A Shadow Bright and Burning

by Jessica Cluess

  “I can hear your terror,” Hargrove said, sneering as he rose. Perhaps I’d wounded his pride. “You’re right to be afraid. Do you know what they’ll do when they find out you’re a magician?” His voice turned cold. “They’ll toss you out of that nice house and onto the street. They’ll drag you before the queen and have you put your name down as a potential threat. And if you so much as breathe in a manner they don’t like, they’ll cut all your pretty hair from your pretty head and bind you in chains. And they’ll take you out on a cold gray morning and sweep a shining ax through the air and straight into your pretty little—”

  “Shut up!” I screamed. A burst of flame shot out of my body. Hargrove collapsed to the floor as the fireball exploded in the air. He laughed.

  “So temperamental. The magic reacts to that very nicely.” Hargrove rolled his sleeves down. “Come back when you can’t perform their spells and your Master gets truly nervous. Come back if you ever want to know a little bit more about your own father.” He dusted himself off and returned to the table. Seated, he tipped the gin bottle to his lips and recovered only a few drops. “And when you come back, bring food and drink, will you?”

  —

  ONCE BACK INSIDE AGRIPPA’S HOUSE, I collapsed at the end of the foyer, shaking so hard I couldn’t take my gloves off. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t. It felt as if a hand were squeezing my heart. What was I going to do? What on earth could I do?

  A girl-child of sorcerer stock rises from the ashes of a life. Sorcerer. Not magician. Not me. But I couldn’t be a magician.

  “Miss, there you are! Where were you?” Lilly said, dragging me to my feet. Her blue eyes were huge. “The master wants to see you in the library at once, with all the young gentlemen.” For a terrifying moment, I thought he’d discovered where I’d gone. But then I recalled we were to have a class in the library this afternoon and—murder it all, I was late.

  I found them seated near the windows. The fellows all turned as one when I entered. Agrippa had rolled up his sleeves and was dipping his hands into a silver bowl of water.

  “Miss Howel,” Agrippa said as I sat down beside Dee. “I was about to send out a search party. Where in God’s name were you?” He looked simultaneously relieved and irritated.

  “I’m sorry. I lost track of time walking around the neighborhood.” The words sounded distant, as if someone else were speaking. “I needed the air.”

  Agrippa sighed. “I understand that last night was an ordeal, but that is no excuse for missing lessons. All right?”

  “I’m sorry.” Even I could hear how shallow my breathing was. Blackwood, seated on my other side, regarded me with interest.

  Agrippa dipped his hands into the bowl of water again and said, “Now, let’s start with easy questions for Miss Howel’s benefit. What is the difference between hydromancy and traditional water play?”

  Dee’s hand shot up. Blackwood said, “Water play controls the element of water itself, such as parting the seas. Hydromancy uses water as a magical tool, often as a mirror to another location.”

  “Well put. Hydromancy, along with pyromancy, geomancy, and aeromancy, is one of the few sorcerer skills that magicians tried to relearn after the Great Magic Schism of 1526. If they wanted our abilities so much, they shouldn’t have struck out on their own.” The boys chuckled.

  I coughed violently. Dee thumped me on the back.

  “Get her a glass of water,” Magnus said. He’d draped himself along a chair, his arm flung dramatically over his eyes. “Poor Howel. I’m so bored I could choke to death as well.”

  Agrippa used his stave to swirl the water into the air, spreading it until it resembled a large pane of glass. He instructed on how to project a specific location on the hydromancy mirror. I listened, but Agrippa’s voice kept morphing into Hargrove’s. In my imagination, Hargrove’s smile became sinister as he dealt the cards on the table. He showed me the Queen of Wands, frowned, and tore it up. Then he dealt the Magician card and laughed. There you are, he said, stroking his bearded chin. You’re a magician, Miss Howel. Miss Howel.

  “Miss Howel!” Agrippa said. I nearly fell out of my seat. “Are you listening?”

  “I’m sorry. What?” I dug my fingers into the chair’s arm to steady myself.

  “Where does Cornwall stand in the war?” All eyes were fixed on me. Agrippa seemed concerned. “Are you sure you’re well?”

