by Unknown
"And I," said Valya, "will show you something a little bird told me."
"Oh?" said Poskarl, feigning boredom but betraying interest.
She turned to Orlin. "Would you like me to mend that cut on your ear?"
My brother looked to me. He knew I could brew an infusion that could heal it, but he also knew our mission. "What would it cost me?"
She laughed. "What would you offer?"
Orlin considered, then reached into Madame Eglantine's knitting bag and withdrew a pair of stockings. "Knitting for knitting? You knit my flesh, I give you some fine Gahan hosiery?"
Valya's pupils widened at the sight of Madame Eglantine's stockings. "You have a bargain." Holding her doll in the crook of one arm, she reached into her reticule with her free hand and took out a white lace handkerchief. It looked like a giant snowflake. She moistened it with spit, then reached out to Orlin's ear while her thrush clung to her band's cherry blossoms and softly chirped in hers. She nodded, then recited,
"Baba Yaga's faitliful wolfhound
Saw the blood upon the snowfall,
Saw her pup had torn his dewclaw.
Lovingly she licked her houndlet
Smooth and clean as winter's snowfall.
Blood to blood and bone to bone,
Joint to joint, let all be joined."
As she spoke the charm, the blood disappeared and Orlin's wound with it. Even the blood on Odin's shoulder vanished, leaving it as clean and unblemished as Valya's snowflake handkerchief.
Orlin presented her with the stockings.
"I would like to learn that charm," said Irynya.
"So would I," said Olya, her parrot.
Poskarl huffed haughtily, but his eyes betrayed him, as did his monkey. Lychee punched him in the shoulder and chattered angrily while pointing to Valya and her thrush.
Kyevgeny had returned with the cocoa and had also seated Tinka and poured her the first cup. I placed the bakery box on the table and cut the string.
Being Galtan, my first instinct was to divide the cake equally-but being Gaitan, I had also seen a starveling child wolfher food till she choked or gorge till she vomited. I cut a modest slice and placed it on a plate for Tinka. The plates were snowy porcelain in the shape of snowflakes, but with an opalescent overglaze Powdermaster Davin had taught me was known as "Winter's Kiss"-as much of a mystery as Irrisen's formula for porcelain itself.
A blizzard of smaller snowflakes made up Tinka's cup, which she took hesitantly, then sipped slowly. As she did, I saw a small blue mark on the bottom. Cobalt glaze, four tiny curved brush strokes. Taken together they gave the impression of interlaced mammoth tusks or a buttressed tower or a stylized M.
The child put down her cup, her upper lip darkened with cocoa, but appeared too fearful to ask for more no matter how desperately she might want it.
I pushed the slice of honeycake toward her, picking up another plate as I did and stealing a glance at the bottom. An ivory tower... Did the "M" stand for "Mistress"?
"Admiring the porcelain marks?" Irynya inquired.
"Um... yes," I admitted. I'm trying to remember if I've seen this sigil before."
"Pay it no mind." She waved dismissively. "It's just the seal of some old dynasty from the early days of the empire, of no power or consequence in the modern age. I doubt anyone even knows who they are now, much less cares."
"Oh stop it, Irynya," Valya said, giggling. "You're utterly terrible."
"I know," Irynya tossed her head, making the rainbow colored feathers of her fascinator dance, "but I'm an Elvanna. It's expected." She looked at me pointedly. "And you are certainly a Galtan, serving a thrall before those of royal blood." She paused and added, "Don't worry. I find it deliciously scandalous."
"We are stilyagi," Poskarl explained. "We do not follow Whitethrone's arbiters of fashion, and we admire the customs of foreign lands. Some customs." He smiled, displaying teeth that were exceedingly white. "I would still like a piece of cake."
I nodded and cut a generous slice. I doubted Poskarl had gone hungry a day in his life.
He accepted it with a nod and passed it on to Irynya. "For you, my dear cousin." She took it then passed it to Valya. "For you, my valued companion."
Valya smiled and nodded, then signaled to Kyevgeny, who brought a tray from the lower shelf of the teacart he had wheeled over. On it was a miniature cocoa service, including the peculiar miniature pot . She proceeded to cut tidbits from her larger piece, placing them on plates and serving them in turn to Irynya's parrot, Poskarl's monkey, her thrush, and finally her doll, Madenya, which she had seated upon her bag, making it look like a has sock.
