Spindle (Two Monarchies Sequence Book 1) (34 page)

“Mordion,” said Poly, curling the fingers of her antimagic hand. She had the feeling that she would need it before long. The lilly-pilly, now– that was easy enough. “There’s magic in everything. You should know that, but I’m glad you don’t.”

From somewhere in the depths of her stomach she found the specks of ambient magic in the lilly-pilly, and pulled them upwards. Then she vomited it onto the floor until she was headachy but awake.

“Well,” said Mordion, through Brackett’s face. “I have to say, darling, I didn’t expect such an er,
earthy
solution from you.”

He lunged for her and Poly tumbled out of the chair, her legs trembling but supportive. Brackett’s body was old and slow, and he was far behind her when she dashed for the door.

“Locked, I’m afraid,” he said, panting.

Poly tried the knob anyway, jabbing with her magic at the lock, and found that her magic didn’t work. It was there, and present, and powerful– and was sucked up as soon as it touched the door. That was familiar.

“Heavily soaked in antimagic,” said Mordion. He held a small tube filled with something dark and fluid, the tip of which looked unpleasantly sharp. “So is Brackett’s body. I had a suspicion that you might have got back your magic, and I couldn’t positively count on the tincture working. You’re a resilient young woman, Poly.”

“I’ve had a lot of practise fighting off unconsciousness,” said Poly, rather bitterly. Behind her bustle she rested the palm of her antimagic hand on the door. It tingled where it rested against the wood, like recognising like, but didn’t suggest any way of unlocking the door.

“This will be much more pleasant for you if you sit down again,” said Mordion, leaning casually on a chair-top with Brackett’s hand. “If you make me chase you around the room I will become less inclined to be gentle with you.”

“I remember sitting down for you once,” said Poly. “It wasn’t very pleasant. I’ll take my chances.”

Mordion pushed a thumb against the end of the fluid-filled tube, and a tiny spurt of dark liquid leapt in the air, scenting the room with lilly-pilly.

“I’ve measured the dose myself this time,” he said. “It works rather devastatingly quickly when injected. No time for any of that nastiness.”

His voice was thoughtful and calm, and despite herself Poly wasn’t ready for him to toss the chair aside and leap at her. She dodged away with desperate slowness, and Brackett’s fingers bruised her arm where he grasped at it, throwing her off balance and into the cluttered occasional table. Poly spun and fell, tumbling over the table. Mordion caught her as she was trying to scramble up, Brackett’s stubby fingers clawing at her shoulder and his weight heavy across her legs. Poly kicked desperately, her breath loud in her ears and the floorboards rough and unforgiving beneath her. There was hot breath at her neck, fabric tangling her legs, and then Poly’s heeled boots found soft, sensitive flesh and she kicked once more, viciously. Glass flew and shattered, and Poly scrambled to her feet as fabric tore, her palms bleeding. Mordion swore behind her in a groaning gasp, horribly close. There was a warmth in Poly’s antimagic hand that wasn’t from the bloody scapes across her palm, and she threw a wild look around the room. Antimagic door. Antimagic Brackett. No windows. Solid block walls of quarried stone. There was no way out.

But Melchior opened passageways in the space between mortar and brick, and he had shown her how.

Poly ran for the wall ahead of her and didn’t stop. Then she was running down a shadowed passage at impossible angles, her gloveless antimagic arm clenched tight to her chest where her heart beat hard and fast. Mordion stumbled into the passage behind her, Brackett’s footsteps heavy and irregular. The sound spiralled behind her as he traversed the same impossible angles that she had done, and caught up so quickly that Poly only had time to give one short, startled scream as she was spun roughly around.

Her glasses jerked off her nose and clattered to the ground somewhere out of sight. Poly, reverting to instinct, plied her black-heeled shoes with such vigour that Mordion abruptly released her. She fell, backwards this time, her antimagic arm flying up and out in a vain attempt to catch herself. Brackett’s body fell with her, and Poly felt her fingers scratch flesh and then magic. The passage collapsed in on itself but Poly was already falling free. She landed heavily in a familiar brick alley, and sent something skittering sideways with her skirts.

