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Tashiana escorted us through backstreets to another main thoroughfare. Leading our horses, Brahm and I followed her, weaving through traffic for several miles before she turned onto a quieter street. Looming in the distance, Lord Daeg’s castle perched atop a forested hillock, lording over the city like some all-seeing, all-knowing deity. A shiver crawled down my spine and kissed the backs of my knees.
The old gods were never omniscient, Grandfather said. Immortal, powerful, but as flawed as any man. Maybe more so.
Are you trying to ease my concerns? I asked. If so, it’s not working.
Tashiana stopped at the entrance of a shop with Apotheker Laurent scrawled across the dirty window in peeling black paint. She waited while Brahm and I tied our horses to hitching posts outside. Bells rang, announcing our entrance as we followed her into a gloomy space filled with rows of jars, wooden cabinets, and drawers labeled with unfamiliar words. Dried herbs hung from the ceiling rafters, and a fine layer of dust coated everything in a grimy patina. The space smelled of camphor, stale vegetation, and dried earth. I sneezed twice and rubbed my watering eyes.
As we trailed Tashiana to the back of the shop, I kept my attention glued on her broad back, purposefully ignoring a strange collection of skulls and shriveled things floating in large jars. We stopped before another closed door possibly leading to an office or storeroom, and Tashiana raised her fist to knock but paused.
“She is fragile, this one. Like a... a balloon that has been filled with too much air until her skin is thin and ready to burst from the strain. It is not air inside her, though.” She looked up and met my eyes, and her gaze was dark and heavy. “Understand?”
Not air but Magic. I nodded.
She knocked. “Brigette?”
Receiving no answer, she banged harder, rattling the door on its hinges.
This time, a muffled moan answered.
“Brigette. Open the door. I’ve brought visitors.” Tashiana twisted the knob and shoved her shoulder against the flimsy wood. The door resisted. She shoved again, and it gave way with a squeal of protest. More of the sickening burnt-sugar-and-flower odor I’d smelled at the gambling den wafted out in a blueish haze. I coughed and flapped my hands, clearing smoke.
The open door let in enough light to illuminate a small room with a peeling and battered writing desk, a stool, and a thin cotton-bound mattress covered in a pile of fabric scraps. I swallowed a yelp when the scraps moaned, shifted, and sat up.
Tashiana eased inside and knelt beside a withered skeleton. It wore a shapeless black rag that might’ve been a dress in a previous life. “Brigette.” Tashiana removed a smoking pipe with a long, narrow neck from Brigette’s fingers and set it on the desk beside a pair of spectacles. “Come, I’ve brought some people who want to talk to you. They want to offer you a job.”
I raised my eyebrow at Brahm and gave him a look that said, This is my Magician? You must be joking.
The look he gave me in reply said, I’m just as surprised as you.
And yet...
A strange sensation washed over me—a tingling impression of energy and potential. A low hum thrummed in my veins, raising goose bumps on my arms and making the hair stand up on the back of my neck.
Tashiana scooped Brigette into her arms and heaved her up, though she couldn’t have weighed much. Brigette looked like a scarecrow held together by a few fraying threads. Tashiana carried her through the shop, and as she passed, I caught another whiff of whatever Brigette had been smoking mingled with the reek of dirty hair and body odor.
“Brahm,” Tashiana said, “grab her spectacles, will you?”
In the glare of daylight, Brigette looked even worse. Sallow skin hung from her bones like a dress too big for its form. Her face was gaunt, her dark hair a frizzy nest that would make any bird jealous. She wrenched her eyes shut and groaned again.
Tashiana shushed her and looked at me. “You want a Magician powerful enough to stand up to Le Poing Fermé? Then this is your girl.”
It took every ounce of my self-restraint to keep my nose from wrinkling. “Shall I take your word for it, then?”
“Get her cleaned up, let her sober up a little, and you will see.”
“I mean no offense,” Brahm said, “but it’ll take more than a hot bath and a stiff cup of coffee to solve this girl’s problems.”
