great deal about binding, which I otherwise might not have been able to teach
them.”
Ferris seemed about to say something more, then decided against it. On some
things she stood firm but, if this really was a rare event, she was likely to make an
exception. Especially if it had to do with magic.
“All right.” Ferris nodded to Trier. “Let’s take a look at what Tar’s brought into the
world.”
The apprentice lifted the blanket. Ferris and Reiffen stooped, but Hubley went down
on her hands and knees for a closer look. Tar stared back at her, yellow eyes bright
in the shadow beneath the manger. Two of the tiny piles of fur lying in the straw
beside the cat moved, their heads nuzzling up against their mother to nurse. The
other lumps stayed still.
“Only two?” she asked in dismay.
“Look more closely,” said her father.
The child pushed forward. Tar raised a forepaw as if to fend her off, which gave
Hubley a clearer look at the cat’s belly. With a shock, she saw the two nursing kittens
shared a single body between them.
“Oh, that’s gross,” said Plum, squatting back on the straw beside her.
Hubley agreed. Then she noticed her stomach wasn’t flip-flopping, and her breakfast
needed no help staying down. The two-headed cat might be gross, but it was also
fascinating.
The gardener muttered in disgust. “Not a good sign, that. Nothin’ right can come of
somethin’ that unnatural.”
“Actually,” said Reiffen, “it is a wonderful sign. Even monsters have their purpose.
There are many things a mage can do with a creature such as this.”
The gardener touched his hand to his forehead. “No disrespect, your honor, but I
wouldn’t want to be the dam o’ no such thing as that. Nor sire, neither.”
“No one asked you, Snaps.” Ferris’s sharp glance cut across the others lingering in
the stall. “That goes for the rest of you, as well. If none of you have anything better
to do, I’m sure I can think of something. Plum, aren’t you supposed to be helping
Lorennin sort snails?”
The stall emptied. Sandy lifted his head to watch them leave, then decided he was
more comfortable where he was.
Hubley moved a cautious hand toward the kittens. “Can I touch them?”
“Of course,” said Reiffen.
Ferris consented reluctantly. “Don’t pick it up though,” she warned. “The poor thing’
s heads don’t fit at all. Picking it up might break their necks.”
With one careful finger, Hubley caressed the back of the crippled kitten. A shiver
creased its soft fur. One head stopped its sucking for a moment, gasping for breath
as it lifted its blind eyes, but the other nursed on. Hubley hadn’t been sure at first
whether they were one cat with two heads, or two cats sharing a single body. Seeing
them respond separately, she decided they were two.
“You said I could have one, Mother. This is the only one there is, so I guess I get to
have it. Right?”
Ferris’s frown deepened. “This is hardly what I had in mind.”
“You said.”
“If you’re just going to be stubborn about it, I’ll change my mind. Do you think you
can take care of them?”
“Yes.” With middle and forefinger, Hubley scratched both heads again. The kittens’
necks wobbled weakly, but the one on the right purred. The other wheezed. “Oh
please can I have them, Mother? Please?”
Ferris studied her daughter’s face uncomfortably. “This is no regular kitten,
sweetheart. It’s not going to be up and about in a couple of weeks. It might not even
last the day. And if it does, I doubt it’ll ever be able to walk on its own. Those two will
be dependent on you for everything. You’ll have to clean their box every time they
go to the bathroom, and feed them, and brush their fur. Which is more than Tar will
do for them after a month. And they won’t live very long, either, no matter how hard
you try to keep them alive. Will you be ready for that, when the time comes?”
Though she was a little scared of all the work involved, Hubley nodded. If anyone
could keep the kittens from dying, it would be her. “I can do it, Mother,” she said
confidently, cupping her hands around the tiny body.
“Don’t get your hopes up. For them to have been born at all is miracle enough.
There’s a lot more wrong with them than just the heads. Do you hear the way the
one on the left pants all the time?”
“Uh-huh. I’m going to name her Pant. The other I’ll call Purr because she purrs
when I scratch her.”
Thin lines ruffled Ferris’s forehead.
“I would have suggested waiting a while before you named them,” said Reiffen.
“Too late for that.” Ferris glanced curtly at her husband and turned back to her
daughter. “Listen, darling, Pant is the way she is because she can’t get enough air.
See how there’s no shoulder on her side, but there is on Purr’s? That means Purr is
the stronger of the two. I think, the more they grow, the worse it’s going to get. Pant’
s neck and windpipe will be pinched by Purr’s. Purr seems healthy enough, but if
anything happens to her sister, Purr will die too. It’s only a matter of time.”
