by Anna Sheehan
Will was at Madam Paline’s for over an hour and found nothing. She browsed and dipped, searched corners and peeped into unlabelled books. Her hands grew dirty and her father’s doublet was smudged and she sneezed from the dust. Then, in the most unlikely of places, her search was rewarded. It was hidden behind a collection of out-of-date atlases, which showed the continent of the seven kingdoms with the borders from when they were still five kingdoms. It was called The Ages of Arcana, and it seemed to be a book on magic theory, and the history of spell making. Will’s heart caught in her throat as she held it, a treasure beyond all sense. What she didn’t understand was what it was doing hidden behind the atlases. It was so unlikely a spot that she was pretty sure it had been hidden there deliberately.
Still, it was hers, now. She carried the book with her to the front desk, where Madam Paline lounged reading a penny dreadful.
‘I’ll take this one,’ Will told her.
Madame Paline held up a finger, as she was clearly at a good spot in her romance. ‘One minute,’ she said absently.
Will sighed. She did have to grant that Madam Paline, for all her unsavouriness, did adore books. Or rather, reading, as she didn’t bother to take good care of the books themselves. Madam Paline charged her books by the pound, so Will set the book on the paper scale next to the desk and pulled her purse from her waist. It was likely to be rather expensive, by Madam Paline’s standards, because it was old and thick with a heavy binding.
With a creak the scales shifted, and The Ages of Arcana was snatched from under Will’s nose.
Will’s head snapped up, annoyed. ‘You’re excused, sir,’ she said, grabbing it back.
The little hooded figure whose sticky fingers had tried to purloin her book shocked her the moment he turned to look at her. The first thing she noticed was a pair of piercing red-brown amber eyes, which caught her with the same power and strength as a falcon. They were so stunning they made her feel ill.
‘Am I?’ he said with a smile which made his teeth glint. ‘Ah. Good to know. I shan’t ask for such pardon, then.’ There was a cutting edge to his last words, and he snatched the book back from her again.
He was still dressed for the winter weather, bundled tightly against the cold. The thought which echoed back and forth in Will’s head was, ‘Fox.’ His clothes were russet, rumpled and dirty, as if he slept in a burrow. The patch of forelock which peaked through his hood was ginger, as was the hint of beard which considered gracing his chin. His skin was darkish and dappled, as if a man naturally disposed toward pale, freckled skin had spent so long out of doors that his complexion finally relented, and stopped burning him. Moreover, he was a little man. He slunk, like the old faerie tales of the red fox Reynard. A fox at the hunt. And Will had the unnerving sensation of being a silly goose.
The only remedy was not to act like one. She glared. ‘That’s my book, sir.’
‘Have you paid for it?’ he asked.
‘Not yet.’
‘Then it does not, in point of fact, belong to you. Would you care for a copy of Lyndarian Property Law? I don’t quite have it memorized, but I’m sure if we dig in the stacks we can find a copy here somewhere.’
Will wanted to laugh, but she kept her face stern as she looked down at him. She was used to her great height intimidating people, and she liked to use it when she could. ‘No, thanks ever such.’
‘In the meantime,’ said the little red man, ‘this book is not yours. And until such time as it is, it is well within my rights … to read it.’ And he plunked himself down in the nearest chair and opened the book at the ribbon.
Ah! Will realized. This must be the perpetrator who had hidden the book. Which technically meant that he had found it first. But, just because he expected to be able to read it anytime he wanted to without buying it didn’t mean that she had to defer to him.
‘I happen to be in the process of paying for it,’ Will pointed out.
‘Not done yet!’ the Reynard barked.
‘Give it here, and it will be!’ she demanded.
‘And when I don’t?’ he said, not looking up.
Will noticed he’d said, when not if. ‘I’ll call the bookseller.’
‘And where is she?’
