6

Dominic crunched his way over the snow-crusted ground, wishing that the late Yves Morlais had left some sturdy boots in the attic along with the overcoat. It wasn’t as cold as it had been, but now there was snow thanks to the previous day’s storm. It had delayed the planned trip to town by a day.

Ardhuin had been not been happy about the storm, or his decision to send the telegram himself. Strangely, she had not argued—but he could sense her unhappiness, revealed in little flashes of irritability.

He felt for the message she had given him, cryptic enough to have meaning only for the friend who had written to her. He certainly didn’t understand it. The slip of paper was still in his coat pocket, and he relaxed.

The morning was beautiful, with frost and snow glinting in the pale light and mist like the breath of the earth rising from the white ground. Dominic saw hoofprints but no sign of a cart on the road’s snowy surface. Taking the road was longer than traveling across the fields, but he didn’t want to risk the shorter route when he had no idea how much snow would impede him.

How unreal the mist was, winding through the bare trees. Dominic took a deep breath, enjoying the sharp coldness of the air.

A light breeze ruffled a dead leaf on the ground and disturbed the mist that obscured the road ahead. A stab of fear made Dominic stop. Now he could see faint strands of magic crossing the road like a spiderweb between two stands of trees.

He moved a few steps closer. The web completely blocked the road, but he could easily bypass it by stepping off the road itself. He could, because he could see it. Anyone else would go through.

And what would happen then? What was the web’s purpose? If he were doing such a thing, invisible to all but himself, it would not be to block the road. That would make no sense. It might, however, be a way to tell if someone had passed.

The hoofprints continued on down the road, past the web. Either the horse and rider had gone through before it was put up, or the web was looking for someone in particular. Dominic considered going through himself, just to see what would happen, but decided against it. After his recent indisposition, he did not know what his sensitivity was.

He glanced to either side of the road. The bare trees did not offer much in the way of concealment. Whoever built the web must have some other way of knowing when the trap was sprung.

Dominic turned and retraced his steps. He would try the other, longer road to Baranton. Trap. Why had he used that term? Well, what other purpose could such a thing be put to? Perhaps he was unreasonably paranoid after Ardhuin’s letter and revelation of danger.

The other road also had a web. It had to use a fencepost on one side and was more uneven, but it still blocked the road. A vehicle could not leave her house without meeting one of the webs.

Half-running, Dominic made a tour of the path to his cottage, and around the garden walls and carriage house. No webs.

He went inside the house, still marveling at how the wards flowed around him, and found Ardhuin.

She heard him out with a thoughtful frown. “Were they there when you went with Michel?”

He shook his head. “I could have gone around them, but I didn’t know what else might be ahead. It’s strange they didn’t place them closer to your house, though, if they are looking for you.”

“It is considered very dangerous to work offensive magic on a magician’s home ground,” Ardhuin said in a quiet voice. “They usually have many defenses in place, and attempting to find them could also alert the magician. I’ve set some traps myself,” she added, with a quick grin. “They haven’t been stupid enough to trigger them, though.”

“A pity,” Dominic said. “I wonder why are they doing this now? They suspect this house, clearly, but why have they waited to take direct action?”

Ardhuin collapsed into a chair, slouching down in her favorite thinking position. “It must be connected to the reason Gutrune wrote to me. Preusa’s worried about something, and these people don’t want me interfering with it.” She sat up with a jerk, looking frightened. “The letter arrived only two days ago! Can they have known Gutrune was sending it?”

“It is possible,” Dominic said, trying to evaluate the ramifications of Ardhuin’s careless expression Preusa’s worried about something. It made it sound as if this were a problem with political origins. No wonder she was distressed. “We really don’t have enough information. If this problem came up suddenly, both sides could have taken action at the same time without knowing the other’s plans.”

“Coincidence, you mean.” She sat back again and gave him a thoughtful glance. “Very well, we can’t know if they are connected. My unknown adversaries appear to wish to keep me from going to Preusa. What do they think I would find there that would hinder them?”

Dominic held up the telegram message. “What you were seeking with this. More information, and assistance. Perhaps we should go to Preusa in person. If they are watching, any message we send might be intercepted.”

Ardhuin shrank down in her chair, looking unhappy. “Go there?”

“Yes, of course. It is a long way to a cold place, but I don’t see much alternative, do you?”

Her long fingers wrapped and twisted around each other. “I can’t—I don’t like to travel. They will all be strangers there except for Gutrune, and besides, I don’t speak any Preusan. It would be better for them to come here, anyway, and—”

“I speak Preusan,” Dominic interrupted. “Benefit of a university education. Pray make use of it.”

“You’re not coming with me!” Ardhuin cried, her face full of horror.

