Demon Eye

by B B Reed

  Inka stepped forward, offering her paper-wrapped parcel to the seamstress, “Could I have some last-minute alterations done to my dress while we’re here, Mrs. Brisby?”

  The seamstress beamed, taking the parcel, “Of course, Inka. I’ll have my apprentice work on that while we… manage a miracle in tailoring.”

  Lady Jeanne checked her brass pocket watch and clicked it shut, “I must be off to the Ministry. I’ll meet you girls at the townhouse. Lyssa, send Wallace the bill and I’ll have payment sent as soon as possible.”

  Mrs. Brisby waved Lady Ravenwood off as she made her way out the door, “Go and work, my lady. I have everything under control here.” Then, the seamstress ushered Halena along by the shoulder, “Let’s begin. We have a lot of work to do, sweetheart.”

  Halena was herded around back to a room of mirrors, measuring tapes, and a stool in the middle of the menagerie of sewing needs. The seamstress grabbed a small pad of paper and a sliver of charcoal, motioning to the stool, “Shoes off and step up. I need your measurements.”

  The witch kicked her dirty boots off and took her place atop the stool, watching the missus warily. Mrs. Brisby poked Halena in the back as she settled on her own stool, “Stand still, no slouching, girl. You don’t want me to foul the numbers and give you a dress too short.”

  She went rigid, straightening her back and looking forward into the mirrors, watching Mrs. Brisby do her work in the glass. The tape was stretched across her right leg, then the other, and she noted them down on her paper, “What’s your height, girl?”

  “Erm… I don’t know.” Halena answered with a timid breath, still maintaining her statuesque posture. The seamstress threw her customer’s braid over her shoulder and measured the length of her back.

  Mrs. Brisby scribbled the numbers down, performing a quick calculation, “About five feet and nine inches, mostly legs. I can work with that.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Suitors fancy long legs on a lady, darling. You might be turning some heads at the ball.” Mrs. Brisby patted Halena’s shoulder, “Arms out.”

  Halena held her arms up, the tape wrapping around her bust, then her stomach, and finally her waist. The seamstress smirked, “Top-heavy to boot, hm. If only you did something about that paint on your cheeks.”

  Mrs. Brisby coaxed Halena’s arms down, taking down those numbers quickly before making her way towards the curtain, “I’m going to gather some dresses that are close to your size and we can do the fun part. Go ahead and strip down to your smallclothes.”

  “Oh, okay.” Halena nodded, her face turning red. Minding Lady Ravenwood’s instructions, she did as she was told, discarding her loose clothing down to her simple undergarments. She folded her arms over herself, the tailor’s methods baffling her. She did not dare look long into the mirrors in front of her, fearing more evil eyes and wicked stares. Mrs. Brisby returned at last, with her arms full of different colored dresses, setting them aside and unfurling the garment at the top of the pile.

  “Let’s start with this and work through the process of elimination.” Mrs. Brisby grinned, presenting it to Halena. The pair wrestled with the mass of blue cloth and its parts until the witch was settled with all the layers hanging from her frame. The sleeves were puffed and loose, a neckline that ill-fit the woman, and a number of other complaints underneath the blue outerwear. While tall enough that the skirt did not drag on the floor, the garment was clearly made for a portly built woman.

  Halena shuffled in place, her hands attempting to grasp at hems and seams deep underneath, “If I sneeze, this is going to fall off of me.”

  Mrs. Brisby frowned, helping the witch out of the dress, “Blue isn’t your color, either.”

  The process began anew with a dark green outfit, a battle against fabric and thread ensuing once more. Inka’s voice came through the curtains, “I’m finished. Have you any luck?”

  “Lend us your opinion, Inka darling.” Mrs. Brisby called back, pushing Halena through the curtains. Halena shuffled out in much more lace and frills than she thought possible, a petticoat flaring out from under a verdant blouse, complete with a long-sleeved partlet covering her arms.

  Inka frowned, shaking her head, “I don’t think so. She’s dressed like a child’s doll.”

  Mrs. Brisby barked a laugh at Inka’s conclusion, “Very well! Another rejection.”

  Halena rubbed at the long, flaring sleeves of her partlet, “I really like the top half, though.”

