The Queen and the Tower

by Shannon Page

  It tended itself. Even if anyone had been willing to take on such a task, the garden itself would not permit it.

  I stepped inside the garden just as the sun set. The air grew more chill around me as the cold magic growing here reasserted itself. I shivered, wishing I’d worn a sweater, but didn’t dare use my own magic to warm my blood. Not in here.

  Four kinds of hellebore were planted by the back fence, on the right-hand side. Snaking vines of windrush grew just inside the front gate, seeming almost to call to me. I didn’t touch them, didn’t even turn my head. I walked straight down the right-hand lane, keeping to the path. Small, crowded plots threatened to inundate the worn stones with their dark, exotic herbs and trailing, winding, reaching vines. Ivy clung to the outer walls of the garden, choking out every outside plant that might think to enter. The foggy sky grew ever darker.

  At the far back corner, I bent, trying to find the hellebore among the thicket. A black-flowering hibiscus grew low to the ground, turning its huge flowers downward. I reached out, pushing aside its black petals, trying to avoid the thorns of a Venezuelan dragonvine, and almost put one right through my finger when I startled at the sound of a low growl behind me.

  I leapt up and wheeled around, but it was merely an old witch, with a hunched back and a basket over one arm. From Jasmine’s coven, I thought, though I couldn’t remember her name. She grabbed a handful of herbs, sniffed it, and dumped it into her basket, then cleared her throat with an ugly growl.

  “Relax, I ain’t gonna bite you,” she grumbled, reaching for another sprig of bloodfire. “Young witches shouldn’t come to dark places if they’re gonna be so blessed spooky.”

  “Sorry, Auntie,” I said, blushing.

  “You’re not picking that, are you?” she said, indicating the hibiscus.

  “This?” I took a step away from the plant. “No, I’m just trying to find the hellebore.”

  “It moved.” She pointed to a small, triangle-shaped bed a few rows into the garden. “Last month.”

  “Oh.” I knew better than to ask why—she wouldn’t know any more than I would. I walked over and plucked some of the nasty, potent plant, and put it in my bag. “Thanks.”

  She gave that snuffle-growl again and bared tobacco-stained teeth. Was that supposed to be a smile? “My pleasure. Any time.” Friendly though her words may have been, I got the strong impression that she was waiting for me to leave.

  Fine with me. I shivered again, heading toward the front gate. I did not look back at her, nor did I glance over at the windrush as I grabbed a handful of it on my way by, stuffing it into my satchel as I hightailed it out of there.

  The communal garden always creeped me out something fierce. That, plus my earlier drain of energy in the lab, made me realize I couldn’t just dive back into my work. I needed a little break—time just being out in the fresh air. And I definitely needed food. I decided to drop the herbs at home and go get a restorative meal out somewhere. With my new ingredients and a full belly, I ought to be able to get in a good night’s work.

  I walked back out through the park and grabbed the ley line I’d taken to come here, branching off to a smaller line directly to my house. I was just about to pop out on the front porch and shove the satchel into the front hall when I realized the porch wasn’t empty.

  “Crap!” I drew back in ley space and focused. “Raymond!” Blessed Mother, that was close. I withdrew further, pausing to catch my breath before I found a private place down the block to emerge. Then I walked up the street toward my house, struggling to appear casual and relaxed.

  “Hey, hon,” he said, getting to his feet when he saw me.

  “Hi, darling.” I walked up the steps and kissed him. “What are you doing here?”

  He laughed, but it sounded a bit forced. “Um, Saturday night? Dinner?”

  “Did I forget a date?” I shifted on my feet, trying to hold the satchel as far from him as possible without looking like I was doing so. The windrush probably wouldn’t hurt him, but no sense taking chances.

  “Well, no, not a date exactly, but,” he shrugged, giving me an adorable-innocent look, “you were busy last night, so I thought…”

  “Don’t you have band practice?”

  “We’re doing it Sunday instead. Peter got a solo gig tonight at the Heartfire.” He caught sight of the satchel. “Is that groceries?”

