Tournament of Ruses

by Kate Stradling

  “What on earth are you doing?” Flora asked.

  He grunted. “Trying… to catch some of this.” He brought the cup back up empty. “It’s being unusually stubborn.”

  “What is it?”

  Her three visitors exchanged an uncertain glance.

  “We might as well tell her,” said Viola quietly. “It’s in her backyard, after all. It’s magic, Miss Dalton,” she added, “but it shouldn’t be here. The only place it’s supposed to pool like this is at the well in the forest. Everywhere else it sinks back into the earth upon contact.”

  Flora had heard of magic, of course, and knew that the Eternal Prince was supposed to wield it quite readily. The idea of something fantastical like that showing up in her wretched little garden was laughable at best, though.

  “You’re not serious,” she said.

  “Unfortunately, we are,” Charlie replied from beside her.

  Will had stooped to make a second attempt with the teacup. “Maybe it just doesn’t want me,” he reasoned when this failed. “Here, Viola. You try. You’re the primary guardian, after all.”

  Viola received the cup, but she met with no more success than he had. “It dances out of my reach just as it does yours. I don’t understand. What does it mean?”

  “Here, let me have it,” said Flora, and she gingerly spread the gardening rug across the muddy ground. Three pairs of eyes frowned at her as she crouched down, but she met only Viola’s. “It seemed to reach up at me earlier,” she said in explanation. “Maybe I can catch some for you. I was able to touch it before.”

  “Did you taste it?” Will asked sharply.

  Flora’s eyes snapped to his face. “Of course not! I didn’t know what it was, and I certainly wasn’t going to taste some unknown puddle I found in a hole in my garden!” She snatched the teacup from Viola’s loose grip and immediately swept it down into the hole. The magic practically leapt into the porcelain.

  Will whistled appreciatively. “It likes you, that’s for certain.”

  Flora handed the cup to Viola. “What’re you going to do with it?”

  The trio exchanged another uncertain glance. Viola dipped two fingers into the teacup, but the elusive liquid still shrank from her touch.

  “Don’t force it,” said Will. “It isn’t right to force it.”

  “Then what are we supposed to do?” Viola inquired.

  “You give it back to Flora. It wants her!”

  Obediently she pushed the teacup into Flora’s hands again.

  The magic looked like wine against the white of the cup. “What am I supposed to do with it?” Flora asked nervously.

  “Drink it,” said Will.

  “No!” cried Charlie and Viola in unison.

  “She can’t drink it!” Charlie insisted. “She doesn’t know how to use it! The results could be disastrous!”

  “She can’t make a bond with the earth!” Viola added. “You can’t just foist that responsibility on her!”

  He held his ground, though. “With all due respect to both of you, I suspect that some sort of bond has already occurred. There’s no other reason for the magic to shrink away from the rest of us while clinging to her.”

  Three pairs of eyes honed in upon Flora.

  “Did you…?” Charlie inquired vaguely.

  “Did I what?” she retorted.

  Will cleared his throat. “Miss Flora, did you, by any chance, happen to… I don’t know… bleed onto the ground, perhaps?” Viola shoved her elbow into his ribcage, which caused him to yelp. “What? How else should I have phrased it?”

  Flora’s mind had stuttered to a halt. “I caught my thumb on a rose thorn here a couple of days ago,” she said slowly. “The tip broke off in my finger and I had to dig it out. It did bleed some.” She raised her hand to show the jagged scab that had formed.

  “There’s your half-bond,” said Will to Charlie and Viola.

  “Simple blood on the ground shouldn’t be enough to form a bond,” Charlie argued. “If that were the case, who could tell how many people would be bonded by now?”

  “Under normal circumstances, it might not be enough,” Will replied, “but Lenore is hardly a normal place. If the well was splitting and wanted to seek out a second guardian, for example—”

  “Can it do that?” Viola asked sharply.

  “It can if it gets too strong to stay in one well,” he replied, and he regarded her reproachfully. “Just how often were you performing those rituals, darling?”

