The Glass Magician

by Caroline Stevermer

  “Let’s go, missy,” called the van’s driver from the box.

  Thalia didn’t like his face. She decided he was nobody. He was nothing. She stopped dragging her feet and put on her Lady of the Lake manner, impassive and graceful, as she moved through the open gate.

  The team of horses drawing the police van startled uneasily. They tossed their heads, harness jingling, struggling against the traces as they tried to shy. Too late, Thalia caught the scent of something dead and rotten.

  The manticore knocked over the policeman holding the horses as it ran past, headed straight for Thalia.

  Thalia’s hands and feet went cold. Pins and needles danced in her arms and legs. The abrupt sense of something new stirred deep within her. Another part of her mind—or perhaps another part of her soul—rose within her as fear held her still. Do not, she told herself. Do not Trade.

  Both Ryker and Nell shouted a warning. Officer Kelly released Thalia and clawed at his holster, desperate to free his pistol. Inspector Ottokar pushed Thalia aside as he stood between her and the manticore. “Halt!”

  The manticore shoved Ottokar away as Kelly took his shot.

  With the gunshot so close, Thalia’s ears rang. If anyone was shouting orders, she couldn’t hear them. The world narrowed around her as she focused on the deathly face of the manticore.

  It took no notice of the policemen, although Kelly’s shot had been true enough to strike the manticore in its leg. It was intent on Thalia.

  Thalia stood her ground, sure this was the last minute of her life. Ryker had been right to try to keep her safe from this. She held fast to her human shape while her familiar senses melted into utter numbness. Half of herself longed to Trade. She ignored that half. Even in extremis, Thalia noted the scent the manticore’s proximity lured from her. She smelled menstrual blood and warm milk.

  The smell steeled Thalia’s resolve. If she had to die, if she had to die stinking, right. Good. She wasn’t going to die screaming. This was her last exit—let it be a good one.

  As the manticore closed in on Thalia, time moved with exquisite slowness. She couldn’t hear anything, but Thalia saw its chest move in deep panting breaths, as if it was savoring the scent it drew from Thalia.

  Stronger than it had been that night in Philadelphia when it had saved her life, the urge to Trade deepened. Thalia ignored it. Resisting the Trade, staying entirely human, would be her last act of defiance.

  Looking into the manticore’s bright but sunken eyes, she saw how unnatural it was, how filthy, how intent upon taking her life, upon taking her very self away. For the first time, she knew she was a Trader. Traders had magic. Manticores lived by feeding on that magic. The manticore’s hunger burned in its eyes.

  The manticore smiled at Thalia.

  Something sliced past Thalia from behind.

  The manticore was thrown back from Thalia. It fell writhing to the ground. Spittle flew from its mouth as its human disguise yielded to its true manticore form. The head remained human, but the trunk became a compound of lion and hyena, its tail hairless and scaly. When the manticore went limp, its smell became a visible stench, meaty and rotten, as vapors rose from the carcass.

  Thalia’s knees were like water. She took an involuntary step backward, then lost her balance and sat down hard on the flagstones of the courtyard.

  Tycho Aristides, the Skinner of New York, stepped past Thalia and stood over the manticore, intent on the carcass, which was already beginning to decompose. Deftly, from an inner pocket in his coat, he produced a small glass jar filled with clear fluid. He took back the dagger he had lodged in the manticore’s throat and used it to open the creature’s abdomen. He plunged his leather-gloved hands into the cavity, sliced something within, and brought out a purplish bit of meat. He put the gobbet of flesh in the jar. Then he took off his soiled gloves and cleaned his big dagger and his little jar with a crumpled red bandanna.

  Thalia turned aside until she was on hands and knees. She threw up. Ryker dropped to one knee beside her. He put an arm around her shoulders. Thalia felt his breath warm on her ear and heard him say, “You did splendidly.”

  Thalia shook him off and threw up again. His help was more welcome than she liked to admit, even to herself. Any more sympathy and she might burst into tears.

  “Rogers,” Ryker called, “brandy all around.”