Mordion said something that sounded like: “Urk!” in Brackett’s voice and slumped to the ground, a blurry muddle to Poly’s unaided eyes.

Poly felt frantically for her glasses and found them against the alley wall. She put them on with shaking hands and straight away wished she hadn’t. Brackett was sprawled out on the ground–the half to three-quarters of him that had been outside the passage when it collapsed, that is–but the rest of him had vanished with the passage. Poly caught a fleeting glimpse of slick red, and white bone, and took her glasses off again. She climbed stiffly to her feet, feeling the warmth of tears on her cheeks, and carefully made her way to the gate. Something stirred her hair as she stumbled over the threshold, but when Poly twitched herself around in fear she found that it was only Brackett’s magic following her. It sank into the strands of her hair and made a single white streak from the crown of her head to the end of her hair.

“What a waste!” said a familiar voice.

Poly dried her tears with cold hands and put her glasses back on her nose. She felt sick and stiff and not quite real.

“I could have found a good deal of use for that,” said Mordion, strolling into the alley. “I don’t think you appreciate how much of an annoyance you are.”

“I’m always glad to be of assistance,” said Poly, through her teeth. She was shaking from head to foot and it was difficult to stop her voice from shaking as well.

“I don’t think I’ve seen anything quite like
that
before,” he said thoughtfully, nodding at her bare antimagic arm with its silver spiral.

Poly laughed before she knew what she was doing. “That’s ironic. You’re the one who gave it to me.”

Mordion’s eyes sharpened on her face. “That’s the dog leash? Now, how did you manage to do that, I wonder?”

“You can tell me if you ever find out.”

“You do me an injustice, darling. I merely
heard
about it: I wasn’t the author of the scheme. I did allow it to go forward without interfering, I’ll admit. I hoped it would give Luck a few moments of unpleasantness.”

“You don’t know Luck very well, then,” said Poly. “He got me to unleash the dog.”

“And thus we come to the crux of the matter,” said Mordion affably. “I
don’t
know Luck very well. But Melissa does, and I flatter myself that I know you quite well now.”

“Do you? Then you should know that I’m about to shut the gate in your face.”

Mordion said to the closing gate: “Have you seen Luck today?”

Poly’s fingers froze around the latch. “He’s been busy.”

“Oh, he has. He and Melissa have been very, very busy.”

“What’s your point?” said Poly coldly.

“Luck is otherwise engaged tonight. You won’t see him again. And unless you present yourself at the Council Hall tomorrow by ten, I’ll use him instead.”

“You’re nothing like strong enough to control Luck,” Poly said. There was a coldness growing in her. She remembered Melissa’s sticky magic curled parasitically around Luck’s and found herself unsure.

“I’m not,” agreed Mordion. “Melissa, however, has him well in hand. I wouldn’t be able to get all of his magic, of course: he has none of your delightful pliability. But I’ll take him if I can’t take you.”

“I see,” said Poly. Mordion was smiling at her in a friendly sort of way that stopped far short of his eyes. “I’ll be there.”

She closed the gate on him and sat down in the grass, deathly tired. With her eyes closed and her head resting against the gate, Poly heard Mordion walk out of the alley, his footsteps clicking against brick. She didn’t open her eyes again until she heard quick, uneven footfalls through the grass and Onepiece tumbled into her arms.

“Mum!” he said, and made a sticky
mwah!
against her cheek.

“Terribly sorry,” said Isabella, her eyes sharp. She was only a few feet away. “Toffee, I’m afraid. I’m sure there’s a more comfortable chair in the house, you know, despite Luck. And I have a suspicion that a very strong cup of tea is in order.”