“But—”

“They’re only after me! You have no reason to be concerned in any of this.”

“If they are after you, I have a very good reason to be concerned,” Dominic protested. “And I’m already involved,” he pointed out, seeing her still-troubled expression. “For all we know, they’ve seen me here. I can help you. Why won’t you let me?”

“I have already harmed you enough,” Ardhuin said so faintly he could barely hear her. “If—if I go to Preusa and get help, will that content you? Will you leave then? It would be too dangerous here without someone to renew the wards.”

“No, I am not going to abandon you when you are still being threatened,” Dominic said, irritated. “Do you really have such a low opinion of me? That I would run away just when you need help?”

Ardhuin clasped her hands together and gazed down at them. “I’m afraid for you. I’d feel terrible if anything happened to you because of me.” She was silent for a moment, then continued with great reluctance, as if the words were dragged out of her. “I know you are already involved. I just didn’t want to…make you do anything you didn’t want to do.”

“I understand, and I do want to help you—so now that we’ve taken care of that little formality, what do we do next? How are we going to get to Preusa without alerting anyone?”

Ardhuin sighed and rubbed at her face. “There are mules less stubborn than you,” she grumbled. Dominic said nothing, suspecting that she had acquiesced to the idea of the trip and his company. He did not want to change this promising beginning. “The road to town is too busy for the spells to be looking at everything. I imagine regular baggage would escape notice. We can have Michel pick up anything too heavy for us to carry and take it to the station ahead of time.”

“And we can go on foot across the fields, avoiding the detection spells.”

Ardhuin shifted. “I can. You should go the way you usually do. The farther I get from the house, the more likely they can detect me. I will go another way, over Ankou’s Bones. We can meet in town.”

Dominic suppressed a shudder, thinking of the dark hill. “Why?”

She stared at him. “You saw how magic works there. No detection web would last a minute in that environment, and any scrying strong enough to get through, I would notice. They won’t be that careless. I’ll go at night, too. They’ll never see me, even if they are watching.”

“No.” Dominic found himself standing in front of her, glaring down. “Absolutely not. It’s too dangerous.”

“But any other way they could find me,” Ardhuin protested.

“You are not going up there alone, especially at night.”

Now she was standing too, and since she was taller she was glaring down at him. “Are you mad? It took over a month for you to recover from your last visit!”

“The point to this exercise is to get both of us, alive, to Preusa,” Dominic said, temper fraying. “How do you think I would feel if you fell in one of those open pits and hit your head, with no one about to even know you needed help? We should stay together.”

Ardhuin compressed her lips together, breathing heavily, then turned and went to the library window. She stood there for some time, saying nothing, looking out at the garden. Dominic walked over to her.

“I don’t understand how you can even consider exposing yourself to the ley lines again,” she said. She didn’t sound angry, and he felt a surge of relief. She sounded simply puzzled.

“It is a risk,” admitted Dominic. It puzzled him that he was so adamant. “We were up on the hill almost two hours, as I recall.”

“More,” Ardhuin said, grimacing. “You were not noticing things very well at the end.”

Dominic waved this away. “My point being, I was exposed for a considerable time. If we move quickly over the shortest path, how long would it take?”

A quick flash of a smile. “Less than two hours. But we’ll have to skip the picnic,” she said mournfully.

Dominic laughed. “Another time, perhaps. Do you agree?”

Ardhuin looked out the window again and sighed. “I still don’t like it. But I suppose there are no good choices here.”

They packed. Dominic had very little, but Ardhuin had several books, and leather cases in strange shapes. They pulled down two big trunks from the storage room. After a careful scrying, Ardhuin used magic to move them to the port-cochère.

She insisted on waiting another two days, which brought them to the dark of the moon. They left the house well after midnight, carrying the luggage Ardhuin deemed too valuable or magical to risk to the carter.

“This way,” Ardhuin whispered. She led the way in the darkness past the now-empty plinths of the marble statues and into the circular enclosure beyond.

She put down her bag and stepped over to the strange sundial in the middle.

“What are you doing?” he asked, in the same low tone she had used.

“If I can get this to work, it will make things much easier for you. It’s a ley line observatory.”

Dominic looked down at the barely visible stone circle. The crystal posts glinted faintly in the dark.

“I thought ley lines were everywhere,” he whispered.

“The strong ones aren’t,” Ardhuin whispered back. “And they move. Usually with the moon, which is another reason I wanted to wait.”

With his other sight, Dominic saw the magic start to flow from Ardhuin about the stone dial, looking as if it were probing for entry. Then it was in, and the crystals glowed with contained magic.

“That should do it. Look up,” Ardhuin said softly.

