The Smoke-Scented Girl

by Melissa McShane

  Finally, the man extended a hand holding two keys, Evon brushed aside the offer of help with their bags—that probably did look strange, two canvas sacks and a small bag between the three of them—and they trudged up two flights of stairs to what turned out to be a suite of two bedrooms and a conjoined bath. It took Evon only a little persuading to get Miss Haylter to make use of the facilities; her lips were outlined in purple and the circles under her eyes were darker than before. While she bathed, Evon and Piercy changed into drier clothes and consulted. “I’ll need to tell my superiors all about this, dear fellow,” Piercy said.

  “Why do you sound so apologetic?”

  “Because—” Piercy dropped his voice to a whisper, though their door to the bathroom was closed—“this changes everything. My people were operating on the assumption that we were looking for a magician casting a spell. Now the magician is nowhere to be seen and the spell itself may be aware, which I don’t mind telling you is going to be hard for the old boys at the home office to believe. They are certainly not going to be happy with the idea that Miss Haylter is not at all to blame.”

  “She isn’t.”

  “That’s a subtlety that may be lost on them.”

  “Then you’ll have to convince them otherwise.”

  “I’ll do my best, dear fellow, but you should be prepared for them to arrive here and attempt to take over your investigative efforts.”

  “They can’t take her back to Matra. It’s far too dangerous.”

  “Another subtlety that may etc., etc. I intend to present my findings in the most salubrious fashion I can muster, and I intend to do it tomorrow. Do you suppose she’s used all the hot water? I did rather fancy a soak myself.”

  “I don’t know. I’m going to go cast a few forbiddances on her windows and the door, just in case Odelia is an exceptional tracker. I’m not looking forward to tackling Miss Elltis tomorrow, either.”

  He knocked loudly at Miss Haylter’s hall door, then slipped inside and shut it behind him. The bathroom door on this side was half-open. “Miss Haylter?” he said, keeping his eyes averted. “I’m just putting some protective spells on the windows and door.” There were two windows, neither of them tall enough to admit anyone larger than a child, but he took out his chalk, slightly damp from the journey, and began tracing copper runes on the sill and the glass panes. The dim light from a single lamp near the bed cast up his reflection in the dark window.

  Water sloshed. “Are they to keep intruders out,” Miss Haylter asked, “or me in?”

  “You’re not a prisoner, Miss Haylter,” Evon said. He breathed out a command word, and the runes turned black and then vanished. He went to the next window and began to repeat the process.

  “I was joking,” she said. “I realize it’s hard to tell.”

  “If I were in your position, I’m not sure I’d have much of a sense of humor left.” One rune failed to blacken, and Evon scrubbed everything out and started over again.

  “It surprised me, too.” More water sloshed, the sound of someone stepping out of the tub. He fumbled the chalk and rubbed at the flawed rune irritably. “I really do appreciate what you’re doing, Mr. Lorantis.”

  “I haven’t exactly done anything warranting your appreciation, Miss Haylter.”

  Water began gurgling down the drain. “You didn’t burn,” she said. “You didn’t see me as a monster. Who are you, that you weren’t even a little afraid of me?”

  “I didn’t think to be afraid.” The runes blackened and vanished, and Evon crossed to the door. Miss Haylter emerged from the bathroom and closed its door behind her. She was fully dressed in her spare gown, a dark striped woolen thing that was too loose in the bosom and too long at the hem, and her dark gold hair hung nearly to her waist. Her poreless skin made her look unreal, like a woman wearing her own skin as a mask, but in the dim light the effect was lessened, and Evon thought she might be the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. He closed his fingers tight on the chalk, its damp grittiness anchoring him to the here and now.

  “I realize it’s informal,” he said, “but if you’re meant to be my sister, we should really call one another by our given names. If you don’t mind.”

  She tilted her head just a little. “It makes sense,” she said. “I mean, it’s not as though you haven’t seen me naked.”

