Magic Under Stone (16 page)

I came inside and slammed the lantern down on the counter by the kitchen door and started unraveling myself from my scarf. Violet was at the kitchen table, reading, one stockinged foot tucked under her and the other scratching the cat’s back with agile toes.

“Are you mad?” she asked.

“No, just—I can’t get it right. Well, I can move a candle flame. After hours of trying, I can
move
a candle flame.”

“If it helps at all, I don’t think you were actually outside for
multiple hours,” Violet said in a bored tone, still staring at her book.

“This is serious. I mean, I’ve been working on magic for weeks and I can move heat and I can barely move fire, which is all well and good, but it’s not going to help me fight off a jinn! I don’t know how stupid I must have been, to think I could learn anything useful in one winter. I guess I’ll make the jinn nice and warm, and Erris can talk to some mushrooms—”

Erris wandered in, eyebrows raised, obviously lured by my shouting. “Are you all right, Nim? You’re being way too hard on yourself.”

“It’s just ... Well, you’ve been having magic lessons with Violet; is she learning anything?”

“
I
can talk to mushrooms now,” Violet said, rather sarcastically.

Erris nodded. “I was thinking of a poisonous mushroom army.”

“Are there even any mushrooms growing in the snow or are you two just toying with me? Because I’m in no mood. I just spent hours—or at least,
an
hour—trying to catch a candle flame, and as soon as I did, it started snowing and I had to come inside.”

“I think you’ve done enough for today anyway,” Erris said, pulling out a chair for me. “Sit down. Have an apple.”

I kneaded my aching head. “I’m tired of apples.” I took a deep breath, knowing I was verging on a tantrum. “I’m sorry, it’s just—I had so much success with the heat magic at first, but moving the candle flame took forever. It’s made me realize how silly this is. I can’t become a sorceress in a few months, no one can.”

“At least it’s something you can do to feel in control,” Erris said.

“Like giving a baby something to suck on,” I muttered. “What will happen when the jinn returns? What if he takes you away from me? You can’t hide in the sea now; it’s freezing out there.”

“I don’t know,” Erris said. “Maybe he won’t come back.”

“I bet he will,” Violet said.

“Violet, one would almost think you fancy the jinn, the way you talk.”

Violet finally put her book down and glared at me. “The jinn
was
nice to me. He is a person, you know. Jinns have to do what their master tells them, they can’t help it. They’d rather be free.”

I frowned. Jinns in stories were always trying to get free, but they weren’t especially nice about it, and our jinn hadn’t struck me as especially nice either. “Well, whatever his sweet and angelic intentions may be, we still have to consider it a serious threat, because he can’t help it, and I’m sure he will come back, so we can’t be complacent.”

“We’re doing our best,” Erris said. “And you’re beating yourself up over it. I doubt he’ll come back in the dead of winter and risk getting caught in a blizzard. We’ll all work on our magic and see how far we can get.”

TELMIRRA

Sometimes Ifra forgot all about Violet, but every time he pulled the plaid hair ribbon from his pocket, the memories rushed back like a sweet surprise—the kiss, the haughty way she spoke, the fire in her eyes despite her fragile body, and the small hand pulling off the ribbon and thrusting it into his palm. “I don’t want you to forget me,” she had said.

He understood that so well.

His tutor, of course, had warned him a thousand times not to develop feelings for anyone. Procreation was important to further the race of jinn; affection, on the other had, was dangerous.

Yet Ifra wondered how affection could be helped if one was to take things as far as procreation. His tutor could speak of these things so coldly, but much of his advice seemed impractical in the real world, when everyone around Ifra was full of life and love and hate instead of calm meditation.

When Ifra returned to Telmirra, a girl approached and took
his horse to the stables. Ifra hoped he would ride the horse again. It had a lively, pleasing nature, and he had to stifle his emotion at seeing it led away. Belin met him in the main hall.

“You came back empty-handed?” he said.

“Well, for now, but—”

“Follow me. We’ll talk in my quarters.”

“Where is the king?”

“He’s not feeling well today. He asked if I would speak for him.”