  On the pane of water glass, the cliffs of Cornwall appeared in perfect likeness. “Um, yes.” My tongue felt heavy, and I swallowed. Sweat beaded at my temples. “Cornwall sustains a great deal of attacks, second only to London in frequency. The west in particular has long been under siege. No one is sure why, as it’s not heavily populated. Nemneris the Water Spider is the Ancient most often tasked with plaguing the area.”

  “Good. What are we doing to counter these attacks?”

  Dee waved his hand back and forth. As Wolff discussed the ward we were trying to design to shield the cliffs, Blackwood leaned to my ear and whispered, “Where were you?”

  “Out.” I snatched pen and paper and tried to take notes. Mercifully, he said no more.

  We addressed the situation in Lancashire, where Her Majesty had dispatched additional forces to protect the cotton manufacturers. “There’ve been calls to evacuate,” Wolff said, shaking his head sadly. “But the workers have nowhere else to go. They’d die sooner than lose their livelihood.”

  We glimpsed Yorkshire. “Nothing much to report up that way,” Agrippa said as the moorland appeared. “Besides warded London, Yorkshire is the safest place to be in this war.”

  We discussed why the north remained relatively untouched (fewer tempting resources, coupled with difficult terrain), while London and the coast received the greatest amount of abuse (R’hlem wanted to destroy the government, capture the queen, and decimate the Royal Navy). Much of it was lost to me; my blood was so loud in my ears. Agrippa turned us again toward Cornwall. “Admiral Ethermane leads the fleet against Nemneris. What is his new plan with regard to combating the Water Spider?”

  Dee raised his hand for the tenth time, wiggling his fingers in the air for extra attention. Magnus sat up and answered, finally interested.

  “Admiral Ethermane believes we must freeze the creature in its web. Ice magic on such a massive scale is difficult, but they’re attempting it. The goal’s to keep Nemneris from taking the war to the rest of Europe. Not that the rest of Europe cares what happens to England, of course.” He swatted his papers against the back of Cellini’s head.

  “How can you say that, you bastard?” Cellini laughed. “I’ll return to Rome to complete my education and let you all rot.”

  Agrippa cleared his throat. “Very good, Julian. Now, who can—steady on, Arthur, don’t wave your arm like that—who can tell me what…”

  His voice trailed away. We gazed in horror at a new section of the Cornwall coast. Several ships lay wrecked and impaled along the rocky shore. Their masts had been snapped in half, their hulls ripped apart. Webs covered them like a ghostly shroud. Nemneris’s lice, her Familiars, scuttled along the smashed hulls. We got to our feet and crowded toward the water glass. “Look,” Magnus said, pointing to a ship with a blue flag still raised in the air. I recognized that ship. It was the one we’d watched sail out of the docks while the crowd cheered. But it couldn’t be the same vessel. Those sails had been white, and these sails were a pure…

  “Why are the sails red?” I asked. Agrippa put his stave to the water glass and stirred in a queer little figure eight. The ship grew larger and more detailed.

  Hanging from the masts like ghastly ornaments were the bodies of the men. They were masses of dark, mottled crimson. I wanted to turn away, but if I were to be a sorcerer and not a magician—not a magician—I would have to take in grisly scenes just like this one. The bodies had been stripped of all skin, the sails stained with their blood. We realized what we were looking at before Agrippa spoke the words:

  “That’s R’hlem’s handiwo
rk.”

  “You’re not focusing,” Agrippa said as I listed off to the side of the obsidian room. He clapped his hands. “You have to pay attention.”

  “Yes,” I said, staring at the wall. In the shining reflection, I could just make out the dark circles under my eyes. I didn’t sleep anymore. All I could hear in my dreams were the frantic cries of Charley and the other unfortunates dragged into Korozoth, of those sailors as R’hlem flayed them alive. I was supposed to help them.

  I had been chosen to help them. Hadn’t I?

  You are a magician. It had been one week since I’d gone to see Hargrove, and his voice wouldn’t leave me. We’d reached the end of April and made no progress. Agrippa was now officially worried.