  Evon blushed so hard he thought his head might pop open, and she smiled, her eyes merry at how she’d discomfited him. “I didn’t look,” he stammered, and felt like more of a fool for saying anything.

  “I wouldn’t have mentioned it if you had. Thanks for being a gentleman...brother Evon.”

  “Thank you for still having a sense of humor, sister Kerensa. Even if it is at my expense. I’m going to seal this door now. If you need to exit, you’ll have to come through our room.”

  He took his time scrawling runes across the door, the frame, and the threshold. No one would pass through this door without his knowing about it. Especially Odelia, he thought, putting a few extra flourishes around the knob. Probably Odelia was still scrambling to catch up, but if she came anywhere near Kerensa, she’d have more than a simple paralysis to deal with. He muttered a handful of command words, then pulled out his quizzing glass and used epiria to check his work. Tight and tightly bound, and he felt no small measure of pride at his accomplishment.

  They ate supper together in the inn’s large dining room, speaking rarely, even the normally talkative Piercy worn out from the day’s travels, then retired to their beds. Evon watched the bathroom door close on Kerensa and, around a jaw-cracking yawn, said, “I really wonder what she makes of all this.”

  “She’s certainly not what I expected to find at the end of our chase,” Piercy said, unbuttoning his waistcoat. “Astonishingly attractive, for one, though I don’t think she appreciates being told as much.”

  “Maybe you’ve finally found the one woman immune to the Faranter charm,” Evon said. The idea made him cheerful. It would do Piercy good not to have every woman in the world fall at his feet.

  “Unlikely. I simply haven’t found the way to this one’s heart yet.”

  “Don’t toy with her, Piercy.”

  Piercy looked surprised. “I never toy with women, Evon, you know that. And this one...she’s pretty enough, but there’s something about her I don’t dare touch. I’ll leave her to you.”

  Evon turned away to remove his shirt so his friend wouldn’t see how his face had reddened. “I’m afraid there’s a conflict of interest there, what with me more or less using her as a research subject. Unfortunate for both you and me, then.” He had a sudden image of Kerensa standing inside the bathroom, her ear pressed to the door, and wondered if he could cast a spell to make the floor open up beneath him. Dropping him into someone else’s bed. What a solution.

  “When we get home, you should ask Vansie Aldenter to attend the theater with you,” Piercy said, flopping down onto his pillow. “She’s been asking after you for weeks.”

  “I should do that,” Evon agreed, pulling the covers over his chest, but as he tried to remember which of Piercy’s many lady friends Miss Aldenter was, the only image that came to mind was the too-smooth oval of Kerensa Haylter’s face.

  Chapter Eight

  “You’ll want to make yourself scarce while I talk to the authorities back home, dear fellow,” Piercy said over breakfast the next morning. “I don’t dare use the public communication network for a thing like this.”

  “I thought Miss— I might take my sister shopping for a new dress,” Evon said. He laid his napkin down and squared his knife and fork across his plate. “What with our luggage mishap and all.”

  “Oh,” Piercy said. “Of course. Miss...Lorantis shouldn’t have to wear that old thing forever.”

  “You shouldn’t worry about my clothes, brother,” Kerensa said, glaring at Evon. “I don’t want to be a burden on your pocketbook. This dress is just fine.”

  “No one will believe I let my sister go out in public in a dre
ss that clearly wasn’t made for her.”

  “I didn’t think I’d be going out in public much, since I’ll be assisting you with your studies.”

  “That won’t last forever, will it?” He stood and offered her his hand. “Shall we go?”

  “I may not be here when you return,” Piercy said, pushing his chair back from the table. “I intend to make a tour of this fair city and ascertain that our dear friends won’t come upon us unawares. Good luck in your studies, Evon. Miss...Lorantis.” He bowed to Kerensa and left the dining room.

  “I was serious about you not spending money on me,” Kerensa said under her breath as she wrapped her cloak around herself. “I don’t want a new dress.”