“No,” said Poly wearily, rousing herself sufficiently to climb to her feet with Onepiece clasped in her arms. “That is, not yet. Melchior is waiting for me in one of his created passages.”

“Shall I tell him that you were called away? I think you shouldn’t be out and about right now.”

“Please.”

“Very well,” said Isabella. She opened the gate and said: “What would you like me to do with the body in the alley?”

“Oh.” Poly blinked foggily. “Can you get rid of it?”

“Certainly. Aunt Oddu has some very useful connexions. I take it we are
not
reporting the matter?”

“Not yet.”

“Very well,” said Isabella again. “Go to the house, Poly. You’re worrying Onepiece.”

Poly, belatedly realising that Onepiece was patting her head and murmuring: “Good Poly. Good mum. Good, good, good. Good mum,” smiled at him to take the anxious look from his eyes and said to Isabella: “Yes. Thank you.”

When Isabella returned, Onepiece was napping across Poly’s shoulder. Unwilling to wake him, and still more unwilling to lose the comfort of his dead weight, Poly took him with her to let Isabella back in.

The girl looked her up and down, and said frankly: “You still look awful. Tea, I think. Then you can tell me all about it.”

They made tea in the kitchen, sitting on the kitchen table with their feet dangling, while Isabella asked sharp questions and Poly held Onepiece close, comforting herself with his warmth.

“Luck isn’t coming home this afternoon?”

“No. I’ll fetch him tomorrow.”

“Melissa?”

“No. Well, yes, directly. Indirectly, Mordion.”

Isabella’s eyes narrowed. “Blackmail?”

“Yes. Will you spend the day with Onepiece again tomorrow?”

“Of course. What shall you do?”

“I’m not exactly sure yet,” said Poly. “Last time I was taken by surprise. I think Mordion might regret giving me time to think things over.”

“How did you come to be involved with such a disreputable character? I can’t help feeling that Mordion isn’t at
all
the sort of man to interest you.”

“He and I met a long time ago,” Poly said. “He seems to be a collector of powerful things. He decided that I was a powerful thing to be collected long before I knew I was an enchantress. The first I knew of it was when he cursed me and bound most of my magic to himself.”

“So
that’s
how he’s lived so long!” said Isabella, in satisfaction. “There have been rumours, and I did wonder: only there always
are
rumours and they’re not always true. But Poly, if he
did
curse you, why send Luck to wake you up?”

“He didn’t get it quite right the first time. Some of that was because I managed to work a rather big bit of magic, and some of it was because he didn’t realise how much power he was trying to take on. Something went very badly wrong and almost the whole of Civet–”

“Went mad overnight,” finished Isabella, her eyes sparkling. “Goodness! You’ve made quite the impression over the centuries, haven’t you?”

Poly laughed bitterly. “I have, haven’t I?”

“Yes, that was rather thoughtless of me, wasn’t it? What can I do to help?”

“Keep Onepiece safe for me. I hope– that is, I might not make it back. If I don’t, I need to know that he’s cared for. And I need you to look after something else for me.”

“Anything,” nodded Isabella, her young face for once entirely solemn.

Poly felt around the threads of the house and plucked her books from beside her bed. They appeared between herself and Isabella a heartbeat later, making Isabella jump.

“Keep these safe for me, too. If things don’t go as well as I hope, I’ll need them.”

“What are they?”

“Guidebooks. Receptacles. Something to help me remember.”

“Very well,” said Isabella. “They’ll be safe with me. Poly, what’s the worst that could happen?”

“Me asleep again,” Poly said, shivering. In his sleep, Onepiece clung closer. “Luck enchanted not to rescue me. Mordion in power again.”

“Best case?”

“Mordion, dead,” said Poly, her voice as sharp as cut glass.

