Spindle (Two Monarchies Sequence Book 1)

by W. R. Gingell

  From the frame of the shelter she could see a wide, gently sloping plain that gradually curved up to the base of another range; this one much closer and higher. Above it, Poly fancied that she saw a reddish haze.

  Luck’s voice said, too close to her ear: “What are you looking at?”

  Poly twitched herself away in annoyance, rubbing her ear. “The horizon is orange.”

  “Sunset. You can untie the dog now, Poly.”

  “It can’t be sunset: I can still see both the lower suns.”

  Luck looked vaguely puzzled. “Can you? Huh. It seems later than that.”

  It struck Poly that he was slightly unsteady on his feet, and she would have felt sorry for him if he hadn’t added: “Unleash the dog, Poly.”

  “I don’t want to,” she said bluntly, remembering the cold burn of the thin rope when she first touched it.

  A thoughtful, gold-edged gaze was levelled at her. “Poly, you’re being difficult again.”

  “No, I’m not. If you want the dog unleashed, do it yourself.”

  “I see that diplomatic processes have broken down again. Poly, that lead is a very powerful antimagic spell.”

  “Antimagic magic doesn’t make sense,” said Poly, trying to be exasperated with him. Luck had begun to sway on his feet, a fixed look on his face, and she didn’t particularly want to feel sorry for him. “It’d eat itself.”

  Luck blinked rapidly. “That’s a good point. Why doesn’t it eat itself? Magic...antimagic...there must be a buffer. Poly, unleash the dog.”

  Luck was right, Poly thought crossly. Diplomatic processes had broken down. In fact, if they broke down any further, Luck was going to find himself with a black eye.

  “Why don’t you do it?” she demanded at last.

  “I told you. Antimagic magic that doesn’t eat itself. It’s set to attack the person who uncollars the dog.”

  “And you don’t want to be attacked,” nodded Poly.

  “No.”

  “Luck, I don’t want to be attacked either.”

  “It only eats magic,” said Luck, with a very clear, green look. “You should be fine, shouldn’t you?”

  Oh, very clever, thought Poly bitterly. Hoist with my own petard. Aloud, she said: “Fine.”

  The puppy was busily chasing its tail in a corner of the shelter, but when she emitted a short, sharp whistle, it cocked its ears and galloped joyfully toward her, trailing its lead.

  There was nowhere to sit except in the dirt, so Poly pushed aside the thought that this was her only clean dress (in fact, her only dress of any kind) and sat down cross-legged to receive the puppy’s eager attentions. Luck was watching closely, she was sure, despite the fact that he seemed to be teasing out stray threads of magic from his cuff while swaying slightly on the balls of his feet. She had to resist the urge to hunch her shoulders against his attention.

  The collar was laughably easy to unhook, but the puppy sat very still for the operation anyway, gazing up at her with strangely anxious eyes as she released it. The collar promptly slithered from the puppy’s neck to the ground, slipping free of the metal clasp on the lead. The lead itself hung innocently from her fingers.

  Luck said: “Huh. That was underwhelming. You can let it go now, Poly.”

  “No, I can’t,” said Poly quietly. The lead was sticking to her hand in a nasty, icy way that suggested frostbite, and the iron clasp at the end of it had begun to sway gently although her hand was still.

  “Of course you can.” Luck’s voice was compelling, his eyes swimming with gold, but the magic swirling around him was the wrong colour. Poly wondered what had gone wrong. “Let it go, Poly. You don’t have any magic, you told me so.”

  The hint of suggestion mingled with the fact that Poly knew she hadn’t any magic probably would have worked if the clasp hadn’t chosen that moment to rise, snake-like, and begin a slow, achingly cold spiral around her wrist. After that it was hard to be convinced of anything but pain and cold.

  Poly heard her own breath, ragged and too fast in an attempt not to cry, and thought despairingly: It should eat itself. Why doesn’t it eat itself?

  Then the pain faded, a curl of iron etched on her skin fully to the elbow, and Poly was able to catch her breath, confused and relieved all at once. She climbed to her feet mechanically, still clutching the puppy.

  “What do you know, it did eat itself,” said Luck, his voice agreeably surprised.

