“I’m not sleeping in your bed,” I said firmly.
“Fine, take the floor. If it’s me you’re worried about, you needn’t bother. I’ll be up all night, wondering how to get rid of you.”
“There’s no need to be so hurtful.”
“Pah! Says she who comes to torment me. Go. I don’t want to look at you, let alone hear you.”
I didn’t want his wine after all, and left it on the table. Neither did I want to sleep on the floor, so I kicked off my boots and climbed onto his bed. At first I resolved to sleep on top of the blankets, but it was cold, even with the fire. So I lifted them up and slipped underneath, curling at the very edge of the bed. I’d never slept in anyone’s bed but my own. I could smell him on the pillows and in the sheets.
I watched the back of him as he sat by the fire.
“Go to sleep,” he said in a low voice.
“I can’t. There too much going on in my head.”
“You sleep, and I’ll think.”
“I could think too,” I offered. “I’m not as clever as some, but I’m not completely useless.”
“You can’t think about matters you don’t understand. And you’ll never help me anyway, not when you’re under her command.”
I lacked the energy to argue with him again. I’d never met a Moranda in my life. I tried to rest – his bed was incredibly comfortable – but I was too worried, too excited, too nervous to shut my eyes in his presence.
He turned his head to the side, the firelight illuminating his profile. “You’re still awake,” he said.
“I’m trying.”
“Not hard enough.” He rose from his chair and swiftly crossed the floor to the bed. “Lie back flat. You’ll never sleep if you’re on your side like that, with the fire in your eyes.”
I did as he said. The ache in my shoulder eased. I looked up to the canopy; it was red, to match the sheets. It was a big bed for one person.
His face appeared above me, his hair falling down and almost touching my skin. He pressed two fingers to my forehead. “Sleep,” he said.
“You’re casting a spell,” I said drowsily. “Don’t do that.”
“Sleep.”
His voice stole under my skin and into my heart. Everything calmed. The edges of the world grew darker and darker, until only his eyes remained.
But even they vanished in the end.
CHAPTER SIX
Faol was gone in the morning.
There was a narrow window in the room that I hadn’t noticed the previous evening. The dawn light streamed in and cast a thin line across the floor and up the bed. The sky door was intact, and free from flame. The fire in the hearth was out, and my breath clouded in front of me. I didn’t want to leave the warmth of the bed, but I was starving, and keen to make sure this message he’d promised was sent at once to my parents.
My boots were lined up neatly beside the bed. I frowned at them before jamming them on my feet. Both goblets of wine had been drained. The door with the silver handle beckoned me. Last night it had been locked, but this morning—
It opened with ease.
A stone staircase curved downwards. I realised his bedroom was at the top of one of the four turrets. I continued down the stairs, careful to make as little noise as possible.
I smelled coffee.
After two turns, the stairs disappeared and a large circular kitchen took their place. Faol had his back to me, busying himself at a stove, his head clouded in steam. Today his waistcoat was plum-coloured, his shirt and trousers black. He wore no cloak this morning.
“Do you drink coffee?” he asked me, back still turned.
“Occasionally.”
“Would you like some now, agent of Moranda?”
I rolled my eyes. “I would. Extra hot.”
“The temperature is not negotiable. Take a seat.”
I sat at the table in the middle of the kitchen. There were two windows, both narrow slits, revealing the mountains beyond. The sky was cool grey. Faol swept around with two cups and the biggest pot of coffee I’d ever seen. Coffee was expensive, and I’d only had it three times before, and each time I’d been left bitterly jealous of those who drank it every morning without a second thought.
“Do you know how to get rid of me?” I asked, as he poured me a cup.
“You know the answer, don’t you? You laughed in your sleep.”
“I did not.”
“You made strange noises then. Even in sleep you managed to annoy me.”
I drank my coffee instead of responding. I needed him to send a message to my parents.
“Good?” he asked, watching me drink.
I put down the cup. It was already half-empty.
“I see,” he said.
“What about my parents?” I asked. “You said you’d send a message. You promised.”
“Did I? I don’t remember promising anything.”
“Please. Don’t be cruel.”
His mouth twisted. “I am not cruel. You should know that, or is she spreading more lies about me? You, however, are terribly cruel.”
He was, I decided, insane.
I said: “I will become crueler than you thought possible if you do not send a message to my parents. Moranda has much in store for you.”
He blinked, and then his eyes narrowed. “I bet she has. Fine, fine; I’ll send a message. Tell them you’re alive. I’ll need their names, and a description of your home. I’m good, but I’m not that good. You of all people should know that.”
I drank my coffee and tried to decipher his words, while he went downstairs to send the message. When he returned, the coffee pot was empty.
“Done,” he said.
“Thank you. Let me make you breakfast.”
“I don’t need breakfast.”
“You can’t survive on coffee alone.”
“Yes, I can,” he said.
“No wonder you’re so thin.” I got up from the table and searched the cupboards and the hanging baskets. “I could make us some toast and caramel pears?”
“That sounds awful. I’d rather eat my own hand.”