  “No!” I said, a bit too loud. I turned farther away from him and dug for a house key in my jeans pocket. Of course, there wasn’t one there; I’d simply dematerialized and gone through ley space when I’d left. “Um, shoot.”

  “No key?”

  “I…I left the back door open, wait right here!” I dashed down the steps before he could offer to come with me, momentarily spacing on the fact that nearly every house in San Francisco—mine included—abuts its neighbor, without room for even a squirrel to travel in between them. Crap! I thought again. He really needed to not drop by without warning.

  I rushed to the end of the block and around the corner, thinking fast. Had he ever been in my tiny backyard? I didn’t think so. Okay, this might work. I slipped into ley space, through the æther, and into the house. I dropped the satchel in the lab and opened the front door a minute later. “Come on in!” I said with a smile.

  Raymond glanced to either side of the house, then back at me, looking puzzled. “How did you…?”

  “Alleyway! There’s an alleyway behind the house! I’ll show you some time. But for now, I bought some beer—your favorite!” I grabbed his hand and dragged him into the house.

  Several beers and one tumble in bed later, he said, “So, what are we doing for dinner? You want me to pick up some more Chinese?”

  I’d been hungry before; I was starving now. But…I could almost hear the fresh herbs calling to me from the floor above. But, I really needed to eat. But, damn it, I really needed to work. But hungry. But…

  After I stared at him without responding long enough, the wheels of my brain spinning without traction, he grinned. “All right, gotcha—I know a low-blood-sugar gal when I see one. Back in a jiffy.” He rose from the bed and pulled on his faded Levi’s. I admired the view. Yes, okay, he was right. Chinese food. Good.

  True to his word, he was back in half an hour. I could almost smell the food through the æther as I set paper plates on a little card table in the kitchen.

  I scarfed down my usual five or nine helpings, then sat back, happily rubbing my satisfied belly. “Oh, honey, thank you. That was awesome.”

  He smiled back at me. “So…what now? Wanna go catch a movie or something?”

  “Um…you don’t think it’s kind of late?”

  “Is it?” He glanced at his wrist, though I’d never known him to wear a watch. “It’s not even nine, I don’t think.” Then he gave me a wolfish grin. “You wanna just go back to bed?”

  I sighed. “Raymond, hon, I…there’s a lot I still need to do around here. I haven’t got my third-floor work space set up really at all…”

  “You want help?”

  “No, I really need things set up a specific way. It’s easier just to do it myself.”

  He gazed back at me. “Well, I could go to bed, and keep it warm for you…”

  “Oh, gosh, I’ll likely be up real late.” Maybe even till tomorrow. “I’m sure you’d be more comfortable at your own place.”

  “Right.” He nodded. “Got it.”

  I reached out to touch his arm. “I’m sorry, hon, I just…this is a huge change for me, moving out of the…other house…like this. I do love you. But…I need to really get settled into my own place here. Alone.”

  “Sure. I understand. No problem.” He pushed absently at his paper plate and stood up. “Well, I’ll get goin’, then.”

  “Want to get together early next week maybe?”

  He shrugged, not meeting my eye. “Yeah, sure. Call me.”

  Monday morning, I left the city, taking a major ley line under the bay to Berkeley. I materialized across the
street from the university campus, in the back room of a crowded junk store the Elders maintain as a discreet portal.

  “Greetings,” I said to old Hubert, sitting behind his battered wooden desk. He was a minor power, despite his age. It was kind of the Elders to find a job for him.

  “Mmph,” he replied, not lifting his eyes from his book, a bubbling glass of demonbrew by his side. I raised an eyebrow as I went past him. I like a glass of elderflower wine or Witches’ Mead as much as anyone, but this seemed…out of place. Wasn’t he supposed to be guarding the portal?

  Well, Dr. Gregorio Andromedus had probably alerted him to expect me.

  I picked my way out of the store, stepping over piles of mismatched china and tarnished family silver and trading cards and steel model cars. Emerging onto the sidewalk, I found myself in a flood of students. Young, chattering, human.

