The Smoke-Scented Girl

by Melissa McShane

  And then, almost without him realizing it, the sentence took shape in front of him. He held his breath, afraid to disturb the light slips of paper, afraid that it was another dead end that simply took longer to reveal itself. But there it was. He read down the line of runes, consulted his notes and read on. A growing dread filled him the further he went, until he reached the end and found that his hands were numb from his having clenched them so tightly. He read through it again.

  No.

  But there’s no mistake.

  I can’t tell her this. Not now.

  “One day, I won’t bring you food, and they will find you starved to death in some garret, a pencil clutched in your bony fingers,” Piercy said, pushing open the door. He held the only food he was capable of making, a fried egg sandwich with two slices of bacon that was more a matter of assembly than actual cooking. He held it out to Evon, then said, “What’s wrong?”

  Evon accepted the sandwich wordlessly. He took a bite and nearly spat it out. “Where did you get this?”

  “I admit the eggs are a little hard, but I thought the pepper might liven it up,” Piercy said. “Evon, something’s happened, I can see it. Did you learn something?”

  “Shut the door, Piercy.” Evon took another bite of too-peppery egg and choked it down, though his stomach churned with anxiety and he wasn’t sure how long it would stay down. “And stand in front of it. I don’t want Kerensa coming in.”

  “You did learn something, and it’s bad news. Tell me.”

  Evon set the sandwich down on the last clear spot on the table. “There is a part of the spell I’ve been trying to decipher. I knew it had something to do with the people the spell targets and I hoped it would be the key to breaking that cycle. It’s not, Piercy, it’s so much worse.” He gathered up the small pieces of paper and tapped them together into an irregular stack. “The spell is looking for someone in particular. One person. All these other deaths, they’re mistakes. Similar to the real target in some way, but mistakes. It has this—there’s this element of the spell that does a sort of, of assessment of the world—I don’t know how it manages it—right after it explodes. If it finds evidence that the person still exists, it resets itself. Rebuilds Kerensa so it can try again. If it doesn’t...” He couldn’t finish the sentence.

  Piercy didn’t need him to. His face was white. “Who is it looking for?”

  “I have no idea. It could be anyone. The next time she feels drawn to...by the Gods, Piercy, we can’t tell her this. She’s only just gotten used to the idea that she might have a future.”

  “I agree, dear fellow. Isn’t there anything you can do?”

  “I could remove that element right now if I wanted. But the magician who created the spell, may he be damned to burn eternally, set it up to destroy itself, and its host, if any piece of it was taken out. Apparently he didn’t want anyone using his spells for themselves.” He laughed, and it sounded hollow in his ears. “It never occurred to him that someone could just copy the spells and make new ones.”

  “You have to find a way to stop it.”

  “Elegant statement of the obvious, Piercy.” He absently took another bite of the sandwich and winced. “You didn’t think to bring anything to drink?”

  “I’m not your serving girl, Evon.” Piercy leaned heavily against the door. “We can’t tell Mrs. Petelter either. She might decide it’s worth the risk taking Kerensa back to Matra, if the alternative is losing the spell entirely.”

  “And it won’t disturb her that it would mean losing Kerensa too,” Evon said bitterly.

  The door thumped. “Evon, other people need to use this door,” Kerensa said.

  Piercy and Evon looked at each other. “You look terrible. She’s going to know something’s wrong,” Piercy said.

  “You don’t look much better. Try to think of something cheerful.” Kerensa banged on the door again. “And open the door.” Evon picked up his now-cold sandwich and took another bite. Maybe she would mistake the anguish he felt for disgust at Piercy’s offering.

  “Thank you,” Kerensa said, pushing past Piercy into the room. “Evon, I told you—what’s the matter?” Her irritation was replaced by a look of concern that made his heart break. That she might be worried about him—the Gods were certainly playing with him.

  “He doesn’t appreciate the breakfast I brought him,” Piercy said, sounding exactly as if nothing were wrong.

