Seventeen Stones (3 page)

A
man sat at a large desk on the other side of the door this time.  His long
silver hair was tied securely away from his face in the style that was popular
almost half a century before.  Even in a chair he looked tall.  His pale skin
was like stone.  His features were all sharp lines and planes, reminding her of
a statue she’d seen in a book once.  He glanced down at his note pad with ice
blue eyes: words were appearing in a slanted, near unreadable script.  “Ah. 
According to our records you are Amelia Minerva Rusticov, and your mother was a
registered wand wielder ranked as Greatlady.  Is that correct?”  Mia nodded
reluctantly.  She hated her full name.  It was worse when anyone but Emma used
it. 

He radiated
approval, though she didn’t see his face move an inch.  Perhaps it couldn’t. 
Everyone knew that wand wielders became stiff as they aged.  He was still
flipping through the pages in his book, examining writing that was scribbling itself
on each page.  He looked up as the final words disappeared from the sheet.  

“I
am pleased to inform you that we will be welcoming you to the college in two
weeks time.  Initial testing indicates a high native ability in several useful
areas, as well as some ability in the area of Sight.  Your wand will be custom
made in…”   He absently flipped to another page in his notebook,  “Applewood,
ivory and gold.”  He glanced at the page again, paused, shook his head lightly,
and continued “Records indicate that your mother’s estate will cover the
expense of schooling, so the bills will be sent to your solicitor’s office in
the City.  We will of course contact your guardian with further details.  If
you will exit the door over there, you’ll find that it leads outside.” 

Mia
nodded and stepped through the door.  It was no surprise that she did indeed
find herself exiting the tent.  She’d read about spells like that, but hadn’t
encountered one before.  It made her feel very much like a country cousin.  It
drove home to her how different it must be in the City. 

Emma
was waiting.  “Well?” she asked in a breathless voice.  Mia grinned “I’m in!” 
Emma looked at her and huffed “I knew that child!  I wanted to know how you did
on your Alchemy exam.”   

***

She
dug into a shepherd’s pie while Emma watched with a smile on her face.  “It
won’t sprout legs and run away, chew your food!”  Mia glanced up.  Her cheeks
were so full she looked like a squirrel.  “What type of wand will you be
wielding?”  Emma waited while Mia took a huge gulp of milk to wash down the
pie.  “Applewood, ivory and gold.” 

“A
triple wand?  That’s wonderful!  Even your mother only had a double.  I
remember when she tested.  Her wand was made of Chimera horn and ebony.”  Emma
pushed away from the bench, groaning with effort after her meal.  Mia was still
hungry; the scent from the roasting pits in the town square had her mouth
watering.  The real feast wouldn’t even begin until supper.  Then there would
be all sorts of good things: pies and roasted goat, smoked turkey and fish. 
Mia couldn’t wait. 

Emma
brushed off the seat of her skirt (the benches inevitably collected seed pods
and other debris this time of year) “I need to see Mary.  She might be able to
cover the births while I’m gone.  There’s only Millie Peterson due in the next
few weeks, and she didn’t have a problem with either of the others.”  As Emma
left the table Mia called out:  “But Emma, where are you going?”   

Emma
spun around.  “Don’t be silly, I’m going with you.  You’ll have a lot of
shopping to do once you get to the City:  books and school uniforms and
supplies.  We’ll need to meet with the solicitor as well.”  She walked off
muttering to herself.  Mia felt a pang.  Emma had agreed to raise her until she
went to college, or came of age at sixteen, whichever came first.  Mia was
certain that a shopping trip to the City hadn’t been included in the
contractual obligations.  Emma had done a lot for her that wasn’t covered in
any contract.  She was just a good woman that way.  A good mentor, a good
friend.  Mia used her fist to wipe away the tears that had suddenly appeared in
her eyes. 

“Awww. 
Look, she’s crying because she didn’t get into the College.  Told you though,
didn’t I?  You should have listened.”  Mia looked into Martin’s gloating face. 
He was flanked by Bernard Simms and a boy with old blood coloring that she
didn’t know.  They seemed to be in a good mood.  She stuck out her chin and
said “Take a look at the ranking board when they post them.  I expect the
results will surprise you.”  Martin’s sneer never left his face as he moved
away.  He’d see when he went to get his own scores.  She didn’t doubt that he’d
get into the College, but she’d bet next month’s allowance that he didn’t raise
all seventeen stones.