The enclosure now had a dome of magic, and across the surface he could just make out faint lines, rough and wide, that converged in the same direction as the hill.

The magic faded, and darkness returned.

“It’s a good thing I checked,” Ardhuin said, leading the way out. “That big strong line is right over the path I was going to use. You would have been heavily exposed. This way,” she said softly, as they clambered up the steep hill. The path was different from the one they had used to find the boy.

The darkness was thick, like felt, absorbing even the slightest light. Sometimes Ardhuin had to summon tiny little glowing lights, magical fireflies, that skimmed the ground before them so they could see their way.

“Won’t this take more time?” Dominic asked, panting. They seemed to be going almost over the top, and he was already tiring.

“It’s the clearest way. Any other path would bring us across a ley line. Are you feeling the effects?”

He could see the darker shadow ahead of him, could tell her head was turned towards him.

“I can see more,” he said. “It’s starting.” The magical light actually helped; Ardhuin no longer needed to conjure fireflies for him. Any fatigue he felt was overcome by fear and the need to get away from the hill as soon as he could.

So many rocks, so many steep inclines. They had to lift their bags ahead, then clamber after them. Every time he took Ardhuin’s hand, he steeled himself against any overwhelming sensation, but it remained bearable. For now. No doubt it helped that they both wore gloves. The touch of skin would—no, he shouldn’t think of that.

How long had they been climbing? At last the slope changed, but now it was steeply downhill instead of up, and Dominic discovered this simply made it easier to fall. He had to climb backwards, chafing at the slowness of their progress, but he could not risk injury.

His hands were cold even through his gloves, and the length of the greatcoat kept getting in his way. Every spare moment, he strained to see Ardhuin. He could hear her, her labored breathing, the slip of her foot on loose gravel, the thump of the valise she carried when she shifted it to climb.

What was driving her? What secret could force her to undertake such a dangerous journey, when even she did not know what waited at the other end?

His foothold shifted as he transferred his weight, and before he could shift, he found himself falling, slamming hard against a boulder before coming to rest against a bush with hard, sharp twigs.

“Dominic!” Ardhuin screamed in a whisper. “Where are you? Are you hurt?”

He moved cautiously. “Just bruised, I think. Where…oh.” He could see her outline against the sky, even some strands of curling hair that had escaped from her exertions. Of course she was wearing that damnable hat, so he couldn’t see the curve of her cheek, the….

Dominic drew a sharp breath, his heart hammering. “Perhaps you should stay there. It isn’t light yet, is it?”

“No, it’s still pitch dark.”

He got gingerly to his feet, wincing when he put his full weight on them. His right leg did not feel at all well. “I need to get off this hill immediately,” he gritted through clenched teeth, hobbling forward. He carefully bent to pick up his bag.

“It’s not much farther. Let me help you, you’re limping.”

“No!” He stumbled backwards, away from her approach, and nearly fell again. “That…would not be a good idea.”

“Oh.” Ardhuin hesitated, shifting her feet, then started down the hill again, looking behind her every few steps to see if he was following. He wasn’t sure if she could see anything, but she stopped after only a short distance. “If you don’t move, I’ll come and get you,” she said.

Dominic forced himself into motion, ignoring the small voice that urged him to stay still and wait for her, to let her get closer. Instead, he used it to motivate himself to follow as quickly as he could.

His leg was stiff and sore, making it excruciatingly painful to climb down. He almost collapsed with relief when Ardhuin found a real path the rest of the way. It still hurt to walk, but he was not in constant danger of falling again.

The path eventually led to open countryside and fields edged in hedgerows. He realized there was a distinct brightening on one edge of the horizon. It wasn’t entirely magic he was seeing by, now.

Dominic took a deep breath. The air was cool and clear but not intoxicating, carrying the scent of the outdoors and nothing else. Perhaps he had escaped the worst effects.

Ardhuin was waiting for him, the veiling of the hated hat pulled back. He realized he was staring at her and decided he had not escaped the effects of the ley lines as completely as he had thought. Every detail of her face, the line of her jaw, the way her lips curved, fascinated him. He could gaze forever and never tire.

She was looking at him with an expression of concern.

“How do you feel?”

“Very well,” Dominic lied, his voice constrained. “My leg is a trifle sore, but nothing to signify.”

“I’m going to try some magic,” she said. “You must tell me if you have any adverse reaction to it.”

He closed his eyes, resolved not to say a word even if it was agony, but he couldn’t help twitching when he felt the power touch him. It did feel uncomfortable, in a too-tight, wool-on-skin itchy way, but it was bearable.

He opened his eyes and saw a little old country woman in front of him, shoulders bent with age. Her face was as wrinkled as a withered apple and what he could see of her hair under a black bonnet was snow white, but her eyes were bright and sky blue. She carried a large wicker basket covered by a checkered napkin.