  “Because it’s disgusting,” Evon said. He couldn’t meet Kerensa’s eyes, so he turned toward Piercy and added, “Not that I don’t appreciate the gesture.”

  “If you keep bringing him food, he’ll never leave this room,” Kerensa said to Piercy. “You shouldn’t encourage him. Especially since being alone makes him say stupid things.” She smiled at Evon, her hazel eyes clear and untroubled, and he managed a weak smile in return. “I’m ready to begin when you are.”

  “I...actually want to go over my existing notes,” Evon said. “You should enjoy your morning. Go to the shops, perhaps. Buy something nice.”

  “You’re behaving awfully strange. Are you sure nothing’s wrong?”

  “Upset stomach,” Piercy volunteered. “We should leave him to it. Would you care to take a turn with me? It’s good for the digestion.”

  “I suppose,” Kerensa said, but she was still looking at Evon with concern. “Do you want to work more this afternoon?”

  “Yes, I should be ready by then.” Evon realized he was still holding the stack of little papers and crushed it in his hand. “Enjoy your walk, both of you.”

  When they were gone, he dropped the crumpled papers onto his unmade bed and stared at them. He could try again, see if there was another meaning...but no. No, he was certain he had the right interpretation. The spell would eventually find its true target, and it would kill Kerensa permanently. He picked up a handful of pages of notes from the table, but instead of reading through them, he paced the room, seeing not the pale blue walls but the too-smooth oval of her face, the hazel eyes that hardly ever looked dead or despairing anymore. Telling her would do nothing but make her miserable. The secret had certainly made him miserable enough.

  Paper brushed his thigh. He’d forgotten he was carrying the pages of notes. He sat at the table and sorted through them. Somewhere in all this morass of paper was the secret of freeing Kerensa from the spell. Failing that, there might be a way to keep it from activating without the devastating side effects of a delay. It was also possible that his notes contained the secret of creating the intense fire, though Evon wasn’t surprised to learn he no longer cared very much about that. Miss Elltis would be furious if she knew, but since he didn’t intend to tell her, her potential anger was irrelevant.

  The mirror clouded over, startling him. “Evon Lorantis eloqua,” said Miss Elltis’s voice. She sounded as angry as he’d just imagined, making him wonder if she’d been spying on him. No, if she had, she would have made an appearance much sooner. He tidied the dressing table, took a deep breath, and said, “Eloqua.”

  The fog cleared, revealing Miss Elltis’s face, ruddy with anger. “Mr. Lorantis, why have you not reported for five days?”

  “I had nothing to report, Miss Elltis. I didn’t want to waste your time.”

  “I decide what is a waste of my time, Mr. Lorantis. How can you have nothing to report? You told me you were making great progress, last we spoke. I begin to think you have deliberately misled me.”

  “Miss Elltis,” Evon said, making a great effort not to stand and shout at her image, “this is a complex and ancient spell that even I can’t unravel in a day. It’s true I haven’t learned the secret of the fire yet, but—”

  “Improving that shield spell of yours is merely a side benefit. The fire is what matters.” Miss Elltis’s perfectly coiffed flaxen hair seemed straggling a little today. “Mr. Lorantis, I have received an unpleasant communication from Home Defense today. They say they were misled as to your qualifications for investigating this spell. I assured them I had every
faith in your ability. Do you realize how it pained me to have to lie to the government?”

  “Are you saying you don’t have faith in my abilities? After all these years?”

  “You have been unable to make progress—”

  Evon snapped. “I, make no progress? Miss Elltis, I defy you to do better! I have done nothing but try to take this spell apart for days and I can assure you that no living magician knows more about it than I do! I don’t know what notions you’ve taken into your narrow-minded brain about the spell’s capabilities, but I am making progress as quickly as anyone could.”

  Miss Elltis’s face grew redder, the creases at the corners of her mouth deeper. “Mr. Lorantis, do not dare to speak to me in that tone!”

  “Then do not insult us both by making allegations for which you have no foundation.”