The
rankings, along with the newly appointed wand wielder’s wand types were posted
before dinner was served.  To Mia’s elation she ranked first in the testing; to
her disappointment Martin Ainsley wasn’t far behind.  He’d raised fifteen stones. 
Lydia was going to a special school for those with Sight, a precursor for
joining the Oracle if Mrs. Meecham’s slightly breathless declarations were to
be believed.  All the home children who had tested were going to the College,
even the pale Sarah.  That was to be expected.  Steven Forney from the village
was going, but his sister had to remain on the farmstead.  Martin Ainsley had a
single wand of Griffin bone; Steven a wooden wand of yew.  Sarah’s wand was a
double, unicorn horn and rowan.

The village as a whole was delighted. 
If one or two parents were secretly a little disappointed with the results,
they hid it well.  They had once again produced wand wielders from their
ranks.  The community was granted a tithe break for every gifted child who came
from their area.  One expected the Home children to be, but Steven was a
surprise and Mia was something that none of them had ever really counted on.  
After all, if she was going to be wanded, why hadn’t her mother sent her to a
home, or a more genteel setting than an old healer’s hut?  The home children
had dutifully returned after the testing, but Mia, Lydia, and Steven were
treated like minor celebrities for the evening.  Mia grinned as she gobbled
down a third slice of cake at the urging of the smith’s wife: that stuffy
Martin Ainsley didn’t know what he was missing.

The
next day, Mia spent a quiet hour looking over her collection of books.  She
stopped when she came across a dusty copy of Sir Arnold Yammering’s
The City
at a Glance
.  The title was so promising!  And yet the school system had
been torturing students with the gentleman’s meandering style of prose for over
forty years.  She chuckled as she remembered why she’d kept it:  it was a
wonderful cure for insomnia, better than a simple sleeping draft.  She sneezed
as she opened the book.

“The
City was constructed to give wand wielders a place to perform magic away from
the rest of the population, so that the well documented side-effects of wanded
magic could be contained. That said, perhaps it is incumbent on me to make
certain a future scholar understands the underlying need for wand wielders:
without the protective barriers they weave, our society, indeed, most human
life...

It
dithered on and on for twenty-three pages in the introduction.  She shook her
head and closed the book.  There was absolutely no reason to take Yammering to
college with her…unless she expected bouts of insomnia.  She made two piles,
one to take and a smaller pile to leave or give away.  She owned a lot of
books, so it took all morning.  Her clothing was simpler to pack; she only had
three dresses that were fit for the City, the rest of her old clothing would
stay in Forestreach.

Emma
and Mia left the next day.  The City was a two day trip by carriage.  They stopped
overnight at a posting inn.  Inns like it existed for the sole purpose of
supplying the coach with a place to stop and change horses and (incidentally) to
rest and feed the people.  The food was plain brown bread and vegetables, the
rooms were bare but clean.  Emma had brought bedding for the two of them: it
was a precaution that any wise traveler took. 

The
trip in was deadly dull, packed into a carriage meant for six with seven people
beside herself.  They were lucky: the weather stayed fine.  It was a few
degrees cooler, though it couldn’t be termed
cool
just yet.  The open
window of the carriage allowed a brisk breeze to blow in during the morning hours;
it held a hint of fresh mown hay as they passed farmers working in their
fields.  Emma managed to sleep most of the trip, but Mia was too excited.  The
books she’d brought held no interest for her and she spent the better part of
two days staring at the bit of open sky she could see from around the other
passengers. 

As
they entered the City gates, Mia craned her head to get a better look at the
fearsome dragons guarding them, their golden collars shining in the sun.  There
were two perched on the City wall, high above their heads.  One was mostly the
color of blue forget-me-nots until you reached his tail: those scales ranged
from iridescent blues and purple to bright green. The other was scarlet with
what looked like shimmering gold dusting the scales of her neck.  The two
dragons watched the carriage as it passed with interest, sniffing the air
slightly.  She wondered nervously if a dragon had ever decided to snack on a
carriage full of travelers before.  Mia reminded herself not to be silly: she’d
grown up on dragon tales.  She knew what they were like.  They were just so
much more intimidating than she’d imagined. 

Mia
stared about in wide-eyed wonder.  Buildings loomed over the wide paved
streets, a thousand years of architecture spread out in front of her.   Some
were made of the same natural gray stone as the City walls, others were covered
in marble or granite; in the distance, a tall, tall tower looked like it was
made entirely of clear crystal.

