She's All Thaumaturgy

by A. K. Caggiano

  Elayne squinted. “Yes?”

  “Then we’re all done!”

  When they returned to Havencourt, Elayne went right to the apothecary and relieved Neoma. As Rosalind walked the elf off, whispering about the journey they’d just been on, she could hear Gramps pipe up about wizards. He was irate and had started swearing, but they disappeared up the stairs before she could catch more, not that she was particularly interested.

  What she did care about was Frederick and his wounds, and she was surprised every time she changed Frederick’s bandages to see how they had healed. She kept his face clean and told him about Cassia, at least a little glad he couldn’t respond with what a bad idea he probably thought wandering off into the woods was at a time like this. She described the things in the apothecary to him too, holding up jars of strange creatures suspended in thick liquid and sniffing dried out yet still grossly pungent herbs.

  Then on the third evening as she told him for the sixth time about a taxidermized squirrel that sat, cross-eyed, on a high shelf and didn’t inspire a lot of confidence in her in regard to the healer, there was a crackle in the air just above his form, and she fell silent. The dinky that crawled out had a look—if one could really decipher a dinky’s look—that said it was very tired. It ambled through the air over to Frederick with its many growing and dissolving eyes, blinked all of them in a slow succession, raised three of its perhaps nine shoulders, and began weaving.

  Elayne shifted around to see the words better. In silvery thread, they read: Okay, look, Freddie, I’m sorry your feelings were hurt by whatever I said, but seriously, you need to come home. This is ridiculous! Also I may have acted a little rashly when I ended things. Respond, I know you can.

  The dinky hovered below the last word and cast its many eyes onto Elayne. She gestured to Frederick, who of course did not move, and then the dinky sighed—or, at least, if it could have sighed, it would have—and popped back through its fissure, the words drying up into nothingness.

  Elayne settled back onto her stool, chewing her lip. That had certainly been a message from Vyvyan, and all at once Elayne remembered the woman like a bad dream. Visions of the long, courtier-filled halls of Yavarid came back to her, and she sunk into herself at the memory of the fear of passing through them. She hadn’t thought hard about it since, but something had made Frederick want to talk to her that night in the dining hall after ten years of silence. Had it been Vyvyan?

  She cast her eyes on his face again, betraying nothing. She drummed her fingers on the table, then grabbed the ragged ends of the sash that was still tied around his hips. He had used it to secure his sword on occasion since childhood when all he carried was a wooden one. Thoughtlessly, she started to braid the ends together.

  “Do you remember the time at the big old oak?” He didn’t respond, and she knew he wouldn’t, but she gave him a moment to try. “Probably not, but I don’t blame you, it was so long ago. I think I was maybe seven, so you were, what, nine? I was really scrawny, but faster than you. You kind of hated that. But Voss was even faster since he got so tall that summer, and also turned into kind of a jerk.” She laughed lightly. “Not much has changed there. We were racing out to the woods at the edge of the courtyard. Remember how big we thought it was then? You wanted to climb the old oak, the one with knots big enough to get up into. Voss said there was no way I could do it, and you said that I could. You guys yelled at each other for, like, ever. When you finally just asked me to do it, to prove to him I could, I was really scared. I was going to say I couldn’t, but you were just, like, so excited for me to climb that damn tree.” She undid the braid and started again, her fingers mindlessly working while in her head she saw the towering branches above her once again. “It was so high up, but you absolutely expected me to be able to do it, and you said to me ‘Elly, show him!’ and I just…well, I did.”

  Elayne swallowed away the lump in her throat.

  “I couldn’t believe it, that I got so high so fast, but it only happened because you convinced me. You didn’t question it for a second, you just believed in me. Even after I fell,”—she snorted—“I was still really proud. And I never said thank you for that. I mean, I didn’t know I needed to thank you until now, but just…thank you.”

  “Why would you thank me for breaking your arm?”

  Elayne knocked the stool over in her rush to stand, shocked to see Frederick struggling to get up onto his elbows. His eyes were barely blinking open, but he managed half a smile.