Tashiana grimaced and shifted her burden. Brigette’s head lolled against her shoulder. “You asked me for a powerful Magician, and I’ve found one for you. Beggars can’t be choosers.”
Brahm opened his mouth to protest, but I signaled for quiet. “I don’t know you, Tashiana, but Brahm trusts you, and I trust him... mostly. I’m not saying I’m hiring this girl, but I’m willing to give her a chance.”
“She might not even want the job,” Brahm said. “It’s not like we can ask her.”
I touched his arm the way I’d touch an agitated horse. “We can, once she’s sober, fed, washed, and rested. If she says no, we’ll send her on her way.”
“Back here?” He jabbed a finger at the store and its filthy interior. “She’ll be dead in no time if she keeps this up.”
“Then maybe you can find a job for her like you did for Gideon’s father, at the Schulzes’ halfway home for people who have trouble coping with the world.”
He shot me a dark look.
“She’s not in this state for the fun of it.” I shoved my hands on my hips. “I doubt she’s like this because she’s a horrible person with moral failings, either.”
Tashiana snorted. “What do you know about addiction, girl?”
“Nothing.” I rolled a shoulder. “But I’ve stood on the edge of a deep crevasse of desperation before. Luckily some kind people were there to help me cross it without falling in. Maybe no one was there for Brigette when she needed a bridge.”
“I was there.” Tashiana raised her chin. “I’ve been there for her the whole time. She’s only alive because of me.”
“Who is she to you?”
“My sister.”
Her answer surprised me, but with the shape Brigette was in, it would’ve been impossible to identify a family resemblance. Her coloring was lighter than Tashiana’s, but that meant nothing. It wasn’t uncommon for family lineage to affect siblings differently.
“What’s happened for her to wind up in such a state?” Brahm asked.
“It is the Magic. Gives her headaches—the debilitating kind. She cannot cure the pain with Magic because it only makes it worse, so she self-medicates. It is a bad cycle. I have done all I know to do for her. Maybe someone else can do what I could not.”
“You’re clearly a kind spirit.” I patted Tashiana’s shoulder. “I knew I liked you.”
She harrumphed and waved off my compliment, but when Brahm took Brigette from Tashiana’s arms, the warrior woman gave him a brief smile. “Be good to her. She is fragile.”
I gathered Adaleiz’s reins and untied her lead from a hitching post. “If she accepts my offer, I’ll send you a message so you can say goodbye to her before we go.”
Tashiana shook her head, long braids flaring around her shoulders. “I’ve said goodbye to her already. She knows where to find me if she needs me.”
Neither Brahm nor I wanted to make the long trip back to the Schulzes’ estate carrying an unconscious woman, so I left Brigette with Brahm and searched for a driver on a busier thoroughfare. I found a carriage for hire and ordered the driver to take me back to the apothecary shop. Brahm loaded Brigette onto the seat across from me and gave her a piteous look before backing away. “I’m afraid we might’ve bitten off more than we can chew.”
“I’m afraid you might be right.” I tugged the door shut, swept aside the privacy curtain, and watched Brahm mount his tired old horse. Adaleiz followed when he tugged her reins, but the carriage sped up, leaving them behind.
I closed the curtain and studied the wreck of a girl across from me, lying limp, unaware, snoring as loudly as a dozen fat houseflies. “You’re probably trouble, Brigette. But maybe you’ll also be a blessing in disguise.”
***
With some strong encouragement from me, Brahm agreed to have his footman, Ernst, carry Brigette to my room while he headed off his sister. Ernst and I scurried up a set of back stairs, as quiet as mice, and hurried Brigette into my room. I didn’t know what Hannah would think of us bringing the shabby little Magician into her home, and I preferred to avoid that confrontation if possible.
“Let her have the bed, Ernst,” I said.
He laid her down as though she were made of glass, and I drew a blanket over her.
