“You’ll want to make yourself scarce while I talk to the authorities back home, dear fellow,” Piercy said over breakfast the next morning. “I don’t dare use the public communication network for a thing like this.”
“I thought Miss— I might take my sister shopping for a new dress,” Evon said. He laid his napkin down and squared his knife and fork across his plate. “What with our luggage mishap and all.”
“Oh,” Piercy said. “Of course. Miss...Lorantis shouldn’t have to wear that old thing forever.”
“You shouldn’t worry about my clothes, brother,” Kerensa said, glaring at Evon. “I don’t want to be a burden on your pocketbook. This dress is just fine.”
“No one will believe I let my sister go out in public in a dress that clearly wasn’t made for her.”
“I didn’t think I’d be going out in public much, since I’ll be assisting you with your studies.”
“That won’t last forever, will it?” He stood and offered her his hand. “Shall we go?”
“I may not be here when you return,” Piercy said, pushing his chair back from the table. “I intend to make a tour of this fair city and ascertain that our dear friends won’t come upon us unawares. Good luck in your studies, Evon. Miss...Lorantis.” He bowed to Kerensa and left the dining room.
“I was serious about you not spending money on me,” Kerensa said under her breath as she wrapped her cloak around herself. “I don’t want a new dress.”
“And I was serious about you not looking much like my sister in that thing,” Evon retorted in the same tone. “I would think you’d be happy to be rid of it. It doesn’t look comfortable, what with it dragging at the hem like that.”
They exited the inn, Kerensa holding her skirts high to keep them clear of the mud of the inn yard. The air was clear and cold and smelled of new snow and salt brine and, to Evon, of Kerensa’s smoky scent. Across the street from the inn, half-timbered shops did a busy trade in housewares, tobacco, books, and spices, and the jingling three-toned sound of an apothecary’s bell rang out constantly. The inn stood at the top of a gentle slope, and to the west Evon could just barely see the ocean, gray-green in the winter sunlight. He offered Kerensa his arm, and after a moment’s fumbling with her heavy skirts, she accepted it and they crossed the street, dodging carriages and a horsewoman who sneered down at them.
They walked down the street in silence for a while, Evon looking at the shops, Kerensa looking at the ground, until Kerensa said, “I’d rather not spend money on something that’ll probably just be destroyed.”
Evon glanced at her. The curve of her cheek was all that was visible of her face. She had left her kerchief behind, saying that it made her look too much the country girl to be seen walking around with Evon in his frock coat and top hat, and her dark blonde hair was pinned neatly at the base of her neck. She’d need a bonnet, too, he reflected, though it seemed a shame to cover up that hair. Her voice was back to being toneless and dull. Without thinking, he said, “You could always take it off before you go.”
Her head snapped up. “What?”
“It would save on having to buy new clothing all the time. And it’s not as if you’d have to worry about what the person thinks of you.” His mouth was operating independently of his brain, which was screaming at him to shut up, what are you thinking, you’re insulting her and you need her to trust you. Kerensa’s eyes were wide and her mouth hung slightly open. Evon smiled at her; he was sure his smile looked insane.
Then she laughed. It was such an unexpected sound, warm and rich and deeply amused, that Evon stopped in the middle of the street and gaped at her, releasing her arm. “Take it off,” she said. “I can’t believe you just said that to me.”
“I apologize—I don’t know what I was thinking—”
“I’m not used to this, having someone else share this secret. You don’t see it the way I do.”
“I assure you, I didn’t mean—”
“That wasn’t a criticism. You genuinely believe this...curse isn’t a part of me. That it’s something I can be rid of. All I’ve known since this started is despair and self-loathing because I thought it was something I was doing. I’m tired of that feeling. I wish I could see things through your eyes.”
“Even if I suggest that you engage in public nudity?” A passerby gave them both an astonished, embarrassed glare.
“You made me laugh. I can’t remember the last time I laughed at something funny.” She took his arm again and squeezed it in a companionable way. “All right. But I’m paying for my own dress.”
“No, Miss Elltis’s expense account is paying for your dress.” They proceeded arm in arm up the street, Kerensa’s hem dragging in the mud once again.
