A College of Magics (37 page)
Read A College of Magics Online
Authors: Caroline Stevermer
“You must, you're more flushed than ever. Let us think a moment. We have it. We'll take the air.”
“I don't want any air.”
“Yes, you do. We have marvelous air here.” The king turned toward the stair, Faris still firmly in his grasp. “Let's go look at the lions.”
Faris started to refuse, then saw Tyrian over the king's shoulder. He was holding a full glass of champagne, useless to a man who wouldn't remove his mask. It was time, then. Duty called.
Faris looked up into the king's pouchy dark blue eyes. “By all means,” she said, with chilly dignity Dame Brachet herself would have applauded, “let us go see the lions.”
World's End Close
I
t was a simple matter for the king to slip away from his own ball. He led Faris through a room off the ballroom, where white linen-covered tables held silver trays of crab puffs and lobster patties, and into the corridors beyond. Together they strolled freely to the upper reaches of the castle, toward the lion-guarded ruins.
t was a simple matter for the king to slip away from his own ball. He led Faris through a room off the ballroom, where white linen-covered tables held silver trays of crab puffs and lobster patties, and into the corridors beyond. Together they strolled freely to the upper reaches of the castle, toward the lion-guarded ruins.
To Faris, the trip was nerve-wracking. She had a good enough grasp of Jane's floor plan to guess at the progress they were making, but she had no way to know where Jane was or what she was doing.
Tyrian would certainly be close at hand, ready to do whatever he thought necessary about the king's presence. But what about Reed? Was he still dancing with his Columbine? Or had he followed her from the ballroom? Could he be trusted to wait for orders from Faris before he popped out from behind some tapestry to interfere? And what would be best to do with the king? Let Jane perform some magic, if she had any to spare from the lions? Or let Tyrian keep him quiet? Or take him along to the rift?
In addition to these concerns, Faris was distracted by the route they took through the castle. The king was leading
her up stairs and along halls which reminded her of her dreams. The twisting passages seemed endless.
her up stairs and along halls which reminded her of her dreams. The twisting passages seemed endless.
“How much farther is it?”
“Oh, not far at all. You aren't tired, are you?”
“Of course not.”
“You aren't frightened, are you?”
“Of
course
not.”
course
not.”
“Try to be slightly frightened. However well we feed them, they are lions, after all. Slaves to their nature, as man is a slave to his.”
Faris doubted that anyone was ever entirely a slave to his nature, unless perhaps one counted Brinker. But she thought it would be as well not to discuss it with the king. “Why lions?” she asked instead.
“Why keep lions, do you mean? Purely to protect visitors to the ruins, rest assured. The throne room fire in 1848 left the upper reaches of the castle in some disrepair. It would be quite possible to meet with an accidental injury there. The lions prevent anyone from wandering freely in the ruins.” The king lowered his voice to a nasal murmur. “We will be quite undisturbed.”
Faris kept her tone one of bright, though obtuse, interest. “Why not simply repair the damage, instead?”
“Do you see where the windows used to be? That's modern brick work in the arches. We have repaired much of the damage in the upper reaches of the castle.”
“But why not repair the throne room itself?”
“Forgive our frankness. Your grandmother left a poor impression on those who knew her. The idea of reclaiming the room in which she made such a dramatic end fills us
with distaste. And even if we wished to, which we certainly don't, we doubt that we could find anyone willing to make the repairs.”
with distaste. And even if we wished to, which we certainly don't, we doubt that we could find anyone willing to make the repairs.”
“Fascinating. You will show me the precise spot, won't you?”
“We can't. Remember the lions.”
Faris did not have to counterfeit disappointment. “Oh, of course.” She accompanied the king up a steep flight of steps and into a narrow hallway. The lamp-lit corridor held a draft of fresh air, very welcome after the long sequence of stairs and hallways that had brought them here. “Has someone left the door open?”
Surprised, the king looked closely at her. “We take pains to keep the doors locked in this part of the castle.”
“Of course. How silly of me.”
The corridor turned sharply and stopped at a heavy door. While the king bent to unlock it, Faris studied the masonry. Around the door, traces of a much larger arch remained, now painstakingly bricked shut. She swallowed hard.