  A blush leapt to her pretty face. “I did them exactly how you told me to!”

  “You didn’t get overzealous and let half a pint into the well?” he questioned.

  “No!” she said, but she ruined the emphasis of this answer by hedging. “That is, I don’t think I was overzealous.”

  “Viola!” Charlie cried in exasperation.

  “I wasn’t!” she insisted. “And you!” she said helplessly to Will. “If you knew something like this could happen, you should’ve stayed around to supervise me instead of disappearing for half a year!”

  He scowled. “It shouldn’t have been able to happen so quickly, what with the wretched state the well was in last summer. It’s the only explanation, though. If a well gets too strong it has to split, or else it places too much responsibility on its guardian. I suppose it was already looking for a new guardian when Flora had her little mishap with the thorn. That anchored the new well here.

  “You’d best take a sip of that sooner rather than later, Miss Flora,” he added. “I don’t think the earth likes having you under an incomplete bond.”

  She looked to Charlie and Viola for their reactions.

  “You’d better drink it,” said Viola quietly.

  Charlie said not a word.

  Reluctantly Flora raised the cup to her lips. The heady smell of roses infused her senses. She focused her eyes on the curious trio in front of her as she tipped the cup and obediently took a sip of its contents.

  It was sweet—not unpleasantly so, but enough that a single sip was all Flora could manage. She pulled away with a furrow between her brows. It had been oily in texture and warm in tone, and she felt like she needed to wipe her mouth on her sleeve like a child. She rubbed her lips together instead. “Is that all?”

  “That’s all,” Will confirmed.

  “What does it mean?” she asked then.

  He grinned broadly. “It means you’re now a magician, Flora Dalton. Welcome to the fold!”

  Chapter Seven: The New Crowd

  I have never in my life aspired to be a magician. I've heard stories of them, of course, and of the fantastical creatures that are associated with them, but I always thought those were just simply stories. The Eternal Prince was supposed to be the only person in Lenore who could control magic, and from my little countryside home even he seemed more like fairy tale than fact.

  As you might imagine, dear diary, my little world has been quite shaken, and all because of a silly thorn on a silly rosebush. I should have taken up embroidering as a hobby instead of gardening. Indoor hobbies seem to be infinitely safer.

  “What do you mean, magician?” asked Flora skeptically. “Just because I drank a tiny sip of this, that suddenly makes me a magician?”

  “No,” said Will, “but there’s no good in being the guardian to a well of magic if you haven’t the first clue how to use it. You have to learn now, and that’s what makes you a magician. Your tiny sip just cemented your role as guardian.”

  She looked to Charlie and Viola for confirmation of this.

  “I’m afraid it’s true, Miss Dalton,” Viola said. “It’s dangerous to have dealings with magic if you don’t know how to use it, so you’ll have to learn.”

  “She’s all yours, Charlie,” Will added with a wink.

  Charlie bristled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You’re already in charge of teaching Edmund,” he replied easily. “It only stands to reason that you’d just add Flora to your little class. E
dmund has his lessons most mornings at nine o’clock, up at the palace,” he added for Flora’s benefit.

  Of all the questions swirling around her head, the only one to push past her lips was, “Who’s Edmund?”

  “He’s our little brother,” said Viola.

  “And what if I don’t want to become a magician?” Flora asked. “This whole guardian thing—can’t someone else do it?”

  The three glanced at one another uncertainly.

  “The well is in your backyard, Miss Dalton,” said Viola. “I’m sorry, but you really are ideally situated to take care of it.”

  “Troublesome that it had to appear here,” Will remarked.

  “You don’t know the half of it,” Charlie told him. “Lord Conrad used to live here. He was probably digging for a well in the first place—that would certainly explain all the holes. How ironic that one should appear after he’s dead and gone!”

  Viola had turned ashen at this announcement.

  Flora, too, felt the blood drain from her face. “Lord Conrad, the traitor? He lived here, in this house?”