  “Frederick!” She threw herself at him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she squeezed them shut, refusing to cry. “You’re not dead!”

  “No,” he said weakly into her hair as she crushed him against her. “Not yet anyway.”

  “I didn’t think you’d ever wake up.” She took a short breath, not wanting to let go. “Thank the gods.” His grip wasn’t strong, but it was there as he hugged her back, and she desperately didn’t want to lose it.

  “Elly?” His breath was warm on the side of her face.

  “Yes, Freddie?”

  “This is really nice, but,”—he cleared his throat—“You’re squeezing me kinda tight.”

  “Oh!” She jumped back, waving her hands frantically. “Shit, I’m sorry, your wound!”

  He glanced down at his chest and raised an eyebrow at the bandages. “Oh, it’s not that. I just, uh…feel like I haven’t had a piss in three days, and the dam’s about to burst.”

  Frederick had been able to hobble around that night and proved to be steady on his feet in a day. The healer wasn’t keen on letting him leave the apothecary’s sick room, but once he made it up the stairs, he refused to go back down. Instead, he let Rosalind and Elayne walk him around the grounds.

  Elayne was surprised to hear that Rosalind had convinced her father to send her sisters to Yavarid City for Quilliam’s nameday. The Countess and her daughters planned to be off the following morning, though Count Corning was staying behind to handle the lacking harvest and keep an eye on the distant clouds at the border. The castle was bustling about, preparing for their departure, and by nightfall when Elayne fell into the bed she’d neglected for their stay, she felt the exhaustion of the whole castle wash over her.

  A soft knock before the sun had risen woke her what felt like seconds later. Belladonna was let in by a sleepy Rosalind. The girl moved awkwardly into the chamber with a great wicker basket on her hip.

  “Mother intends to take you with us,” she said in a strained voice.

  “What are you talking about?” Rosalind yawned, running a hand through her short mop, causing it to stand straight up.

  “Back to Yavarid City. I don’t know how she thinks she’s going to convince you, but I heard her talking to Philip last night.”

  “Father’s General?” Rosalind woke straight up at that.

  Elayne’s eyes felt too big for her face then. Surely Countess Karine wasn’t preparing to kidnap them?

  “Here.” Belladonna dropped the basket onto Rosalind’s bed and reached up into the high pile of hair wrapped up on her head. She undid the ribbon there and revealed the end of Rosalind’s staff.

  “What in Maw?” Rosalind helped her fish the staff out of the back of her dress.

  Belladonna rubbed her neck and shook out her limbs. “Mother was going to have everything burned, but Violet helped me rescue them.”

  “She what?”

  “Shh!” She flashed a frightened look at her older sister and shivered. “It’s all there, and I got most of the blood out.”

  Elayne pulled out the tunic dress she had no idea she missed so much and quickly began to change. The front of it was only slightly darkened where she’d wiped her hands after assisting in stabilizing Frederick. She felt queasy at the memory, but only for a moment. “What about the others?”

  “Sir Frederick is just across the hall, and mother has Neoma and Bix on the lower floor.”

  Rosalind grabbed her staff and let out an an
noyed huff. “Take me there. Elayne, grab Fred and meet up downstairs. And be quiet.”

  Elayne nodded before she realized what she was agreeing too, but when Rosalind and her sister disappeared into the darkness of the hall and Elayne found herself standing outside Frederick’s bedroom door, she couldn’t quite get her fingers to rap on the door. She struggled with her fist hovering there, finally tapping lightly, the sound too loud for the hall. When she listened, there was nothing from inside the room, so she tried again, louder, cringing at the noise she made. When again he didn’t answer, she tried the handle, and the door swung open.

  “Fred,” she hissed into the darkness of the chamber, pulling the door to behind her. “Frederick, wake up.”

  This time when he didn’t answer, the annoyance she felt was chased away with fear. Maybe he wasn’t in the shape they had thought, maybe he should have spent another night in the apothecary, maybe he was—

  She ran to the bed and leaned over the still form there, her heart thumping wildly. But before she could grab him and shake him to life, she saw his chest rising and falling, his mouth wide open, asleep not just soundly, but incredibly hard. Panic receded from her veins, and she slumped forward, easing her hands onto the edge of the bed with a sigh.