“Can’t you use magic?” asked Hubley. “You fixed that poor Grangore girl’s harelip.
Can’t you do something for Pant too?”
“My magic isn’t strong enough for that, dear. And there’s no way to save Purr without
hurting Pant. You wouldn’t want me to do that, would you?”
“Certainly not.” Reiffen caught his daughter’s gaze. “These two kittens came into
the world together. Unless you want to choose one over the other, they will have to
go out the same way.”
Hubley nodded. “It wouldn’t be fair to pick just one,” she agreed.
Their fate decided, the kittens and their mother were moved to the nursery. Over the
next few days Hubley did the best she could to make the poor creatures comfortable,
but it was a hopeless task. Her father helped, but, as long as the kittens put on
weight, he didn’t seem to mind their growing worse every other way. They never
learned to walk a single step, their heavy heads tipping them over onto their faces
whenever they weren’t propped up on pillows. When they were awake they never
played; if Hubley left them alone, they mewled piteously for her to return. Once she
dropped a ball of yarn into their basket to see if that would amuse them while she
went off to help her mother with a potion. When she came back, both kittens were
close to strangling, the yarn looped around their weak necks while they tugged feebly
at the strings with teeth and claws.
By the time Tar lost interest in them, Hubley knew they weren’t going to last much
longer. Purr was able to eat scraps from the child’s finger, but Pant was declining
swiftly. As Ferris had foreseen, the larger they grew, the more trouble Pant had
breathing. On the last day, Hubley spent an entire morning trying to get the weaker
kitten to suck a few drops of milk from a rag. Pant did her best, but she had to stop
and gasp for air so often that Hubley knew it wasn’t working. So she scratched the
back of the kitten’s head instead, which made Purr purr. Pant lay on the pillow and
gulped for air while her healthier sister licked their paws.
The late afternoon sun had sifted through the rose leaves on the wall outside her
window when Hubley realized Pant was no longer breathing. Looking down, she saw
the two kittens side by side on their pillow. All four legs still moved, but only Purr’s
head responded when Hubley touched it. And now Purr was having a problem lifting
her own neck, the weight of her dead sister anchoring her down.
The next morning Purr was gone as well. Tears streaming down her face, Hubley
carried the basket to her parents’ bedroom. Her mother was the only one there, and
hugged Hubley tight against her robe as the child sobbed.
“But can’t you do something, Mother?” she cried. “What good’s magic if you can’t do
anything about it when someone dies?”
Her father and Giserre joined them, and Hubley clung to each of them in turn. Later,
when her heartache had eased, she told them she wanted to bury the kittens under
the roses in the garden. Gently Ferris explained that Sandy would dig them up
before noon if she did.
“Can’t we put them in a box?” Hubley pleaded. “I’m sure Snaps would make one if I
ask.”
Reaching over her head, her father picked up the basket. Both kittens now lay with
their heads against the pillow, the life drained from their eyes.
“I am sorry, sweetheart,” he said. “But Pant and Purr are too valuable for planting in
the ground.”
“Really, Reiffen.” Giserre wrapped an arm around her granddaughter’s shoulders. “I
think Hubley deserves more consideration than that.”
“This is not about the child, Mother. I made it clear from the start the kittens would be
useful. Now we will see if I am right. Everything necessary for the spell is
downstairs. I have only been waiting for the poor things to pass.”
“You’re going to use Pant and Purr for magic?” The quaver dropped from Hubley’s
voice as she realized her father’s intent.
“I am.” Reiffen spoke sternly. “I told you before, the White Wizard used to breed
such creatures for their power.”
“You can’t! I won’t let you!” Shrugging free of her grandmother’s arm, Hubley
snatched the basket out of her father’s hands and clutched it to her chest.
Reiffen’s eyebrows rose. “I thought you wanted to be a magician, Hubley. Being a
magician requires hard choices.”
“There’s no need to rub her nose in it,” said her mother. “Can’t we let her be a child
a little longer?”
“Normally, I would agree with you, dear. But we shall not get a chance like this again
any time soon.”
“No?” Ferris accused. “Tar reeked of magic for weeks before those poor kittens
were born.”
Reiffen’s face pinched. “I did help the unfortunate creatures, yes. They would have
been stillborn had I not interfered. The rest of the litter was in the way. But I did not
cause them to be what they were.”
Giserre steered the conversation back to her granddaughter. “Hubley has grown
quite fond of the kittens, my son. Must you really use them?”