Chapter Twenty

Isabella stayed through the afternoon and all that night, a sharp bolstering presence and conscientious maker of tea, to Poly’s distant amusement. It seemed that there wasn’t a problem Isabella didn’t consider could be solved by the constant application of tea. Since she couldn’t sleep, Poly accepted the tea and used the time to think. It was a regrettably frustrating exercise: if she
knew
, thought Poly; really
knew
that Luck was entirely useless to her, then she could plot a course of action with reasonable ease.

The question was,
was
Luck entirely useless? And then there was the question of Melchior– who, as lovely as he was, and as useful as he could be if everything
did
go wrong, was nothing like strong enough to help if it came right down to a contest of magic.

As the morning broke and grew later, Poly laid Onepiece out in her bed. Her arms ached with the loss of warmth and fullness, but the time for thought and rest and comfort was gone. Now it was time to fight.

Isabella helped her to dress, an unnecessary and almost ceremonial attention that Poly found bolstered her courage immensely. She wouldn’t allow Isabella to braid her hair into a coronet, however, despite Isabella’s protestations that hair worn down the back was neither
elegant nor fashionable.

“I may need it,” she said.

And Isabella, eyeing askance the ominous way that Poly’s hair undulated of its own accord, said: “Hm. Perhaps you’re right.”

Brackett’s body was gone when Poly set out. The blood was gone, too, leaving no sign that anything untoward had ever happened. Despite that, Poly chose to walk to the Council Hall, eschewing hidden passages and horseless carriage alike. It was nice to feel the triad on the crown of her head, and if a small, dark part of her suggested that it could be many years before she again felt the warmth of the suns, well, that only enhanced the delight of it.

When she was standing on the golden steps of the Council Hall, Poly allowed herself a small sigh. It was done. There was no backing out now. But she did wish that she could have seen Luck one last time without the threat of Mordion and Melissa between them. She thought of Onepiece sleeping in her bed, unaware that he wouldn’t see her again, and felt such a physical pain at her heart that she sat down with a gasp on the stairs.

Isabella would take care of him, she knew. She had promised, and Onepiece was already very fond of her. If only he wouldn’t revert back to being a puppy when he found out that Poly wasn’t coming back. Or, more hopefully, if only Poly could make this work, and things went well. Then– oh,
then
– but it wasn’t helpful to think about it. She wouldn’t think about it. Wouldn’t hope for it. Not yet.

Poly stood, sick and determined, and Mordion’s voice said behind her: “Not getting cold feet, I hope, darling? Luck will be arriving shortly. I wouldn’t like to have to change my plans at such short notice, but I will if I have to.”

Relief fizzed in Poly’s stomach. So Luck
would
be there.

“I’m ready to come in,” she said.

The hall passed in a white, marble blur until Poly’s fixed gaze informed her that she was in the Council Chambers, where she had declared Luck her Champion. The room was confusingly full of people, clumps of wizards talking nervously until the door opened, and the room muffled as all faces turned to Poly and Mordion.

Melchior’s face jumped out at her first. He was frozen mid-word, his face stunned, then sick, and finally blank. Poly gave him the tiniest shake of the head and saw with relief his eyelashes drop in acquiescence. He couldn’t help her now, but there was still hope that Black Velvet could salvage something of this later. Perhaps even wake her again. Poly found herself fiercely grateful for his presence: she hadn’t expected quite so many people. Her eyes flicked from face to face until it occurred to her that the whole wizard council, man and woman, was present.

“Everyone is eager to see what you can bring to the council,” said Mordion. “Last time we tried this little experiment I made the mistake of trying to take on too much by myself. I didn’t expect you to be quite so potent, you see. I very nearly burned myself out. That won’t happen this time.”

“I see,” said Poly, and she
did
see. Every wizard here was willing to tear her into pieces so that they could each have a piece of the power. “You’d better get on with it, then.”

“Don’t be impatient, darling. We’re waiting on Luck. After all, he’s still your champion: we need a release from him first. Ah, here he is.”