  “That’s not what you wear to a masquerade, I’m afraid.” Inka shrugged in teasing apology, an entertained smirk pulling on her lips. The pair disappeared once more behind the curtain, Inka standing watch with arms folded. As another dress was wrestled into submission, Inka wandered toward the assortment of festive masks, holding each up in appraisal while she waited. The tenuous rustling behind the curtains calmed, finally parting to allow Halena through. Although the dress did not make a statement with frills or lace, the flowing sleeves reached Halena’s knuckles, shoulders open, and large slashes down the sides of the skirt bled smoky iris colors through dark violet cloth. It was a touch too loose on the witch’s frame, the plunging neckline accenting more desaturated iris cloth underneath. Mrs. Brisby tapped her chin with reservation weighing heavy on her brow, “A touch modest, but it will require less work to touch up to the girl’s numbers.”

  The witch held the skirt out to the side, then looked up to Inka, “What do you think?”

  Inka set down a beaked mask, taking a violet visor and approached Halena to survey her. She pursed her lips and touched Halena’s shoulders, “Face me.”

  She shuffled, adjusting her stance with Inka. Their eyes meet, apprehension about the seamstress melting away as she lost herself in those sapphire irises. A smile curled on Inka’s lip, then held the mask up to her eyes, “Here.”

  Mrs. Brisby came behind Halena to help tie the mask around her face. The stiffly glued cheeks dipped low enough to cover the crimson tattoos, the feathers adding flair to the modest outfit. Inka tutted, “Perfect.”

  The seamstress tilted her head at the complete package. Her face brightened with satisfaction, “I must agree! She’ll make Jeanne’s gown really stand out. Quite clever, Inka.”

  Inka rolled her eyes, inclining her head at Halena, “Do you like it?”

  The witch nodded, a small smile on her lips, “Very much.”

  She was guided back through the curtains by the seamstress and they undergo the toil of pinning the garment to Halena’s measurements. Soon enough, the dress was gingerly peeled off to preserve the pinning and Mrs. Brisby left Halena to redress herself in peace. Her and Inka chatted out in the storefront while the witch returned to her simple traveling guise. She tied off her sash and caught a glance at herself in the mirrors. The pale skin of her cheeks untouched by her tattoos were radiant and rosy, the color foreign to her face. Halena smiled again, her heart fluttering with excitement as Inka’s compliments repeat in her thoughts. The witch smoothed her dress out and joined the pair outside.

  “Tell Lady Ravenwood I’ll have them sent over first thing in the morning, darling.” Mrs. Brisby smiled to Inka, passing her a slip of paper and a box for the mask, “Are you certain you want the mask packaged? The girl should wear it out, frighten less people with that dreadful make-up.”

  Halena frowned, keeping her head down at the mask display and pretending she had not heard. Inka took the box, giving Mrs. Brisby a muted glower and answered with corrosive kindness in her tone, “What good is fabric without color, Lyssa? Enjoy your evening.”

  The seamstress let out a skeptical snort and cleaned up the rejected dresses. Inka nodded for Halena to follow along on their way out of the shop. The sky above the rooftops was colored by brilliant oranges of the coming sunset, the pair having spent the whole afternoon in the tailor’s shop. Keeping her eyes down, Halena kept a somber pace behind the blue scholar. Inka took a sidelong glance to her companion, frowning, then forced her eyes forward, “Looks like our d
ay’s been consumed by Mrs. Brisby’s dresses. Shall we get some dinner?”

  Halena nodded, lifting her eyes from the street, “Sure. Back to the townhouse, then?”

  “I don’t think Lady Jeanne gave us a curfew. Why not have some Arram fare on our own?” Inka offered with a glint of mischief in her eye.

  She gave Inka a skittish and puzzled look, then shook her head, “N-no, we shouldn’t stay out long. Don’t want to cause suspicion.”

  A grin curled on Inka’s lip, “Why not something informal? There is some excellent street food here if you know where to look. Want to see?”

  The warmth in Inka’s grin kept the growling thoughts of rejection from taking hold and the witch agreed, “I’ll give it a try.”

