Spindle (Two Monarchies Sequence Book 1) (29 page)

“As soon as I figure out how to get us both back out of the Council once we’re in. They’ll get wind of you soon enough, but nothing will be formal until we present you. As long as you don’t wander out of the grounds or open the gate to anyone until then, you should be safe.”

“I won’t wander,” Poly said fervently.

“Yes you will,” Luck said gloomily. “You’re always wandering and getting into trouble. I’d lock you in if I thought it’d work.”

Poly tried to feel offended but could only manage to feel a rather pleased warmth.

“Well, I won’t wander this time. Onepiece and I will– oh.” She faltered to a stop, and said: “Oh,” again, this time more ruefully.

“I was wondering when you’d think of that,” said Luck.

“I could tell them all he’s a puppy you picked up in a dirty little town, who thinks I’m his mother,” said Poly defiantly. “It is true, after all.”

“They don’t care about truth. They care about their truth. If it suits the Wizard Council or any of the others to put it about that the dog is your son, your brother or your slave, it’ll be in the news-sheet by last bell tonight.”

“He’s not a–”

“He’ll have to stay at home,” said Luck, ignoring her. “The house will look after him. I won’t have him turning into a dog or sneezing every time someone gets a bit too excitable with their magic.”

“He can’t stay at home alone,” Poly protested. “What if he gets stuck in one of the rooms? Or falls into the stream?”

“Stream? What stream?”

“I saw it out the kitchen window,” said Poly, exasperated. “You can’t–”

Luck said: “Huh. So that’s where it went. I’ve been looking for that stream for the better part of a year. I think a bit of Don’t See I was working on leached into the water.”

“The point is–”

“You’ll have to be kitted out, of course. No good going to the Council looking like a village girl. And you should try to put a few more spells into your hair: they’ll be intimidated by that.”

“Luck–”

“Something gold and magnificent, I think,” said Luck thoughtfully. “Make ‘em sit up and pay attention.”

There was a familiar whisper of magic around Poly. She shivered pleasantly and found herself in an exceedingly heavy gown of gold-threaded cloth with slashed sleeves, a properly whaleboned bodice, and a deliciously soft chemise. Persephone herself would not have scorned to wear it.

“Luck, I
can
do this by myself now.”

“Yes, but this is more fun,” said Luck. “Put your chin up, Poly. The dress is no good if you don’t look like you’re considering executing everyone. If they see any weakness, they’ll go for the throat.”

“It seems to me that they’ve already gone for the throat,” said Poly.

“Poisoned chocolates are more of a hello-and-pleased-to-meet-you. Here in the Capital things will get more interesting.”

Poly felt a tingle of cold unease. “I can hardly wait.”

Luck left early the next morning, suited and top-hatted. Before he left, he gave Poly and Onepiece a narrowed green look and said: “Don’t let anybody in: even me. I have a key. Well, a spell.”

“If you have a key I won’t need
to let you in,” said Poly.

“Yes, exactly,” said Luck, and disappeared into the streets.

It wasn’t until late morning that Poly discovered what he meant. Determined not to miss him, she romped around the garden with Onepiece, paddled in the stream, and persuaded a chair or two to grow in the grassy living room. It was while she was growing the second bushy chair that someone activated the hailer on the gate outside.

It buzzed obnoxiously to announce the fact, a surprisingly practical piece of magic for Luck to have about the house, and Onepiece sneezed.

Poly left him playing with one of the chairs and took herself down to the gate to see who had come calling.

It was Luck. Or rather, she thought, looking narrowly at a cobweb of magic; it was someone pretending to be Luck. And not very well, at that.

In her coldest voice, she said: “Yes?”

Not-Luck blinked back at her through the peep-hole. “Let me in, princess,” he said.

“I am not,” said Poly very distinctly, “An imbecile. Go away.”

Not-Luck was still gaping when she snicked the tiny door shut in his face.

She treated the second Luck to the same outraged dignity, but by the time the third imposter tried to convince her to open the gate, Poly had decided that enough was enough. She tweaked a small corner of the imposter’s spell and sent him away as a wrinkled old woman, hobbling angrily with a stick in each hand. Onepiece, perched on her right hip, gurgled with delight and clapped his hands, which inspired in Poly such creativity that she sent away from the gate in quick succession a small, freckled child, a mournful bloodhound, and a fat white sheep.