Poly turned her head, feeling a nasty lurch in her stomach. Luck was walking through the door with Melissa on his arm, his eyes vague and preoccupied. Melissa, dressed beautifully in cerulean blue, looked plump with satisfaction and power, her blue-painted fingernails making patterns on Luck’s arm. The wizards parted for them instinctively, making a channel through which they swept, gaudy, bright, and powerful, until they were at the centre of the hall with Mordion and Poly.

“Have you got your part under control?” Mordion asked Melissa.

“Of course!” she said, laughing. The stickiness of her magic was in and around Luck’s golden magic, a fuzzy crimson haze that surrounded and suffused him.

And yet, somewhere underneath it all, Poly thought she heard the
tick, tick, tick
of something counting down. She caught her breath and stared up at Luck, who returned the look with one of his blandest, gold-eyed looks.

“He’s mine, now,” said Melissa, misunderstanding Poly’s fixed gaze. She gave a tiny, proud smile that Poly saw and hated.

She flicked her eyes briefly to Melissa’s face and said: “Oh? I must have misunderstood. I thought you had to use magic to interest Luck this time.”

Melissa went pink with anger and took one darting step forward, but Mordion laughed, low and delighted.

“Darling, your claws have grown sharper. You’re one of the few women of my acquaintance who becomes more interesting on further acquaintance. Such a pity I can’t keep you.”

“I’d rather sleep for another three hundred years,” said Poly. “If it’s all the same to you.”

“Oh, that’s not up for debate, darling. I’ve never been one to sacrifice self-interest to pleasure. You are a very necessary part in my plans. Is he ready, Melissa?”

Melissa caressed a finger down one of Luck’s cheeks and said to him: “Now, sweeting, what is it you have to say?”

Luck’s mouth opened just as someone said: “Mum!”

Poly’s heart stopped. Onepiece, thin and uncertain and angry, was pushing his way through wizards with sharp elbows and sharper magic. Poly’s heart started again with a shockingly painful thump, and her eyes went to Luck, who stood silent and unresponsive.

Beneath the thunder of Poly’s heart, an unwinding magic went
tick, tick, tick.

Luck said in a voice that brooked no refusal: “Dog!
Heel!
”

Onepiece scuttled to his side and allowed himself to be picked up, wrapping skinny arms around Luck’s neck and watching Poly with wide eyes. How had he gotten away from Isabella? More importantly, how was she to keep him safe?

Tick, tick, tick.

“How delicious!” said Melissa. “He’ll make a lovely accoutrement for evening parties! Do go on, Luck. What is it you have to say to everyone?”

“I resign my claim,” said Luck readily. “I pass the right of championship to the Wizard Council.”

Poly would have felt sick at the ease with which he said it if she couldn’t still feel the spell unwinding beneath the veneer of Melissa’s magic.

“Wonderful!” Mordion said briskly. “Spellpaper?”

Melissa flourished a pearly paper at him with languid fingers. “Of course. Though why you didn’t just draw up a new one, I’ll never know.”

“Sentimental value,” said Mordion. “Besides, the curse is a good, strong one. The enchantress who drew it up for me met with an unfortunate accident at the hands of two children: we won’t see her like again.”

Probably Mum and Dad,
thought Poly, with a distant, sick amusement. Onepiece was making tiny, magical spurts with his fingers, and she desperately hoped that the haze of Melissa’s magic surrounding Luck would render it unseen.

Someone else in the room was forming magic, too. Poly, her eyes darting around the room again, saw a burgeoning cloud of obsidian behind Melchior and felt her heart sink. Complications were springing up more quickly than she could think how to deal with them.

“Do sit down,” said Mordion. He was looking at her curiously, which would have worried Poly greatly if it didn’t mean that he hadn’t noticed either Onepiece or Melchior. “I’m afraid that we must dance this little dance once again. You must find this rather a bore.”