"Where is your helper?" Valya asked Orlin.
"My what?"
"Your familiar," Poskarl said. "We've seen you work witchcraft. You're not like poor Kyevgeny there, picking lint out of charm bags in hopes of finding even a crumb of magic."
"Indeed," agreed Irynya. " Surely you must have a toad or hedgehog hidden in one of your pockets."
"Oh, my spirit guide," Orlin said. "Rhodel's used to serving herself. She's Gahan, too."
On cue, my knife levitated, Rhodel cutting herself a slice, followed by the cocoa pot levitating and pouring her a cup as well. The spare chair next to Tinka pulled out.
The little girl's eyes went wide, and then, when nothing horrid occurred, looked hungrily at the cake. Rhodel slid her portion over.
She then proceeded to play hostess, serving Irynya, Poskarl, Kyevgeny, Orlin, and finally myself.
"So," Irynya said to me, "we saw you use that revivifying phial to wake the child . Where is your helper?"
"I don't have one yet," I admitted, "though I've been thinking of making a homunculus ." Four sets of lapis-blue eyes gave me mystified looks, so I explained, "It's a familiar made out of various materials-mostly mandrake root."
"Oh, a mandragora!" Irynya exclaimed. "We have an aunt who has one of those."
"Nasty creature," said Poskarl. " Spawned from demon blood from what I heard."
Irynya raised an eyebrow and took a sip of cocoa. "Are we talking about the mandragora or Aunt Lubov?"
Poskarl grinned. "You tell me."
Irynya took a diplomatic sip of cocoa instead.
Kyevgeny asked, "So you can farm mandragoras?"
"That's theoretically possible, but a homunculus is created in a laboratory. It's an alchemical process."
He leaned forward intently. "You know alchemy?"
"Some. I make perfumes and fireworks. Would you like to see my samples?"
"Didn't you have that dreadful Revolution?" said Irynya. "I heard that Galt once had truly fine perfumes, but since?" She rolled her eyes. "The fashion at court is for the perfumes of Tian Xia anyway."
"I thought you stilyagi set your own fashion," said Orlin.
"In town, yes. At court? Well..." She waved her fingers and gazed upward.
"Our grandmother once had some Gahan perfume," Kyevgeny mentioned. "She might be interested."
Poskarl rolled his eyes. "Your grandmother..."
This was not going as well as I liked. "Well," I said, making conversation, "did you at least have a pleasant costume ball?"
"Costume ball?" echoed Poskarl.
"For Merrymead. You're dressed as Abu-Fazim, the carpet seller, yes?"
Poskarl's pale cheeks turned pink, then bright red, then almost purple. Irynya burst out laughing. "I told you, cousin! I told you! The turban was simply too much!"
Poskarl fumed, then turned to me, demanding, "Very well, then. But what does she look like?"
"The Parrot Princess from The Tales of Katapesh?" I hazarded.
Irynya looked shocked, and then began to laugh, as did her parrot.
Valya arched a pale eyebrow at her friend and took a dainty sip of cocoa. "Next time you will allow me to design for you rather than patronize the Frosthall's wardrobe mistress." She paused, then inquired of me, "What did you think I was dressed as?"
"An elegant lady from before the Revolution?
"
"Oh pooh," she pouted, "I knew those fashion plates were outmoded."
"This is why we find foreigners refreshing," Irynya laughed, then paused, daintily raising a napkin to her lip s . A moment later, she removed a sliver of gold, then wiped the last poppy seed free and unfurled it. "The Fan of Flirtation! I shall be lucky in love!"
I toasted her with my mug o fcocoa, then took a sip. Rich and creamy, it tasted of calcium, the mineral found in everything from eggshells to limestone.
"I found one, too," said Tinka softly. "I was never taught the witch marks, but I know what this must say." She placed a tiny charm on the tablecloth, a whip made from a length of gold braid. "I must give this to my master, for I am a whipping child now."
"Nonsense," Poskarl admonished. "That is the Whip of Vengeance. It is terribly unlucky to give away a Merrymead trinket. You must set that whip on one who has wronged you." He smirked at Orlin. "Looks like you may not want to beat her for a while."
"I wasn't planning to," my brother said drily.