  “And I was serious about you not looking much like my sister in that thing,” Evon retorted in the same tone. “I would think you’d be happy to be rid of it. It doesn’t look comfortable, what with it dragging at the hem like that.”

  They exited the inn, Kerensa holding her skirts high to keep them clear of the mud of the inn yard. The air was clear and cold and smelled of new snow and salt brine and, to Evon, of Kerensa’s smoky scent. Across the street from the inn, half-timbered shops did a busy trade in housewares, tobacco, books, and spices, and the jingling three-toned sound of an apothecary’s bell rang out constantly. The inn stood at the top of a gentle slope, and to the west Evon could just barely see the ocean, gray-green in the winter sunlight. He offered Kerensa his arm, and after a moment’s fumbling with her heavy skirts, she accepted it and they crossed the street, dodging carriages and a horsewoman who sneered down at them.

  They walked down the street in silence for a while, Evon looking at the shops, Kerensa looking at the ground, until Kerensa said, “I’d rather not spend money on something that’ll probably just be destroyed.”

  Evon glanced at her. The curve of her cheek was all that was visible of her face. She had left her kerchief behind, saying that it made her look too much the country girl to be seen walking around with Evon in his frock coat and top hat, and her dark blonde hair was pinned neatly at the base of her neck. She’d need a bonnet, too, he reflected, though it seemed a shame to cover up that hair. Her voice was back to being toneless and dull. Without thinking, he said, “You could always take it off before you go.”

  Her head snapped up. “What?”

  “It would save on having to buy new clothing all the time. And it’s not as if you’d have to worry about what the person thinks of you.” His mouth was operating independently of his brain, which was screaming at him to shut up, what are you thinking, you’re insulting her and you need her to trust you. Kerensa’s eyes were wide and her mouth hung slightly open. Evon smiled at her; he was sure his smile looked insane.

  Then she laughed. It was such an unexpected sound, warm and rich and deeply amused, that Evon stopped in the middle of the street and gaped at her, releasing her arm. “Take it off,” she said. “I can’t believe you just said that to me.”

  “I apologize—I don’t know what I was thinking—”

  “I’m not used to this, having someone else share this secret. You don’t see it the way I do.”

  “I assure you, I didn’t mean—”

  “That wasn’t a criticism. You genuinely believe this...curse isn’t a part of me. That it’s something I can be rid of. All I’ve known since this started is despair and self-loathing because I thought it was something I was doing. I’m tired of that feeling. I wish I could see things through your eyes.”

  “Even if I suggest that you engage in public nudity?” A passerby gave them both an astonished, embarrassed glare.

  “You made me laugh. I can’t remember the last time I laughed at something funny.” She took his arm again and squeezed it in a companionable way. “All right. But I’m paying for my own dress.”

  “No, Miss Elltis’s expense account is paying for your dress.” They proceeded arm in arm up the street, Kerensa’s hem dragging in the mud once again.

  “Who is Miss Elltis? You talk about her as if she’s something between a dread maiden aunt and a dragon.”

  “That is fairly accurate, though I do have a dread maiden aunt who is not nearly so terrifying as Miss Elltis. She is my employer, though technically she’s just the senior member of my cooperative. I had to have her approval to take on this quest to find you.”

  “You make it sound like you’re Alvor looking for the Dirn-Hound. I’m not sure that’s very flattering to me.”

  “I don’t know that story.”

  “It’s not a popular one. Alvor’s dearest friend Carall was killed fighting the legions of Murakot, overwhelmed and overpowered, his body lost and his soul a prisoner of the Underworld. Alvor couldn’t defeat Murakot without him, but no one knew where the gates of the Underworld were except the Dirn-Hound, which had never been captured. So Alvor went to the King of Westorn to ask his permission to hunt the Dirn-Hound on his lands, and the king of Westorn granted his request, but warned him that his heart’s desire would keep him from finding what he looked for. And Alvor found the Dirn-Hound, but every time he came near it, it was suddenly half a mile distant. He chased it across the lands of the Princess of Cambrian and the Lord Regent of Esternis, and both rulers gave him permission to cross and both told him what the king of Westorn had. Finally Alvor was tired and angry, and he sat on the grass at the top of a hill and decided it was a waste of his time. And then the Dirn-Hound stood next to him, and allowed Alvor to harness him.”