“Oh no, I understand,” said Poly. She looked past Mordion and into Melchior’s hazel eyes, and said very clearly: “It means you get a second chance. It didn’t happen the way you thought it would the first time. This time you can make sure it does.”

“Exactly so,” said Mordion. “Palm please, darling– no, I
don’t
think the antimagic one is a good idea, do you? Glove on, please.”

Poly, silently pulling her glove back on, saw Melchior give the barest nod in her direction, and felt a flood of warm relief. If everything went wrong and Luck couldn’t or wouldn’t wake her a second time, there was still hope.

The knife pricked, sharp and shallow, pooling blood in Poly’s palm. And Mordion, as he had done three hundred years ago, turned her palm over again and pressed it to the spellpaper, slicking blood across its bone-white surface.

Her heart was beating fast and hard, but all that Poly could hear was
tick, tick, tick,
layered beneath the babble of surrounding magic. And as she listened, the spell gave a final
tick
and was silent.

Into the silence, Luck, his eyes very golden and awake, said: “Right. You’re all under arrest.”

Wizards all over the hall froze. Mordion laughed, an incredulous sound that broke the silence, and a few uneasy titters of laughter rose around the room.

“Is that so? Forgive my disbelief, but even if you had the manpower–not to mention the authority!–to arrest
all
of us, it seems remarkably foolish to wait until I’ve sealed the curse again. Melissa’s enchantment notwithstanding, I think even you will have a hard time fighting off Poly’s magic.”

“Oh, she’s at least as strong as I am,” said Luck affably. “That’s why I thought it was better not to let you have it. Sorry.”

“Don’t be dire, sweeting,” said Melissa, her honeyed tones full of sticky magic and soft promises.

“Huh,” said Luck interestedly. “I don’t remember you being so boring before. That’s a pity. Stop doing that with your voice. It’s irritating.”

Melissa gasped in outrage, but Mordion, smiling with eyes as hard as granite, said: “I have the spellpaper. The curse is completely bound. I
have
it all.”

Poly looked into Luck’s bright eyes and gave herself a hasty internal check. There was no loss in her– no pain, no draining pull, no irresistible lethargy.

“You don’t, you know,” she told Mordion. She felt light and free and powerful. Something had been done when her blood sealed the spellpaper, but it had not been a curse that was activated.

“I have the spellpaper,” said Mordion again, but his eyes were cold and watchful.

“Yes. About that,” said Luck. “I fiddled with the spellpaper a bit. And the curse is null and void anyway.”

Mordion, his gaze fixed on Luck’s face, said: “You broke the curse? Impossible! She was still falling asleep in the village.”

“Everything about Poly is beautiful and impossible,” said Luck. “You of all people should have seen that. It’s one of the reasons you chose her, after all.”

“How?”

“Oh, I just kept kissing her,” Luck said dreamily. “It worked out surprisingly well.”

“I see,” said Mordion. His eyes were without even a touch of his usual cold amusement. “Then I will just have to draw up another paper. I’m sure Melissa and I can come up with something suitable. After all, you
did
just turn Poly over to the Wizard Council’s Championship.”

“Yes. About that,” said Luck again, and Poly swallowed a mad little giggle. “I did give her over. But you did, too. That was one of the things I did to the spellpaper. You made a pact of blood, turning Poly over to her own Championship with perpetuity. And if you don’t know what that means, you can go and visit the little grey man in Curzon street. He told me all about it. Gave me a lot of good advice, actually. Oh, and Black Velvet will be here shortly: they were very interested to find out what you were up to.”

“I see,” said Mordion again. This time his voice was curious, even thoughtful. “This complicates matters. Let me clarify for you all.”

The Wizard Council, who to a man had begun to look very uncomfortable indeed, looked variously at their feet, Mordion, and the middle distance.

“There are only two outcomes for you all today,” Mordion told them. “One, you give yourselves up to Black Velvet and accept life-long imprisonment or worse for treason.”