  Inka beamed and took point down the street, passing the vaguely familiar stalls of the marketplace. Halena followed along, barely keeping up while trying to keep her head low and out of the way of other patrons. She hurried through, head up to keep sight of the woman’s azure hair, and boldly cutting through the crowd to catch up. Inka’s pace slowed as they stood at the head of a stretch of smoky stalls alive with a chorus is sizzling spices and crackling cooking fires.

  “Smells amazing, doesn’t it? I swear I can smell Hawker’s Alley from the balconies of the Spine. Let me know if you see something you like. I’m buying.” Inka waggled her eyebrows and turned her nose up to the air to inhale a deep breath of the flavorful aromas. She prowled down the walk as a cat would, surveying the fresh fare. Halena made note of the juicy skewers, smoked sausages hanging up on display, and the fragrant sweet scents of bread. Inka paused in front of a stall, hailing the merchant for a thick slice of pale bread with a mixture of seasoned vegetables and chicken folded in the middle.

  She thanked the merchant, digging in her purse for payment and giving Halena a glance, “Have you decided on anything yet?”

  “Erm, can I have the same thing?” Halena stammered, her interests quickly folding in the wake of nerves.

  Inka nodded and held up two fingers to the merchant before grabbing extra payment. She passed the handheld meal wrapped in paper to Halena, “Follow me. There’s a special place where we can eat.”

  She smelled her meal, stomach grumbling in anticipation, and pursued Inka’s winding path through the markets. They break from the flow of people, and Inka continued down the street towards the city’s edge. Halena glanced back to the towering spire behind them, perplexed by her friend’s route, and kept a brisk pace. They ascended stairs to a footpath along the outer ring of ramparts enclosing Arras Ando and took a lengthy walk along the terrace. The pair approached an iron bench, of which several others were equally spaced along the outer walk. Inka motioned to one of the seats, “How is this for a spot?”

  Halena nodded and settled with Inka on the bench, then carefully bit into her cooled meal. The crust was stiff, chewy, and the bread fluffy in contrast, mixing together with the seasoned chicken folded between it. It was a simple recipe yet comforting with the warmth trapped in the pocket of bread. She focused on eating it without comment, eyes flicking to Inka periodically in anxiousness. Her companion ate in contented silence next to her, however, looking out to the horizon in between bites. Halena followed her gaze to the crests of gables and rooftops below the terrace. Soft lights glowed in the windows of the houses as the sun’s light faded, and smoke from the chimneys creating playful wisps that danced above the turmoil of the busy streets. They observed the skyline together as they filled on their hawker stall fare, Inka sitting back in the bench and folding her hands in her lap, “An amazing view, is it not?”

  “Yes. It almost looks tranquil.” Halena mused, scanning her eyes over the cityscape.

  “The whole of Arras Ando feels like it’s yawning and readying to sleep at this hour. I never tire of looking out at it.” Inka sighed.

  “You visit this place often?”

  Inka shrugged, “When I can wiggle away from my studies or Lady Jeanne’s demanding schedule. Especially after a long day, coming out here for a breath of quiet and gazing at the spectacle is just what I need to come down. Look…”

  Halena followed Inka’s finger as she pointed to the great towering mass in the middle of the city. The impossible citadel of the Spine flickered to life, lights glowing along the windows and balconies. They shined bright, colors pouring through stained glass and twinkling along the length until the top woke with golden light in its vaulted windows. The sight mesmerized the witch, eyes tracing up and down the twinkling towers.

  “The Spine of the world, look at it sparkle and shine.” Inka giggled, her sapphire eyes admiring the glimmering sight and humming to herself.

  Halena marveled at the lights a moment longer, then asked, “Did you ever think you’d end up there working for someone like Lady Ravenwood, Inka?”

  Inka shook her head, resting her cheek against her palm, “No, not in my wildest dreams. Merchants move too much to ever do more than continue the family business. I consider myself lucky for the opportunity to work for Lady Jeanne.”

  “It sounds like you admire her a great deal. Why did Jeanne take an interest in hiring someone like you?” She probed, folding her hands in her lap.

  The scholar laughed, letting her hand fall from her cheek, “My modesty will tell you that she hired me for my ability to perform logistics for House Ravenwood, yet I’d only be giving part of the truth if I left it at that.”