  “Your father replaced him in Parliament,” Charlie replied. “It only stands to reason that he would inherit the house along with the title.”

  “So that’s what you meant earlier,” she said, recalling how he had stopped on the street while he was escorting her home.

  “It doesn’t matter that he used to live here,” said Will quickly, and his hand sought out Viola’s in a comforting gesture.

  “I’m all right,” she murmured, even as she interlaced her fingers with his. “He’s dead and gone. He wasn’t the one I was so afraid of anyway. She’s dead and gone too.”

  “And thank heavens they decided to strike last summer instead of waiting until winter or later,” Will said. “If Lord Conrad had been living here when the well decided to split, Natalia could have been here as well. I’m sure she would’ve known what sort of rituals to perform to pull guardianship under her power.”

  Viola shuddered. “Can we talk of something else?”

  Bewildered Flora, who had no context for any of these remarks, held up the teacup with the remainder of its liquid. “What am I to do with this?”

  “You can pour it on the ground,” said Will, “or you can drink it.”

  “No!” cried Viola and Charlie in unison, again.

  “She doesn’t know how to use it,” Charlie insisted. “That’s dangerous, filling her full of magic when she doesn’t know how to use it!”

  “As the guardian she can give it to others, can’t she?” inquired Viola.

  Will regarded her suspiciously. “What are you getting at?”

  “We need to take a sample to Father, that’s what I’m getting at,” she replied. “We have to tell him immediately what’s happened. And don’t you two look at one another like that,” she added fiercely when Will and Charlie exchanged a glance. “We are telling him! That is not negotiable! It’s his responsibility to know when something like this happens!”

  “Trusty Viola,” Charlie grumbled.

  “When you’re Prime Minister you’ll want to know if the well of magic splits too,” she retorted.

  “I’m afraid she’s right, Charlie,” said Will. “Miss Flora, do you have a bottle, by any chance, that we can put some of that in? That is, if you don’t mind.”

  “Is Prime Minister Moreland going to tell the Eternal Prince?” Flora asked warily.

  Will chortled. “Oh, without a doubt.”

  Viola promptly jostled him with her elbow. “The Eternal Prince won’t mind,” she said soothingly to Flora. “He’ll be very reasonable about it, I’m sure.”

  Flora heaved a weighty sigh. This was like something out of a nightmare, her being called to the Eternal Prince’s attention yet again. And yet, there was nothing she could do about it. Reluctantly she stood and brushed the wrinkles from her dress with her free hand. “Come inside. I’ll find a bottle for you.”

  Will peered up at the sky. “It looks like we’re going to have a storm. Is there something you can cover the well with? A sheet of wood or metal? It’ll have to have a proper structure sooner or later, but that should do for now.”

  “You can check the greenhouse,” said Flora, and she pointed toward that sad little outbuilding. “There might be something there. I’ll be in the house.”

  From the corner of her eyes she saw Will shove Viola in her direction, a mute instruction to follow her. Viola colored, embarrassed that what should have been a more discreet gesture was seen. Flora met her gaze and smiled wanly, which only compounded her embarrassment.

  As the pair of girls reached the back porch, the first snowflakes fluttered to the ground.

  “I don’t suppose it’ll stick,” said Flora morosely.

  “No,” Viola agreed. “If this well is anything like the other, your garden is about to shift into a perpetual spring.”

  “That’s going to be a little difficult to explain to my dad,” said Flora.

  “My father will take care of it,” Viola replied steadily. “I really am sorry about all of this, Miss Dalton. It must be something of a shock to you.”

  Flora laughed. “Yes, I suppose it is. At least I’m not crazy, though. I tried to show that puddle to Mrs. Finch, our housekeeper, but it kept disappearing on me. Why did it do that with her, but not with any of you?”

  “Probably because we already know about magic, and she doesn’t. It’ll protect itself and those to whom it’s bonded. That includes you now,” she added with an encouraging smile.

  “I’m not even sure what that means,” said Flora. “Why would I need its protection?”