  I love their energy, I thought as I waded through the crowd and crossed the street. So fresh, so eager. So uninhibited. So…free.

  Once on campus, it was a short walk to the laboratory, which wasn’t officially part of the university at all; they had no idea it was there. Dr. Andromedus had built it over eighty years ago in magically altered space nestled in the rafters of the main library building. From this secret perch, he could pursue his own research interests all day, while keeping a close eye on the latest doings of human scientists on the distinguished campus, without any risk of being noticed by them in return. And he was a sucker for books. His own house, which I’d visited a few times over the years, was crammed with books, many from the Old Country.

  I climbed the stairs to the top floor of the library, then slipped down a darkened hallway to the lab door—disguised as a broom closet. After glancing around to make sure no humans were watching, I murmured an opening spell, then whispered “Essūlå.” The door swung open.

  Inside, I closed the door, then began to recast its inattention spell.

  “Do not bother about that, Calendula,” Gregorio said behind me, lifting his right hand and sending a flick of magic toward the door. “It is easier this way.”

  “Good morning, Dr. Andromedus.” I turned to face the eminent warlock. He looked distinguished as ever: neat lab coat over a pale shirt and dark trousers; black hair with a touch of grey at the temples. He’d pass for fifty, maybe sixty, if not for his eyes. It’s hard to mask the gravity of eight hundred years. “It’s no trouble for me to do it.”

  He smiled. “Perhaps I am a particularly fussy old man who likes his spells done just so. Come—you brought some samples?”

  I followed him to a lab bench, looking around the place. I hadn’t been here in two or three years; he’d made some changes. Or maybe just cluttered it up a bit. Or a lot. Didn’t there used to be windows? The benches—long wooden tables lined up against the walls—were piled high with crucibles and jars, which in turn were propped precariously against stacks of books and cartons of loose papers. A bright green salamander scurried across the table Gregorio indicated as I went to set my bag on it, just missing being squished. I almost didn’t see the other researcher working in the far back corner, a youngish warlock with mussed brown hair, bent over an Oleandascope; I only noticed him when he glanced up at me.

  “Yes,” I said to Gregorio, bringing out a handful of vials. “I have my last three runs here, one from each day. I tried—”

  “Hold a moment, please,” he said, taking the vials. “Let me look them over first; then tell me your thoughts. I do not want to start down the wrong trail.”

  “Sure.” I looked around for a place to sit, or lean, finally settling for a wooden stool in the corner. It had only about a foot of papers piled on it, and a few small stones; I added them to a stack on the corner of the nearest bench.

  Dr. Andromedus had opened my vials and set them in a test tube rack on the bench before him. He stood back, gazing at them, arms folded across his chest, not moving. I could sense his deep, ancient magic probing them, though I couldn’t see what spell or divination he was working. His shields were strong, and probably unconscious—centuries of habit. Not wanting to be rude, I did not pry.

  “Hmm,” he said, after a few minutes, turning to me. “Now, what seems to be the problem?”

  I told him about the fragile little organisms; about bending the æther, and all the other things I’d tried. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”

  He thought a moment longer. “With your permission, I would like to place them in the Zosimos cabinet.” He indicated a floor-to-ceiling glass-fronted cabinet next to the bench. Swirling, indistinct colors shone from within. “It can see around corners better than I can.”

  “Of course,” I said, getting down from my stool to take a closer look at the device. My father had a smaller one he sometimes worked with, but I didn’t have one. “Is this your own design?”

  “Yes,” he said with a small smile. “I find, as with the door mechanics, that building my own instruments causes better resonance in all my work.”

  Well, that I could understand. I could already tell that, once I got this little issue worked out, my work was going to be stronger, less subject to the distracting influences of my coven sisters. Of course, collaborative magic had its own strengths—something witches understood far better than warlocks. The trick was to figure out which job called for which approach.