She looked at the desk, half expecting Madam Paline to already have set down her book to prevent antagonism in her shop. But Madam Paline was nowhere to be found. The chair behind her desk was empty. ‘She was just … here …’ Will said. She didn’t want to walk away, for fear Reynard here would walk off with her book.
‘No more. She’s off for her luncheon.’
Will frowned. ‘Why would she go for her luncheon when I was just about to pay for a book?’
The Reynard glanced up over the top of the binding. ‘Because I made her hungry,’ he said. ‘Which means she shan’t be back for another hour, at the least. At that point, you may pay for this book and take it to whatever fine home you are most privileged to sleep in of an evening. In the meantime, you can leave me alone. I am busy.’
Will wasn’t about to leave it at that. She wondered if she was in the presence of a real, live magician. ‘You made her hungry? How?’
He rolled his piercing eyes. ‘Are you really this stupid, or are you only pretending?’
‘You’re a magician,’ she accused.
‘And how did you come to that?’
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ she said. ‘Perhaps it’s because you’re reading a magic book and making cryptic little remarks and don’t seem to feel any shame about stealing a book out from under my very nose.’
‘Ah, yes,’ he said. ‘Your perception astounds me. And because I am such a fine magician, I should like to get back to my book.’
Will’s hunger burbled. She had never met another magician before. ‘Where did you learn magic?’
The Reynard closed his eyes for a moment and then glared at her, incredulous. ‘What?’
‘Where did you learn magic? What made you interested in it? Can you do many spells?’
He snapped the book shut and leaned his arm carefully atop it. ‘Listen here, young man. I realize that you’re probably very used to servants and peasants and other pitiful peons of Lyndaria fawning over you and your fine garb as if you were King Ragi himself, yet you shall not get such attention from me. I realize you would like to take this rare and beautiful tome home with you because you think it would look very nice beside the basket of fruit your tutor is making you paint for a still life, or perhaps would grace your half-barren shelf and possibly make you appear learned. I, however, am attempting to broaden a portion of myself, a kind of abstract concept we call a mind, which I’m sure you’ve never encountered before. Because of that, the book actually has to be open and studied, and a lack of brainless prattling would be greatly appreciated, if not actively praised.’ He reopened the book and leaned back as if he expected her to flee, crying.
‘Indeed, my supercilious friend,’ Will said, returning his arrogance head to head. ‘You are correct, I do tend to get a great deal of “pitiful peons”, as you call them, fawning at my feet, much to my chagrin. It is not something I particularly enjoy, which is one of the reasons why I avoid my duties and my family and indulge in such a questionable pastime as magic. But without any assistance in that area, I find it very hard to improve, which is why I spend a great deal of my time actively searching out books such as the one you are currently holding.’
‘Would you shut up?’ he asked casually.
‘No. I’ve never met another magician.’
‘You don’t get out much,’ he said absently. Then he looked up from the book, realizing what she’d said. He looked her up and down, incredulous. ‘You’re a magician?’
‘No, when I said, “another magician” I was not referring to myself, but my invisible friend. Yes. I’m a magician.’
‘You shouldn’t admit it,’ the Reynard said. ‘An interesting hobby for you, young man. You don’t look like you’re starving.’
Will didn’t quite
know how to take that statement. ‘I didn’t know starvation was a prerequisite.’
‘Foreigner, are you? From a kingdom more happily situated when it comes to the politics of magic? To whom are you apprenticed?’
Will was heartened. She’d always wanted to talk magic with someone, but it was so frowned upon that she didn’t quite dare. ‘No. I’m from here,’ she said. ‘No trainer. No master. I study, on my own. From books, like that one. I don’t know any magicians, and I can’t leave Lyndaria to get apprenticed.’
‘What prevents you?’ he said, and Will detected scorn. He looked her up and down again. ‘Not money, obviously.’
‘Not shame, if that’s what you’re thinking,’ she said. ‘I’m needed here. My family wouldn’t allow it. If it became known why I left, it would besmirch the family name.’