  “Hmm?” A hand snaked around her arm. “Oh, hey, Elly.”

  He pulled her closer, his eyes still half-closed. He rolled toward her and grinned.

  “What are you doing?” she whispered, trying to balance herself on the edge of the bed as he sleepily tugged at her.

  “Huh?” He blinked a few times, sitting up on an elbow. “I thought, uh?” He stuttered himself awake. “What are you doing?”

  “Me?” She swallowed. He was bare-chested and despite seeing him that way for the past three days, now that the bandages were completely gone and she had the sneaking suspicion he wasn’t wearing anything at all beneath the sheet, she was having trouble forming complete sentences. “Getting you up.”

  “In the middle of the night?” He looked out on the still dark room, then back to her. Raising a brow, he rubbed his thumb over her elbow. “Look, I can’t make you any promises after that injury, I hear I lost a lot of blood, but I am more than willing—”

  “Frederick!” Elayne’s face burned with the heat of a thousand aether-conjured fires. “We have to leave.” She regained her bearings, slipping backward off the bed and loosing her arm from his grasp. “Our welcome has worn out, and we need to go. Now.”

  Bewildered, he sat up fully, the linens falling away from him. “What? Danger?”

  Elayne turned away quickly, the only way to keep her eyes off the rest of him, rubbing the redness out of her face. “Not exactly. Just get up and get dressed. We’re leaving.”

  He made an agreeable sound and she could hear him getting out of the bed and shuffling around on the other side of the room. Then he started chuckling.

  “What?” she asked through grit teeth, still staring at the wall.

  “Oh, I was just having a really good dream.”

  Her face had finally cooled down, but then it warmed right back up. She blew out a breath and tapped her foot, drumming fingers on her elbow, wishing he would hurry up.

  “All right.” He popped up beside her, dressed and with his satchel in hand.

  “Finally.” She started for the door but stopped with her hand on the knob. “I’m, um, glad to see your wound healed so nicely.” Then she hurried out into the hall.

  Sneaking about in the quiet of a strange place would have been disorienting if not for the sudden shriek of Countess Karine to mark where they should head.

  Down a set of stairs and in a less opulent hall, Rosalind stood, her mother across from her in a burgundy night chemise looking absolutely scandalized. “You cannot!” she hissed, hands on her hips, taking steps toward Rosalind. “You will return with your sisters to the city and under my watch you will finally become a lady or so help me, M’ye, you’ll die trying!”

  “Mother,” Rosalind said miserably, stepping back, “I can’t.” Neoma had come out of the little room she was sharing with Bix, and Belladonna stood beside them, cowering.

  “Just because you’ve failed doesn’t mean you can’t.” Karine was growling now. Elayne squared her shoulders from the hall’s end and started toward them. “I’ve spent too long—”

  “No.” Rosalind’s voice was quiet, so unlike its normal tone, and it made Elayne stop. Frederick came up beside her, also listening, and they looked out on the woman as she straightened to her full height before her mother. “No,” she repeated, louder. “No more. I am leaving.”

  Incensed, the countess threw her arms out, her face reddening. She opened her mouth again, but Rosalind was quicker, holding out a hand in front of her face.

  “I don’t want to hear it, whatever you have to say.” Rosalind stepped around her, turning back to Belladonna. “Tell the others I love them, I’ll miss them, and to be careful. And you,”—she glanced once more at her mother—“Be better to them, or they’ll leave too.”

  Elayne and Frederick gave each other a shocked smile then hurried down the hall to follow after where Rosalind was strutting off to. Elayne gave the still-sputtering countess a quick curtsy as she passed.

  “Mother,” Belladonna ventured carefully, “You might want to close your mouth, you look like a harlot.”

  The countess squealed angrily, snapping at the girl before stomping away, and Belladonna gave them a quick wave and a laugh before following after.