That was what his regular sight told him was there. In the same place, hidden by magic, was the greater height of Ardhuin, as straight as the old woman was bent. He glanced down, staring in wonder. Instead of the greatcoat he wore a patched wool jacket. He extended his arms and saw rough, twisted hands, one holding a hamper that had exactly the same weight as his bag. He touched one hand with the other and felt his own smooth skin.

“How do you do that?” Dominic asked in awe.

“I’ve always been able to do illusion,” Ardhuin croaked. The old woman’s face creased deeper with a smile. “It comes naturally to me. We should keep moving. Now that it is light, they might notice us standing here and become suspicious.”

Well. If they were being watched, they should act their parts. Dominic took a deep breath and offered the old woman the support of his own aged arm.

Ardhuin took it, carefully, and they continued on to Baranton, just visible in the distance.

“I hope you do not mind the inconvenience,” she said in her creaky old-woman’s voice.

“I have always wanted adventure,” Dominic replied. His voice sounded the same as always to him.

Ardhuin smothered a laugh.

The next stage of their trip, by train, was decidedly more ordinary. Dominic was glad to be able to sit and let his injured leg rest, although Ardhuin had mentioned his limp added an authentic touch to his illusioned appearance as an old man.

The illusions were dropped once they were on the train to Rennes and unobserved.

“Too much iron about,” Ardhuin said with a grimace when he asked why. “I could do it if I had to, but it would take a great deal of effort to no purpose.” She spoke very low, and Dominic did not dare ask any of the remaining questions he had. To conserve funds, they traveled in the second class compartment, which became more and more crowded the closer the train got to the capital.

When they got to Rennes they visited Ardhuin’s bank, then started on the journey to Gaul. They still needed to get visas for travel to Preusa, but they decided it would be safer to obtain them in Parys.

At the border between Gaul and Bretagne, Ardhuin performed another minor illusion, on their passports, to support the story of their assumed identities as cousins traveling for pleasure. After making sure Dominic did not show up in the list of licensed magicians, the officials examining the passports did not raise any objections. Considering the soldiers on both sides of the border, Dominic was quite glad.

“You could do the same for the visas,” Dominic murmured when they were back on the train and their compartment was temporarily empty. “We wouldn’t have to risk going to the consulate.”

“I have to know what they look like first,” she pointed out. She seemed worried. “Are there always so many soldiers at the border?”

Dominic had never had the means to travel before, so he could not say. “I imagine every country with a border with Gaul guards it well, considering their history,” Dominic pointed out. She nodded, but looked even more worried.

More people returned and could be seen in the corridor, and she lowered the veil on the shadow hat. Dominic sighed. She was right to be cautious, he knew. But he had the feeling she would have done the same thing if her life were not in danger.

Their compartment filled up again, restricting their conversation. Ardhuin seemed disinclined to talk, so he looked out the window at the dreary winter countryside. Occasionally, the ruins of a war-torn town interrupted the view. One still had a pale, flickering glow of magic about the shattered walls, and Dominic shuddered, feeling ill. This had been the scene of some of the major battles of the Mage War, and Gaul still had not completely recovered. He wondered what the spell had been, and how it could possibly still be active more than thirty years after the war had ended.

Wrenching his gaze away, Dominic took out his writing materials and got to work. It would take his mind away from the depressing view outside.

More importantly, he needed to be productive—and to produce something more profitable than his previous stories if he were ever to hope to support a wife. Undoubtedly, that would be the first question her father would ask. He’d already sent a letter to an acquaintance at the Université Dinan, asking if he knew a biologist named Andrews who had worked in Yunwiya and how to contact him. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

The trip was long. They arrived in Parys too late to attempt any business. In fact, they were lucky to find rooms at a tiny, unpretentious hotel near the station.

The noise of arriving and departing travelers and a lumpy mattress prevented Dominic from getting much sleep, but eventually he dozed off. He woke with a start, suddenly aware that light was visible behind the age-browned paper shades of his window.

He rushed to get dressed, wondering why Ardhuin had not woken him. He tapped at the door of her room, but there was no response. He began to really worry. What if something had happened to her? He went back to his room, wondering what he should do, and saw a piece of paper on the floor inside just as he stepped on it.

I must run an errand, the note said. Wait for me. A.

The handwriting was familiar; the same he had seen in his gardening instructions. Waiting, he had time enough to come up with a number of horrific possibilities for her sudden departure, and since he dared not leave for fear of missing her return, hunger was soon added to his difficulties. The minutes dragged by. At least she had left a note.