Ifra followed Belin to the gardens, and then through a little gate in the wall, and down a path through the woods. It wasn’t really a long walk, but Ifra felt more and more apprehensive as they approached a smaller wooden building, the size of a large house, constructed in the same style as the palace. A fire crackled on the hearth, and an array of carved wooden animals pranced and lumbered and scampered across the mantel. Whoever carved them had skillfully captured motion from static wood. Evergreen boughs were hung on the walls, and the rafters were painted with bright patterns of knots, vines, and trees.

Belin didn’t bother to sit. As soon as the door was shut behind them, he said, “You don’t have Erris. What happened?”

“Erris has some sort of ability to disappear when I’m near,” Ifra said. “The strange thing is, I sense him in two places—in the northeast edge of Lorinar, and ... well, right near here. Very near.”

“Here? It must be because he died here. You can’t pay attention to that. How much did you bother trying to find him there?”

“Several times,” Ifra lied. “It’s no use. I get close and—he vanishes.”

“Well, what did you think would happen, coming back here? My father told you to bring us Erris Tanharrow. All he’s going to do is send you right back out again.”

“I thought he might have a better use for me.”

“We need Erris Tanharrow. We can’t just go poking around the human land ourselves, jinn. No one else can fetch him.”

“I’ll try again.”

Belin groaned. “You wait here. I’m going to talk to my father. I’ll send for you shortly.”

Ifra nodded. His heart was pounding. Belin wanted him tied to the throne forever, so that when Luka died, Ifra would belong to him. How long before Luka gave in?

Maybe he should have tried harder to fetch Erris. Yes, he really should have. But he’d been troubled by the thought of disturbing Erris and his family for some reason ... What was it? His hand moved to his pocket and pulled out the hair ribbon. Violet. Yes. Of course. He didn’t want Violet to see him dragging her uncle away.

About half an hour later, a young man opened the door and told Ifra the king wished to see him.

Luka was in bed, his glamour allowing no hint of illness to show through, except that he looked tired and had a cup of strong-smelling tea. He looked displeased, although not angry like Belin.

“Sit down, Ifra. I want you to tell me every detail of what happened when you tried to take Erris. Who did you see, how close did you get before he disappeared, what attempts did you make to find him—everything.”

Magic tugged on Ifra, making it harder to lie than he expected. He had never tried to lie to a master before. “I came through the woods. I met a girl there ... a girl from Tiansher, which was unexpected.”

“That must be Nimira, the girl the Lorinarian papers spoke of,” Belin said.

“But ...” Ifra’s memory was oddly hazy. “I could no longer feel Erris’s spirit there. I searched the area, but I had to give up.”

“You said you tried several times. What happened the next time?”

“They expected me the second time. I never even saw anyone, but the same thing happened. When I got close, Erris seemed to disappear.” Ifra knew he was speaking a little too quickly, to rush out the lies.

“So you just gave up?” Belin said. “You didn’t threaten them?”

“I—No.”

“Set fire to their house,” Belin said. “Let them know you’re serious.”

“You told me to bring Erris unharmed.”

“Can’t jinn control fire? Frighten them.” Belin looked at Luka, and Luka nodded.

“Jinn, I want to trust you,” Luka said, and Ifra noticed how he was not referring to him by name. “But I’m not sure you’re strong-willed enough to do what needs to be done.”

“No,” Ifra said. “I only thought ...” The king was right, really. Ifra didn’t care for violence. He couldn’t bring himself to fight a house full of women to kidnap Erris.

“Father, I told you, we have to bind him to the throne,” Belin said.

“Wait! Please,” Ifra said. Something else had happened there that would interest the king, but he couldn’t quite remember. “There’s something ... My memory ...” He pulled out Violet’s ribbon again. He remembered her anew, and too late he realized, he didn’t want to tell the fairy king about her.

“What is it?” Luka said. “What is that?”

“It’s ... a hair ribbon.” Ifra looked at it in horror. He’d forgotten
her enough to make this mistake, and now he remembered her too much to lie. “There was a girl there.”

“A girl? At Ordorio’s?” Luka said. “I heard he had a baby with Melia, but they were both killed. Ordorio didn’t—he couldn’t—the bodies were mangled, so I heard.” His voice rose again. “Was it Ordorio and Melia’s child?”

“Yes.” Ifra wanted to ask more questions about this—how did Luka know?—but it didn’t seem the best time. “There’s some sort of spell on her so people forget her.”