Not all the visitors were spelled to look like Luck. One, a pompous old man with magnificent sidewhiskers and a Comply spell on his well-modulated voice, told her in tones dripping with condescension to ‘be a good girl and open the gate’. It was with great satisfaction that Poly sent him away barking like a seal.

The other was a young man following close behind the older, and since he hurried away very quickly after seeing the reception of his predecessor, Poly chose to let him alone. He seemed to have more sense than the others.

After that it seemed wise to ignore the hailer, since Onepiece was rapidly showing signs of learning how to throw off spells. Accordingly, Poly ignored the frequent buzzes and concentrated instead on keeping Onepiece in sight and in one piece around Luck’s rather perilous house.

Poly ignored the hailer, in fact, until she could ignore it no more. Most callers seemed to press the hailer either once or twice: if twice, leaning on it rather a long time the second time. This time, however, the buzzer sounded exactly once, after which a silence of some seconds elapsed, then an autocratic female voice said in disembodied tones: “Let me in immediately! I refuse to wait on the doorstep!”

Poly sighed, and approached the gate once again.

This time it was an angular lady who appeared to be in her late forties. Her face was narrow but handsome, and if it weren’t for the spell at present clinging to her hat and swirling around her person, Poly thought she would have quite liked her face. But the spell was there, and though it was unfamiliar, Poly could see quite clearly that it had concealment and transformation clauses attached to it.

“You’re a goose,” she said to the woman, and where the woman had been standing was now an equally angular goose.

Outraged, it said: “
Honk?
”

Someone burst into a peal of laughter. Poly blinked in surprise and saw a thin, red-haired girl a step or two behind the goose.

‘Oh,
poor
Aunt Oddu!” said the girl, with tears of laughter in her eyes. “I don’t think she’s ever been so surprised in her life! She won’t stay like that for long, you know.”

“She’ll have to,” said Poly grimly. “I altered her spell. Who are you supposed to be?”

“I’m Isabella,” the girl said gaily. “That’s Aunt Oddu. She’s rather strong, you know, and that wasn’t her natural form.”

“I know. That’s why I changed it. Who sent you?”

“The enchanter did. I mean she’s not exactly
people
, princess. Whoops, there she goes!”

Rather to Poly’s shock, the goose seemed to be growing. No, not growing:
changing.
Scales in bright green rippled from white feathers, spreading and dancing with variegated light, while the goose’s bill grew huge nostrils and faded from bright orange to a delicate flush of pink.

Poly took a deep breath and tried not to sound flustered. “She’s a dragon.”

“Yes. Rather beautiful, isn’t she?”

“How is she
fitting
in here?”

The alley was filled with dragon, but the dragon didn’t seem to have spilled out into the roadway. It wasn’t even a concealment or illusion spell: it was all real, flesh-and-blood dragon.

“It’s got something to do with Luck’s alley,” said Isabella. “He explained it to me once when I didn’t ask about it. It’s ridiculously hard to understand, but what it all comes down to is that the space is slightly stretchy here because it’s almost-Forest, and Forest loves its mythics.”

“Oh yes,” said Poly. “I should have remembered that.”

Isabella looked slightly envious. “How interesting! That made sense to you!”

“After ten years of magic theory with Lady Cimone and two weeks of travel with Luck, it should!” said Poly. “Is she going to stay like that?”

“Oh, I shouldn’t think so,” said Isabella blithely. “You took her by surprise, that’s all. Speaking of surprises, why
are
you Transforming hapless callers at Luck’s gate?”

“Luck told me not to let anyone in, even himself.”

“I see,” said Isabella. To her credit, it sounded as though she
did
see. “They’ve all rather dashed for the gate, haven’t they? Do you know who delegated whom?”

Poly shook her head. “Four Lucks showed up, one after the other. I can only assume that they’ve all had a go.”

“It does sound like some of the Royalists,” said Isabella. “And the Old Parassians would certainly try something that stupid, but it seems a little clumsy for Mordion. I wonder who the fourth was?”

“Perhaps it was Black Velvet,” Poly said, prompting a narrow-eyed look from Isabella.

“Now where did you hear that name?”

Behind Isabella, the dragon rumbled and emitted a few, scorching sparks.

“Oh, all right, Aunt Oddu! I wasn’t being rude. I was just being, well, nosy.”

Poly gave a surprised giggle, but Oddu merely snuffed a few more sparks and began to shrink again.

When she was once more human, spell intact about her hat, she said quellingly: “Isabella, how many times have I told you that young women ought to be seen and not heard?”