A soft knock on his door propelled him from his chair to open it, and he sagged in relief to see Ardhuin standing there.

“Where did you go?” he said in an urgent undervoice. “I would have been glad to go with you.”

She shrugged. “I wanted to go early, before the crowds start. Just…something I wanted to get here.” Dominic could not see her face because of the magical shadows, but he had learned enough of her voice to make him suspect she was not being completely truthful. “I found a directory listing the consulates at the hotel desk,” she said. “Are you ready?”

Parys, being the capital, was in better repair than the towns they had passed through on the way. Dominic took it in with delight. His primary worry now relieved, he could revel in the unaccustomed sensation of being a traveler. With every recognized landmark or famous building, his satisfaction increased. A small stall on their way provided him with breakfast in the form of a sweet roll, as well as a newspaper.

Ardhuin was less interested, even though she, too, had never been to Parys before. She seemed tense, especially if they encountered people on their way.

“You are concerned they may have followed us?” he asked in a quiet tone. “They would have to be desperate indeed to attack in daylight, in public, especially here. The laws against unsanctioned magic are quite severe.”

“A pity they didn’t have those laws before Guedoc came to power,” Ardhuin said, but his words appeared to have cheered her a little. “Look, there’s the consulate. They don’t really require a sign, do they? Those uniforms are identification enough.”

The guards were indeed resplendently uniformed in the bright blue of Preusa. Although not many sought entry, the limited hours meant that several individuals waited with them.

Dominic checked his documents to make sure Ardhuin’s earlier illusion had been removed, and waited. They retained the ‘cousin’ story, despite Ardhuin’s foreign last name. Dominic claimed to be escorting her on an impulsive side trip to visit an old school friend. The consular official asked an impressive list of questions, the answers to which were carefully noted down.

Visas were reluctantly granted, although they were stringently warned about the consequences of violating any of the numerous regulations concerning the importation of forbidden devices or substances.

“I wonder why they were so nervous, not to mention suspicious,” said Ardhuin after they had left the consulate. “Bretagne and Preusa have always been friendly, and they were allied with Atlantea during our Liberation.”

“There are rumors of tensions between Preusa and Ostri,” Dominic said, indicating the newspaper. “They are probably worried that Gaul may try to take advantage of any trouble. I doubt they were concerned about us.”

It was a fine, clear day, but a chill breeze kept all but the hardiest indoors. With the delay in getting their visas, they would not be able to leave for Preusa until the next morning. As they wandered about the city, Dominic tried in vain to interest Ardhuin in any of the couturier's establishments they encountered. The only shops he could persuade her to enter were those selling books.

He stifled a small sigh, abandoning his never-robust first plan for the removal of the shadow hat, but soon forgot his disappointment scanning the shelves.

He looked up and found Ardhuin absorbed in a thick, leather-bound book with color plates.

“It’s a new translation of La Travaille de Fayre, with illustrations by Monterillo,” she said, showing him. “This was my favorite book when I was small; I must have read it fifty times. We would take turns playing the Mortal Champion beset by the monsters of Elfhame, my brothers and I. We had a large dog named Wiggins that was coal black, too, and would have been just like the hellhounds if he had not been friendly to a fault. A pity I must conserve my funds for the trip,” she said regretfully, and replaced the book on the shelf.

She stepped to view the next section and Dominic moved back to make room, bumping into a tall, thin man with a handlebar moustache standing behind him. Dominic apologized, but the man merely nodded and left the store without saying anything.

When they left the shop, it was already beginning to get dark. Dominic looked at his watch. “Why don't we have dinner at one of the cafés? There was one not too far from the hotel, if I recall.”

Ardhuin sighed. “I've had enough of crowds for a while. Let's go back to our rooms instead.”

“There won't be that many people this early. At least give it a try—they might even have music.”

Reluctantly, Ardhuin agreed.

The food was excellent, and the music lively and well played. This was somewhat unfortunate, in Dominic's view, because the café was thus quite popular and began to fill up shortly after their arrival. Despite his care in choosing a table in a sheltered nook, out of view of most of the room, he could see Ardhuin getting more and more tense and unhappy as the lively crowd increased. Finally, he realized this was only increasing her dislike of being around people, and they made their way out into the night.

“I think that street leads to our hotel. Through the park, there.” She tugged at his arm.

He smiled a bit ruefully. “You really are eager to get away, aren't you?” When she did not immediately reply, he said, “I'm sorry. I thought you would like it.”

“It was just the people,” she said carefully. “It isn't—”

Out of a pool of darkness beside them, a figure suddenly appeared. He lunged out at Ardhuin, grabbing her from behind and jamming a pistol under her chin. “Hold it there, mage!” the man snarled at Dominic, holding Ardhuin as a shield between them. “Twitch a finger and she gets it!”

