The Queen of Mages (2 page)

Lady Amira Estaile’s hand drifted from one
dress to the next. “Hm, this one could do. In green, perhaps, dark
green. And lower the bodice a bit.”

“Then the shoulders should be wider too,
m’lady,” the dressmaker offered.

Amira smiled. “Yes, that would be fine. And
no lace here.” She traced a finger along the décolletage.

“If m’lady desires so,” the little
dressmaker said dubiously.

Katin Berisha, Amira’s
vala
, rolled
her eyes. “I think m’lady will be distracting enough without excess
cleavage on display.”

“Oh, hush. It will give them all something
else to gossip about.” Which would be a nice change. Her common
birth, recent ennobling, and dead husband had been tittered about
quite enough in the noble parlors of Callaston. Amira could
understand their fascination, but it grew tiresome. She rubbed at
her aching temple absently.

Katin sighed and turned to the little old
dressmaker. “When can it be done?”

“Oh, well, I am quite busy with my other
orders for the summer ball,” she fretted. “So many ladies are
ordering new dresses… My seamstresses are already quite
overwhelmed.”

All part of the game,
Amira thought.
“Katin?”

Amira’s
vala
drew a small velvet
purse from the folds of her dress. “An extra silver should be
enough motivation for your girls,” she said dryly, holding up a
coin.

The dressmaker cleared her throat. “Countess
Besiana next door thought it wise to motivate
each
of the
three seamstresses assigned to her dress.”

Amira snorted. “Shameless! I believe we can
afford to match the countess’s generosity,” she said to Katin with
a wink, although the pain in her head was making it harder for her
to keep smiling.

Katin sighed and pulled two more silvers
from the pouch. “I trust that my lady’s dress will be ready the
same day as the countess’s.”

“A countess must come first, of course,” the
dressmaker said, pocketing the coins, “but I assure you, Lady
Amira’s dress will be ready in plenty of time for the ball.” She
simpered at them and toddled out the door on her stumpy legs. Her
assistants gathered up the sample dresses and scurried after her as
a housemaid showed them out.

It had thrilled Amira to be able to summon
one of Callaston’s preeminent dressmakers to her manse, but her
pounding head had drained all the fun from it. She held her smile
rigid as she swept out of the sitting room and led Katin up the
stairs.

When Amira reached her bedroom, she could
not hide it any longer, and collapsed against the bed, moaning and
clutching her head with both hands. The headache came in slow,
pounding waves that took forever to crest and break.

Katin clucked her tongue and shut the door
quickly. “You need a surgeon.”

“No! They’ll just put leeches on me, or do
something equally useless.” Amira lifted her head up and tried to
smile. “I’ll be fine.”

“If your head doesn’t crack open from the
pain. I saw you grinding your jaw.” Katin went over to the window
and flung it open. “At least get some air.”

“Yes, yes.” Amira pushed to her feet. “Help
me get this blasted corset off.”

The headaches had been getting worse, coming
almost daily now. Amira had come to dread the first sign of it, a
tension behind her eyes. The pain built slowly, then erupted into
pulses of agony that shattered her concentration. She’d barely been
able to make it up the stairs this time.

Katin made quick work of the buttons on her
dress and unlaced the corset, and shortly Amira rested in a chair
by the window, clad only in her underdress. The high-walled garden
behind her manse would thwart any prying eyes.

Amira inhaled deeply, nose tingling at the
mixed smells of Callaston. The city had covered sewers, but it
still reeked of smoke and effluent anyway. At least the roses in
her garden added a pleasant, masking sweetness.

“Perhaps we should get out of the city,” she
said. “The invitations have thinned now that everyone’s preparing
for the summer ball. Plenty of time for a trip to the country.” Her
headache had mostly subsided now, but she felt unnaturally warm.
“Nobles go out to the country all the time. Or even to the
sea.”

“It would take weeks just to get to the
sea,” Katin stated flatly.

“Yes, dear, I wasn’t actually
suggesting—ugh. As your mistress, I command you, prepare us for a
journey into the country, et cetera and so on.”

“What—just the pair of us?”

“Are you concerned about the other
servants?” Amira chuckled. “I’m sure they’ll be thrilled to have a
few days to themselves.”

“You still haven’t hired a house major.
They’ll likely let the place rot if I’m not here to shout at them.
But that’s not what I’m worried about,” Katin said darkly. “Two
women alone on the road…”

“Pish,” Amira said. “We’ll have the driver
with us, and we’re hardly going into uncharted wilderness. The land
is thoroughly settled for leagues in every direction.”

“Yes, well…” Katin sighed. “Where in
particular are we going?”

“I don’t know. Wherever is pleasant.
Surprise me.” The headache had all but vanished; Amira very nearly
felt like herself again. The promise of the summer ball came back
to her, and she was thrilled all over again.

———

It took the rest of the afternoon for Katin
to pack Amira’s bags, or rather to direct Amira’s other servants to
pack them. A
vala
was supposed to anticipate her lady’s
needs and ensure that all her affairs ran smoothly. Katin
accomplished this by snapping incessantly at the other maids. Sara,
the youngest, squeaked and scurried whenever Katin said her name.
Sometimes Amira wondered if Katin deliberately tried to terrify the
girl. It would be easy sport, but Amira felt sorry for the poor
thing.

