A Ragged Magic

by Lindsey S. Johnson

  I push myself to headaches, all for naught. If I could only speak about the demons, that would be evidence enough, I feel sure. But something keeps me silent on that score. I’m afraid I’ve been cursed or tainted by the demon magic, and I don’t know how to find out. I’ve been looking for what the runes I bear mean in the library. So far I haven’t found anything that tells me. Maybe it’s a demon language. I pray to Keenan to intercede with Dorei for me. I pray not to be cursed.

  Meanwhile, the servants whisper speculation on Princess Julianna’s Healing powers. She Heals the sick, but they often become sick again. Can her powers be for the Light? She is no ordained priest, but she is noble. Nobility is ordained by the Star Lord, some argue. But with so many turning toward a harder form of worship, Julianna’s Healing looks suspicious. Dark looks follow us on our outings to the hospice and away again.

  I wonder what those people would think if they knew an ordained bishop was summoning demons.

  ～

  The morning of the summer Solstice dawns dreary and cold. I can hear Dawnsongs being sung in the courtyard — I did not observe dawn services, and no one asked me to. Connor was going to go.

  I curl into my blankets, not relishing the idea of today. What with the extra, outside services, and the feast later, it will be a long day. And it will probably rain.

  Linnet isn’t in her bed — she either rose to go to Dawnsong, or she went to work on the tapestry for Duchess Marguerite and Hugh. Julianna wants to present it this evening, after dinner. It will be her family present.

  I asked Connor for some pocket money, so I could find something for Linnet. She’s my only family, now. It’s the summer after her fourteenth birthday, so she should be getting something special. I couldn’t go into the shops to look — too afraid someone would recognize me. So Connor brought me a lovely little star pendant for her. Thinking of it, I rise and rummage through my drawer, find the linen package.

  After washing my hands and face, I’m pulling on my dress when I feel a surge of magic. It dances along my nerves and chitters like demons. The whole room seems to hum with it, and I hear a cry from Julianna.

  Tripping over my feet, I rush to Julianna’s bedchamber. I find her huddled in her bed, clutching her middle. She looks at me through tangled blond hair.

  I can still feel the spell humming.

  “Rhia, call for Hugh! I can’t — I need all my strength. Quick! Help me — help me fight this off. I have to concentrate on the baby.” And she curls further over.

  I can see a blue aura surrounding her, through a haze of brown and purple fog that seems to be seeping into the room.

  I start to send to Hugh, to work with the shields on the room as he taught me, and find those shields in tatters. I can feel the ends waving loose, the foreign spell charging through. My sending is not gentle. I feel him jump, start to run, his questions in my head.

  What happened? Who is doing this?

  Gantry. It must be, I send, and I’m sure I’m right, but I have no proof. When he asks how, I try to send some thought of demons, but my mind blanks and I can’t breathe, and I’m holding the doorway for balance.

  Julianna glances up. “What’s happening? Where’s Hugh?”

  “Coming,” I gasp, and concentrate on trying to weave the ends of the room shield together, make a barrier for Julianna, push the demon spell out. I don’t know what I’m doing, but I work on instinct, which Hugh always tells me is my friend.

  The demon spell circles Julianna, surrounds her, fills the room. And the castle, I realize, seeming to come from all around, although Julianna seems to be the focus. How did he make a spell so huge?

  I grasp at the power-well beneath the castle, feel it burning and strong, like scalding water, like rope burns. Panting, I gather a little of it into a swirl and pull at the spell, spinning it like a spinning wheel, making it all into my thread, and not Gantry’s.

  It hurts, all this power. The magic fights me, aims for its purpose. Whatever that purpose might be, it can’t be good, as it sings in its horrifying voice, sounding like ice storms, like fire on the water. It wants to bind Julianna, but I can’t tell to what, and I keep pulling, keep spinning, creating my own spell thread. I unravel the danger as best I can.

  I feel Hugh beside me now, feel his power reinforce mine. His power feels so small next to demons and power-wells, fighting all this chaos. But he is like a perfect knife: he knows what to cut and where. He disables the spell as I unravel it, and it falls apart. A deep, bone shaking snap, and the spell is gone.