“If you include this time, once,” said Isabella, not quelled. “In fact, I believe you rather encourage me to talk. I manage to find out all the gossip that you don’t know.”

“
Or
that you’ve become distressingly pert?”

“Oh, that
you’ve said many times, Aunt Oddu.”

“Young woman,” said Oddu to Poly; “I am far from commending your attack upon my person. However, I must say that you show remarkable form for so young a person. I do not refer to you as Princess, you understand.”

“Of course not,” said Poly in polite fascination. “I suppose you’re an Old Parrassian.”

“Certainly not! I am neither Old Parrassian nor Royalist.”

“Aunt Oddu thinks it’s nonsense to try and reclaim a country once it’s lost,” said Isabella. “And she doesn’t approve of putting redundant royalty from a past age on the throne. Isn’t that right, Aunt?”

“Word perfect,” said Oddu, with an angular, amused look. It made her look much nicer. “Are you under instruction, my dear?”

“That depends on what you consider to be instruction,” said Poly. “Luck has been throwing bits and piece of magic at me for the last two weeks, and some rather unpleasant Royalists attacked our carriage before we got here.”

“I see. As usual, Luck has been regrettably deficient in his duties. I will have words with him. Come along, Isabella.”

She sailed away commandingly, followed by Isabella, who shot a grin back at Poly over her shoulder in parting. Poly was left feeling that she had not successfully withstood an attempt upon her defences, but that Oddu had come, decided that she would prefer to remain outside, and left again at her own leisure.

Chapter Sixteen

Luck didn’t come back until the next morning. When he did return, he woke Poly from outside the gate with the gale force of his anger. Onepiece whimpered and shrank to a puppy in his sleep, and Poly dashed for the alley, muttering threats and imprecations. The gate blasted open before she could get to it, sending a storm of magic and splinters flying into the glade, and Poly threw up a shield more by instinct than decision.

“Stop that at once!”

“No,” said Luck. “I’m angry and I want to break things.”

“Not in here! Onepiece is sleeping!”

Luck looked obstinate. “It’s
my
allotment. I should be able to break things when I want to without worrying about the dog.”

“He’s
not
– oh, never mind! What’s gone wrong?”

“Nothing’s gone wrong. Everything is just as usual. The Council is a blood-sucking collection of leeches, the Old Parrassians are slavering wolves, and the Royalists are terrifyingly insane.”

“You forgot Black Velvet,” said Poly. Luck’s agitated magic was quickly settling where it reached out to meet with hers, gold mingling with blue.

“Yes, well, they’re just as sneaky as usual. You’ll have to come out with me tomorrow.”

“Today.”

“What? Oh, yes. Today. The dog stays at home.”

“Luck, you sent a woman around yesterday.”

“Did I? Huh. I did. Oddu. Knew you’d like her.”

“It’s more of a question of whether
she
likes
me
,” said Poly. “After I dismantled her human-shape spell, anyway.”

Luck looked surprised, banishing the last signs of anger. “Why did you do that?”

“You told me not to let anyone in.
Anyone.
There were four Lucks before her.”

“Huh. Clumsy, that.”

“Yes, I thought so,” agreed Poly. “I expected something a bit cleverer, actually. Only then Oddu and Isabella came to visit and I could see the spell on Oddu’s hat, so–”

“Well done, Poly! Tricky spell, that.”

“Yes, but
not
something to be doing to invited visitors,” said Poly pointedly. “Why didn’t you tell me you were sending her around? I wouldn’t have turned her into a goose if you had.”

“Oh, the old tartar likes someone who can best her every now and then. You’d better get dressed, Poly; it’s going to be a long day and you can’t wear your nightdress to the council buildings.”

Poly worked a piece of Dressing magic, encasing herself in the golden dress that Luck had made for her. In addition to the heavy skirts, Poly added a queenly ruff, a few jewel-like spells to enhance the bodice, and then, sighing, turned her attention to underthings. The delightfully soft chemise, she kept. After that, it was merely a matter of adding the correct amount of stiff petticoats and forming a series of hoops into the once-fashionable
cage
. The result was stately, imposing, and decidedly stifling.

Poly sighed. “Ooof. I forgot how uncomfortable courtdress is.”

“You look a bit stiff, Poly. You’ll have to do something about your hair, too.”

“Bother!” grumbled Poly, striving to catch her coiling hair. It was at present stirring around her waist, tendrils exploring the laces and gems of the gown she’d just magicked, but it proved to be remarkably acquiescent for a wonder, and let her form a not-too-ridiculously-ancient bouffant that must have looked heavy but was delightfully light.