“I’m not stopping you,” I said. “But I’ll stick with the pears.” I cut up four slices of bread and toasted them on the hob. “How do you find food out here on your own?” I asked.
“Moranda delivers enough to keep me alive.”
“Does anyone else live here?”
“It’s just me,” he said.
“No wonder so much of the castle is a midden.”
“You’ve not seen much of the castle,” he told me. “So, Aideen, you claim you don’t work for Moranda, so why then would you enter my castle?”
I arranged the pears on the bread and handed him a plate, then set about making another pot of coffee.
“I saw you in the wood, as you saw me. I followed you here.”
“Why?”
“Because I’d never seen magic before. I was interested.”
“You shouldn’t have come.”
“Well, you shouldn’t have jumped in front of me.”
He stabbed his fork into a pear. “I’m stuck in here all day and night and you blame me for stretching my legs? Do you have any idea how difficult it is for me to project myself out of here? I thought no one was around.”
“If the magic is too difficult for you to do properly, you shouldn’t do it at all.”
He jammed a chunk of pear into his mouth. He blinked furiously. I actually thought he might cry.
I poured him a new cup of coffee and said, “At least you can do magic. I can’t do anything at all.”
He continued to attack his breakfast, keeping his eyes down. Did he really believe I didn’t work for Moranda? It was hard to guess what he was thinking beneath his erratic behaviour.
“The pears are not so awful, are they?”
He paused mid-bite. “I’ve had worse.”
Taking advantage of his mild improvement in mood, I said, “Tell me about the Night Mage.”
&nb
sp; His lip curled. He put down his fork. “The Night Mage is an agent of Moranda’s.”
“And she’s your master?”
“Yes. I must beat the monster to earn my full rank as mage. I’ve tried and I’ve tried, but nothing I do is good enough. Moranda won’t help me at all. I can’t leave this castle until the Night Mage is defeated.”
He spoke as if he really believed I had nothing to do with his master. I wanted to reach out and pat his hand. He looked so much younger when he wasn’t angry. “How long have you been trapped with the monster?”
“Six years,” he said. “Almost seven.” He raised his eyes to mine, and I caught a glimpse of his desperate loneliness. “Seven years and I haven’t been able to beat it. And now you arrive and its powers have grown. What hope do I have?” He flopped his head onto the table.
Seven years trapped in this castle with only the Night Mage for company? No wonder he was ratty.
“I didn’t mean to help the Night Mage,” I said. “I was only interested in finding you. I mean— Because you were clearly a mage of some kind and I’d never met one before. That was all.”
“Mm,” he said.
“I’ll do whatever I can to help you.”
“Mm.”
“Faol… I am sorry. I’m trapped too, so at least you won’t be alone anymore.”
“Mm.”
“Your coffee is going cold. Is there somewhere I can have a bath? And possibly find some clean clothes? If I’m going to be stuck here for a while, I’ll need a couple of outfits. Nothing much. I’m not fussy. We’re about the same build – you’re just a little taller – so if you have a spare shirt and trousers I’d appreciate it very much. I’d even put a good word in to Moranda.”
He lifted his head and glared at me through a curtain of hair. I smiled sweetly in return.
“Downstairs,” he said, and returned his forehead to the table.
The stairs continued down the turret. My next stop was some kind of dressing room. Endless shirts, waistcoats, coats and trousers hung around the circumference of the room on a brass rail, and a white bathtub stood in the middle on four clawed feet.
How could one man need so many outfits? I’d always been stuck with the same old drab shirts and skirts, but Faol’s wardrobe flashed with colour. I pushed aside the arm of a particularly fine turquoise coat and looked out the window. This side faced the wood, and it stretched on and on. Even from this height I couldn’t see any trace of the village. I would ask Faol if he could receive a reply from my parents. I needed to know they’d stopped worrying about me.
“I’ll get out of here,” I whispered to myself, “but there’s no real rush.”
I kicked off my boots and walked around the room, trailing my hand across the different fabrics. I pictured Faol in his finery, spinning across the ballroom with the fire in his eyes.
I examined the bathtub. It was big enough to fit two people comfortably. There were two golden taps, but no sign of pipes. I turned one, and steaming hot water poured out. It smelled like roses and lavender, which was strange, because Faol’s bed had smelled of neither. And he seemed like a man who bathed often.
As the tub filled, I called up the stairs, “You’re not going to come down and spy on me, are you?”
His voice returned to me, small and distant. “Why ever would I do that?”
Well, there was no need to be so rude about it.
I huffed and glared at the ceiling, and muttered, “I’ll make allowances because you’ve been alone for so long.” It was what Mother would want me to do. I glanced back to the window and guilt ate at my heart. “I hope you’ll forgive me…”
When the water was high enough, I stripped out of my clothes and sighed as I slipped into the warmest bath I’d ever had. I didn’t worry about Faol breaking his word. Why would he want to see me in the bath, anyway? He might have been lonely, but seven years wasn’t enough to drive him completely desperate. Now, if Winnie had been here, I was sure he’d be down in a flash, climbing in beside her.