  Poly inspected the silvery spiral on her arm, reminding herself to breathe, and above all, not to hit Luck.

  “What happened to my arm?”

  “I think it might have gotten cross-threaded.”

  Luck seized her arm, jerking her unexpectedly closer, and followed the curling trail of iron with one finger, his head cocked.

  “Why did it stop?” Poly asked uneasily. She had a horrible feeling that if it started again, it wouldn’t stop.

  Luck gave a sudden, gleeful chuckle. “I don’t know. Oh, I like this!”

  “Will it start again?”

  “No. I told you, it’s cross-threaded.”

  “I don’t know what that means!”

  “Don’t be cross, Poly, it makes you scowl.”

  Poly took a brief moment to count to ten. Then, very politely, she asked: “Will the mark go away?”

  “There must still be some curse left,” said Luck, his eyes very bright. He was talking to himself. “Huh. I was right. That’s very, very sneaky.”

  “What’s sneaky?”

  “Dog!” said Luck suddenly. “Where is it?”

  Poly considered refusing to tell him until he answered at least one of her questions satisfactorily, but she had the idea that Luck would simply refuse to understand her. She silently hefted the hand that held the puppy up to Luck’s notice, then sat down again wearily to observe events.

  That did attract Luck’s attention.

  “Don’t sit down, Poly,” he said. “We’ve got work to do.”

  “If it can’t be done sitting down, it can wait,” she told him grimly. Taking advantage of the change in its position, the puppy launched itself gleefully at her face, its tail madly wagging.

  “Hallo, darling,” she said, acknowledging the small whines of joy with a light tousling of its floppy ears.

  -hallo, hallo, hallo!-

  Poly froze for a bare second, and her fingers were seized in needle-sharp milk-teeth.

  -haha! mine! hahaha!-

  “Stop it wriggling,” complained Luck, watching the dog with disfavour. Poly looked up at him a little blindly, surprised that he hadn’t heard.

  -don’t want him to hear- said the muddy little voice. -you smell pretty-

  -Oh. Thank you?- Poly thought, and found that she was fighting back giggles. -I’m Poly. What’s your name?-

  -polly. polleeee-

  -Yes- Poly said patiently, as the diminutive tail whipped furiously back and forth. -Poly. That’s me. But who are you?-

  -onepiece. have food?- It sounded hopeful, and the oscillation of its tail, if possible, only increased.

  “He wants something to eat,” she told Luck.

  He directed an accusing look at Onepiece, then turned it on Poly. “Don’t get attached to it.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s not a dog, you know.”

  “It looks like a dog,” Poly pointed out. Onepiece–if that really was his name–didn’t even faintly smack of magic. She told Luck so, by way of a clincher, and he clicked his tongue thoughtfully.

  “Huh. It doesn’t, does it?” Luck blinked twice, rapidly, and then Poly saw his eyes begin to sparkle, which worried her. “Do you want to know why not?”

  Poly, resigned to finding out why whether or not she really wanted to be told, asked: “Why not?”

  “I think it’s because you’re touching it,” said Luck, his eyes deep green with interest and a fascinated curl to his lips. “I’m glad I met you, Poly: you’re far more interesting than I thought you would be.”

  Poly said ir
onically: “Thank you so much”; but Luck wasn’t listening anymore. He was muttering to himself, running an absent hand through his dishevelled hair, and though his magic was still brownish and his eyes tired, he seemed to vibrate with furious energy.

  “Antimagic magic that eats itself, and a tangle of magic that disappears in half a heartbeat,” he said, bright-eyed. “It’s all connected and probably a trap, but now we have an antimagic arm that shouldn’t be a problem. Is it the dog or the spell?”

  There was a tentative presence in Poly’s mind once again.

  -who talking to?-

  -Himself, I think- said Poly, with more amusement than ire. Even if he had been talking to her, she wouldn’t have been much the wiser.

  -oh- The puppy seemed to gaze critically at Luck, and then offered:

  -swollen brain?-

  -Most likely- Poly said dryly. She briefly listened to Luck argue with himself, then asked Onepiece: -What are you?-

  -dog!- said the tiny animal, fiercely. -dog!-

  Well, that answered that question, thought Poly, intrigued to find that Luck was correct. Onepiece, whatever he was, was certainly not a real dog.