Katin was right about hiring a house major,
though. Every noble residence of any size needed a major to run the
place properly. A
vala
was a personal servant whose
attentions should be directed toward her mistress. Amira knew Katin
didn’t exactly mind ordering the other servants around, but she
still complained about having to do two jobs.

Amira could barely sleep that night, alone
in her vast canopied bed. The headache had returned, slightly
weaker than before, but it was the impending journey that kept her
awake. Amira had wanted to see all the wonders of the realm since
she was a little girl: the towering Black Mountains; the southern
highlands with their dramatic canyons;
Angaril Saeth
, the
Skysilver Spire, a mysterious monolith far to the northwest; the
famed clifftop city of Seawatch.

Upon her marriage to Valmir a year ago, she
had thought her dreams would come true. His wealth had brought her
a certain kind of freedom, but it had also constrained her.
Valmir’s business dealings had kept him tethered to the city, and
Amira had been swallowed whole by the maw of noble society. There
were endless dinner parties, masques, dances. She enjoyed them, but
she wanted to see more of what the world had to offer.

Then winter had come, and a spate of
galloping cough had run through the city. Everyone shut their homes
tight, but somehow Valmir had caught it, and he was one of the
unlucky few not to survive. There had never been deep love between
them, only a sort of friendly acquaintance, but Amira found herself
missing him anyway. She thanked the Aspects she’d never been
consumed by the fantasy of a marriage wrought from true love. Their
union had been convenient for them both, and she had certainly
gotten the better end of the deal, what with not being dead.

She felt a vague twinge of guilt that she’d
returned to Callaston society so soon after Valmir’s death, but
he’d been a practical man. He wouldn’t have minded. The mourning
month had barely ended when the invitations started pouring in.
Luncheons, dinners, garden parties, all of them an excuse for
Callaston’s noble matrons to inflict their bachelor sons upon her.
Not that Amira didn’t enjoy the company of handsome men, but she
needed a palate cleanser before the summer ball. She could not go
as far as the Black Mountains, so a trip to the countryside would
have to suffice.

She supposed she would eventually marry
again, but thanks to the resources she inherited from Valmir, she
need not rush. The redoubtable Mister Hendricks oversaw the
day-to-day management of her assets; he would let her know if her
financial situation ever threatened to become dire.

After a long while lying in the dark she
went to wake Katin, in her little cell adjacent to Amira’s
bedchamber. Katin sat up, cursing, and made some tea. Amira only
wanted to talk, and Katin was content to listen drowsily. Night
always made Amira feel lonely and isolated, as if all the life and
charm had gone out of the world. Even when Valmir had slept next to
her, she could not shake the feeling. Having someone to chat with,
even if it was only idle gossip, drove away some of that
terror.

She jerked awake some time later, realizing
she’d drifted off in her chair. Katin was gone, probably back to
her cell, so Amira climbed into bed and dozed a while longer. The
curtains were drawn, and dawn crept in slowly.

Katin had said that the coach would arrive
early. Amira rose once the sun peeked through the window. She
fetched the garments they’d set out the night before. A travelling
corset, not so tight as the dreadful thing she’d worn yesterday,
and a clean underdress to go beneath it. A simple blue linen dress,
to ward off the heat, with little white flowers embroidered on the
sleeves. A wide-brimmed hat, for the sun, and tan leather
gloves.

Amira washed from her basin and brushed out
her honey-blonde locks, then tied them back with a cord. Katin
could do something with her hair later. She started to dress, but
couldn’t tighten the corset properly on her own. Finally she gave
up and called for Katin, who woke and helped her, cursing some
more. Katin helped powder Amira’s face and apply a little color to
her eyes, but as always refused Amira’s offer to do the same for
her. It was as if the girl
wanted
to look plain.

Her clothes and accoutrements required two
entire trunks, for no
vala
would dare risk letting her lady
be unprepared for any circumstance the countryside might offer. One
never knew when a masque would leap from behind a hedge and demand
one’s attendance. The maids wrestled the trunks down the stairs to
the foyer.

The morning had dawned cool, and light
breezes ruffled the trees outside. The hedge maples on Willbury
Street were old and grand, their branches nearly making a natural
arbor across the road. Amira had worked herself up into great
excitement over this jaunt, and she waited impatiently in her
sitting room, watching the morning traffic through the window:
servants going to the grocer, milkmaids and butchers making their
deliveries, merchants heading off to conduct business.

Soon the coach arrived. Katin had managed to
find a coachman who was willing to take them for an unknown number
of days toward an unpredictable destination. His name was Huffman,
and he was a gray-haired stork of a man so tall that his breeches
barely reached his boot-tops. He never seemed to smile, but Katin
had said his price was fair. Amira found him delightfully
solemn.

The coach itself was crafted in elegant
simplicity, its dark wood shiny with countless layers of polished
lacquer, but otherwise devoid of ornamentation. A cunning little
step folded out from the undercarriage, springing forth with a
click
when Huffman tugged on it.