“I never liked that fashion,” said Luck, off-handedly insulting. “Anyway, you look nicer with your hair down.”

“Maybe so, but I don’t look like an ancient Civetan royal with my hair down,” said Poly. “Are we going
now
?”

“Yes. Well, as soon as the little firebrand gets here.”

“The little firebrand is already here,” said Isabella’s voice, sweetly. She was leaning in the gateway, crossing her thin ankles to display rather delightful green shoes with shiny silver buckles. The rest of her was clothed in green and silver, too, bodiced tight but not in stiff whalebone, and her sleeves were both simple and elegant. Poly looked over her ensemble and felt a pang of bitter envy.

“You’re very Ye Olde Civet today, princess,” Isabella said. “Elegant! Not my sort of thing–
or
yours, if you’ll excuse me. But excessively imposing. How long will you have to keep it up?”

“Just today,” said Luck. “That’s what you’re for.”

“I thought I was here to entertain a dog-boy.”

Poly smiled involuntarily at Luck. “Really?”

“You’d only spend the whole day muttering and glaring at me if I didn’t find someone,” said Luck, but he looked pleased with himself. “The dog is in his room, sleeping. Come along, Poly.”

“Oh, no you don’t!” said Isabella. She held out her wrist expectantly. “Spell please. If I get lost in that cavernous monstrosity you call a house just
one
more time, I’ll haunt you from far-flung rooms for the rest of your life.”

Poly watched curiously as Luck drew a small Navigate spell on Isabella’s wrist, and noticed something rather surprising. "You don’t have magic!”

“Well, not much,” said Isabella ruefully. “Such a trial! I’ve enough to pick locks and be generally annoying, and just enough so that I don’t attract every magical entity in the land by creating a vacuum, but I’ll never be able to work my own spells.”

“Oh dear,” said Poly. Isabella was so commanding for such a young girl: it hadn’t occurred to her that the girl wouldn’t be able to keep up with Onepiece magically. “Onepiece likes to play with magic and if he changes into a puppy again–”

“Oh no, that’s quite all right,” said Isabella serenely. “Children, I can manage. It’s magic I’m no good at. You’ll see.”

“Yes, I suppose I will,” said Poly. “All
right,
Luck, I’m coming.”

Luck was dragging her inexorably away by the elbow, and she had the feeling that if she resisted for much longer, he’d Shift them both bodily into the street. Now that she had enough magic and knowledge of her own to conceivably prevent him from so doing, Poly found that it didn’t annoy her as it once would have.

The hooped edges of Poly’s skirts swung gaily as Luck pulled her through the alley, threatening to sweep strands of ivy from the red bricks as they passed. Thanks to the inflexibility of the whaleboned corsets, Poly found herself out of breath uncomfortably soon, and greeted the sight of Luck’s horseless carriage with a relieved gasp.

“Why are we in such a hurry?” she said, once they were seated more or less sedately in the carriage. The stiff dress was still tidy, but Poly felt flustered and hot, and decidedly out of breath.

Luck said: “Pay attention, Poly. Don’t agree to anything. Don’t smile.
Don’t
nod. They’ll try to get you to agree to things, especially in the Council Hall itself–”

“Why?” interrupted Poly, since it didn’t seem that Luck was about to stop for either breath or explanation.

“One of the Arbiters imbued the Hall with a Binding spell. Makes it difficult to go back on what you agreed to do.”

Poly felt a touch of panic. “I thought it was just the Council, Old Parrassians, Royalists and Black Velvet! What’s an Arbiter? And why would they let one put spells on the Hall?”

“They probably couldn’t stop him. Very powerful enchanter, Rorkin.”

“And who’s Rorkin?” asked Poly in despair.

“I told you: he’s an enchanter. Powerful. Sneaky.”

“So Arbiters are enchanters?”

“Can’t be an Arbiter unless you’re an enchanter. No agreeing to things in the Hall, Poly. No agreeing to things anywhere. In fact, don’t speak at all.”

“I can’t stand there mumchance, Luck. Who or what are Arbiters?”

“Yes, you can. And don’t let anyone touch you, either. Also, keep your glove on.”

Poly felt her hair stirring in irritation and took a deep breath. “Luck, why would I take my glove off? What are Arbiters?”

“You’re always doing stupid things. Don’t take off your glove. Don’t accept any gifts. Keep close to me and don’t wander off.”