“Think we ought to start a fire for her, m’lady?” He nodded at the empty fireplace. “She looks like the sort who wouldn’t be warm, even in the dead of summer.”
I understood what he meant. Skin and bones were hardly enough insulation to keep a body warm, but the room felt stuffy. On my own, I would have opened a window and encouraged a breeze. “How about a pot of tea instead? I’ll give her another blanket if she’s cold when she wakes.”
He bobbed a bow, and as he retreated from the room, Malita and Niffin stepped in to take his place. Niffin passed me a pair of folded spectacles. “We saw Brahm. He said to give these to you.”
“Did you see Hannah?”
Malita’s gaze flitted to her feet. “We have been, um, hiding from her.”
Niffin showed none of the self-restraint I’d been exercising as he inspected my newest companion. His lip curled, and his nose crinkled. “Is this a Magician or an old bag of rags and bones you found in someone’s rubbish pile?”
“Shush.” I shot him a sharp look. “She’s sleeping, not dead. I don’t know if she’s what we’re looking for, but I won’t start out having her believe we think badly of her.”
“She is sick?” Malita crouched beside the bed and stroked a frizzy curl back from the girl’s brow. “She looks like death.”
“It’s a long story.” I motioned to my seating area. “I’ll tell you what I know so far.”
Malita and Niffin sat while I perched at the foot of the bed and rehashed the morning’s events. Ernst returned with another servant, bringing two pots of tea and trays loaded with cups, sandwiches, and an assortment of cakes and pastries.
He set the items on a small table in the seating area, shooed the other servant out, and bowed toward me. “Anything else, m’lady?”
“Thank you, Ernst. If we need anything, I’ll call for you.”
He retreated from the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click.
Niffin sniffed at the sandwich tray while I poured a steaming cup of tea, added a heavy dose of sugar and cream, and shoved the cup under the Magician’s nose. If I were more patient and nurturing, I would have let Brigette sleep, but I was neither of those things.
“Brigette?” I pushed the tea closer to her face, letting the steam envelop her nose and cheeks. “Wake up, please. We need to talk.”
Her eyelids fluttered, but she remained insentient.
“Brigette.” I shoved her shoulder. “Wake up. The world is on fire.”
One eye peeled open, glazed and unfocused. “Go away.”
“Not until you wake up.”
“Who...?”
“I’m a friend of your sister.” Not the truth but not entirely a lie. Waking up dazed and confused, surrounded by unfamiliar people in a strange room was no way to start a potential partnership. “I need to hire a Magician. Tashiana recommended you.”
Both eyes fluttered open. Her forehead puckered with the effort of focusing on my face. “Tashi?”
Careful to keep the teacup steady, I slipped her spectacles from my pocket, flicked them open with a finger, and slid them onto her face. The lenses magnified her eyes as she blinked at me like a startled toad. “Who did you say you were?”
A distinct Gallandic accent colored Brigette’s speech. Tashiana had spoken with an accent, too, but hers hadn’t been familiar. I wondered about the reason for the discrepancy but not enough to bother asking. There were more important questions to answer first.
I snapped my fingers, and an electric-blue crackle of energy arced over my fingers. “Evelyn Stormbourne, Lady of Thunder, Queen of Inselgrau. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
She scrambled back, shoving herself into a mostly upright position. I passed her the teacup, which she took with shaking hands.
“Drink,” I said. “But be careful. It’s hot.”
“You’re a... a goddess?”
Pressing a finger to her knuckles, I encouraged her to raise her cup. She took an obedient sip.
“Hardly,” I said. “Do you know of any elemental gods still in this world? I mean, ones like in the legends?”
She furrowed her brow and drank more tea. I waggled my fingers at Niffin, beckoning him to pass me a cake. “The ancient ones, they were the elements. The old Gods of Thunder were the storms themselves—living, breathing lightning and thunder.” I snapped again and produced a shower of sparks. Parlor tricks, but it kept Brigette awake and focused. “I’m merely a young woman. Blood, bone, skin, and sinew. On good days, the lightning and I are very agreeable companions.”