There
were marketplaces aplenty.  More shopkeepers than Mia imagined existed had
signs out for goods and services.  Entire streets were devoted to guild
Cobblers or bonded seamstresses.  Fascinating machines with wheels and gears
were sold in one shop; another might have specialty ingredients for potion
making, or deal exclusively in enchanted knitting needles.  A little old man in
a leather apron was fiddling with some sort of clock as she passed.  The little
bird popped out of the clock and set his eyebrows on fire as the carriage
rolled by.  He yelled and dunked his head in a nearby bucket.  Mia craned her
neck to the back window (much to the consternation of the other passengers) and
was relieved to see the now soggy old fellow smear on a liberal handful of
yellow ointment before he faded out of sight of the carriage.     

The
hired carriage dropped them off at a medium-sized bed and breakfast typical of
its sort: a three story white wooden house with a small green lawn and a neatly
painted sign.  Emma arranged for a room and hot water to be sent up, while Mia
levitated the bags.  The landlady, a woman of middle years and indifferent hair
color, led the pair to a small room.  It was furnished simply, with oak floors,
a colorful rag rug, and a nice china wash basin in the corner.  Two brass beds
stood at either end of the room, covered in white down comforters with little
blue bows sewn on to make them pretty.  The curtain was blue and white,
slightly faded from constant exposure to the sun.  As they began to unpack, a
steaming pitcher of water floated in. 

The
lady who ran the establishment was named Mrs. Sullivan.  That evening they
dined at the boarding house.  Breakfast was part of the price of the room, but
Mrs. Sullivan provided other meals at a reasonable rate.  Most of her boarders
chose to dine at her table in the evenings at least.  Emma had indicated when
they rented the room that she intended to take all their meals there.  She set
a fine table that night, with mutton stew, crusty fresh bread, soft cheese to
spread on it, and an apple tart for desert.  Mia ate hugely, and then settled
herself on one of the twin beds with her formerly despised book.  Emma seemed
content to sit with the landlady for a good gossip by the fire.

As
they readied themselves for bed, Emma looked at her charge.  Mia was wearing one
of her old nightgowns.  It hit her about mid-calf.  Emma clacked her tongue “I
remember when we bought that, it drug the ground.  You’re going to need all new
nightgowns too.  Better put that on the list.”    

The
next day Mia put on her nicest dress, a blue muslin that she’d had made up that
spring.  The dress was a bit chilly for the day, so she added a thick, soft
shawl that Emma had given her last mid-winter.   The two of them walked a mile
and a half to the solicitor’s office in the business district.  The white marble
building was six stories tall, and had little brass plates for each of the
businessmen who had offices in it.  After a minute or so, Emma found the name
she was looking for.  With a hitch to her olive green shawl and a rustle of
brown homespun skirts, she led the way up the marble staircase to the second
floor offices of Mr. Smith.

A
respectable-looking woman served as receptionist for all the gentlemen on the floor. 
She eyed their country clothes but made no comment.  She merely inquired about
their direction and pressed a brass button on the panel on her desk. “Miss
Amelia Rusticov and Ms. Emma Faithling are here to see you Mr. Smith.”  To
Mia’s amazement a male voice answered “Send them in Miss Daws.”  Miss Daws
showed them to a tall dark door and indicated they should enter.

Mr.
Smith smiled when they walked in.  It showed the sun crinkles around his face
and mouth, so if he was wanded, he didn’t use it much.  His muddy brown hair
showed wide streaks of silver and he stood and offered his hand as they came
closer.  “Miss Rusticov, Ms. Faithling.  It’s a pleasure.  Mr. Adrian Smith, at
your service.”  He took a moment for the customary inquiries about their
journey, direction, and general state of health.  The tea service was offered
and politely declined.  Then he added “I can’t tell you, Miss Amelia, how
pleased I am that you scored so well on your exams.  As I’m sure you are aware,
your mother’s will left several provisions should you be accepted into the
college.”  Mia, who had never given the matter a moment’s thought until that instant,
kept her face politely blank.    

He
pulled out a thick stack of parchment and handed it to Emma, and a thinner
stack was placed in Mia’s hands.  “All of your expenses books, dorm, fees and
so forth will be covered by the estate.  You will also receive a larger
quarterly allowance, and of course, certain privileges, like the use of the
stables and library at the estate for the next year and five months before you
can legally inherit.  You will be required to spend no less than eight hours a
month either at the manor or in this office learning estate management.”  Mr.
Smith smiled again, and his face crinkled in a reassuring way.  “Your mother
felt strongly that a person shouldn’t be given control of an estate without
some education in running one, though she did understand that a person
attending the college would have limited time.”