  “Now then. We start at the beginning of the earth maneuver. Prepare,” Agrippa said, pointing at the large rock in the center of the room. He was right to sound irritated. We were massively behind on the day’s lesson. I was supposed to be breaking the rock and putting it back together, and I hadn’t even begun.

  I turned, bent my knees, and burst into flame by accident.

  “Watch out!” Agrippa cried as I nearly scorched his jacket. He beat at his sleeve. I stopped burning and cringed with embarrassment. “What is the matter with you today?”

  “I don’t feel well,” I murmured.

  “That’s no excuse.” His voice was firm. “You have to fight through pain. There will be times in battle where you will feel decidedly unwell.”

  I centered myself and prepared again for the maneuver. I lunged forward, spinning the stave above my head. The rock should have split apart into ten different pieces. Instead, it rolled once, twice, and then stopped. Nothing I did worked properly.

  Nothing would ever work properly, not if I wasn’t the girl in the prophecy.

  “Something’s wrong,” Agrippa said. He came up behind me. “You’ve been scattered this entire week.”

  “I just don’t sleep well.” I bit the inside of my cheek.

  Agrippa’s voice grew soft. “You can say it if something’s troubling you.”

  I turned to him, to tell him about my visit to Hargrove…and kept silent.

  I couldn’t lose my position. Not for anything.

  Not even for the sake of the truth.

  —

  AFTER LESSONS THAT DAY, I WENT to the drawing room and curled up in the window seat, the book on the Seven Ancients open in my lap. I studied the picture of R’hlem, his muscles and veins disturbingly exposed to the world. He’d one hideous yellow eye positioned at the center of his forehead. Even in the drawing, I felt that gaze cut to the heart of me. Shuddering, I turned the page to the chapter regarding Korozoth.

  Light and flame are the only known deterrent, I read, for what is a greater ally against the unstoppable force of shadow and darkness? There is, however, still no example of light or fire strong enough to eradicate the beast. That massive black cloud glared up at me.

  I shut that book and picked up another, very slowly. It was titled Heresy: The Great Magic Schism of 1526. Inside, I read of battles between sorcerers and magicians. There were pictures of the two armies: the sorcerer side was armed with staves and accompanied by a choir of heavenly angels; the magicians rode into battle on herds of swine, the devil himself at their backs. I didn’t think it was historically accurate, but the picture was memorable. I read descriptions of how one murdered a magician so that his soul might grow closer to God in its final moments. The procedure involved cutting off the magician’s arms, legs, and tongue while he was still alive. I read until I could read no more, until my heart was thundering in my chest.

  Closing my eyes, I shut the book and leaned against the sun-warmed window. I didn’t hear him enter, and I jumped when Magnus knelt before me.

  “Did I startle you?” he said, smirking in that devilish way of his.

  I fluffed my skirt out over the copy of Heresy, hoping he hadn’t noticed. “What do you want?”

  “To give you this.” He offered another book. Henry V, Shakespeare. “I thought, since you’re so fond of history and I’m so fond of theater, we might bring them together.” He took a seat beside me, the sunlight catching in his hair. “I always wanted to play Henry.”

  “You wanted to wear armor and make grand speeches with thousands of men hanging on your every word.”

  He gave a dramatic sigh. “My one childhood dream.” He took the book and opened to a page near the end. “ ‘Fair Katharine, and most fair,’ ” he said, his voice deep and soft and almost pleading, “ ‘will you vouchsafe to teach a soldier terms such as will enter at a lady’s ear and plead his love-suit to her gentle heart?’ ” He closed the book and looked at me with an appraising eye. “On second thought, you wouldn’t make much of a Katharine.”

  “No? Too sullen? Too dark?”

  “Too bold. You’re more of a Henry. You’ve the name, sort of. What if I called you Henry from now on?”

  “What if it rained in your bedchamber throughout the night?”

  “You’re finally learning how to be a true sorcerer!” He gave me Henry V again. “You should read it and tell me what you think.”

  “ ‘Your Majesty shall mock at me,’ ” I said in a bad French accent. “ ‘I cannot speak your England.’ ” Stunned, Magnus grabbed the play and found that I had spoken the next line perfectly. I rather liked seeing him surprised.

  “You’ve read it before?”