  Hugh and I both stumble toward Julianna on the bed. He reaches her first. She still holds onto her Healing, now in a trance. He puts a hand out, and I watch him try to sink in with her.

  I’m not sure what to do next.

  Hugh opens his eyes, finds me. “I don’t know what’s happened, but she’s dealing with it as best she can. Go find Connor. Tell him what happened. Tell him — oh, great Lord.” He closes his eyes again, shakes his head, his face pale and drawn. “Tell him about the baby,” he says.

  “You know?

  “I do now. And from the spell, so does Gantry. If that was him. And it was, wasn’t it?”

  I raise my hands — I have no proof, he knows that.

  He rubs his free hand over his face. “You’re good with Connor,” he says, which is news to me. “Try and break it gently. And get him here sooner than later. I need his help.”

  I turn to go, but he puts a hand on my arm. “Later, you and I are going to have a discussion about a few things.”

  “Like the baby?” I ask.

  “Among other things,” he says. “Also how you managed that much magic. And where you sent it.”

  I shake my head. I don’t have any words for him. It just went. I don’t know what I did, or how.

  Feeling shuddery and cold, I run to Connor’s rooms, which are empty. Lungs and legs aching, I hurry through halls that are starting to fill with servants and others, coming in from Dawnsong, heading to their duties. All of them look perturbed, but I need to find Connor. He must not have come in, yet. I head for the west barbican, and see him at the far wall overlooking the water.

  The wind is brisk against my skin. I didn’t bring a shawl or a cloak. And my feet are only in wool stockings, which are now sodden on the bottom. It’s a poor solstice dawn, cold and wet and the smell of a storm out at sea. We should have kinder weather by now.

  Connor turns when I pass the fire pit, waits for me to reach him. He doesn’t give me a chance to catch my breath. “I think Gantry might try something today. We need to try to get to Orrin. It’s clear he can’t get away from the bishop right now. I watched closely during Dawnsong. Orrin was — he looked very wrong. You were right, Rhia. We need to get to him.”

  “He — he — spell,” I gasp out, and Connor grabs my arms.

  “What spell,” he asks. “Rhia. Breathe. What spell?”

  “Up — Julianna. She — we fought it off. Hugh is with her.” I try taking deeper breaths, and the chill air feels like tiny teeth all down my throat. “Go — Hugh —”

  Connor starts to fire off rapid questions. “Who fought off the spell? You and Hugh? Julianna? What kind of spell?” I can only nod or shake my head.

  Snarling, Connor shakes me a little. “Is she hurt?”

  I steady myself as I can, put my hand on his arm. “Connor, she might have lost the baby.”

  His face goes blank. He stares at me like a man lost, like salvation is too late. “Baby? There’s a baby?”

  “Yes. I don’t know. She’s in a Healing trance.”

  He straightens, waving off my hand, waving me away. He turns to leave, stops, turns back. His eyes are narrow as he growls at me. “Find Linnet — keep her with you or send her to Hugh. Just make sure she’s out of the way. Safe. Find Orrin. Find out what happened. Report to me.”

  And he’s gone, his walk rapid but still seems normal. I watch him walk through the great hall doors, pushing a piercing grief that isn’t mine from my head
. He wouldn’t thank me for prying.

  Chapter Fourteen

  I find Linnet in the crowded kitchen, grabbing breakfast.

  A good idea; I reach for a bun, myself. “Linnet, there you are,” I cry, a little too loudly. Everyone looks up.

  “What,” she says, surly. Well, she’s always surly in the morning. Her hair, blond from the dye, falls into her eyes as she looks over her shoulder at me. There’s a little gasp and cluck of tongues around the room, and the servants lean in, eager for gossip.

  Linnet only just manages not to roll her eyes. “I beg your pardon, my lady. How my I help you, my lady,” she says.

  If only her tone weren’t a shade too sarcastic. But we don’t have time to be nice, so I just raise my eyebrows at her and gesture for her to follow me.

  “Tcha, if you’ll pardon me for saying so, but you ought to take that one in hand,” says Marla, the cook. Her hands on her hips, she shakes her head at me, her long face stern. “Gently bred or no, she shouldn’t have such a mouth on her.”