  CHAPTER 27

  Frederick’s body ached. His back was sore, his head was heavy, and his left little finger refused to stop tingling. Though he tried, he couldn’t keep the pace he’d had before, and as they were still headed in the opposite direction of Yavarid Castle, he knew he was only slowing the whole thing down even more. And yet, with the sun on his face, his companions chatting around him, and the absence of a dagger plunged into his chest, he was finding it rather difficult to be annoyed with the situation. As it turned out, being near death really changed one’s assessment of the importance of winning a bet.

  The dagger had missed his heart, and he was lucky, Neoma had said despite that the twinge he felt with every inhale didn’t exactly feel like luck. She wasn’t equipped to mend a broken heart, she told him in that way elves said things that they wanted you to think very hard about but didn’t give you enough details to ponder. Regardless, he was thankful he wasn’t buried out in the mountains so young as he glanced back over his shoulder at the range.

  He’d been stuck in a long dream about exactly that, clawing his way out of the dirt with limbs too heavy to move properly and the weight of Maw on his chest. There had been a voice, though, quiet and far above the surface. He didn’t know exactly what it was saying, but he knew he wanted to get to it, even if it was mumbling something about the color of basil once it was dried and how a squirrel’s eyes weren’t ever that shade of yellow.

  He turned back to the main road which they’d taken in favor of returning to the danger that lurked out in the mountains. It would take an extra day or so to get to Bizgain, but he was quietly thankful for the time to heal. He sure missed his horse though.

  Rosalind was apologizing profusely about her family, but it meant very little to Frederick who barely met any of them. There had been a strange medicinal man, a servant or two who came in and out, but mostly it was just Elayne. He didn’t think it was possible that she’d been there for three days, but he’d felt her beside him just the same as he felt her now, walking at his pace down the road. As Gramps blathered on about pirates and Neoma huffed that she still had no idea how they were supposed to find a group of people who for all intents and purposes made themselves hidden, Frederick turned to watch Elayne. There were things, he knew, that needed to be said, but how?

  She bit her lip, likely feeling his eyes on her. “What is it?”

  He couldn’t remember much, but the moment he was stabbed was vivid. The dagger hadn’t hurt, not really. Instead, he had exper
ienced a wholly different kind of hurt in the look on Elayne’s face. He didn’t want to see her that upset, and he certainly didn’t want to be the cause of it. He also remembered very vividly that she called him an idiot, and he grinned. “Thanks.”

  She pouted like she wanted to ask why, but instead she blushed and looked away. “Hey, I have something I need to tell you.”

  When he looked at her again, he had the sinking feeling that he wasn’t going to like whatever she had to say.

  “When you were healing a dinky came for you.”

  Everything suddenly hurt a little more. “Oh?”

  “From Lady Vyvyan.” She was watching her feet very carefully as they walked along. “She said she was sorry…sort of.”

  “That doesn’t sound like her,” he mumbled.

  “She wants you to go back.” Elayne hesitated, then took a breath. “And she may have been too rash about…a decision she made…about you two.”

  “Really?” He went to scratch his head but winced at raising his arm too quickly. “Did, uh, she say anything else?”

  Elayne shook her head, still staring at the ground. His eyes found the dirt road as well, and they walked in silence for a few moments.

  “Do you want to go back?”

  His body was bruised, his mind was reeling, and the danger that was Heulux loomed ever closer. “No way. We’re not done yet.”

  ***

  Bizgain had opted to grow downward instead of up, and it wasn’t known whether this was the root or result of the seedy goings on in the city, but the general concession was that there was some kind of correlation. The bowl of Bizgain was about as well known as the bay, sitting just on the coast, dug out of the ground with the sea lapping at its most westerly edge. It was asinine to build up a wall to keep the sea out, but then it was also magic, and there was rarely much difference between the two.

  There were no monarchs in Bizgain and that was just as well as no one wanted to be responsible for it. It functioned well enough, at least that’s what its inhabitants would say, but they also wouldn’t say anything at all to a stranger asking questions which made everything that much more difficult.