“Who is Miss Elltis? You talk about her as if she’s something between a dread maiden aunt and a dragon.”
“That is fairly accurate, though I do have a dread maiden aunt who is not nearly so terrifying as Miss Elltis. She is my employer, though technically she’s just the senior member of my cooperative. I had to have her approval to take on this quest to find you.”
“You make it sound like you’re Alvor looking for the Dirn-Hound. I’m not sure that’s very flattering to me.”
“I don’t know that story.”
“It’s not a popular one. Alvor’s dearest friend Carall was killed fighting the legions of Murakot, overwhelmed and overpowered, his body lost and his soul a prisoner of the Underworld. Alvor couldn’t defeat Murakot without him, but no one knew where the gates of the Underworld were except the Dirn-Hound, which had never been captured. So Alvor went to the King of Westorn to ask his permission to hunt the Dirn-Hound on his lands, and the king of Westorn granted his request, but warned him that his heart’s desire would keep him from finding what he looked for. And Alvor found the Dirn-Hound, but every time he came near it, it was suddenly half a mile distant. He chased it across the lands of the Princess of Cambrian and the Lord Regent of Esternis, and both rulers gave him permission to cross and both told him what the king of Westorn had. Finally Alvor was tired and angry, and he sat on the grass at the top of a hill and decided it was a waste of his time. And then the Dirn-Hound stood next to him, and allowed Alvor to harness him.”
“That sounds like metaphor to me.”
“Me too. It’s not popular because people don’t like to think of Alvor as someone who had to ask permission for anything. Some versions of the story have him ordering those lords to let him pass, but I don’t think that makes much sense—if he had to order them, it means they had the power to say no, which still makes him their inferior. And my version fits better with the rest of the historical evidence, that Alvor was just a man who became great because the times demanded a hero.”
“You know a great deal about Alvorian myth. Forgive me, but you don’t speak like a barmaid.”
Kerensa shrugged. “I went to school in Taraspir for a few years, and I listened to every story of Alvor every passing storyteller could give me. All those different versions, from Alvor’s call to glory to his disappearance after killing Murakot, and the truth was somewhere in the middle—it fascinated me. I wanted to go to university in Matra to study more, which is why I was working in the tavern, to earn enough money, but that was before....” She ducked her head again, but she didn’t sound quite as despondent as she had before.
Evon cast about for something to distract her. “You come from Taraspir, then?” It was a city near Dalanine’s northern border.
She shook her head. “From Elkenhound, east of Taraspir. You won’t have heard of it. It’s not very big.”
“You’re far from home, then,” Evon said, then cursed himself. Of course she’s far from home, she’s been driven across Dalanine by a murderous spell that burns her to death every few weeks. “I’ve never been out of Matra myself, not more than half a day’s journey away, anyway,” he said. “This is the farthest I’ve ever been away from home.”
She was silent for a moment, and Evon ran through all of the possible ways his words might have sent her back into despair, but she said, “Do you have family in Matra, then?” and her voice sounded curious rather than despondent.
He laughed. “I sometimes think I have more family than any man deserves to have. My parents. My mother’s parents. My father’s married sister, her husband, and my odious cousin Jessalie. My father’s unmarried sister, my dread maiden aunt. My younger brother Goderon. And we all live together in the family home except my older sister, who had the good sense to marry and flee.”
“You still live at home?” Kerensa said, and now the twinkle was back in her eye. Evon felt a weight lift from his chest.
“I do, and you can forgo the rest of the comments I see gathering in your mind. It’s a family tradition. Everyone works to provide for the household and we all benefit from the support of the family. And truthfully, except for my Aunt Etta and the odious Jessalie, I like having my family around. I just didn’t realize how stifling they can be, without meaning it, until I made this journey. So I suppose I should thank you for opening my eyes.”
“You’re welcome. Now I want to know more about Miss Elltis.”
“There’s not much to know. She’s a talented magician, but her real skill is in administration. Elltis and Company is one of the most experienced and prestigious cooperatives in Dalanine thanks to her efforts. But she’s brusque and severe and demands a great deal from her ‘partners,’ including me.”
“Will she be angry that you didn’t find a magician at the end of your quest?”