  Linnet’s face is murderous. I can’t speak to her tongue, which likely will say something inappropriate in a moment.

  “It’s fine. She’s fine; she’s sorry,” I say, just trying to get us out of here.

  “Can’t let her get away with these things now. She has to learn,” Marla mutters, going back to her bread.

  “Yes, you’re right, of course,” I say, now shoving Linnet out the door.

  “Stop pushing, my lady,” Linnet hisses, and I sigh and push harder.

  “That one’s going to get a slap,” I hear behind me.

  “I’d like to give her some kind of slap,” a male voice jeers, and I look behind me to see a few guards at the back table, gulping breakfast. One woman smacks the man who spoke on the back of the head. I glare as they laugh, and shove Linnet up the stairs and shut the door behind me.

  “Stay away from those guards,” I tell Linnet.

  “I’m not stupid. Anyway, he’d be sorry if he touched me.”

  “Yes, he would,” I say, and she turns and stares at me. “But I’d rather we didn’t have to manage that, too, on top of everything else.”

  Linnet looks carefully at my face. “All right, you look pinched and frantic. What is it? What’s gone wrong now?”

  But there are more servants coming down the stairs now, shoving around us with irritated glances and murmured “pardon, m’lady” on their lips. I see two maids pause behind Linnet.

  I smile brightly. “Oh, nothing! Nothing is wrong. That is, there is a problem with the princess’ gown.”

  Linnet groans. “Don’t tell me it’s too small,” she starts, and I squeeze her arm hard, determinedly not looking at the maids. “Ow!”

  “I tore it,” I almost shout. “I stepped on it and tore it, and we need you to fix it right away.” I push Linnet up the stairs past the maids, who stare without staring, and are much better at it than I.

  Linnet goes with little grace. “Piffle. Even you are not that clumsy,” she says.

  “What is that supposed to mean?” I push a little harder, and we exit the stairs into the upper hall. But I’m not going to Julianna yet, and with a frown and a shooing motion for Linnet, I pass the door to the solar and head toward the chapel.

  “Where are you going?” she asks, and starts following me.

  “Linnet, go to Her Highness,” I say between clenched teeth. She shakes her head and keeps up with me, which isn’t hard, as I’m tired and out of breath again. I give up on eating the bun and hand it to Linnet.

  “I can tell something is going on. You are really slow,” she says, and I scowl at her. “You should have come to Dawnsong. It was surprisingly entertaining. The Bishop didn’t speak for too long, and the singing was lovely. Your friend Orrin was there. He looked like death, by the way. I can’t believe Keenan was —”

  “Will you shut up. All right, come with me then. But keep quiet.”

  “Are you going to see Orrin? Good. I’d like to meet him.”

  “Now might not be the best time,” I say, heading down the main stairs. Fewer servants; good. The chapel isn’t too far, now.

  “If you had your way, never would be the best time,” Linnet snaps. “But he really didn’t look very healthy. Everyone kept edging away from him. And gossiping. Duchess Marguerite wasn’t there, either. Your earl was the only person of rank out there.

  “The gossip was pretty racy, though. Some of them are fighting about the princess and her magic, about how her Healing isn’t helping the poor folk in the hospice as it should. But they still love the duchess, and they think maybe it’s those nasty Corat courtiers who’ve led the princess astray. They don’t much like Bishop Gantry, most of them, so that’s good.”

  I should be happy she’s chatty, I think. She’s been giving me the silent treatment for weeks. But now really isn’t a good time, and she isn’t as quiet as she thinks she is.

  I shush her again, but she keeps whispering. “I do think the bishop did some kind of spell during the service, though,” she says, and I stop in the hall just outside the chapel, and stare at her.

  “A spell,” I say, and look around. I drag her behind me to a pillar outside the chapel, but she comes willingly enough. She seems smug to have gotten my attention. There are some people praying inside the chapel; I can hear chanting coming from inside.

  “Tell me about this spell,” I whisper. “And keep it down. We are supposed to be hiding, by the way.”

  “No one pays any attention to you,” she says, and I roll my eyes.