Reynard’s face darkened and he glared at her. ‘Yes. I can see how that would be a problem for you. Good afternoon.’ He turned back to the book.
‘I didn’t say it was a problem for me,’ Will said. ‘It is a problem for them. As far as I’m concerned, the name means nothing to me. But as much as I wish it otherwise, very few of us actually have control over our own lives.’
Reynard twitched an eyebrow. ‘This is true.’ He hesitated, then looked up at her. ‘You truly intend to buy this book?’ His voice had changed. The growl was still there, but the bark had gone out of it.
‘Of course,’ Will said. ‘There aren’t that many tomes that survived the purge.’
Reynard cringed, then sighed and closed the book with a quiet finality. He laid it aside. ‘Is there anything I could say that would dissuade you?’
‘If you can make Madame Paline hungry, can’t you just make me not want it?’
‘I’ve tried,’ he said with a little growl. ‘You haven’t left yet. It only works on very simple minds.’
Will was a little confused by this. ‘Well, I suppose you could start with, “Please don’t buy this book”, but I’d kind of like to know why.’
‘Because I can’t afford it,’ Reynard said with what was clearly painful honesty. ‘And I don’t want to steal it.’
‘Would you steal it if you had to?’ Will asked, more curious than disturbed.
‘Very likely,’ Reynard said. ‘But I probably wouldn’t be able to take care of it, and the trouble involved in the theft is a little more than I feel up to handling just now. I’ve already run enough today. What can I do to make you leave this book here?’
‘Nothing,’ Will said.
He sighed. ‘Very well.’ He stood up and made as if to slink out of the store, book in hand.
‘But if you’d like to read it after I buy it, it wouldn’t bother me.’
He turned his smouldering eyes back on her. ‘You what?’
Will smiled. ‘Very wise move,’ she said. ‘I was about to shout “thief”. Listen, you have as much right to knowledge as I do. I’m hoping, if enough people of Lyndaria stand up and declare magic to be no more dangerous than any other tool, we could change the laws. But we have to have people in the kingdom who know magic to prove it. If you’ll tell me who you are, I’ll meet you at the Princes’ Monument of an evening, and you can read it.’
‘Tell you who I am?’ Reynard laughed. ‘And who are you, young man?’
Will opened her mouth, and remembered she was dressed like a boy. ‘That’s no concern,’ she said.
‘Then no thank you.’ He pressed the book into her hand. ‘I’ve just decided this is not worth the trouble.’ He turned his back.
He was definitely going to leave now. The only other magician Will had ever met, and he was about to walk out that door and away forever, taking all his knowledge with him. ‘I’m not trying to make trouble for you!’ she cried. ‘Please, don’t run away. I only want to talk a bit, maybe work through a few spells I’m having trouble with.’
‘You having trouble with spells doesn’t surprise me in the least,’ Reynard said. ‘Good day.’
‘It’ll be an even trade,’ she said. ‘In exchange for telling me a little about what you know of magic, I’ll share my books with you.’
He stopped as if his feet had sunk into mud. He turned his head to her slowly. ‘Books?’ he said.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I collect books on magic. I have quite a collection by now. Nearly a hundred.’
He blinked. ‘A hundred books on magic.’
‘Well, closer to a hundred than it is to fifty. I haven’t counted recently.’
‘And you will allow me to read these.’
‘Gladly,’ Will said. ‘If you’ll just go over some of the spells with me. I have one I need to make more powerful, it isn’t very reliable, and my life keeps depending on it.’
He tilted his head, considering. His smouldering eyes narrowed. ‘One spell for each book you bring me.’
‘One evening for each book, as many spells as we can cram into an evening,’ she bargained.
‘As many attempts. I can’t make you gifted at magic if you simply don’t have it.’
‘I have it,’ Will said. ‘I’ve just never had much chance at practical applications.’
‘Fortune has smiled on your life,’ he said bitterly. ‘We have a bargain?’