“How’d you get her hair ribbon?” Luka asked. When Ifra didn’t answer right away, Luka said, “She wanted you to remember her, did she? Well, well.”

“Father!” Belin said. “This could be the perfect solution. I could marry the girl. Then we’d have a Tanharrow on the throne and I can still be king. How old would she be?”

“Fifteen,” Luka said. “Yes ... you’re right.” He gave his son a sharp look that Ifra didn’t quite understand. They were plotting with their eyes now, between themselves.

Ifra wrapped his fingers tight around the hair ribbon. He’d never meant for this to happen. “I’ll go back,” he said. “And bring her to you.”

“Yes,” Luka said. “This time I’ll make sure of it. I’m sorry, Ifra. I do want to trust you, only—”

“Wait,” Ifra said, trying not to beg, trying to ignore the glittering hunger in Belin’s eyes. “I’m trustworthy. I did go looking for Erris, just as you asked, and I’ll go after him again. I just didn’t know how long you wanted me to take.”

Luka looked at Belin. “Son, could you leave us for a moment.”

“But, Father—”

“I said, leave us. Don’t make me argue with you, I’m already
weary.” Luka waved a hand, and this time Belin obeyed, but he looked upset.

Now Ifra stood alone with Luka. The king’s eyes were regretful, tired beneath the glamour.

Ifra dropped to the floor, touching his forehead to the rug. “Please,” he said, his voice calm, his insides anything but. “Even as your bound servant, my magic is not infallible, but know that I live to serve you.”

“I’m sorry,” Luka said. “I wish you were not a kind young man, because these are not kind times. I don’t need a good heart, Ifra, I need someone trustworthy, and you are not a good liar. It is now my wish that you will be bound to serve the one who sits upon the fairy throne until the end of your days.”

Worse than hearing the words was the feeling that swept over him—a sickening feeling, like a vise clamped around his heart, forcing his will to obey whatever Luka asked of him. He had known this feeling before, when he had to grant a wish he didn’t really want to grant, but this feeling was far worse—as if he not only had to grant the wish, but he
was
the wish. Angry, magic heat swept across his skin, but he couldn’t release it. His magic belonged to Luka. He stayed on the floor. He couldn’t bear to look Luka in the eye.

“I know it must be hard for you, Ifra, but if it helps, know that you are precious to me. I’ll care for you. I reward men for a job well done, and I’ll reward you too. You’ll have anything you want—money, feasts. A lovely wife. When you come back, if you wish, I’ll throw you a feast and invite all the loveliest girls in the fairy kingdom. Your work may be distasteful, but you will protect my kingdom and my people, and when you aren’t working for me, your hours
will be all your own. I have no doubt the people will love you. You’ll be a hero.”

Ifra took a deep breath, absorbing the words. He could have a wife. He would be a hero. If he had to be bound, most jinn would envy the situation. Was it really worse than his childhood, snatching fun only when his tutor wasn’t looking? He got to his feet. “All right, master.” He couldn’t call him Luka anymore, not when the king had done this to him. “What would you have me do?”

“I want you to bring me Melia’s daughter unharmed, and destroy the clockwork body of Erris Tanharrow.”

Chapter 17

The shortest day of the year passed us by, celebrated with music and popcorn and a pie made from jarred summer cherries. The mornings were positively frigid, and the stove wouldn’t hold a fire overnight, so I came downstairs every morning to find Celestina bundled in a coat thrown over her long underwear, getting it started so we could all have tea.

“I know you’re afraid of magic,” I told her one particularly frigid day. “I certainly understand why. But you should learn to warm yourself. It’ll make the morning more pleasant.”

She didn’t resist for long. That cold kitchen, with all the water too frozen to drink, could’ve motivated anyone to sorcery. I showed her how to draw the warmth from the stove, very slowly, using her breath. It took her several mornings to master, but I saw her eyes light the moment she had it.

“We’re going to turn into a houseful of witches,” she said with a grin.

Her words turned out to be even truer than I expected.

One day in January, after a week of surprisingly mild weather, with just enough snow to make everything lovely, I heard a soft knock on the door. Erris was outside with Violet, and Celestina was in the kitchen. I was just coming downstairs with some of Ordorio’s books—I’d been extracting what kernels of information I could from them.