  “They will if you keep making them want to. No one’s supposed to pay attention to me,” I say. “Now tell me.”

  Linnet glares at me. “Fine. It was during the singing. Bishop Gantry grabbed Orrin’s arm, and I felt some kind of magic starting, like the air was shaking. It sounded weird, too. I mean, over the singing. And Orrin’s face looked awful, all crumpled and pained. So I knew they were doing something.”

  “Could you see it, the spell?”

  “I can’t always see magic like you can,” she snaps. “No, I didn’t see anything. But it was barely light, since it was dawn. For Dawnsong. Remember?”

  “But you did see it — you could tell they were doing magic. Could anyone else tell?”

  “How should I know? The earl was there. Maybe he saw it.”

  “But —” and I think it won’t be proof enough — Julianna won’t want to talk about the baby, or the spell against her. And if no one knows what the spell was, or what it did, or even if Gantry did it, what good does it do us to accuse him? I grind my teeth in frustration.

  “Don’t get mad at me!”

  I sigh. “I’m not. But what did —” I stop. Voices coming from the chapel, heading out. I pull Linnet further behind the pillar just as the door opens.

  We’re still visible, but Bishop Gantry isn’t looking at us. He has Orrin by the elbow, dragging him down the hall and around the corner. “Do not speak unless spoken to,” I hear Gantry say.

  “Yes, my Lord Bishop.” That must be Orrin, but I almost can’t hear it.

  Linnet pushes at me, but I wave her back. I hear a loud smack, and a soft cry. The sound makes us jump, and we hurry forward, but I stop at the corner, biting my lips. Linnet shoves at me, but I don’t move.

  “I said don’t speak! You are not as useful a tool as I need,” Gantry says, and I wince for Orrin.

  I peer around the corner, and see Orrin leaning against the wall, his head bowed.

  Gantry shoves him toward their rooms. “Get in there, and don’t come out until I send for you. I have preparations to make.”

  He’s heading back for us, and I hastily yank Linnet with me as I hurry toward chapel doors, so it will look like we were just coming from there, or going in. Arm in arm, we open and let fall the chapel door behind us as Bishop Gantry rounds the corner.

  He doesn’t seem to really see us, just calls for a couple of kirche guards. I start. What are kirche guards doing inside the castle? Since the i
ntruder incident, Connor insists they stay off castle grounds altogether, the better to keep watch for outsiders.

  Gantry disappears down the corridor toward the great hall, and Linnet and I look at each other, run down to Gantry’s rooms.

  Orrin isn’t in the hallway any longer. He must have gone inside.

  I knock quietly on the door.

  “Knock louder than that. He won’t even hear you!” Linnet urges.

  “Well I don’t want anyone else to hear me, either,” I hiss at her over my shoulder. She kicks my foot, and I remember I still don’t have shoes on.

  “Ow! Stop that!” My hisses are getting too loud, so I glare at her and knock again.

  Linnet reaches around me and knocks harder. There’s no sound from behind the door.

  “Let me open it again,” she says, but I hear footsteps and men’s voices from the chapel, and push her away from the door just as two kirche guards round the corner.

  The look on their faces is already not friendly. “What are you doing here?” the taller one asks us.

  I stand as tall as I can. “I need to h—, to, uh, speak with Father Matthew. Regarding tonight’s banquet.” I stop explaining. Don’t explain, my mother would say. And I’m not sure what I would need with Matthew in any case. I glance at Linnet, who just looks grim.

  “These are Bishop Gantry’s rooms at the moment. You’re not allowed back here. He’s had some trouble with people going into his rooms.”

  “You wouldn’t know anything about that, my lady.” The other guard’s sarcastic emphasis isn’t heartening. “Or you, girl. Girl. Why are you here?”

  Linnet shrugs and glares, never at her best with demands.

  I can feel her gather magic, and I feel a faint pulling sensation with it. I kick back with my foot a little, to warn her. We can’t be seen doing any magic at all. We’ll be caught for sure.

  “You’re that Dorward’s kin, aren’t you?” barks the shorter guard. “Dorward, hah, changed names don’t make for changed states.”

  I draw myself up to my full height, which is a bit taller than he is.