“She wants the spell. She’ll be annoyed at the delay, but she can’t afford to fire me—I’m her top researcher and I bring the cooperative substantial sums of money from my creations. Let’s try this shop.”
The shop assistant who came to meet them concealed her distaste for Kerensa’s dress imperfectly. Evon spun out a tale of broken-down carriages and lost luggage so well that even Kerensa behaved as if it were true. It had been a long time since he’d needed that skill, and he was pleased to see he hadn’t lost it since leaving school. While Kerensa tried on dresses, he fell into a reverie involving Piercy and himself raiding the headmaster’s liquor cabinet to bribe the gatekeeper to open the gates for them after curfew. He was so distracted that he didn’t notice Kerensa had returned until she waved a hand in front of his face and said, “Gathering wool again, brother?”
He blinked and focused on her. She’d chosen a full-skirted gown in deep blue, fitted closely in the waist and bust to flatter her excellent figure. The color brought out the gold in her hair and made her too-creamy complexion seem less unnatural. She smoothed the bodice and shook out the skirts, and said, “I think this is much nicer, don’t you?”
He nodded. He was having trouble speaking. He caught the shop assistant watching him suspiciously, realized he was not looking at Kerensa in the way a brother would, and said, “It looks very nice. Miss, would you mind wrapping the old gown for us to take away? We really should return it to the kind woman who loaned it to my sister. Not her fault they’re very different shapes, yes?”
He paid for the dress and a charcoal gray bonnet, and with parcel in hand he escorted Kerensa back to the inn and their suite. “Would you mind waiting in your room for a moment?” he asked. “I have to update Miss Elltis on my progress.” His instinct was to prevent Miss Elltis from seeing Kerensa, who would look with suspicion on Evon’s motives if she knew the spell was attached to the body of an attractive young woman. Evon didn’t know why she held such a dislike for attractive young women; he only knew that Miss Elltis employed no one of that description and had rejected at least one applicant on those grounds alone.
Kerensa took the parcel from him. “I’ll see if I can’t get this mud off,” she said, “and it can be my alternative to running around naked.” Her hazel eyes twinkled at him, and once again he found himself without a ready response. He stared after her for a long moment after she’d closed the bathroom door behind her, then cleared his throat and drew up a chair in front of the small mirror over the shining parquet surface of the dressing table. He huffed on the mirror and quickly drew a pair of runes in the resulting fog. “Tifana Elltis eloqua,” he said, and the surface of the mirror fogged over completely. Eloqua tasted pleasantly of mint, strong enough that he imagined he could smell the illusory taste. He sat back in his chair and waited. He was fairly certain that Miss Elltis always delayed responding to his communication spell to remind him that she was in charge, at least nominally. He leaned back further and tilted the chair so it balanced on two legs. In school, he’d been able to keep that position up indefinitely. He took out his pocket watch.
Seventeen minutes later, the fog cleared and Miss Elltis’s face loomed out at him from the mirror. Her smooth, round cheeks were rosy, as if she’d been running, and the creases at the corners of her eyes and mouth were deeper than usual. Something had occurred to upset her. “Mr. Lorantis,” she said. Her voice, by contrast to her face, was expressionless.
Evon set his chair down on all four legs and said, “Good morning, Miss Elltis.”
“I hope you have news for me.”
“I do. I’ve located the carrier of the spell.”
“The ‘carrier’ of the spell? Are you being deliberately opaque, Mr. Lorantis?”
“No, I’m being deliberately precise, Miss Elltis.” Evon summarized the last twenty-four hours’ events, emphasizing what he’d learned about the spell and omitting the part where he’d spent her money on Kerensa’s clothing. When he was finished, Miss Elltis’s eyebrow was twitching, a tic Evon recognized as a sign that she was thinking furiously. He resisted the urge to fill her silence with more words.
“If I understand you,” she said finally, “this girl has no control over the spell.”
“Correct.”
“Which indicates that she is of no use to us in using the spell to our advantage.”
“Not in the sense that she’s a magician who can teach me the spell, true, but I can’t separate it from her, so in a different sense, she’s crucial to my understanding of it.”