  “You’re smarter than you give yourself credit. You seem to strike a healthy balance between Lady Ravenwood’s work and your studies with the college. That can’t be an easy feat for someone ungroomed by noble living." Halena offered with a small smile.

  Inka grinned back, “Thank you for the encouragement. It’s a difficult task, yet a very rewarding one.” She folded her arms, rubbing her fingertips together with a thoughtful look on her face, “Lady Jeanne faces very strange things in her mission. She’s not afraid of magick like most others in the kingdom. I imagine you know what it’s like, knowing about the power and skill that’s wrapped within the arts, and having to take care in who sees it.”

  The witch’s lips pressed together with hesitation and she nodded in sympathy, “I do know. It’s a great responsibility to bear. If you become too careless in showing it, you risk looking like a bigger threat. A little sleight of hand goes a long way but even then, you’ll find those who refuse to be convinced until they witness it for themselves.”

  Inka clasped her hands together in her lap, “You’re very brave for using the black arts like you do. It shows how magick isn’t inherently malevolent.”

  An invisible weight unwrapped itself from Halena’s shoulders once the words sank in, and tipped her head in agreement, “Truer words have never been spoken.”

  Her eyes danced down to Inka’s hands, taking note of her nervous fidgeting, “Did you learn about magick from Lady Jeanne?”

  The question made Inka’s bubbly aura dim further, yet she still insisted on wearing a smile for her friend, “No. Jeanne…” She paused, considering her words with great care, “My path with Lady Jeanne crossed because of magick.”

  “How is that?”

  The blue scholar’s hands unclasped and she balled them up into fists. Her sapphire eyes met with Halena’s violet catseyes, “May I show you?”

  She dared not speak, and the witch inclined her head for Inka to continue. Inka lifted her hands from her lap and cupped them together in a bowl shape. Her eyes closed and her eyebrows knit together while she concentrated. The air around them thrummed, the sensation familiar to Halena, and the air gently swirled around Inka’s hands. A soft blue light glowed in her hands and dimmed as a ball of water condensed in her palms. The globe grew as more vapor gathered, forming enough liquid to fill a large tavern mug. Inka let out a fatigued breath, a bright grin spread across her lips.

  Halena watched the rippling surface of the water globe with wonder. Many things became clear in that instant, Jeanne’s hawk-like protectiveness over the woman and her interest i
n the witch’s abilities.

  “How long have you been able to do this?”

  Inka maintained her focus on the globe, rolling it between her palms, “I’ve only just begun to have a firm grip on it. I don’t want to think who might have been hurt if she didn’t find me and allow me to sharpen my control over this magick. Watch…”

  She moved her hands apart, making the suspended magickal water spread apart. Her two forefingers twirled, making the elongated column wiggle and curl into a spiral. Halena remained captivated by the small circus act, resting her elbows on her knees with her chin propped up in her hands. Inka’s manipulations brought the water back into its original ball shape and the scholar takes a deep breath. She held the globe in front of her lips and blew into it, dispersing the water away into a fine mist that shimmered with the bright refracted bands of color contained in the final light of the day. Inka’s breath was labored, and sweat beaded on her forehead, yet she still smiled with pride at her show. Halena clapped for her performance, the two sharing a fit of laughs together on the bench. Inka dried her hands off on the folds of her skirt, “You’re the only other person I’ve told about this. While I don’t have marks to give away my secret, it seems people are more accepting of rebellious youth dying their hair and following controversial figures like Lady Ravenwood around. It’s nothing a bonnet can’t fix.”

  The witch touched her fingers to the blazing red marks licking her cheeks, “If only I had a say in the matter. There are many times that I wish this masque was gone from my skin.”

  A frown hung on the scholar’s lips and she leaned in to have a closer look at the curling crimson hooks against her friend’s pale skin, “How did you get them?”

  “It… It’s a long story.” Halena hesitated, turning her face away self-consciously. The ethereal hissing swirled in the back of her thoughts, feeling her shadow stir. She swallowed a lump in her throat, “I received them on my sixteenth birthday as part of my training. It… wasn’t a pleasant ordeal.”

  Inka frowned, reaching over to rest a hand on her arm, “I’m sorry, Halena.”