The king turned back to Faris. “Curious. It wasn't locked after all. Someone has been rather careless.”
Faris wondered if the lock had given Jane much trouble. Or had Tyrian opened it for her?
The king opened the door. Beyond was blackness. The draft of fresh air became a breeze. Faris felt it stir her veil and flutter at her sleeves. It was a cool night, not cold as a night in January ought to be. The king crossed the threshold.
“No light?” asked Faris, following.
“We won't need one.”
Beyond, the sky was black and the ground was white. Overhead the gibbous moon hung, overpowering all but a handful of the winter stars. Underfoot, broken masonry cast puddles of shadow in the moonlight.
“Oh,” said Faris, so softly her breath did not stir her veil.
Across the broad expanse of shattered brick and stone, Faris saw white walls rising up from the heart of the wreckage, faultlessly beautiful, a tower as perfectly made as a unicorn's horn. As Faris watched, the brilliance of the tower faded as utterly as if the moon had been obscured by a bank of clouds. In a moment, there was nothing before them but a flat area, perhaps forty or fifty feet across, of shattered brick and stone, ending at a precipice that dropped a thousand feet to the tangled streets of the city below. Beyond the precipice lay a spangle of light against the utter darkness, like dew caught in a spider web.
“Oh,” she said again, and walked forward into the moonlight.
“Mind the lions,” said the king behind her.
Faris looked around quickly but saw nothing. “Where?”
“They're out there somewhere.” He put his hand under her elbow as if to steady her. “It's beautiful here tonight, isn't it?”
“Very beautiful.” Faris reached the edge of the precipice and stopped. The spangle of light belonged to the streets of the city below. She watched in silence, identifying the steady glow of gaslights along the Esplanade, the fugitive glint of the Twelfth Night bonfires in the steep, twisted streets of the poor quarter of Aravis.
“Too beautiful.” The king drew Faris away from the edge and into the circle of his arm. “One reason we brought you here was to show you this. And to assure you that with us your safety is paramount.”
“Was there some doubt about that?”
“We wish to apologize for any inconvenience our younger daughter has caused. Menary has taken you in some enmity.”
“Are you referring to your letter to the Dean?”
The king seemed puzzled at first. “Our letter? Oh, that. Certainly, that, too. When we received Menary's news that she needed more money because she was a victim of extortion, we should have remembered her vivid imagination.”
Curiosity kept Faris from remarking on this description of Menary's behavior. “That, too? Why? What else?”
“Menary took sufficient time away from her studies to engage a Parisian firm to execute a commission for her,” the king began, his stately tones ringing through the ruins.
To execute me
, Faris thought.
, Faris thought.
The king continued. “When this came to our attention, we objected. The commission was canceled. Legal proceedings have been instituted to recover our fees. We have spoken sharply to Menary. She will be too involved in her studies at the Sorbonne to trouble you further. We resolved to apologize to you. We hope you view us as your friend. Your devoted friend.”
Faris's heart sank. The king's embrace tightened about her shoulders. She started dramatically. “Was that a lion?”
The king drew her closer still. “We dare them to disturb us. We would dare anything with you beside us. No, don't tremble. We will protect you. Only give us the right.”
Faris was not trembling. She was shaking with combined amusement and outrage. She pulled away. “Someone is coming.”
Wishful thinking
.
Wishful thinking
.
“We are quite alone.” The king put his hands lightly on her shoulders. “We have discussed all this with your uncle, of course. We are not so old, however, that we don't understand how you may view the matter. You are young. We know what it is like to be young. You make us rememberâ” The king broke off to yawn. Then, with no fuss, no warning, he sat down, put his head on his knees, and was silent.
Faris leaned over him. His eyes were shut. His breathing was deep and steady. She felt almost dizzy with relief.
“You've no notion how difficult it is to cast a spell in this place.” Jane joined Faris's inspection of the king. “He'll do. Sorry I'm late.”
Faris straightened and began to unpin her veil. “Thank goodness you stopped him. But couldn't you have done it before he began to propose?”
“I wasn't quite finished with the lions.” Jane took off her scarlet cloak and set it aside, then began to remove her hat. “It isn't hard to put them to sleep. The problem is to keep them there. Just when I have things in hand, another bit of something blows past me out of the rift and it's all to do again.”