Miss Elltis pursed her lips again. “You’ve made this report to Home Defense as well.”
“Mr. Faranter has, yes.”
The eyebrow twitched. “I’m inclined to tell you to leave it to them and return home.”
Evon’s jaw dropped. “Miss Elltis, we are so very close to understanding this spell—”
“Mr. Lorantis, by your own account you haven’t even begun to investigate this spell.”
“Which is why it would be foolish to give up before we’ve started.”
“Are you calling me a fool, Mr. Lorantis?”
“Of course not, Miss Elltis, I’m saying that Elltis and Company hasn’t prospered all these years by stepping aside from a challenge before fully engaging with it. I’m prepared to do whatever it takes to discover the workings of this spell. I think you know what I’m capable of. I merely want your support.”
Twitch, twitch. “I don’t like the idea of this cooperative’s resources being squandered, Mr. Lorantis. You had better be able to produce results.”
“I assure you, Miss Elltis, I am quite careful of our resources. I anticipate success very soon.”
“For your sake, Mr. Lorantis, I sincerely hope you are correct.” She cut the connection without another word.
Evon gently knocked his forehead against the dressing table. Someday, he’d be in a position to give Miss Elltis orders, and what a sweet day that would be. What could have upset her so? Well, it wasn’t his concern, and frankly, he wasn’t all that sorry to see Miss Elltis discomfited.
“I’ve caused you trouble,” Kerensa said from behind him. He turned to see her standing in the bathroom doorway, her hand on the knob.
“No, Miss Elltis delights in finding ways to cause me trouble,” he said, “and she is using that spell as a pretext. Were you listening?”
“Not on purpose. No, that’s a lie. I wanted to hear what your dragon maiden aunt sounded like. She is nasty, isn’t she?”
Evon thought he should probably take her to task for eavesdropping, but found he didn’t really mind. It wasn’t as if he’d said anything he wouldn’t have told Kerensa later. “She can be, yes. She was in a foul mood just now. Normally she’s more polite.”
“I think it’s too bad you have to put up with her. Why don’t you form your own, what did you call it, cooperative?”
“It’s hard to make a name for yourself, and I’d have to give up too much of my research to run such a thing. My hope is to gain equity in Elltis and Company and thereby gain more control. Miss Elltis has to retire someday, after all.”
“I didn’t think dragon maiden aunts ever retired. Sit in a corner and make rude noises at people, possibly.”
Evon raised his eyebrows at her. “You’re...pardon my saying, but you’re in a remarkably cheerful mood.”
She twirled in place, making the skirt flare out. “I didn’t realize what a difference clothing that fits makes. I haven’t had a comfortable dress for...is it seven months, or eight? I feel light all over.”
“If I were really your brother, I would point out that I was right and you should listen to my wisdom in future.”
“If I were really your sister, I would roll my eyes in your direction.”
“Do you suppose we could begin investigating that spell? I know I sounded dismissive, but I don’t want to disregard Miss Elltis’s instructions entirely.”
The smile left her face. “I forgot,” she said. “For a moment I forgot about it entirely.”
She looked so lost that Evon’s heart went out to her. “Let’s see if we can let you forget about it permanently,” he said, and offered her the chair he’d been sitting in.
When Piercy returned half an hour later, Kerensa was once again wreathed in blue spell-ribbons, still dark and dormant and frozen in the grip of desini cucurri. Evon was so caught up in his work that Piercy’s entrance startled him, and he dropped his pencil.
“I beg your pardon,” Piercy said, retrieving it and handing it over. “Miss—should I call you Miss Haylter when we’re alone?”
“I’d like for you to call me Kerensa, Mr. Faranter, since Evon is doing the same. It makes me feel less awkward, like I’m really among friends.”
Piercy looked a little startled, but said, “Then if we are friends you should call me Piercy. And now that we are entirely friendly, dear fellow, I think I should tell you about my day, if you’re in a position to be interrupted.”
“I lost my place when I dropped my pencil, so you might as well.” The spell-ribbons jerked and resumed their motion. “It seems the spell is ready for a rest too.”
Piercy sat on his bed and laced his fingers together in front of him. “My superiors are sending someone to take charge of Miss—Kerensa, that is.”