‘Done,’ she agreed. ‘Now, tell me your name so I know who I’m bargaining with.’
He laughed. ‘All we need to know is where to find each other. The Princes’ Monument?’
‘One hour after the curfew,’ she said.
He took a step back. ‘Why after curfew?’
‘I told you I had an interesting family. They keep my day pretty full. But I should be able to get away after curfew sounds. Provided that spell that doesn’t always work is working for me.’
‘We’ll work on that one first, then,’ Reynard said. ‘You’d best fetch out your money. Madame Paline is returning,’
Will turned to see Madame Paline through the window. She was relieved until she saw she was flanked by two palace guards in the royal livery of red and white. More than just palace guards. These were Jakin and Jared, two brothers who served only at the queen’s whim. Will sighed. There was only one reason why the Terrible Twins would have been within a hundred yards of Madame Paline’s. Amaranth had sent them after her wayward daughter.
Will tucked the book under her arm and stretched to her full height. ‘Your Highness,’ said Jakin as he passed under the lintel.
She tried to pretend he wasn’t addressing her.
‘My lady,’ said Jared. ‘We’ve been ordered to escort you back to the palace.’
‘Very well.’ She reached into her purse to get Madame Paline the coins for The Ages of Arcana, hoping that no one would notice the title. As she fumbled for the coins she saw Reynard staring at her in horror. Will froze in surprise. In his shock he’d stopped his slinking hunch and had stood to his full height. He was taller even than she was. The only man she’d ever known who was actually taller than her was her father. He noticed her looking at him and hunched back down, slinking a few steps away. Will dug out the coins and handed them to Madame Paline. When she looked back to confirm her meeting with Reynard, he was gone.
Chapter 3
* * *
I was talking with the princess! I had been laughing and ribbing with the princess of Lyndaria! The personification of the enemy! I shuddered as I fled from the bookseller’s. I’d spun a web of invisibility around myself to escape without anyone seeing me, breaking the law right in front of a Princess of Lyndaria!
I couldn’t believe I hadn’t recognized her. That damned Lyndal face of the wretched Lyndal Queen was on all the money. Not that I had much chance to look at money, now that I thought of it. And she had been dressed like a boy. Tall as a boy, too. Hadn’t really looked Lyndal. It had to be the younger daughter, Ash or Willow something, not the Lovely Lavender, whose image was touted by all as the personification of Beauty and Loveliness, and whose disappearance, reappearance and now betrothal had her face splashed all over the broadsheets.
What had the younger Lyndal daughter been doing, dressed as a boy, buying a magic book at one of the seediest booksellers in Lyndaron? It was as shocking as the idea of Queen Amaranth making a quick copper or two down at the local brothel.
And I had been talking with her. By my lost name, she’d touched my shoulder! She’d arranged a blasted magical tryst! I felt ill. I’d had a Lyndal princess right before my eyes, and I hadn’t spat in her face. I’d joked with her. I’d laughed with her. I was horrified by all the things I did and didn’t do during that encounter.
I didn’t know where I was going until I made it to our burrow, a hole made quite literally below the roots of a choke cherry tree, at the edge of the enchanted forest. We’d settled in there that autumn, as it became too cold to sleep out of doors. The burrow was big enough for all three of us to stretch out flat in it, and tall enough for us to sit upright, but that was it. It was a temporary shelter, at best. It was only barely warm enough, and that was only because, unbeknownst to my mother, I’d spun a web of insulation around the drafty corners of the hole. I wasn’t supposed to use my spinning magic, but it was what I was best at. All other types of magic seemed watery and weak to me.
They were watery and weak to my mother, too, who still refused to touch a spindle. Which was why the fire by the door to our cave was thin and cold. We could only gather what wood we could find, and that was usually green and unseasoned. If our mother had wanted, she could have spun the heat out of that fire, wrapped us in a cloak of warmth, and kept us toasty as that blasted princess in her fine palace. But our mother would never touch a spindle, even to save her life.