"You wear it until you need it." Irynya showed off her bracelet, one of its charms a tiny fan, its scurrilous inscription now furled.
"I have no jewelry," said the child.
"Pick up your bauble," said Kyevgeny.
She did as she was bidden. He picked up the red string from the bakery, threaded it through the loop at the base, and tied it around her wrist. He examined the trinket. "If anyone wrongs you, throw this and say, 'The wasp stings until she is satisfied."'
The child mouthed the words but did not say them aloud.
Different words were being said in my head. It took me a moment to realize the voice was inside my mouth : Norret I shall be attending 'Kostchtchie the Deathless' next Fireday. Meet me on the Frosthall steps afterward. Use this talisman to reply if needed. Orontius."
I reached for my napkin and discreetly spat the Merrymead token out into it. Orontius had apparently had ulterior motives in giving me the cake.
"Did you say something?" asked Poskarl.
"I think he said, 'Kostchtchie the Deathless,'" said Irynya. "Does anyone have tickets? Poskarl traded ours."
"Grandmother has her box," Valya said. "Sometimes she favors us."
Irynya snorted. "Your grandmother reads the harrow for her dolls."
Valya covered her doll's ears. "Don't listen to her, Madenya."
Poskarl glanced to Kyevgeny. "At least you had the sense to leave that foolish little barbarian doll at home." His monkey nodded in agreement and sipped its cocoa.
"Klaufi isn't foolish!" Kyevgeny protested.
Poskarl was about to respond when he glanced my way.
"Ah! You've found the Bee-Eater!" He pointed to the bird shaped charm in my napkin.
Irynya laughed like her parrot. "It's a year of malicious gossip for you unless you buy the next cake!"
"Who's 'Kostchtchie the Deathless'?" asked Orlin.
"A foolish barbarian," said Poskarl.
"The patron spirit of frost giants," said Irynya.
"A demon who eats bad children..." whispered Tinka.
"All true," Kyevgeny agreed. "Would you like to hear the tale?"
"Please," said Irynya. "Your shows are always amusing."
Kyevgeny was an exceptionally large man with a voluminous cloak. I should not have been surprised when he reached in and produced a Clever Nella theater.
The proscenium arch, while painted paper, looked like sculpted ice. The curtain, instead of red velvet, was iridescent silk.
And then it was not. Kyevgeny had just freshened our cocoa, dimmed the fishy-smelling table lamp, and moved it behind the toy theater when the silk changed to red velvet. The curtains parted, revealing a screen of silk, shimmering like frost on a windowpane, and moving shadows that shifted, becoming real. A window into the past.
As we watched, the shadows told the story of Kostchtchie, an Ulfen man forced by his father to murder his mother and sisters, and who then murdered his father in turn. From there, he became a terrible warlord, becoming so powerful that he eventually challenged Baba Yaga herself, demanding the secret of immortality. The Witch- Queen agreed, but not in the way he expected, twisting his form into that of a hideous giant and hiding the last fragments of his soul away in a magical tore. Shamed, Kostchtchie fled to the Abyss and became the patron of frost giants. From there, he plots against Irrisen, hoping to recover the tore containing his former soul so that he might reverse his condition.
"An interesting tale," interrupted a voice, "and an intriguing method of presentation. A screen made from the silk of dream spiders? How novel. And moral. Most people, when they obtain such a substance, brew it into a valuable drug. But of course, you wouldn't know anything about that."
I turned. Beside me sat a wolf with blue eyes and silver white fur. Then he was a man with the same colors. Then a wolf. Then a man. Back and forth, one after another, like the pages of two different flipbooks interleaved.
I looked down at my cocoa and realized I had been drugged.
Chapter Three
Porcelain Street
An alchemist learns the use of drugs as part of his work with poisons. With most, deadliness depends on dosage.
I had grown complacent. Orlin has a unicorn's talent for detecting poisons, gained from an alicorn fragment I used in his resurrection, and I had come to rely on his warnings. A les s than lethal dosage of a poison, however, would not register; elsewise, unicorns would be known for trampling foxgloves rather than skewering evil creatures.
Though I had never encountered it personally, I knew that dream spider venom could be used to brew "shiver," a potent narcotic and hallucinogen. Nobles imported this exotic vice to Galt, and even after the Revolution, nests of the monstrous arachnids had been found lairing in forgotten archives. Powdermaster Davin had warned me that the webbing itself was psychotropic.