  “No foundation?” She leaned closer to her mirror. “Home Defense has informed me that they are sending a host of experienced magicians to take over the investigation. When they arrive, you are to desist work on the spell immediately and return to Matra. Then you and I will have a conversation about your future here.”

  Evon gaped at her. “That would set progress back by days. Weeks, possibly. How are we—”

  “Mr. Lorantis, I think you fail to grasp my meaning. Elltis and Company no longer has the right to investigate the fire spell. We are no longer in a position to develop it for the government, let alone for commercial uses. We have been what is euphemistically known as ‘let go.’ You should be aware that I lay the blame for this entirely on your head. Be grateful that I do not simply let you go as well.”

  “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “Wouldn’t I? You are fortunate in having been such a productive member of this cooperative for many years. I’m told the government’s magicians will arrive in a day or two. I expect to see you back in the capital in one week.” She broke the connection, leaving Evon with his mouth open and a shout dying on his tongue.

  It was over. He’d failed Kerensa and he’d failed himself. All those promises he’d made to her—how could he ever face her again? Oh. Of course. He wouldn’t face her again because he’d be gone. He raised his hand to fling all the papers to the floor, but stopped himself in time; it was stupid to have to reorganize everything again, after having just tidied up. Losing his temper wasn’t going to help anyone.

  Miss Elltis wouldn’t even let him stay to instruct the new magicians on the research he’d already done. How humiliated she must have been to have some Home Defense official upbraid her on the failures of her subordinate— Mr. Terantis had to be behind this, he was stupid enough not to realize that in getting rid of Evon he was sabotaging the research he desperately wanted completed. Perhaps he could appeal to Mrs. Petelter...no, she wouldn’t go against her superiors’ wishes even if she did respect Evon’s work, and even she believed the research would proceed more quickly with more minds applying themselves to it, whether or not Evon was one of those minds.

  The door flew open and slammed into the wall. “Evon,” Piercy said, and Evon turned to see both Piercy and Kerensa breathing heavily, Piercy with his hand on Kerensa’s shoulders as if supporting her, Kerensa twisting her hands together so hard her knuckles were white.

  “It’s started,” she said. “It’s pulling me again.”

  Evon met Piercy’s eyes. “How long?” Evon asked.

  Kerensa shook her head. “I can’t tell. It feels close.” Her mouth trembled. “I can’t do this again,” she said. “I thought—”

  Evon stood and embraced her, pulling her tight to him and feeling her arms clutch at him in desperation. “There’s still time,” he said. “But we have to move quickly. If those magicians—they’ll just want you to stop while they waste time repeating all the work I’ve done. We’re going to tell Mrs. Petelter that we have to leave immediately. Kerensa, Piercy and I aren’t going to let you go through this alone, you understand? I’ll be with you right up until it happens, and I will walk out of there with you.” He stepped away and lifted her chin so he could meet her eyes. “I promised I’d bring you a dress, remember?”

  She laughed, weakly, but it was still a laugh. “I’m counting on it.”

  Chapter Eleven

  They left Calian at noon and pushed as far as Belicath before night overtook them. Now the clear winter sky shone with thousands of stars made dim by the ever-burning lights of the city of the Gods. They’d passed the Twin Temples on their way into the city, Cath’s a dark, sleek assemblage of narrow spires and clustering towers, Belia’s squat and warm with glowing yellow stone. They faced one another across a wide open space that in summer was a garden lush with flowers and trees; now it was dormant, though the temples’ auras kept it snow-free. Evon thought it would have been less depressing had it been covered in snow.

  The inn Mrs. Petelter chose was smaller and less expensive than the one they’d stayed in in Calian, but she had compensated for this by evicting the current tenants and hiring the entire inn. She called it security; Evon thought it might be paranoia, but he knew nothing about the subject and had to defer to Mrs. Petelter in any case. If it kept Kerensa safe from Speculatus, then he was in favor of paranoia, though he was beginning to suspect that Odelia had lost them completely. The Home Defense agents hadn’t seen anything suspicious at all, certainly nothing they could attribute to Speculatus, but they maintained a readiness that would have been more comforting had it not been so restrictive. He looked out of the window in Mrs. Petelter’s suite of rooms, which were on the second floor and gave an excellent view of the wall of the pub next door. Security again, probably.