“And on bad days?” Brigette accepted the teacake I offered and bit off a corner, spilling powdered sugar on her poor excuse for a dress.
“On bad days, I am a lion tamer trying not to get her head bitten off.”
A berry blush rose in her cheeks. Her pale-brown skin was the color of old parchment and seemed almost as fragile. Deep-purple circles underscored her eyes, which were as dark as a midnight sky. Ah, that’s her shared commonality with her sister. They have the same eyes.
“What does a queen want with me?” Brigette finished her cake, and I motioned for Niffin to bring her another. The sugar seemed to be perking her up. I’d roll her in honey glaze and dip her in chocolate if it made her willing to listen.
“You won’t like my answer.” I rose and selected a sandwich from the tray. Nibbling, I paced at the foot of the bed. “Tashiana told us a little about your troubles. What I have to say isn’t going to make things better. Could make things worse. But I want to be clear that you’re not being held here against your will. Refuse my offer, and I’ll have a carriage take you back to your apothecary shop right away.”
Look at you, Grandfather said, taking command of the Schulzes’ household as though it were you own. How queenly of you. It’s like you’re a natural.
At the mention of being held against her will, Brigette flinched. “Where am I?” She scanned the room. “Somewhere very fine by the looks of it. Not Inselgrau, though. There’s not enough mordid in the world to make me sleep through a journey like that.”
I’d heard of mordid, but my knowledge of it came from a few limited entries in a scientific book in my father’s library. Mordid was derived from a small black flower that bloomed at night, preferring to grow in arid places. The bloom’s nectar held anodynic properties and could be processed into several forms for easy consumption, all of which were highly addictive. If Brigette suffered horrible headaches, mordid would certainly ease her pain, but in return she had given up bits and pieces of herself until almost nothing remained. I couldn’t compare her presently to what she had been in the past, but I could guess. She hadn’t always been this withered, half-dead creature. I was sure of it.
Brigette drained her teacup and held it out for a refill. Niffin scooped up the cooling pot and poured.
“I know the relationship between Magicians and the courts of the gods.” She watched Niffin spoon sugar into her cup and nodded when he had filled it to her satisfaction. “Magical history was nearly as sacred a subject as theory and practical application.”
“You’ve been to university?” I tried not to let my surprise, or jealousy, show.
“Only the first year. The harder the Magic, the worse my...” She grimaced, swirling a finger around her head. “Anyway, I have a feeling I know what you’re going to ask me.”
Oh, this should be good, Grandfather said. She’ll never guess it all. Not in a million years.
“I’m not sure it’s quite what you think,” I said.
“You want me to do Magic for you, though. That’s the crux of it.”
I offered an apologetic smile. “No point in trying to put a sugar coating on it.”
Her gaze dropped to her cup when I mentioned sugar.
“I won’t try to trick you into anything.”
“You want a love spell,” she said.
“She needs no spells for that.” Malita snickered. “Just ask Gideon.”
I shot Malita a withering glance, but it only made her laugh harder.
“I’ll tell you exactly what this is about,” I said to Brigette. “Then you tell me if you’re interested.”
As simply as possible, I explained my relationship with Le Poing Fermé, their recent activities in Inselgrau, and the demands they’d made of me. At the mention of the powerful cabal, Brigette’s eyes popped wide. Another cherry stain bled into her cheeks. By the time I’d finished explaining my plans, the whites of her eyes shone clearly around her dark irises. Her mouth hung wide, chin nearly to her chest.
“Go ahead and shoot me now and put me out of my misery,” she said.
Dumbly, I blinked at her.
“Even without the headaches, without the mordid...” She shook her head. “I don’t stand a chance against that cabal. And if I tried, either they’d kill me, or my brain would catch fire and explode—or that’s what it would feel like, anyway. That kind of Magic...” She dabbed her eyes. “Take me back to my shop. I can’t help you.”