Dominic froze, more in utter confusion than in obedience. He thinks I’m the mage, he realized, just as a bright flash of magic settled over their attacker and he froze, mouth open to give some new command that never came.

“What was that?” Dominic said, once the shock of realizing the weapon and the attacker were real had worn off. Ardhuin made hushing motions and looked about the park. With the exception of themselves and the immobilized man, the park was deserted and dark. Struggling to extricate herself from the man’s rigid grasp, she dislodged something that fell from his pocket. Ardhuin picked it up and glanced at it curiously. It was a false handlebar moustache.

Dominic stared at it, the connections forming rapidly in his mind. The man from the bookshop. He could see the resemblance now. But why had he been following them?

Ardhuin took his arm and continued walking as if nothing had occurred to interrupt them. When they reached the park gate, she said, “He can still hear and see in that state, and the less he knows about me the better. For all he knows, there was a second magician behind him that he didn’t notice.”

Dominic decided he did not like the sound of this. “So why are we just leaving, instead of going to the police? What did you do to him, anyway? It isn't permanent, is it?”

“A kind of vital stasis. It will last long enough for someone to find him standing there with a pistol, and that will be sufficient for the police to be summoned without involving us. Besides the inevitable delay, it would create precisely the type of attention we need to avoid.”

“What if he gets away before the police come?”

“We should be well on our way by then, and I doubt he will be looking for us. The after-effects of vital stasis can last for days if no special precautions are taken.”

“There's bound to be some interest in a magical incident like that. Especially here.”

“I know.” She sighed. “We'll just have to hope it won't attract the wrong kind of notice—and that he was working alone.”

Dominic didn’t believe that any more than Ardhuin seemed to. Her instinct of avoiding crowds now appeared to make excellent sense to him.

“We need to talk,” Dominic said as quietly as he could. The Parys Champs de Nord station was not very crowded at this early hour, but the swirling mist and pools of shadow cast by the bright philogiston lights were perfect for hiding in. For once, he had no objection to Ardhuin wearing the magical hat.

She nodded, a sharp, quick motion of her head that did not interrupt her careful watch as they waited. “On the train,” she said. “Take the first empty compartment.”

She took her seat on the end nearest the corridor, and glancing quickly up and down, cast her spell. Dominic watched, fascinated, as the illusion took form. He had not seen her cast his own illusion earlier, just felt it. Now their compartment appeared almost completely full, including the master stroke of a woman with two small children. Every passenger who looked in quickly went further down the corridor of the carriage.

“You are quite good at this,” Dominic said, impressed.

She ducked her head, waving her hand to dismiss his praise.

“I would do it sometimes when I had to travel. It’s an old trick.”

“What are you going to do when the conductor comes for the tickets?” he asked.

She laughed. “They won’t be there anymore. All the real passengers will have taken their seats, so we won’t need the illusion. It’s harder to keep it going when the train picks up speed, anyway.”

He was intrigued. “Why is that?”

Ardhuin tilted her head to one side. “I’m not sure. I think it has something to do with the iron in the wheels rotating. The closer you get to the engine, the stronger the effect, which makes me suspect the mechanical motion creates an interfering force.”

Dominic examined his illusionary companions more carefully when the train began to move. They were not as sharply delineated as they had been at first; he could see very small vibrations, like little shivers, in the illusion’s magic. The fat man sitting next to him was immersed in a newspaper, but he could not read anything other than the title.

Ardhuin dissolved the illusion as soon as she glimpsed the conductor in the passage, and when he had gone, she shifted her place to be opposite Dominic, next to the window.

She sat stiffly in her seat, her gloved hands clasping each other tightly, twisting. While the shadow-hat hid her face, the veiling was drawn tight enough to show her distinctive jawline and to let one bright red tendril escape. He took a deep breath. “I need more information about what’s going on. What you know, what you can tell me,” he added hastily, seeing her hands start to twist even more with agitation. “There is something about seeing a weapon pointed in one’s direction that makes one nervous. I expected any attack to be magical. But this is in some ways worse. Despite all our efforts, your enemies have been able to make another attempt on you. Either we were followed, or they have people watching places such as the stations and the consulate. Both possibilities suggest whatever is going on is not some personal vendetta between mages, but…politics.” He had not forgotten her casual mention of Preusa itself as a concerned party, and he could see his words had an effect. Her hands had stilled.

Ardhuin sighed, as if resigned. “I’m not certain, but I think it has to do with the Mage War,” she said quietly.

Yes, that would qualify as politics. “That was thirty years ago—before you were born! Why on earth would anyone want to kill you now? Was your great-uncle involved?”