  Thalia crouched on all fours and shivered while the dead manticore was loaded into the police van. Her hearing was back. She wished there were something she could do about her sense of smell.

  “Don’t think of going anywhere, miss.” Inspector Ottokar, with help from Officer Kelly, had regained his feet. “Given how seldom manticores share a territory, you should be safe now. These manticore formalities take precedence, but that paperwork won’t take very long. We’ll be back for you shortly. You’ll have a lot of questions to answer.”

  “I’ll come with you, Inspector,” Aristides declared. “There’s a reward for every manticore I kill, and I don’t see any point in waiting to collect.” He offered Thalia his hand and she let him help her up.

  Rogers distracted the policemen with his tray of glasses and the brandy decanter.

  “Thank you, Mr. Aristides.” Thalia brushed at her skirts. Her clothing was creased and dusty, but she’d managed to avoid both the manticore’s blood and her own vomit. Good. She felt exhausted. Apparently resisting the urge to Trade took it out of one.

  “You’re welcome, Miss Cutler.” Aristides gave her a formal bow. “I’ve been stalking the beast for days. It never went far from this doorstep. I thought it would pay to keep an eye on you, and when the Rykers’ man came out to summon me, I knew I was right again.”

  “What’s in the jar?” Thalia asked.

  Aristides looked surprised by the question. “This? Just a bit of alcohol. Preservative. Manticores don’t last long once they’re dead.”

  “What did you take out of the manticore?” Thalia persisted. “It looked—”

  “Disgusting, I know,” said Aristides.

  “Purple,” Thalia finished.

  “Gallbladder. You can’t imagine how rare they are. Trader scientists will pay a lot of money for one.” Aristides patted the pocket of his coat. “As much as the reward the Traders put up for killing one.”

  “Why? What is it good for?” Thalia couldn’t imagine what a piece of a manticore could possibly do to be worth what it took to get one.

  Aristides spread his open hands and shrugged. “Trader scientists are still Traders. They just say research. Who knows?”

  Rogers offered them brandy. Thalia accepted a glass. Aristides declined with thanks. “I’m going with the policemen. Time to collect the reward.”

  The police van departed. The Rykers’ servants closed and locked the gates, then set about cleaning up. Thalia stood in the middle of the courtyard trying to take it all in. There was manticore’s blood on the flagstones. There was the embarrassing stain left when Thalia had vomited.

  Little by little, Thalia’s detachment faded away. Her hands began to shake. Her knees were less watery now, but she still felt as if they might buckle beneath her at any moment. This weakness, now that there was no danger whatsoever, made her feel ashamed. What was the matter with her?

  Thalia reminded herself that this was her second manticore attack in as many days. Her friend Nutall had been accused of Von Faber’s murder. Soon the police were going to come back to arrest her. It might be that only milk bottles were upset, but she had a right to feel shaken.

  Thalia stood there until the servants had finished their work and left. Not a trace remained in the courtyard to show that a manticore had ever been there. Order was restored.

  Overhead the sky was the usual mass of clouds, but otherwise it was a lovely day. Calm now, Thalia sipped her brandy and felt profoundly grateful that she was still alive to see it.

  Chapter Ten

  Spurred on by the manticore attack, Thalia returned to the damp chill of the Changing room. Now tha
t the existence of another part of her soul had become evident, Thalia was determined to learn to Trade. The brandy she’d consumed might also have contributed to her zeal.

  Nell had learned to Trade, Thalia recalled, when she had found a common thread between her two forms. Thalia knew she had to find out what her other form was and how she could cross the bridge between. Her very life depended on it.

  The pool in the Changing room had a walkway all around it, broad on the side with the stairs to the nursery, narrow on the other three sides. Thalia found this an ideal spot to pace. Pacing helped her think. Pacing also kept her mind off how cold it felt down there.

  Someone knocked at the double door at the far side of the pool. Thalia put her hand on the doorframe. “Who is it?”

  “Who do you think?” Nathaniel Ryker unlocked the doors, joined Thalia, and locked them again. “Rogers will let us know when the police get here. Nell is sending for our family lawyers.”