I sank below the water until every inch of me was submerged. My arms floated, weightless. The warmth made me drowsy, despite all the coffee. I stayed submerged as long as I could hold my breath.
When I came up for air and opened my eyes, I found myself staring into another face. And so I screamed.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Footsteps rushed down the stairs. I was caught between my terror of finding an intruder in my bath, and the embarrassment of Faol seeing me naked in the water.
“Don’t come in!” I shrieked.
The creature in my bath continued to stare. It was round and fuzzy and blue, about the size of a pumpkin, with the ears and tail of a cat and the face of a teddy bear. Its belly was cream, as was its little triangular nose.
Faol’s feet came to a halt on the stairs. I dared to take my eyes off the creature and check the stair; Faol was not there.
“Is it Cal?” Faol asked. “She’s small and blue and somewhat downy.”
“Yes, it’s Cal!”
“Don’t worry about her.”
“She’s in my bath!”
“Would you like me to remove her?” Faol asked.
“No! Don’t come in. Go back to the kitchen. I’ll be fine.”
“She’s harmless,” said Faol. “She likes baths.”
“Right. Good to know. Thank you!”
I heard him retreat back upstairs. I released a long breath.
Cal paddled to stay afloat in the water.
“Hello,” I said.
“Hello,” said Cal.
“Oh. You can talk?”
“Yes.” She bobbed up and down like a potato in a soup pan. “My name is Cal.”
“I’m Aideen,” I said, frightfully aware that I was naked in the bath.
“You’ve upset Faol.”
“Have I?”
“Terribly. It’s hard to tell because he does shout a lot, but he’s been doing it more this morning. Didn’t you hear?”
“I was asleep,” I admitted. “He put a spell on me.”
Cal kicked her feet and turned in a circle. “I know the feeling.”
“Do you mean he’s cast spells on you too?”
“Oh yes,” said Cal. “Many a time.”
“Did he ask your permission?”
“Not always.”
“Doesn’t that make you angry?” I asked. As we were sharing a bath, I assumed I could ask some personal questions.
“Angry? No, I don’t think so. Is it true you work for Moranda?”
“No, not at all. I’ve never met Moranda.”
“You might have met her and be none the wiser. She’s clever. Maybe you’re under her spell.”
“I— No. Absolutely not.”
“How can you be so sure?” asked Cal, paddling a little closer.
“Because I knew when Faol was casting a spell on me.”
“Yes, but Moranda is much better at magic than Faol. Don’t tell him I said that. It makes him angry.”
I searched back through recent memories, looking for a mysterious stranger gazing into my eyes and offering me a smoking glass to drink.
“I’m not under anyone’s spell,” I said firmly. “And I certainly don’t work for Moranda. If she wanted anyone to sneak in as a spy, she’d have chosen someone more able.”
“Are you not able?”
“Not really.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Cal spun around again. Faol was right: she did seem to enjoy baths.
“Cal? Can I ask you a personal question?”
“Ask away.”
“What exactly are you?”
“I’m not sure. What do you think I am?”
“I don’t know,” I replied. “That’s why I asked.”
“Hmm. Then we’re no further forward. What are you?”
“Me?” I touched a finger to my chest. “I’m a human being.”
“Is that all?”
“Well, yes. Is that not enough?”
Cal
turned again, this time moving in the other direction. “That’s up to you I suppose. Not my place to say. You pour a good bath, you know. Very good.”
“All I did was turn the taps,” I said, still pondering her previous words.
“I can’t turn the taps.” Cal stopped twirling and held up her stumpy little arms. She wiggled her four clawed fingers. “See? No thumbs.”
“Thumbs are useful…”
“You better get out and help Faol,” said Cal.
“But, I only just got in!”
“You look clean enough to me. Faol needs your help I think. And you have thumbs. You might come in useful.”
“I doubt it,” I said. “I think you want this bath all to yourself.”
“A baseless accusation. Go on, out you get. No need to drain the water. Faol will do it later. I’ll even help you pick out new clothes. There are fresh towels over there in that chest. Chop chop. Faol’s waiting.”
“If Faol is waiting, he’s not waiting for my company. Turn around while I get out.”
“Why?”
“So you don’t see me naked!”
“Why? You’ve seen me.”
“Yes, but… You’re… You’re different.”
“That hurts.”
“I meant you’re covered in fuzz.”
“So are you.” She looked down. “It’s everywhere. All up your legs and—”
“Right! I’ll get out!”
“Everywhere,” Cal finished.
I grabbed a fresh towel and hurried to cover myself. Cal bobbed up and down, a faint smile on her small mouth.
I dried myself, and wandered along the rail of clothes. “What do you think?” I asked her.
“Green.”
“I can’t wear green. Faol wears green.”
“Not always. He wears all the colours.”
“But his hair is green.”
“Not always,” said Cal. “It changes.”
“Really? What other colour has his hair been?”
“Hm. Red, blue, black, purple. It depends on who his favourite mage is at the time. He copies them. It’s cute. Don’t tell him I said that.”
“Well, his eyes are green. Don’t tell me he changes those, too?”
“No,” said Cal. “They’re always green.”
The Night Mage Page 3