  -What happened to you, darling?-

  Poly was startled to realise that she could hear a small sniffle in her mind through Onepiece’s audible whine.

  -found me and chained me with burning cold. then forgot until I saw you. sparklyPoly and I remembered-

  -What did you remember?-

  He buried his nose in his paws. -me. remembered me-

  Poly, chilled and sick, cuddled him fiercely, eliciting a childish giggle in her mind and a profusion of face-licking.

  -Poor darling- she said. -How old are you?-

  Onepiece shook his ears and gave the equivalent of a mental shrug.

  -light comes and goes. is big cold- Poly heard faint, laborious counting -four times. snow on snout four times-

  -And how long have you had a snout?- Poly asked.

  -always- said Onepiece, but she heard the uncertainty in his voice.

  -snout and fur is warm-

  Poly sighed and patted him gently on the head. Luck looked as though he had finished the conversation with himself some minutes ago, and was now gazing enquiringly in her direction.

  Poly said hastily: “Oh, are you talking to me?”

  “Pay attention, Poly,” said Luck reproachfully.

  Poly raised her brows but politely refrained from pointing out the glaringly obvious hypocrisy of the command because Luck was looking vaguely injured.

  “What?”

  “Give me the animal.”

  “Why?” asked Poly, deeply suspicious. She had the feeling that Luck was about to begin experimenting with magic again, and although she was glad that the magic wasn’t directed at her, she didn’t particularly like the thought of it being directed at Onepiece, either.

  “Because I told you to,” said Luck, in a mildly puzzled tone of voice.

  Poly gazed at him thoughtfully for a long moment. Luck, his face decidedly pale, paid no attention, and at last she observed: “People always do what you tell them to, don’t they?”

  He didn’t seem to notice that question either. He really was very good at avoiding questions. If he didn’t change the subject, he ignored them completely.

  By way of trying a new tack, she said: “Your magic’s gone all funny.”

  That earned her a baffled look. Luck said: “Poly, you’re being deliberately difficult again.”

  She sighed, giving in to the inevitable, and proffered the silently protesting Onepiece, who insisted in her head that he didn’t want to, didn’t want to, didn’t want to!

  “It’s alright, darling, he won’t hurt you,” she said soothingly, and at Luck’s startled look, added: “I was talking to Onepiece. You’re not going to hurt him, are you?”

  -heard that!-

  “Probably not,” said Luck agreeably.

  -poly! poly, help!-

  -Shush, now- she admonished Onepiece.

  He ceased his mental cries of distress but commenced a long, miserable whine in place of it as Luck seized him cavalierly by the scruff, lifting him out of Poly’s hands.

  She said: “Ooof! That’s strong!”

  “Huh. Gratifying,” remarked Luck, dangling the miserable Onepiece before his eyes.

  It was hard to see the puppy in the haze of magic that surrounded him, glittering and bright. Luck’s magic was golden and warm, but Onepiece’s was clear, colourless, and utterly impossible to look at for more than a few seconds.

  “Moderate your intake, Poly,” said Luck, busily drawing tiny glowing sigils in the air. He swayed on his feet as he scrawled but didn’t seem to notice.

  “Oh,” Poly said breathlessly, her hair wafting forward. Onepiece wriggled in Luck’s grasp, snapping playfully at the strands, and Poly heard his giggle again. “How?”

  “Relax. Stop staring.”

  Poly blinked rapidly, and found that Luck was right. Ever since the dirty town where she had had to search for the snarl of magic that was Onepiece, Poly had been concentrating too hard. She took off her glasses to turn the world into a blur and slowly let go of the tension, relaxing something beyond her eyes until the sparkle of Onepiece’s magic was a pretty glitter instead of an aching blaze.

  When she put on her glasses once more, Onepiece was floating aloft in a ring of sigils, looking startled but not displeased. Poly felt rather than heard the constant stream of wonder and fascination running through his mind, and thought sourly that it was all right for Onepiece– he had magic. He had a good chance of avoiding anything Luck could throw at him.