“Do you see any other two-headed creatures about the castle, Mother?”
“There is no need to be unpleasant. The subject is distasteful enough.”
“Would it be as distasteful had it been a piglet? Or a snake?”
“The child has not loved piglets and snakes the way she has these kittens.”
“No? Then what about dogs? Even Sandy was used for magic once.”
“He was?” Hubley regarded her father suspiciously, her hands still covering the
basket.
“Who do you think the three-legged puppy was that Fornoch gave us to escape the
fall of Ussene?”
Hubley’s anger weakened. “Sandy? You did that to Sandy?”
“Fornoch did it. But, as you can see, Sandy has been fine ever since. As a result,
your mother and I, and your Grandmother Giserre, are still alive. Not to mention
Avender and Redburr.” The magician wiggled the little finger of his right hand in the
air. Its iron cap reflected the light no better than the dead kittens’ eyes. “It is just
another part of magic, like my thimbles. It hurts for a while, but there are no lasting ill-
effects. Pant and Purr are dead. They cannot be harmed further.”
“It’s still different.”
“Then you will have to decide whether you really want to be a magician, Hubley.
Magicians have to do this sort of thing all the time. But I will let the choice of what to
do with the kitten be yours. Not for the world would I force magic on my child. It is a
heavy burden, after all. But it is only fair you know that, for a real mage, there is only
one possible decision.”
“I thought you wanted to let the child make up her own mind,” said Giserre.
“What I want, Mother, is to be certain Hubley understands exactly what being a
magician means.”
Hubley knew what her answer would be before she even spoke. She had been four
when she learned her first spell, and magic was already too much a part of her life to
be turned away from now. She had heard the way the grooms and undercooks
talked about her parents, especially her father. They loved Ferris and Reiffen, and
would defend them against anyone, but they still gave the magic as wide a berth as
they could. Once Snaps had come back from an evening in Grangore with his eye
as purple as one of his best tulips. The story Hubley heard was that a blacksmith
had called her father “Wizard”. Now she saw why some people could say such
horrible things about her parents, and why even the people who loved them could
still be afraid of them.
But she was very much her parents’ child. If a butcher could slaughter animals, and
a tanner use their hides, why not a magician use them for other things as well? The
kittens were already dead. If Sandy could do his part, then Pant and Purr could do
theirs too.
“All right, Father. You can have them. But only if I get to watch you do the spell.”
Giserre sniffed, as if she had known it would come to this all along. Reiffen beamed.
“I suppose you’re going to want to get to work right away,” sighed Ferris. “I have that
session on beetles with the juniors to attend to, or I’d join you.”
“I do need to get to work while the body remains fresh,” said Reiffen. “Trier can
handle the preserving. All I need now is the blood.”
Giserre stood up abruptly, her distaste evident. “Reiffen, please.”
“My apologies, Mother.”
“Just be careful,” Ferris added as Reiffen and their daughter got up to leave. “You
know Hubley soaks up spells like a sponge. Don’t let her see anything she might be
able to understand.”
“I already told you, most of the spell is already prepared.”
“Just make sure there’s nothing you do she can figure out.” Ferris trained a gimlet
eye on her young daughter. “And if I ever catch you playing with dead things, you’ll
be twenty before I teach you another spell. You know the rules. Learning magic is a
reward, not a right.”
Hubley rolled her eyes. That threat she had heard more than once before.
Still carrying the kittens’ basket, she went with her father directly to the basement
workshops. Below the house, Nolo and the Dwarves had carved almost as many
chambers out of the mountain as they had built in the castle upstairs. Ferris’s
workroom was in the Magicians Tower, but Reiffen preferred his investigations, which
were often more dangerous than the Dwarves’, to be undertaken underground,
where no one else could be hurt.
“Would you care to cast the light spell, sweetheart?” he asked as they descended
the stair.
Always eager to show off, Hubley raised a theatrical hand. “Light the dark so I can
see the walls on either side of me.” A thin ball of luminescence sprang up before
them, hovering just above Hubley’s head. The light spell was the first spell her
parents had ever taught her, and she was proud of the way she could make
brightness hang like a hummingbird in the air. Among the apprentices, only Trier
could do the same, though Ahne had been able to do it too before he left. Hevves,
Plum, and Lorennin all needed a stick or lantern on which to cast the spell.
They followed the glowing ball down the corridor. Hubley had been on the other side
of most of the doors they passed, but not all of them. She felt a certain thrill at the
thought they might be going to one of the workrooms she had never visited, or
maybe even one that could only be reached by magic, but her excitement fell when
her father stopped at a door she had been through many times before.