Evon stared. “Piercy. You promised—”
“I said I’d be at my most persuasive. It seems my most persuasive wasn’t good enough to overcome the fact that the spell is under no one’s control. You must realize how they’d feel about that.”
“What do you mean, take charge of me?” Kerensa asked. She’d clasped her hands in her lap and her knuckles were showing white.
Piercy sighed. “They weren’t forthcoming with the details. I’m afraid they don’t understand the danger of your being forced to miss your rendezvous, so to speak. Evon, you’ll have to convince them. They know I know almost nothing about magic; they think this is a simple matter of national security.”
“Should we run?” Evon asked.
Piercy blanched. “Dear fellow, aside from that being ultimately pointless because the government has virtually unlimited resources to bring to bear on finding us, it would be treason. I had the feeling, in talking to them, that the war is not going well at all and certain factions within the government have built up this spell as our salvation. How they intend to use it is anyone’s guess, but as I said, they don’t seem to understand how the spell works at all. I’ve been instructed to stay here and wait for whomever they send to...I hope not relieve me, but it might come to that.”
“Piercy, this is disastrous.”
“I know, dear fellow, but you have four days to unravel that spell before they arrive.”
“And suppose Kerensa is forced to move on before then?”
“Then I will have to remain behind.” Piercy looked grim. “I cannot seem to be disregarding orders, even for such a justification as that. I just hope it doesn’t come to that, because I doubt they’ll accept any excuse for Kerensa not being here when they arrive.”
“I can’t wait on them,” Kerensa said.
“No one’s telling you to,” Evon said. “If the urge does come upon you, we’ll move ahead and I’ll keep Piercy apprised of our progress and location. But it’s not going to happen.”
“How do you know?”
“I don’t. I’m being unreasonably optimistic because I’m filled with dread. If your next words are to tell me that Odelia will be here in the next fifteen minutes, I may begin screaming.”
“No, I’ve seen no sign of Odelia or her companions,” Piercy said. “No suspicious lurkers, no one asking after us. But it might not be a bad idea to blanket this inn in whatever protective magic you have at your command.”
“It’s a large inn, Piercy, I’m not sure how far my reserves will extend. But I’ll try.”
Piercy jabbed a finger at one of the spell-ribbons. “They quite match your dress, Kerensa, which is lovely. You must have excellent taste, because Lore is practically color-blind.”
“I am not. Just because I don’t think an afternoon spent choosing a neckcloth to match a new waistcoat is enjoyable.”
“I didn’t think of the color when I chose it,” Kerensa said, eyeing a spell-ribbon that hung in front of her left eye. “I wonder if they influenced me at all?”
“More likely it was that shop assistant,” Evon said absently, going back to his notes. “I’ve been building a lexicon of the new runes. It’s really astonishing. Whoever built the spell didn’t use runes the way we do at all. He, or she, treated the runes as pictograms, representing words instead of symbols. It’s a narrow distinction, but an important one. I think these—” he traced the line of a ribbon with the tip of his pencil—“are sentences. If I can work out what the other words are, I can read the spell as easily as if it were a book.”
“That’s unusual, is it?” Kerensa said. “And please don’t poke me in the eye.”
“Sorry. Yes, extremely unusual. Everything would take forever if we cast spells this way. Desini cucurri is so much faster than saying ‘Blue porcelain vase next to the brown table, stop falling now,’ for example. But our spells are also far less complex than this one. The whole concept is groundbreaking. It opens up a whole new paradigm for spell-casting. This alone could keep me busy for the next ten years.”
“Your enthusiasm is, as always, terrifying to behold,” Piercy said, “and it’s dinnertime. Kerensa, if your stomach could produce a ladylike growl at this point, it would do wonders toward helping me convince Lore that he needs to eat just like the rest of us.”
“I can’t growl on command,” Kerensa said, “but I can say ‘dear brother, I’m starving, could we please eat now?’”
Evon scowled. “I’ve made the biggest breakthrough in magical theory this century, and you two mock me. You’ll be sorry when you read my memoirs.”
“I would tremble at that threat, dear fellow, but I know you’ll be too distracted to remember to write them.”