He pulled
out a plain oak wand and pointed it at his desk.  The smooth wood parted.  An
old-fashioned iron safety box was revealed.   His brow contracted as he tapped
a rapid pattern on oddly raised shapes on the lid of the box.  It was black
with age, but it popped open with a sudden motion that startled Mia.  Mr. Smith
seemed totally unconcerned.  He took out a ledger and poured a great deal of
gold and silver coin into a pouch.  “This is your quarterly income.  Books and
other supplies come out of a second fund, and should be charged to this
account.”  He handed her a thick card with a number inscribed in gold.  “Clothing,
shoes, hats, and all that should also be paid out of this fund.  Notify me
immediately if you lose it.  Every shop in the City will charge goods to this
account.”  Mia clutched it in her hand, a bit dumbfounded.  The weight of the coin
in the bag as he handed it to her brought the reality of her situation home to
her as nothing else had.  It was difficult to
really
think of yourself
as an heiress when you slept in a little cottage and milked a goat twice a day. 

“Please
call a carriage whenever you want to visit the City, Miss.  It isn’t done for
young wanded ladies to be seen walking around town.”  He hesitated for a second
and then added.  “It isn’t a bad thing when you’re accompanied by your
guardian, but you shouldn’t go anywhere in the City on foot alone.”  She didn’t
see the need to reiterate, but Mia assured him that she didn’t have any
intention of roving the City streets and promised that she would call a cab if
she had the urge to go anywhere.  There were so many new rules!   Mr. Smith
walked them out of the office and hailed a cab for them.  “If there’s any
assistance I can offer, don’t hesitate to ask.  I will send a note ‘round when
the estate is ready for a visit.”

The
afternoon was spent at a dressmaker, picked at random from the six or seven on
Taylor’s Row simply because it was the first one they came to that had a
display of College uniforms in the window.  The seamstress seemed irritated
when they walked in.  She quickly put together a pile of uniforms for Mia to
try and hustled her to the back room to change.  She was muttering to herself
about deadlines as she oversaw seven needles flying around a dress form while
two pair of scissors flew around patterns. 

Three
hours later, Mia twirled around in front of the chipped mirror.  The uniforms
were not in the latest mode.  The skirt was a bit too wide, not all like the
popular tulip skirts that had come out last fall.  Apparently the college staff
didn’t read City Couture.  But it could have been much worse.  The uniform
could have been orange or had a hoop skirt.  Objectively speaking, this wasn’t
a bad design.  The dark grey material was nice with her golden tan and the
skirt nipped becomingly in at the waist.  She especially liked the puffed
sleeves and ruffled accents on the jacket and the back of the skirt.     

Mia
bought seven skirts, as many shirtwaists, and three jackets.  She splurged on
twelve shirts on Emma’s recommendation.  “Don’t skimp on the shirts!  It’s the
place where young ladies can show their individuality.”  All of the shirts were
white of course, but there were so many materials and styles to consider.  Tiny
pearl or gold buttons, rows of lace, ties, and types of linen and silk were all
seen, commented on, and considered.  Most of the new blouses she purchased were
silk: from a light material that would be almost translucent under the
shirtwaist, to a heavy twilled silk blouse for the chilliest winter weather. 
She added a white wool blouse, and a matching undershirt. 

She
chose a light shawl, a heavy cloak, and three pair of gloves, though she
expected she would be picking up another pair or two at the milliner’s when she
looked at hats.  She sighed as the seamstress wrapped the packages in brown
paper.  The woman had gotten much friendlier once she saw the card Mr. Smith
had given her.  Mia made a mental note not to come back to this shop when she
needed more clothing for winter. She was bleeding a little where the seamstress
had poked a bit harder than she should have while fitting the uniforms up. 

They
still had to shop for stockings, under-things, nightdresses, and shoes.  The
list of things she suddenly
needed
seemed endless.  Exhausted, she and
Emma made their way back to their rooms for tea.  It was a fine meal, and Emma
rested while Mia read a book she’d gotten at a street vender in between shops. 
Imagine, being able to buy a new book on the street!  It wasn’t even a market
day.  Things were very different in the City.