  “You might be surprised,” Viola said mildly. She wiped her shoes on the doormat and crossed into the house.

  Flora followed. “The bottles should be in the kitchen,” she said. “Cook might be in there—all of the servants might be in there. Is that going to be a problem?”

  “It’s probably best not to mention what’s in the teacup,” Viola replied.

  “You hold it while I get the bottle, then.” She pushed the cup into Viola’s surprised hands. In truth, she wished she could entrust the whole business to Viola, since she seemed to know what she was doing. It would look rather strange for Viola to come and go from her house to care for the well in the garden, though.

  Speaking of which, she had not the slightest idea how she was supposed to care for such a thing. She would have to ask, for they might disappear as soon as they received the bottle, and who knew when she would see any of them again?

  Cook was indeed in the kitchen, as were Mary and Mrs. Finch, all helping with dinner preparations. They all looked up at Flora’s entrance.

  “Have your friends gone home, then?” Mrs. Finch inquired.

  “No—or, yes,” said Flora in confusion. “I mean, the ones that were here went, but a few others have come. Can I have a bottle?” she finished bluntly.

  Mrs. Finch automatically reached into a cupboard. “What do you need it for, dear?”

  “One of my friends found a… something… out in the garden, and she wants to take it home with her. A small bottle is fine.”

  “A creature of some sort?” Mrs. Finch asked in horror. “At this season?”

  Flora latched onto that idea. “Yes, a spider. She collects them, or… something.”

  Mrs. Finch abhorred spiders, and Flora knew it. “Let her have it with my blessing,” she said, and she handed over a squat, wide-mouthed jar. “You don’t need any help catching it, do you?”

  “No, no,” said Flora quickly. She retreated from the kitchen with jar in hand.

  Viola waited just beyond, and together they poured the cup of magic into the jar. Flora secured the lid tightly.

  “Thanks,” said Viola, and she tucked it away in a coat pocket.

  “What exactly do I have to do about the… the well out there?” Flora whispered tentatively.

  “Oh, there’s a whole ritual—a couple of them, actually. Will might be able to explain it
better.”

  The back door opened and shut and two pairs of footsteps carried down the hall. Flora looked to Viola in concern.

  “Come on,” Viola said, and she tipped her head in that direction. “We can give you a brief explanation. I don’t think you have to do it today. Honestly, I’m not sure how you would do it at all with your garden in that state. I’m sure that Will will know.”

  Will seemed to be the one to know everything about the well of magic. It made Flora wonder just who he was, aside from Viola’s ardent suitor.

  They met the pair of men further down the hall.

  “Did you get it?” Charlie asked.

  “Yes,” said Viola. “Miss Dalton, is there a room where we can talk, away from the servants?”

  “Make it quick,” said Will. “This storm looks like it’s about to dump an avalanche on us.”

  “The drawing room,” said Flora. “It’s this way.” She brushed past them up the corridor. The drawing room was just as she had left it, with three cups of tea on the table and a plate full of untouched biscuits next to the teapot. She replaced the fourth cup upon its saucer and motioned for her three guests to have a seat. Outside, the snowfall thickened.

  “What exactly do I have to do?” Flora asked. “There’s some sort of ritual…?”

  “You have to know magic to be able to perform the ritual,” said Will. “I think Viola’s performed it enough for both of your wells for the time being, but you will need to learn it eventually. We’ll come teach it to you. Actually,” he amended with a frown, “Charlie will probably have to teach it to you.”

  “I don’t know it myself!” Charlie protested. “Even Father doesn’t! Viola’s the only one who’s ever performed it. Why wouldn’t she teach it?”

  Will and Viola exchanged a worried glance. “Because she doesn’t use the same language that you do,” Will replied delicately. “I don’t think Flora can use the old tongue.”

  Charlie’s mouth snapped shut and he averted his eyes. Again Flora knew she was missing the context for these remarks; all she could do was observe and try to glean as much as possible from what they said.

  “Charlie—” Viola began haltingly.