Her pale light reflected from a hundred mirrors as they entered. Reaching over the
long table in the middle of the room, her father inserted a Dwarf lamp into a small
reflecting box in the ceiling. Hubley allowed her own light to die as the brighter
illumination of the glowing gem filled the chamber. On either side, a wide hearth and
a set of shelves occupied the only space not covered by reflections of the mage and
his daughter. Pots and jars packed the shelves. A large tub stood in a corner away
from the door. Though its top was sealed, Hubley knew the container was filled with
silver paint.
Trier appeared, and Reiffen instructed Hubley to hand over the basket, then light a
fire. His daughter insisted on one last look at the body before the apprentice took
the kittens away forever. They looked smaller, somehow, than they had when they
were alive, which made it easier to let them go.
Sighing, she turned to the hearth. For some reason the firespell was one of the
many her parents thought too dangerous for a nine year old, so she was left to start
the fire with a dwarfstick. The small blaze caught the black firestone quickly, yellow
tongues of flame growing more and more orange as they lengthened. Knowing her
father probably wanted a cold pot for his brewing, she swung the iron arm of the pot
holder out into the room and away from the fire.
Climbing onto a stool, she watched him sort through the mirrors. Finally he settled
on an unframed pane as wide as his palm and twice as long. This wasn’t the first
time they had made mirrors together. Merchants in Malmoret or Mremmen were
always willing to pay for the ability to talk instantly with the captains of their trading
ships no matter how far away they’d sailed, and King Brannis and the barons had a
never-ending interest as well.
Next Reiffen selected a heavy iron bowl for crushing herbs. Blumet for Dwarves, he
liked to say, and iron for magicians. In the bowl he mixed a small handful of crumbled
aspen leaves and another of fine hairs from the same tree’s roots. Hubley had
helped him gather both in a high meadow above the castle near Uhle’s Gate, where
they had trimmed the roots with a pair of silver shears. Using a mortar, the magician
ground both ingredients into coarse powder in the iron bowl, his thimbles clicking on
the metal, then added pared lichen, the beards of a dozen dandelions, the usual
seven drops of frog sweat, and a small vial of vitriol which caused the mixture to hiss
and foam.
When the hissing subsided, Reiffen added a gallon jug of pure mist he had collected
from the top of the Magicians Tower to the iron cauldron Hubley had swung away
from the fire. As he poured, the her father chanted something Hubley didn’t quite
hear, then passed his hand over the rim. She peered forward, but saw only her own
reflection in the still surface. The heavy odors of iron and water clung to the back of
her nose.
“Swing that over the fire,” he said.
Carefully, so as not to slosh any liquid over the sides, Hubley pushed the pot into
place. Flames grazed the bottom. She waited for a moment to see if her father had
cast a spell to quicken the boiling but, if he had, it hadn’t been by much.
Looking back, she saw him standing over the other iron bowl. He held his silver knife
in one hand, the one he used when he needed to draw blood. Pricking the end of his
finger with the sharp point, he squeezed a drop into the mixture. A fresh hissing
sputtered up and died.
Trier returned then, with a small jar. The thick red liquid within swirled so darkly as to
almost look black. Hubley swallowed hard, more affected by the sight of the kittens’
blood than she had been by her last glimpse of them. What had been Pant and Purr
was completely gone now, melted away like spring snow.
Unscrewing the jar’s cap, her father poured a short stream into his potion. The blood
reddened as it fell, catching the light in a thin ribbon. Crossing to the hearth, he
added a handful of fresh violets to the now boiling water. “So it won’t smell so bad,”
he said, and followed by pouring in the potion. The brown glop sank quickly to the
bottom of the pot, where it swirled heavily, refusing to mix. But, with the pot boiling, it
was only a matter of time before everything blended together. Hubley watched as
closely as she could, the heat beating at her face and the smell of violets tickling her
nose. Gradually the mixture filled the bowl, lightening as it spread. When the liquid
looked to be the same color as silt in a flooding river, Reiffen slowly dipped the mirror
he had chosen into the roiling mass. For a moment Hubley thought he was going to
burn his fingers, but the glass scraped the bottom of the pot with the top of the mirror
less than a finger’s breadth above the potion’s surface. Gently Reiffen lowered the
pane to one side, covering it completely.