“If the headaches weren’t a factor, what would your answer be?”
She set down her teacup and drew her knees up under her chin. “I don’t allow myself to think that way. If I start down that what-if hole, I’ll never crawl back out.”
“Please?” I eased closer to her and held her gaze. “Just for a moment, think about it. If not for the headaches, what would you want for your life, more than anything else?”
She closed her eyes. I thought she was shutting me out, refusing to answer. Instead she let out a long breath, removed her spectacles, and rubbed her eyes. “Purpose. All I ever wanted was to have a purpose. Something more than just surviving day to day.”
Niffin cleared his throat and stood. He gave me an inscrutable look, bit his bottom lip, and furrowed his brow. “What if...” He glanced at Malita.
She nodded as if sensing what he was going to say and encouraging him to continue.
“What if I told you there was an alternative to the mordid? Something non-addictive. Something much less deadly.”
Brigette and I both frowned at him.
“Then I’d say I doubted its efficacy,” she said. “I’ve tried everything. Mordid is the only thing that dulls the pain.”
“I can assure you that you’ve never tried djageesh.”
“Never tried it?” She coughed a sharp laugh. “I can’t even pronounce it. I’ve never heard of it, either, and I’m an apothecary, for the gods’ sakes.”
“I’ve been with your people for weeks, and I’ve never heard of it,” I said.
He pursed his lips. “It is not something we advertise. We have enough trouble keeping away bandits and thieves as it is. If word of djageesh were to spread...” He said nothing more, letting us draw our own conclusions about the trouble the Fantazikes would attract if they were known to possess a powerful medicine capable of doing everything he’d claimed.
“Then why tell me about it?” Brigette slipped her spectacles back into place. “Do you trust me so much?”
“I do not trust you at all. But my clan leader charged me with the duty of assisting Evie, being her diplomat, and aiding her return to her throne.” He arched a haughty eyebrow, looking down his nose. “If you are what Evie needs to accomplish this task, then I will do all I can to assist her.”
“Such loyalty, Niffin.” I fluttered my lashes at him, teasing. It was an act, hiding the fact that his speech had nearly brought me to tears. He’d never defined our relationship so clearly, and I took great comfort in his words. “I’m not sure I’m worthy.”
He harrumphed, folded his arms over his chest, and said nothing.
Brigette squinted at me, distrust showing clearly on her face. “What’s brought you to this pinnacle of desperation, my lady? There are many Magicians who would happily work for you. The honor of being employed in the court of a queen—an elemental queen—is so rare, any Magician would fight for the chance.”
I tossed the uneaten portion of my sandwich on the tray and slumped on the bed next to Brigette. “And if I were to hire such a Magician, how could I trust them? Working for me might be attractive, but working for someone like Ruelle Thibodaux? How quickly might my secrets be sold for such an opportunity?”
A shadow fell over her face. She slumped down and rolled over, giving me her back. “But me, you can control. Give me strong medicine, and I’m yours, like a puppet. Control the pain, control the Magician.”
Heat blazed in my cheeks. “I never meant it like that—”
“I’m tired. Go away and let me sleep.”
Sensing further argument would only dig me into a deeper hole, I slipped off the bed and caught Malita and Niffin’s gaze. “Think about my offer, Brigette. You don’t know me well enough to trust me, but I really don’t want to control you. I’d prefer we be partners.” Ones who managed to reach a mutually beneficial agreement, but it seemed like a bad time to say as much.
Malita and Niffin followed me into the hallway. I closed the door behind them and leaned against it, sighing. Finding Brigette had been easier than expected, but convincing her to help me might require a small miracle. And I didn’t know if she was worth the trouble. Maybe she was a horrible, weak Magician whose spells couldn’t harm a gnat.
Your instincts tell you she’s better than that, Grandfather said. That girl in there is something. I can sense it.
I sense it too, I admitted.
“Give her time, Evie.” Malita gave my shoulder a conciliatory pat. “And remember she has not said no.”