“Extensively.” Her voice was dry. “We were very close, but there were some things about that time he would not tell me. We forget, I think, what a horrific shock it was when war magic was used so heavily. And what the Gaulan mages did at Guedoc’s direction—no one wants to think about that, even now.”

“No.” Dominic shuddered. So many dead, and some worse than that. Enslaved by magic.

She sighed again, and her whole body seemed to slump. “From what he did tell me, it was much, much worse than is commonly known. You must promise never to speak of what I am about to tell you, or even hint about it in your stories.”

Dominic nodded slowly. “I promise.”

She looked out the window at the passing scenery for a while, then continued. “The Allies came very close to losing,” she said bluntly. “Very close. The only reason for their success was the concerted efforts of a group of mages, the best of their respective countries. Mages tend to be reluctant to work together; such close cooperation was unprecedented. It was the only thing that saved them, and the governments involved, who knew what could have happened if they had failed, were determined a danger like Guedoc would never happen again. The temporary arrangement was made permanent, and a compact made between all of what were then called the 'Mage Guardians.' If any similar threat appeared, they or their heirs would come together and stop it.” She looked at him. “My great-uncle was one of those mages—under the name Oron.”

He closed his eyes, thinking furiously. “And you inherited more than the house at Peran from him, is that it?”

“Precisely. Everyone in the family knew he was a magician, but only a few knew to what extent. None of them know I am his heir-magical.”

“Well, it's usually more ceremonial, isn't it? Who gets to use what device on banners, and so on. Or finishing obligations of a magical nature.”

She nodded. “Yes. The obligation of the compact is in aeturnam, binding on yourself and your heir. The letter that Gutrune sent me said she had urgent need to contact the heir of the mage Oron, and she thought I might know who that might be. How she figured that out—” she shook her head, puzzled. “Of course, she didn't say what the problem was, but given the nature of the compact, it isn't likely to be pleasant.”

He felt himself growing cold. “Preusa has plenty of their own magicians, even mage level. The best ars magica university is in Baerlen. Why do they want you?”

“They may send me back as soon as I get there,” she said in a resigned voice, shrugging. “There will be at least four other high-level mages showing up. When they realize the heir of Oron is female, they may refuse to let me do anything.”

It was plausible, and he felt himself relax. Ardhuin would not be placed in any more danger and would be surrounded by people who could deal with the threat to her life. Once it was taken care of, they could return to Bretagne. The frozen landscape flashed by the window. “The person who wrote you, Gutrune? How well do you know her?” he asked, finally.

Ardhuin seemed relieved at the change of topic. “We went to the same school. She is Preusan, and went into the government after she left. The others didn’t like her much either, so we were natural allies. Not only did they take exception to my appearance, but many Aeropans think Atlanteans are barely civilized. Gutrune is very intelligent and observant—but she didn't advertise this at school.” Ardhuin frowned. “I suppose I should send a telegram when we stop in Koeln. A real visitor would do that, letting her know when to expect me.”

“Do you think she will be surprised that you are coming? That is, does she know you are the heir?”

Ardhuin shook her head. “I never could tell how much she knew. She never gave anything away.”

They arrived in Koeln without incident and proceeded on their journey early the next day. After several hours they crossed a dark, ice-rimmed river, and the train pulled into a busy station.

“Haagen,” said Dominic, reading from the schedule. “A number of the rail lines intersect here.”

Ardhuin was unimpressed. “More people wanting to get on and off, and more delay. We should have left fifteen minutes ago.” She glanced casually at the platform, then gasped. “They've unloaded our luggage!”

“What?”

“Look—that green trunk. And your portmanteau beside it.”

He reached for the compartment door’s handle. “There must have been a mistake with all the changes. I'll go and tell them.” No sooner had he opened the door than a conductor accompanied by three soldiers appeared in the corridor, blocking his way.

“Herr Kermarec, Fraülein Andrews? Come with me.”

“What is going on?” protested Dominic. “Why is our luggage being taken off?”

“If you will come, all will be explained. You must leave the train.”

Dominic’s first fear was that the man in the park had been found and traced to them. Ardhuin gave him a worried look, but he dared not say anything in front of the soldiers. He and Ardhuin gathered their belongings and left the compartment.

They were barely a moment on the platform, which was partly obscured by clouds of steam, when the train pulled away. They waited in silence, the soldiers alert beside them, and then another train took its place. Unlike the one they had arrived on, it had no lettering denoting the line or placard indicating the destination. There were only two carriages behind the locomotive.

One of the soldiers swung himself up to the cabin of the locomotive; the others remained behind Dominic and Ardhuin as the conductor indicated they should board. Exchanging speculative glances, they did so, followed by the remaining soldier, who closed the carriage door and stood outside on guard.