Faris freed her veil and handed it to Jane.
Jane stepped under it and began to pin it into place with
Faris's help. “Working magic this close to the rift is like trying to light a cigarette in the rain, while standing with your feet in a bucket of kerosene.”
Faris's help. “Working magic this close to the rift is like trying to light a cigarette in the rain, while standing with your feet in a bucket of kerosene.”
“Sounds uncomfortable,” Reed said. Tyrian pushed past him impatiently and joined Jane and Faris. He took off his wolf's-head mask and put it down beside Jane's hat. Reluctantly, Reed came nearer, keeping well away from the edge of the precipice. “Shall I stay here and guard the king?”
“Oh, I'll keep the king with me,” Jane replied. Her voice was a little deeper than usual, clearer and softer. She seemed taller, much taller than before, and the height had turned her graceful figure awkward. Beneath the veil, the scarlet of her gown had turned to black, worked with shifting patterns of embroidery. The moonlight made all the embroidery look silver and the veil made all the silver look tarnished. “But I'll have to wake him and the lions soon. I can't keep them sleeping safely
and
control the veil. Not here, at least.”
and
control the veil. Not here, at least.”
“Promise me, no matter what happens, you won't dance with Uncle Brinker.”
“We must go.” Tyrian was watching Faris. In the moonlight, he might still have been wearing a mask.
Reed looked anxiously around. “
Go where
?”
Go where
?”
“To the tower.” Faris drew the key to the warden's stair from around her neck. By moonlight the greenish glass looked dark in her hand. She grasped the key tightly, her fingers tangled in the chain, and started toward the spot where the tower had been. If there was a door, it was her duty to find it.
“If I can't manage all the magic, I'll try to give you a signal before I let the lions wake.” Jane bent to touch the king's shoulder. He rose without opening his eyes and let her lead him away. The door closed almost soundlessly behind them.
The moonlight on the broken ground was bright enough to cast shadows. As Faris made her way toward the center of the ruins, the slow return of the tower shifted the shadows around her. Yet she saw no white walls, no surrounding darkness.
Instead, her attention was on the ground before her, where light and shadow shifted into something she had never seen before. Sometimes like the silken play of light on water, sometimes like the embroidery on her dress, sometimes like the stars over Greenlaw on the night of her vigil, the black and silver pattern fascinated her.
Faris could not quite make sense of it, yet she knew there was sense somewhere inside the shifting contrasts. It reminded her of the labyrinth at Sevenfold. It reminded her of the play of color on a starling's feather. It reminded her of the pattern of the rug in the library at Galazon Chase. She followed the pattern haltingly, searching for some center that she could not perceive.
Something behind the pattern shifted. Faris felt something break loose and drift past her. As she watched the contrasts fade, she knew the tower had gone again. And as she watched, the remnants of the pattern shifted one last time and became the pattern of gaslight and bonfires in the dark streets far below. She was at the edge of the precipice. On either side, Reed and Tyrian were poised to pull her
back. Blinking as if awakening from sleep, Faris looked around at them, and her voice was ragged. “I can't do it. I can't even find my way to the rift.”
back. Blinking as if awakening from sleep, Faris looked around at them, and her voice was ragged. “I can't do it. I can't even find my way to the rift.”
“Good,” said Reed. “Then we can go home.”
“Come back,” said Tyrian. “Come away from the edge.”
As they stepped to safer ground, Jane's hats exploded. The blast threw them down, deafened them briefly, and dusted them with sand and pebbles, but did them no other harm. Faris spat out sand and rubbed a bruised knee. “I think I knocked something out of the rift.”
“Jane said she'd give us a signal,” Reed said. “I think she overdid things.”
“Back to the doorway,” said Tyrian.
They achieved the door before there was any sign of lions but as Reed swung the door shut, Faris glanced back out into the darkness and glimpsed eyes reflecting the light from the corridor. Then it was down the corridor as fast as they could go.
As they ran, they thumped and brushed briskly at themselves and each other to get the worst of the dust off their hair and clothing. To Faris, the twisting passages seemed endless. The pattern of light and shadow still troubled her vision. She misjudged steps and caught corners with her shoulder. Reed and Tyrian slowed to let her clumsiness keep pace with them.
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