  Gregorio capped the vials and opened the cabinet door. Inside, many small shelves lined the back wall. There were mirrors along the sides, and little folded and bent bits of copper wire sticking out from everywhere. Whatever had been making the swirls of multicolored light had vanished. I smelled lavender, and ozone, and something I couldn’t identify at all.

  “Here, hold these a moment.” Gregorio handed me my vials, then leaned in and began moving the copper wires around, fashioning three loops in the middle of the open part of the cabinet. “All right.”

  I handed them back, and he perched them in the loops, tightening one for a steadier fit. Then he closed the door and placed his hands on the glass, palms flat.

  The lights started up again, this time in hues of green and blue, with an occasional flash of purple.

  Gregorio stood back. “Ten minutes or so should do it. May I offer you a beverage?”

  “Yes, thank you.” I glanced around the cluttered lab. “What do you have?”

  “Anything you like.”

  “Pennyroyal tea?”

  “Of course.” He waved his hand, and two steaming mugs appeared on the bench. “And I have another chair somewhere…hmm…”

  We were soon seated on two folding chairs underneath a nearly obscured window, a small round metal table between us. Across the lab, the Zosimos cabinet made quiet clunking and hissing sounds; the young researcher left his Oleandascope and began tweezing tiny fibers of preserved red Spanish moss out of a jar into a line of Petri dishes. I sipped my tea. “It’s delicious, thank you.”

  “My pleasure.” The ancient warlock set his mug down. “I understand you have recently succeeded in creating a very stable golem. An impressive achievement.”

  “Oh, well, yes. That did work nicely,” I said, feeling proud all over again. “Though I haven’t really had the chance to make much use of her yet. With the move and all.”

  “What are your plans for its use?”

  “I wanted an analogue system to test homunculi in—if I ever succeed in keeping any alive long enough,” I said.

  “Animals will not do?” He frowned. “It seems to me that a golem’s internal workings, while impressive, would hardly equal the complexity of a witch’s.”

  “Well,” I said, shifting in my chair, “I was mostly just thinking about toxicity and the like. I won’t be able to test for efficacy on her, no.”

  Still looking puzzled, Gregorio paused a moment, sipping his tea. Then he said, “A golem is a rare and complicated working, heavily laden with lore, both human and witchkind. I have never known anyone so young as you to succeed with one. I was surprised your coven sanctioned it.”


  “Um.” I stared at my tea a moment. The young warlock across the room had stopped his work; was he listening? Or absorbed in what he was doing? I could only see the back of his head, not his face. “Leonora…well, um, she was actually surprised too. After I created it.”

  “I see.” He gazed at me, his grey eyes keen and piercing. “You could think of no simpler mechanism to test for toxicity? Why a golem, Calendula?”

  “Well, I…” I started, scrambling to put together something about her being useful around the house. Then I admitted, “I guess I wanted to see if I could do it.”

  He raised an eyebrow, but allowed a small smile.

  “I mean, I always wanted to create something—something big, important,” I went on. “Something that’s mine. Does that make sense?”

  Dr. Andromedus continued to peer at me. “Indeed it does,” he finally allowed. Another sip. “Well, you certainly attracted everyone’s attention.” He started to say something more before abruptly turning to address the young warlock researcher. “Dr. Winterheart, could I trouble you to fetch me a case of beetlewax from the storage room?”

  “Of course, Dr. Andromedus,” the warlock said at once, as he leapt to his feet and made his way across the lab. “Anything else while I’m there?”

  “No, that will be all.”

  Dr. Winterheart had to turn almost sideways to squeeze past us in the cramped lab; his arm brushed my shoulder as he went by. After the door closed behind him and Gregorio had reset the spell, I looked at my mentor, curious.

  “My son greatly enjoyed meeting you last week, Calendula.”

  “And I enjoyed meeting him.” Though not as much as Logan did, I thought. “Charming guy. But I never knew you had a son.”

  “I am afraid that I did not manage to play much of a role in his upbringing.” Gregorio’s voice was touched with regret.

  “He told us…a bit about his life.”