They played concentration games while waiting for the spell to end. Taking turns,
they made up long lists of things to pack in one of Mims’s traveling trunks, trying to
remember everything in order. Since neither of them had forgotten anything by the
time the mirror had finished cooking, they declared the contest a tie. Reiffen
retrieved the mirror with a pair of cloth-covered tongs and laid it dripping on the
table. Carefully he dried the glass with a fresh towel. From his pocket he pulled a
small jeweled ring and, slipping it over the middle finger of his right hand, used it to
cut a straight line down the middle of the glass’s width. Lining the cut up on the edge
of the stone table, with a towel beneath it to prevent scratching, he snapped the
mirror in two.
“Perfect,” he said. He examined the twin sections in either hand, then gave them to
his daughter to polish on a small grindstone. Hubley liked that part best because it
made her feel as if she had really assisted in the casting. Plus she got to wear a pair
of batskin goggles to protect her eyes. She worked diligently at her task until the
edges were smooth, her feet pumping away at the treadle. Then she helped her
father set both mirrors into a pair of wooden frames he had fashioned while she was
busy with the grindstone. Each frame was made with wood cut from the same tree.
“Now we need a mouse,” he said.
Finding mice was never a problem in the workshops. The apprentices liked having
something to munch on while they worked, and the mice made a good living scooping
up the crumbs. Hubley didn’t know the spell, but she knew what her father was doing
when he looked intently at a small crack at the back of the shelves and chanted,
“Come out, mouse.
The rent is due
On your snug house.”
Small claws skittered on the stone. Eyes shiny as black beads blinked in the
lamplight. When Reiffen bent down beside the wall, the mouse leapt into his hands
as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Feeling a bit ashamed, Hubley
realized the mouse’s lot was no different from the kittens’, but she hadn’t objected to
what was going to happen to the mouse at all.
Slipping the animal into his pocket, Reiffen arranged the mirrors at opposite ends of
the stone table. Glass side up, they reflected the stone ceiling and the edge of the
lamp above. Shadows flickered across them every time Hubley and her father moved.
Young though she was, she still understood that a linkage of some sort had been
established between the paired glasses. Pant’s and Purr’s blood had made the
binding stronger, but how different this was from the connection needed for a set of
talking mirrors, she had no idea.
The mouse’s small legs wiggled as her father dangled it by the tail a few inches
above the closest mirror.
“Shift,” he said.
The mouse arched its back. A screen of smoke rolled across the glass. Hubley
looked up, but no smoke drifted across the ceiling. Looking down, she saw the
surface of the mirror clear; the reflection of the ceiling returned. Only now the lamp
was reflected on the wrong side of the glass, the image in the mirror nearest her
father now showing in both glasses.
The magician dropped the mouse. Claws clicked as it landed. Legs splayed, the
mouse clung to the glass, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible.
“Did it work?” asked Hubley.
“No.”
Her father frowned and rubbed his chin. The mouse scrabbled toward the edge of
the table. The magician scooped it up while thinking of other things.
“Perhaps...”
Reiffen looked back and forth between the mirrors as if noticing something new.
Hubley had no idea what he was seeing.
“Hubley,” he said. “Please pick up the mirror closest to you. Yes, that’s it. Now, hold
it upside down over the table. No, not that high. A hand’s breadth should be
sufficient. That’s it. We wouldn’t want the mouse to be hurt in the fall, would we?”
Plucking it up by the tail once more, he held the creature out over his mirror a
second time. Now Hubley’s glass reflected the top of the stone table, rather than the
ceiling above.
“Shift,” he repeated.
This time there was no sound as the mouse hit the glass. In fact, it never hit the
glass, but vanished straight through it. At the same time the mirror in Hubley’s hand
shattered with a terrific crack. Sharp shards splashed across the table and skittered
to the floor. Dropping the empty frame, Hubley jumped back from the table in
surprise.
The mouse crouched inside the empty square of wood, its body tensed in terror.
“It worked!” Reiffen shook his arms exultantly.
“It did?” Confused, Hubley brushed bits of glass off the sleeves of her dress.
The magician pointed at the mouse. “How else do you think it got all the way over
there? Sleight-of-hand? Of course I still have to work on the mirrors’ strength. We
can’t have them falling apart every time someone passes through, otherwise we’ll be
making traveling mirrors for the rest of our lives. But it did work.”
Caught up in her father’s excitement, Hubley found herself hoping Tar would have
another two-headed kitten again soon.
The mouse, much luckier than Pant and Purr, slipped away.
| A maid that’s fair must not despair That love will never find her. And hearts not cold will gain great gold As long as they stay kinder. But seasons change and some men range Till other passions find them. And fairest heart won’t even start To bring them back or bind them. |