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Petelter, but there’s no time to wait for the magicians,” he said once again. He felt as if their conversation were going around in circles, him making this same basic point, Mrs. Petelter countering with some variation on—

  “I do not see,” Mrs. Petelter said, “how a day’s delay will make any difference.”

  “We don’t understand enough about the spell to know how much the damage is increased by any delay,” Evon said. “Up until this point, Miss Haylter has simply walked away from whatever she was doing the instant she felt this urge. I think we should allow her to proceed as she always has.”

  “I don’t like the idea of allowing our actions to be dictated by a murderous spell,” she replied. “It cannot be right that we’re proceeding in a course of action that will end with at least one person dead, possibly more. Standing by and doing nothing runs counter to everything I believe.”

  “I feel the same way,” Evon lied, “but I see no alternative. I continue to make progress in understanding the spell, and Miss Haylter doesn’t know how long it will take to reach her destination; it’s possible we will unravel it before it comes to a death.”

  Mrs. Petelter eyed him narrowly, as if she could read the difference between his words and his thoughts in his face, but he maintained an innocently concerned expression, and finally she said, “I’ll send word to our people to hasten their journey. You should have all the assistance you will need very soon now.”

  So she didn’t know about Miss Elltis’s ultimatum. “I hope it will be useful assistance, Mrs. Petelter,” he said. He might be able to bluff a little while longer, pretend not to have received Miss Elltis’s instructions, but if Mr. Terantis knew the truth, he’d be on his way back to the city the second those magicians appeared on the horizon.

  He left Mrs. Petelter’s room and went upstairs. Piercy and Evon once again shared a room, though the inn was large enough (and, thanks to Mrs. Petelter, empty enough) that they might have each had their own; they opted for the security of being able to make their own plans without being observed. Piercy sat up from where he was lounging on his bed when Evon entered, and said, “Well?”

  “She doesn’t like it, but she’s agreed,” Evon said. “I don’t know how long we’ll be able to stay ahead of the magicians, though.”

  “How bad could that be, really? Even if they aren’t helpful, they ca
n’t possibly interfere with your work that much, dear fellow.”

  Evon drew in a breath. “Miss Elltis has commanded me to return to Matra when the magicians arrive. I won’t have anything more to do with the investigation.”

  “No,” breathed Piercy. “She can’t do that.”

  “Apparently she can. So you see why it’s essential to stay ahead of those magicians, so I’m not forced to disobey her.”

  “You’d stay anyway.”

  “If I could. If Mrs. Petelter and Terantis don’t learn about her ultimatum. I have no doubt that the government doesn’t want me working on this either.”

  “If you left, it would be disastrous,” Piercy said. “It will take them days to understand the work you’ve already done, if they don’t simply discard it and start over on the grounds that you’re a mere stripling who could not possibly understand the forces of magic you’ve been fumbling with. And Kerensa will feel so betrayed. You know they’ll treat her like an experimental animal.”

  “Are you trying to send me into despair?”

  “I apologize, dear fellow. What can I do?”

  “Find a way to keep your superiors occupied so they don’t care that I’m still here. I can ignore Miss Elltis; the worst she can do is let me go without a reference, and I’d get past that. But Home Defense has the manpower to escort me back to Matra. In chains, if necessary. And I assure you it would be necessary.” The idea of leaving Kerensa behind filled him with a terrible anxiety. Piercy was right; she would feel betrayed, and he couldn’t bear to do that to her.

  “I’ll do my best, Evon, but you’ve noticed that Mrs. Petelter doesn’t exactly respect my opinions or contributions.”

  “I have faith in your ability to confuse and bewilder everyone around you. Though Terantis shouldn’t be hard to confuse or bewilder or both.”

  “I am fairly certain that both those words mean the same thing, but I take your meaning. How early do you think we can be out of here?”