  Thalia tried to rub warmth into her hands. “If the police take me in, I want Aristides as a bodyguard.”

  “I’ll arrange it.” Ryker was staring at her. Thalia tried to read his expression. His spectacles made it difficult to see his eyes. It was like trying to judge the depth of the pool by looking at the reflections of the gaslight, she thought.

  Thalia spoke her thought aloud. “Why are you doing this?”

  Ryker didn’t waste time pretending he didn’t know what she was talking about. “I’m helping you because you need it.”

  “You’re helping me because I’m a Trader.”

  “And you need it.” Ryker looked her over. He seemed to approve of what he saw. “You’re very calm for someone who was recently attacked by a manticore.”

  “Am I?” Thalia shivered. “I haven’t had time to think about it. A week ago, I had a career. Even just this morning, I thought I knew who I was. Now I don’t know anything.”

  Ryker took off his jacket and put it around her shoulders. Thalia was annoyed with herself for noticing how good he smelled. “You’ll learn.”

  “Any year now.” Thalia didn’t try to hide her bitterness. “I want my life back.”

  “Understandable.” Ryker gave Thalia’s shoulders a little pat, then stepped away. “You are in a devilish awkward situation.”

  “I am.” Thalia frowned at him. “How long will you help me?”

  “As long as it takes.” Ryker was entirely calm. “It’s all right.”

  “It’s all right that I sit here like a cuckoo in the nest for weeks and months and years? It’s all right that you feed me and house me indefinitely? It isn’t all right.”

  Ryker’s crooked smile held bitterness of its own. “That, I can assure you, is the least of your worries right now. You are welcome here as long as you need sanctuary.”

  “I can’t stay here forever.”

  “Forever is impossible, I admit,” said Ryker. “But I urge you to consider how long or short ‘the rest of your life’ might be. Don’t forfeit your time out of impatience.”

  “How do you Trade?” Thalia demanded. “Tell me how to do it.”

  “I will gladly tell you how I Trade, but that won’t help you. Each of us must find our own way.” Ryker sounded embarrassed. “Listen carefully. This is my way. There are days when I find running the Ryker Trust and our family’s businesses wholly engaging. Sometimes it is even exciting. Those days don’t come very often. The rest of the time, things can get so boring. I feel how much more engaging it would be to Trade, how much more exciting. Then. I Trade.”

  “But how did you start? How did you begin to Trade?” Thalia took a step closer to him. “Before you had business to be bored with? How did you do it the first time?”

  Behind his thick spectacles, Ryker had a sweet reminiscent look in his eyes. “We were staying at our house in Sag Harbor for the whole summer. It’s not as big as this house, but it is very near the shore. The grounds there have a stone wall all around to keep it safe. I was in the garden. It has a shallow pond I like. Middle of the summer, middle of the night. There was a full moon. I could hear the tide coming in.…” He trailed off, smiling at the memory.

  “Go on.”

  Ryker shook his head. “It was more interesting to Trade to my other form. That’s all.”

  Thalia sighed. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how.”

  “Remember, your danger is not the only danger. Until you control your Trades, the manticores you attract will endanger Nell too.” Ryker lifted his hand, as if to pat her shoulder again, but stopped himself. “Keep trying. I’ll be upstairs, waiting for the lawyers.” He let himself out the double doors and closed them firmly after.

  Thalia was alone again. She told herself she was glad. She paced around the pool trying what others had tried. There was nothing amusing in her situation. Although Thalia suspected it would be possible to be bored with pacing eventually, she would never be bored into Trading.

  From one end of the chamber to the other, around and around the pool, Thalia paced. As she paced, her temper rose. What kind of nonsense was this?

  On what might have been her fiftieth circuit of the pool, Thalia decided to change direction. As she turned, Ryker’s jacket fell from her shoulders. She stepped back to try to catch it but failed. Then she stumbled as her foot caught in the crumpled fabric.