The interior was furnished as a sitting room, and in luxurious style. Thick carpets, carefully selected to harmonize with the wall hangings, covered the floor, and crystal lustres hung from the central light. They swayed gently as the train moved away from the station and steadily increased its speed.

A door at the rear of the parlor opened to admit a tall, stern-visaged Preusan officer. “Grüssen, Herr Magus Kermarec. I am Major von der Kleist,” he said, in accented Gaulan. He glanced at Ardhuin. “If the lady would retire to her compartment, there is sensitive information that must be discussed.”

Dominic and Ardhuin exchanged glances.

“Er, I am not…that is, I believe Mademoiselle Andrews is the proper person for you to speak with,” Dominic said, hesitating at von der Kleist’s stony expression.

“This is to be amusing, yes? I am told your predecessor also did not have always proper behavior.”

A choked snort came from Ardhuin, who was carefully pulling back the veil of her hat.

She bit her lip, then said in a halting voice, “I should explain—my great-uncle made me—”

The major interrupted her. “Please to leave at once! These are matters of the most importance. I do not understand why you bring her here, she is an inconvenience.” He turned an increasingly deep shade of red and glared at Dominic.

Seeing her distress, Dominic gave Ardhuin a reassuring smile. “It was going to happen sooner or later,” he said to her. “Once he’s convinced, there will be much less trouble.” She gave a tremulous nod, looking very unhappy. Dominic sized up the irate Preusan officer and wondered if this could have been any worse.

“Major von der Kleist, I assure you we are not having a joke at your expense. The situation is a serious one, is it not? Despite the apparent irregularity, I must insist you conduct your business with Mademoiselle Andrews.”

The major’s jaw became even more pronounced, but he said nothing. He extended a folder to Dominic that had a large, multicolored seal on it, bright with magic.

“Please believe me, Major. I can’t open that,” Dominic said, grasping for patience.

“Do you mean to say you gave misleading information, saying you were—” the major, with an effort, changed what he was going to say, “a mage of great power?”

“I have never given anyone to understand I was a magician of any sort or degree,” Dominic snapped. “She, however, is.”

The major’s eyes bulged, and he strode angrily towards the carriage door. Dominic was in his path, and when he refused to move, the major raised his fist.

Dominic tensed, but a flash of magic froze the major in place before the blow fell. Dominic raised his eyebrows at Ardhuin, who went red with embarrassment.

“He wasn’t listening,” she said helplessly. “You did try.”

“Yes, I tried.” Dominic sighed.

Ardhuin went up to the enraged, frozen major and gingerly took the folder from his hand. She studied the seal, then lightly ran her fingers over it. “Hmm. They did an impressive job on this. Take a look—you won't see this very often.”

The magic was intricately crafted, different types woven through one another in a way that told Dominic that undoing the protections without activating the overlaying spell of destruction would be quite difficult.

He watched as she laid the folder on the table, then carefully began to deactivate the seal. It was precise, delicate work, and several minutes passed before she let out a breath and sat down on one of the upholstered seats to examine the contents.

“I presume your telegram was responsible for all this,” Dominic said.

She looked up. “I certainly hope so. It had better not be the incident in the park! I doubt we would get the royal treatment for unlicensed magical discharge within city limits, however.” She thumbed through the papers. “Current political situation? Initial schedule? What is this, and why did he make such a fuss about it? It looks just like what you read in the newspaper.”

“Is there some way you can let him talk, at least? He may know more.”

Ardhuin looked at the major, face immobile in eye-bulging fury, and frowned thoughtfully. “I suppose I’ll have to.”

She did not remove the immobility from anywhere but his head, which Dominic considered a very wise decision. Released from stasis, the Major gave vent to a stream of extremely impolite Preusan, which a quick, worried glance at Ardhuin's face told Dominic she fortunately did not understand. When at last the major had calmed himself to the point where he could rant in Gaulan, he seemed to have accepted the reality of the situation. At least to the point of refraining from profanity.

“She really is the proper person to read those documents,” Dominic assured him, seeing him still looking furious.

“Then how is it you are here?” asked the major, determined to get to the bottom of everything.

“I am her assistant,” Dominic improvised. The major appeared to mull this over.

“What is so important in all this that justified such a powerful seal?” asked Ardhuin, puzzled, holding up the papers. “The increase in tension between Preusa and Ostri is common knowledge, and the rest of it….” She shrugged dismissively.

“I was told nothing, but ordered to deliver the packet to the mage traveling from Bretagne, and to give any assistance necessary,” he said stolidly.

Ardhuin rolled her eyes. “How very helpful,” she said dryly.