“Arbiters, Luck!”

“We’re here,” said Luck, and darted from the carriage. “Come along, Poly.”

Poly wrestled her stiff skirts through the door of the carriage, and emerged, breathless and slightly askew, on the golden steps of the Council Hall.

“Hair, Poly,” said Luck. He charged up the stairs, leaving Poly to attend to her hair and follow in a significantly more stately manner. The Council Hall exuded a potent blend of magics that called to her, and it was rather difficult to keep her hair in the bouffant when every strand of it hummed to reach for the magic. At last, Poly contented herself with form but not stillness, and allowed her hair to move within its bouffant. It wasn’t until the thin little door attendant looked at her with wide eyes and Poly caught sight of herself in the sheen of the glossy marble halls that she realised how very disconcerting the effect was.

“Well done, Poly,” said Luck, sounding pleased. “That’ll get ‘em talking between themselves.”

Poly favoured him with a repressive look, and Luck smiled his sweetest smile at her.

“Yes. Do that look at ‘em, too. Here we go.”

The door attendant led them into a small antechamber some way down the hall.

“The Head Wizard will be with you shortly,” he said; and with a last, less than covert glance at Poly and her hair, he hurried back down the hall.

The antechamber wasn’t empty, to Poly’s dismay. Luck said: “Hullo Melchior. Hullo Pettis. Session not out yet?” and crossed the floor to shake hands with two men in severe black-and-white.

“Not even close,” said the older of the two. “They’ve been at it since you left. It’s all
‘The Council needs to turn the Royal Personage over to the Guild of Old Parrasians’
on one side, and all
‘The Royal Personage has returned to claim her throne’
on the other.”

Luck said something dismissive in return, but Poly saw his golden magic stir and sharpen.

“Well now,” said a soft, amused voice beside her. “Something seems to have annoyed Luck. I wonder what that can be?”

The younger of the two men had strolled away from Luck and was now standing beside her. Poly turned her head in what she hoped was a stately manner and took in the faintly challenging hazel eyes that glinted at her above a thin, sarcastic mouth.

“I can see why Luck likes you so much,” said that sarcastic mouth. It wasn’t said sarcastically, however: unless Poly was very much mistaken, those hazel eyes were looking her over with distinct appreciation.

“I’m Melchior,” he said. “That’s Pettis: he and Luck will talk for hours if left alone. Foolish of him, I think, when he could be whispering in
your
ear. You do speak, don’t you?”

“You’re very forward, sirrah,” said Poly. She was pleased to hear that her voice sounded thoughtful and quite cool. “Why are you addressing me?”

“Four reasons,” said Melchior. “One, I have a great interest in the Sleeping Princess. You’re something of a hobby of mine. Two, your hair is delightfully unusual. Those
are
spells, I take it? May I touch your hair?”

“Of course not!” said Poly, ruining her aloof tone of voice with an unfortunate squeak.

Melchior’s eyes lit with wicked amusement. “Three, you’re quite obviously an enchantress of some power; and four, well, I haven’t seen anything quite like
this
before.”

He was holding her gloved hand in his own, and before Poly quite knew what was happening he had kissed her fingers lightly.

“Stop that!” hissed Poly, her eyes flying to Luck. He hadn’t noticed, still deep in his conversation with Pettis, and Poly wasn’t sure whether to be annoyed or relieved.

“Why? Because Luck isn’t intelligent enough to do it?” This time there was certainly a sardonic edge to Melchior’s voice. “You must have so many questions, princess: I’m certain that Luck hasn’t answered them all. Allow me to be of service.”

“He warned me about you,” Poly said bluntly. She was rewarded by a lightning-fast grin from Melchior, and was a little annoyed to find that she
felt
rewarded.

“Did he so! Clever Luck. Me in particular?”

“Not in particular, no. He did warn me against accepting any gifts, agreeing to any arrangements or allowing people to touch me, though.”

One of Melchior’s hands spread wide, indicating innocence, but the other didn’t release Poly’s gloved hand. Poly saw a brief glint of magic obscure his hazel eyes like the flash of light across glass, and knew that he was studying her antimagic hand. The magic was obsidian black, but it didn’t frighten her.

“No hidden costs, princess. Ask, and I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

“That would be easier to believe if you weren’t using magic to study my hand,” said Poly.

“You can see magic,” said Melchior delightedly. Poly had the uncomfortable feeling that she’d told him entirely too much without meaning to do so.