  “Mr. Colegrind had a copy of Shakespeare’s histories.”

  “Well, they’re nothing to his tragedies. We’ll have to start you on a strict diet.”

  “Don’t I have enough work already?”

  “It won’t be work. It’ll be fun.” We opened the play back to the scene, and continued. “ ‘O fair Katharine, if you will love me soundly with your French heart, I will be glad to hear you confess it brokenly with your English tongue. Do you like me, Kate?’ ”

  “ ‘Pardonnez-moi, I cannot tell what is like me.’ ”

  “Oh go on, do the French accent. I’ve never heard anything so funny. Ow! Why did you hit me?” We spent the next hour or so reading through the play, and I never laughed so much in my life as I did for that one hour. For a little while, the stress of the last few days evaporated. The supper gong sounded, and we rose. “Howel, would you go with me to a party in Hanover Square this evening?”

  “A party?” I grew uneasy at the thought. I didn’t want to go into public until I had my lessons under control.

  Which might be never, at this rate.

  “It will only be a few other Incumbents. Dee and Cellini are coming, too.”

  “What if people stare?” I pushed open the door, and we walked into the hall.

  “You’d have me at your side all evening. No one will pay you any mind when they could be looking at me.” He winked.

  “I’m not much use at a party. I don’t know how to flirt, I can’t dance, and I’m not funny.”

  “What do you mean? I think you’re hilarious.” I stopped walking and struck him lightly on the arm. “That’s the funniest slap I’ve ever received. Just don’t drink so much punch that you wind up sleeping under the stairs.” When I didn’t answer, he spoke more softly. “You’re going to be commended. These people will be your allies. It’s not a bad idea to make them like you.”

  Was I going to be commended? These people wouldn’t be my allies if they knew what I was. What Hargrove had said I was.

  “That’s easy for you, isn’t it?” I blushed. “Being liked.”

  “It’s what my music master always told me. Practice. Listen to me now!” He belted out some lines from an Italian opera in a voice so off-key and wretched I ran down the stairs to be away from it. He raced after, singing louder and louder.

  “I’ll go to the party if you’ll never sing again,” I cried.

  “Done!”

  Perhaps gaining a few more allies was exactly what I needed right now. And for all I knew, with Magnus about, it might be fun.

&nbs
p; —

  “I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO SAY at these things,” Dee said, staring into his empty glass of punch. “All the girls want to dance, and I’m no good at dancing. Then they giggle and walk away.”

  “I can’t think of anything to say, either.” We stood guard by the punch table and watched the whirl of activity. Couples danced while members of a string quartet played by the side of the room and sweated in the close glow of candlelight. Old-lady chaperones in black crepe and lace dozed upon straight-backed chairs.

  The music was wonderful. The dancing looked a great deal of fun. Magnus took to the floor with a beautiful red-haired girl.

  “Is she from a sorcerer family?” I said, trying not to pay much attention to Magnus’s new partner. It didn’t matter to me anyway.

  “That’s Eugenia Whitechurch, the Imperator’s daughter. Her magic lines go all the way back to the Conqueror.” Magnus and Eugenia danced a quadrille, laughing as they turned around and about each other.

  “I wish I could dance,” I muttered.

  “I’ll teach you,” Dee said, grinning shyly. “I’m no good, but I at least know how.”

  “Oh, would you? I feel stupid just standing here.”

  “See, it’s easy.” He took my hand in his and made a couple of paces forward and back. Unfortunately, he took too great a step and trod on my toe. “I’m sorry,” he said while I bit my lip and bobbed up and down to manage the pain. “I’m better when it’s not crowded.”

  “I’m sure. So long as my slipper’s all right. Lilly will kill me otherwise.”

  “Oh, she wouldn’t. She’s the kindest girl in the world. And the prettiest,” he murmured. So he liked Lilly, did he?

  “Does she know you admire her?” My voice held a slight edge. Servant girls who caught a master’s eye could be pressured into things they did not want to do.

  “Oh no.” Dee blushed. “I wouldn’t want to make her uncomfortable.” He was utterly sincere.

  “You’re a true gentleman,” I said, slipping my arm through his. Dee smiled.