A theory was coming together. It was said that some Katapeshi storytellers used majoun, a drugged sweetmeat, to enhance their performances. Why couldn't an Irriseni storyteller do the same? A drop of shiver in the cocoa, a shadow puppet theater screened with the webbing, and Kyevgeny's frankly mellifluous voice, trained in the charms ofWhitethrone and heir to his famous ancestress? He might not be a proper witch, but Kyevgeny had found more than a crumb of magic in the charm bags Poskarl accused him of plundering.
I had more than a crumb in my bag as well. Along with the alicorn fragments, I had found a greater treasure, the unicorns kin glove of Duke Devore, with its inset a ruby posses sing a number of virtues. The most pertinent was its ability to neutralize poison.
Of course, alcohol is a poison, and the inability to get drunk made for a less than merry Merrymead.
I swapped my left glove for the unicornskin one.
I felt the gem's familiar weight. Kyevgeny's theater lost its luster, the colors muting, changing from a window in time to a pretty but unremarkable toy. My theory of a mild hallucinogen was correct.
Or not, since ifthe unicorn's jewel had rid me of poisons, why was the being beside me still flickering back and forth from wolf to man?
I observed this phenomenon. As an alchemist, I had drunk more than my share ofpotions. It was to be expected that I might see things that might or might not be there.
I saw Rhodel lift the cocoa pot and pour a cup, then take my knife and cut a slice of cake. The man and the wolfboth stared. It was clear that they were seeing something other than a pretty girl setting Merrymead cake before them.
"Who se witchery is this? " asked the man. The wolf said nothing.
"Orlin's," Irynya said brightly, gesturing to my brother. "He has a ghostly helper. Isn't that marvelous, especially for one so young?"
"Who's your friend, Kyevgeny?" his sister asked.
Kyevgeny sat up straight, no longer hunched behind his toy theater. He was an absolutely huge youth, and being lit from below by the table lamp should have made him look sinister, but in that moment he looked even younger than my brother.
Poskarl lo
oked younger than Tinka and far more frightened. Lychee, his monkey, was even more expressive, his mouth open in a grimace of horror, his hands clutching Poskarl's turban and pulling it askew as he tried to hide behind it.
"You may call me Silvertooth, my dear." The man grinned, revealing that one of his front teeth had indeed been replaced with silver. The wolf snarled and his right fang was silver as well. "I am sorry if I interrupted your amusement, but I have business to discuss with your brother and his friend." He indicated Poskarl. "If you could find some errand to take you elsewhere, it would be well."He then glared at Orlin. "I do not care for cocoa, thank you."
I knew from Cedrine that chocolate was poisonous to dogs . Perhaps the same held true with all canids.
I also discovered the reason for my double vision. The lens that let me see Rhodel had fallen halfway across my eye during Kyevgeny's puppet show. Apparently its interaction with the shiver-laced cocoa allowed me to see a shapeshifter's true form.
I flipped it up. All I saw was a white-haired man in a wolfskin coat.
I dropped another lens. Silvertooth's silver tooth glinted jacinth, the color ofAndoren poppies. Clearly magical.
He turned to me. "Might you also have business elsewhere?"
I flipped the lens up, looking into the eyes of a wolf in the head of a man.
I was the first to look away. "I, um, yes." I spotted Madenya clutched in Valya's arms. "I was meaning to purchase a doll. Tinka needs one. Do you know-"
"Porcelain Street," Irynya supplied quickly. "You buy dolls on Porcelain Street. We'll show you the way. The boys can meet us later."
Poskarl and Kyevgeny still looked stricken but nodded, to which Silvertooth said, "Splendid."
Rhodel boxed up the Merrymead cake, including Silvertooth's slice. She made a show ofreturning my knife past the wolfman's nose. He bared his teeth at me until I left with Orlin, Tinka, Valya, and Irynya.
"Fly, my pretty," Irynya told her parrot once we were outside the building. "Fetch us a sleigh."
Olya took wing, a burst of color against the snow. Irynya turned to Valya. "What was that about?"
"We don't want to know, but we need to anyway." She reached up to her hairpiece, taking Koliadki onto her finger. "Hurry, little one," she whispered. "Tell grandmother everything."