  “That sounds like metaphor to me.”

  “Me too. It’s not popular because people don’t like to think of Alvor as someone who had to ask permission for anything. Some versions of the story have him ordering those lords to let him pass, but I don’t think that makes much sense—if he had to order them, it means they had the power to say no, which still makes him their inferior. And my version fits better with the rest of the historical evidence, that Alvor was just a man who became great because the times demanded a hero.”

  “You know a great deal about Alvorian myth. Forgive me, but you don’t speak like a barmaid.”

  Kerensa shrugged. “I went to school in Taraspir for a few years, and I listened to every story of Alvor every passing storyteller could give me. All those different versions, from Alvor’s call to glory to his disappearance after killing Murakot, and the truth was somewhere in the middle—it fascinated me. I wanted to go to university in Matra to study more, which is why I was working in the tavern, to earn enough money, but that was before....” She ducked her head again, but she didn’t sound quite as despondent as she had before.

  Evon cast about for something to distract her. “You come from Taraspir, then?” It was a city near Dalanine’s northern border.

  She shook her head. “From Elkenhound, east of Taraspir. You won’t have heard of it. It’s not very big.”

  “You’re far from home, then,” Evon said, then cursed himself. Of course she’s far from home, she’s been driven across Dalanine by a murderous spell that burns her to death every few weeks. “I’ve never been out of Matra myself, not more than half a day’s journey away, anyway,” he said. “This is the farthest I’ve ever been away from home.”

  She was silent for a moment, and Evon ran through all of the possible ways his words might have sent her back into despair, but she said, “Do you have family in Matra, then?” and her voice sounded curious rather than despondent.

  He laughed. “I sometimes think I have more family than any man deserves to have. My parents. My mother’s parents. My father’s married sister, her husband, and my odious cousin Jessalie. My father’s unmarried sister, my dread maiden aunt. My younger brother Goderon. And we all live together in the family home except my older sister, who had the good sense to marry and flee.”

  “You still live at home?” Kerensa said, and now the twinkle was back in her eye. Evon felt a weight lift from his chest.

  “I do, and you can forgo the rest of the comments I see gathering in your mind. It’s a family tradition. Everyone
works to provide for the household and we all benefit from the support of the family. And truthfully, except for my Aunt Etta and the odious Jessalie, I like having my family around. I just didn’t realize how stifling they can be, without meaning it, until I made this journey. So I suppose I should thank you for opening my eyes.”

  “You’re welcome. Now I want to know more about Miss Elltis.”

  “There’s not much to know. She’s a talented magician, but her real skill is in administration. Elltis and Company is one of the most experienced and prestigious cooperatives in Dalanine thanks to her efforts. But she’s brusque and severe and demands a great deal from her ‘partners,’ including me.”

  “Will she be angry that you didn’t find a magician at the end of your quest?”

  “She wants the spell. She’ll be annoyed at the delay, but she can’t afford to fire me—I’m her top researcher and I bring the cooperative substantial sums of money from my creations. Let’s try this shop.”

  The shop assistant who came to meet them concealed her distaste for Kerensa’s dress imperfectly. Evon spun out a tale of broken-down carriages and lost luggage so well that even Kerensa behaved as if it were true. It had been a long time since he’d needed that skill, and he was pleased to see he hadn’t lost it since leaving school. While Kerensa tried on dresses, he fell into a reverie involving Piercy and himself raiding the headmaster’s liquor cabinet to bribe the gatekeeper to open the gates for them after curfew. He was so distracted that he didn’t notice Kerensa had returned until she waved a hand in front of his face and said, “Gathering wool again, brother?”