  Too close to the edge, Thalia thought. She twisted to regain her balance. For a moment she was sure she could. She was wrong.

  Thalia fell into the pool.

  The water was cold. It was far deeper than it looked from above. Thalia discovered that even as she flailed her arms she could not reach the side.

  Thalia could not swim.

  As she sank, Thalia saw the bubbles from the air her clothing held float up around her, at first so many they blocked her vision, then fewer, then none. As Thalia sank, the light above her seemed to dim.

  Thalia fought the water but it was too deep. Once she bobbed to the surface, but her clothes pulled her back down and she sank before she could get a deep breath. Gasps and half breaths were all she could manage.

  Thalia was possessed by anger at her own stupidity. Yet even as she redoubled her effort, she discovered she could not fight her way back up. The struggle lasted too long. Defeated, she exhaled. She knew it was only a matter of time. She could not keep from inhaling long. Then water was everything.

  Thalia knew she was dying. She could feel her hands go numb. She tingled everywhere, but the strange sensation could not distract her from the underlying pain.

  Thalia went cold to the bone. She flailed again, still enraged, still determined to go out fighting. She would not end like this.

  Thalia’s vision came back. The wicked cold had gone. The water had released her. She could breathe freely. All the pain was gone. She was on the surface of the pool, but in no danger of drowning. She rode the dwindling ripples with ease.

  The water moved up and down beneath Thalia in a way she found pleasant until she remembered these were the ripples she’d made when she was drowning.

  Behind her, the double doors opened.

  Thalia looked around without moving her body. It was no trouble to turn her head farther than she ever had before.

  Ryker was standing on the threshold. The gaslight reflected on his spectacles, which made it hard to see his eyes, but she could tell he was smiling.

  Beside him stood the two policemen, Inspector Ottokar and Officer Kelly. They were not smiling. Their eyes were wide. Their mouths were open.

  Thalia turned to face them, spread her wings wide, and hissed at them with every iota of anger and aggression she could muster. It felt wonderful.

  “As you see,” Ryker told the policemen, “we were telling you the truth. Miss Cutler is a Trader.”

  “You Traders.” Inspector Ottokar glared at Ryker. “Think you’re funny, don’t you? Where have you hidden the girl?”

  Thalia hissed at them all again, and Ottokar in particular.

  “I assure you, this is Mi
ss Cutler.” Ryker’s sincerity was clear.

  Inspector Ottokar choked, “She’s turned into a goose!”

  “Oh, no. Take a closer look.” Ryker’s smile was wide. “In fact, Miss Cutler is a swan.”

  * * *

  Being a swan, even after Ryker had urged the policemen to stop gaping and leave with him, suited Thalia to perfection. She wasn’t cold. She wasn’t tired. The water was comfortable. It filled Thalia with wonder to spread her wings, then furl them again. Every sinew, every muscle held strength she had never known she had. Her neck was long and strong. It was not infinitely flexible, of course. Her wings were not infinitely powerful. But this strength was different from her strength as a human. She delighted in it.

  Thalia used her time alone in the Changing room to experiment with her new grace and power.

  When playing in the water lost its charm, it was a short hop to the edge of the pool, where she could settle down to the soothing and necessary work of preening her snow-white feathers to look their best.

  Thalia was pleased with herself right up until the moment it occurred to her that she had no idea how to Trade back to her original shape. Experimenting with her wings and beak was no more successful than pacing around the pool had been.

  Drowning had been terrifying. Waiting for the sword to fall that night in Philadelphia had been terrifying. Fear had driven Thalia to Trade. Thalia considered the knot of emotions she remembered. Not merely fear. Anger. Sadness. Terror of what came next. Sorrow at losing her life so soon.

  If falling in the water had caused the Trade, Thalia was going to have a hard time duplicating the knot of emotions. Falling out of the water was impossible. If she Traded when she thought she was about to die, then the knowledge that the Trade would save her meant she would never believe she was about to die.

  At last, thoroughly disgusted with herself and the entire world around her, Thalia tucked her head beside her wing and fell into an exhausted sleep.