  She was still darkly considering the unfairness of life when there was a silent kind of pop! inside the sigil circle, and Onepiece was no longer a puppy. Instead, a thin child of about five years old hung helplessly in the air, huge brown eyes gazing around him in horror and shock.

  He threw back his head and howled, pedalling clumsily with limbs that were unfamiliar and useless, and Poly reached for him without thinking, her antimagic hand snatching away the floating sigils and catching the dirty child before he could fall to the ground.

  Luck watched her with a detached kind of interest and said: “Huh. I didn’t expect that.”

  “Change him back,” said Poly quietly.

  Onepiece’s hands tried and failed to cling to her, the fingers weak from disuse and lack of practise, and she cuddled him closer, one arm supporting the scrawny backside and the other around a back that showed far too many ribs. His howl didn’t cease, but softened into a constant, keening whine that was further smothered in her neck, where Onepiece had buried his head.

  “He’s not a dog, Poly.”

  “I don’t care,” she said, in a voice like flint. Heat was building from her shoulder to her fingertips, and Poly found herself flexing the fingers of her antimagic arm. The spiral blazed around her arm, a white-hot heat that somehow managed not to burn her.

  She said to Luck again: “Change. Him. Back.”

  Luck took one step backwards, for once very much awake, his eyes watchful and green. There wasn’t a hint of magic to him, and Poly thought with a fizz of surprise that she had really startled him. The fizz caused the antimagic spiral to lose something of its heat, but she wasn’t sorry to see it go. She curled the arm back around Onepiece.

  Luck relaxed slightly, exuding magic cautiously, and Onepiece quivered in Poly’s arms, bare skin rippling into fur. When the change had finished, her armful was considerably lighter and Onepiece’s nose significantly wetter where it pressed against her neck.

  She said to Luck: “I need an apron. One big front pocket, please.”

  And when it was done, and Onepiece was sniffling quietly in the pocket, because Luck was still silent and now quite pale, she said: “Sorry.”

  Chapter Five

  The next morning, Poly woke heavily, slowly, and unconvincingly. She yawned, fighting off the cobwebs of a dream that had seemed menacing at the time but was becoming more ri
diculous the more awake she became. Onepiece was still curled up in her pocket, but when she stirred he poked his nose into the morning air and imparted the pleasing intelligence that he wanted to pee on a tree.

  Poly lifted him out of her pocket and sat up, passing a weary hand over her face. Luck was sitting at the other end of the shelter, his legs stretched out in front of him. His magic was still tangled in skeins of brown and gold, but although he was pale he also seemed quite cheerful.

  His eyes were on her, as if he’d been waiting for her to wake up, and when she sat up, he immediately said: “I need to look at that curse of yours again.”

  Poly resisted the urge to ask why, since she was certain he wouldn’t tell her anyway, and decided not to give Luck the chance to find her ‘difficult’ today. Accordingly, she heroically held her tongue on the subject of her growling stomach and didn’t make a fuss when Luck’s scrutiny of the curse consisted in cupping her face with his hands and peering intently into her eyes as he had done before. She did sigh faintly, but Luck didn’t seem to hear and after a while Poly got the impression that he was no longer quite there behind his eyes. It didn’t seem to be a very important point until it occurred to her to wonder: if Luck wasn’t there, where was he?

  -trying to get in- sent Onepiece helpfully, crouching nearby in order, if the furious scratching was any indicator, to share his fleas with her.

  Gloomily unsurprised, Poly reached out the part of herself that had found Onepiece effortlessly, and discovered a second presence hovering nearby, humming furiously with power.

  -Onepiece says you want to get in- she thought at it, and the buzzing presence sharpened on her with an almost battering interest.

  -Oh, there you are- it said, and swooped right on past her into a warm, cosy nook that Poly recognised, in some surprise, to be her mind.

  The presence that was Luck solidified into Luck’s person, and Poly did the same hastily, forming metaphysical limbs just in time to drag him away from an interesting little corner that was stacked high with thin folders in shiny poison-red.

  -You have a lot of bad memories- observed Luck, leaving the red folders in favour of a bright four-tiered mobile of planets that was spinning despite the fact that there was no breeze, metaphysical or otherwise.