The Queen and the Tower

by Shannon Page

  “How can I tell?” Gracie asked from the floor, where she was already being leapt upon by kittens.

  “You don’t need to. Your cat will choose you.” Sapphire smiled at me. “It shouldn’t take very long.”

  “It can take all day as far as I’m concerned,” Gracie said happily, tickling the fuzzy belly of a black cat as a little calico nibbled at her fingers.

  “Have a seat,” Sapphire offered me, pointing at a low sofa by the door, which was so matted in fur I could hardly tell what color it had once been.

  I sat anyway. Maybe I could teach Petrana how to use a clothing roller.

  Sapphire sat next to me. “How are you doing, Callie?” she asked in a low voice.

  “All right. Adjusting. Thank you for asking.”

  “Of course. And how is dear Elnor?”

  “She’s great—strong and healthy.”

  Sapphire beamed. “I’m so glad. If you change your mind about letting us try for a litter out of her, do let me know.”

  “I will. I think she’d let me know if she wanted that, don’t you? I mean, in some way?”

  “It’s possible. She may not know herself. How are her heats?”

  “Mild. So far, at least.”

  The coven mother nodded. “Well, she is young yet.”

  “She was close to Willson,” I said. “He still hasn’t shown up here, has he?” He was only a few years old—even younger than Elnor. He might feel a pull to his birthplace.

  “I am sorry, no, he has not. We will keep watching for him, though.”

  “Thanks.”

  Within a few minutes, I felt the energy in the room solidify and focus. Sapphire nodded at me and we both watched the witchlet as she played with the kittens, giggling and teasing them as they darted around her. But one kitten in particular stood out: a tawny Himalayan mix. It couldn’t be a purebred—there were no Himalayan mamas in the room, and most witch cats were mongrels at least to some degree—but it sure looked like one, with its long fluffy hair; dark brown face, ears, and paws; and stunning blue eyes. This kitten attacked Gracie with all the ferocity it could muster, returning again and again to the fray; then it abruptly gave a tiny hiss, batted at its siblings and playmates to chase them away, and plunked itself into Gracie’s lap.

  The witchlet looked up at us. Sapphire nodded. “I think she has chosen you,” she said.

  “What’s her name?” Gracie asked, petting the fuzzy creature. I could hear the rumble of her purr from across the room.

  “We do not name them until they have either chosen witches or aged out,” Sapphire said, walking over to a large filing cabinet on the far wall. She opened a drawer, looked through a few file folders, and pulled one out. “She is called M2T9-4317 for now. You will name her.” The coven mother made a notation on a sheet of paper from the file and brought it over to Gracie, who now stood with the kitten in her arms, beaming. “We have a few forms for you to sign, and then she is yours.”

  “Wait to name her,” I advised. “She won’t literally tell you her name, but once you live with her a few days, it should become obvious.”

  “I love her so much!” Gracie exclaimed, burying her nose in the tiny creature’s soft fur. “She’s the most adorable thing ever!”

  “She’s gorgeous,” I agreed. “But you should probably put her down for a moment so you can sign the cattery’s forms.”

  “I only need one hand to sign!”

  Back at my house, lunch was further delayed while we both played with the new kitten until it was tired out enough to crash into the cutest little nap ever, face down on the ottoman in the front parlor. Elnor, who had tolerated the new arrival with stoic forbearance, relaxed considerably once the energetic creature zonked out.

  I had Gracie help me prepare chicken salad sandwiches—with a few morsels for Elnor along the way, as reward or apology—and we ate them in the formal dining room. It was my first meal there since the dinner party; I couldn’t keep avoiding the room forever. Gracie’s cheerful presence helped reset the tone of the room.

  At least, that’s what I kept telling myself.

  After lunch, we left Petrana to the cleanup while I gave Gracie a tour of the rest of the house. “Should I wake the kitten?” she asked. “Won’t she want to inspect the space?”

  “Let her sleep; you’ll have plenty of opportunity later. She’ll be your cat for at least twenty-five years, most likely. Perhaps a lot more.”

  Gracie grinned, and her hair twitched in its ponytail.

  She dutifully oohed and ahed at my house as I showed her around, but it was clear that the kitten had eclipsed any excitement that the witchlet once had about architecture, furniture, or rugs. Until we got to the third floor lab, anyway: then she stood in the center of the room, looking around with wide eyes. “Oh, Callie, this is great,” she gushed. “You are so lucky to have all this space to do whatever you want in!”

  I chuckled. “Unfortunately, I’m not taking advantage of it like I should.” There was dust forming on my lab bench again already.

  “You will,” she said, seriously. “Just give it time. You’ve been through a lot.”

  Sometimes, she could be so mature.

  “It’s true,” I told her. “It’s also true that my research feels kind of pointless at the moment—in the face of what’s going on. Across town, all our eminent biologists are working on what’s attacking witchkind, and I’m supposed to stay over here fiddling with little reproduction creatures?”

  “They won’t let you help?”

  I sighed. “No, Dr. Andromedus and his team have pretty much taken charge. Along with the healers, of course.”

  Gracie rolled her eyes. “Warlocks.”

  “Yeah.” I laughed. “Tell me about it.”

  “You should just volunteer.”

  “I have,” I said, not trying to hide my annoyance any more. “Many times. But Leonora and Dr. Andromedus—and his son—keep having such very good reasons why I should stay away. ‘Later,’ they tell me. And later never comes.”

  “So just go there—show up. What can they do?”

  “Not let me in.” Now I gave her a helpless smile. “Sorry, Gracie; I shouldn’t burden you with this. I’m sure they have very good reasons, and they’ll let me help when it makes sense for me to.”

  She looked back at me, her expression dubious. “I still think you should just waltz in and take charge. You’re the smartest witch around. Have any of them built a golem?”

  I reached out and gave her a hug. “Gracie, you’re so sweet. But I do need to respect our elders.”

  “Not if they’re being stupid!”

  “Come on,” I said, leading her to the door. “Let’s go see if your kitten is still asleep.”

  “Kitten!” she said, almost jumping up and down again. “I forgot about my kitten!”

  I chuckled. “She won’t let you forget her for long.”

  Yet Gracie’s words, however adolescently framed, continued to nag at me. By the following afternoon, I was in a near-teenage tizzy myself. “She’s right,” I said to Elnor, who twitched her tail as she gazed back at me. “I will just go there. Let them turn me away in person.”

  I knew where the clinic was, more or less; even though it was screened, it’s impossible to disguise entirely such a quantity of magical focus in one place.

  After a small internal debate, I left Elnor at home. I could call for her if I needed to.

  I emerged from the ley line a few doors down from an old warehouse South of Market, only to find Sebastian standing there on the sidewalk. Bingo.

  “Callie, how are you doing?” he asked, taking my arm and gently but firmly steering me away from the building.

  Digging in my heels, albeit equally gently, I said, “About how you’d expect, and why aren’t you letting me in there?”

  “Come have coffee with me.” He gave me a significant look and whispered, “Callie, I’m your friend. Trust me.”

  Sighing, I let him lead me down the block to a n
oisy café and buy me a cup of tea. “Okay, seriously, what?” I asked, once we were seated at a small table by the front window.

  “You know the coven mothers have decided not to let anyone but the Elders and the healers see the sick witches. It might be contagious.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Yes, Leonora told me. But you don’t really know that, and I can take the same precautions as you guys. And I might be able to help.”

  He glanced around, as if afraid of being overheard. “Three more witches have sickened. We still have no idea what’s behind this.”

  “Wait, what? When?”

  “Just in the last few days. We’re keeping it quiet. We don’t want a general panic.”

  “Oh, Blessed Mother.” My stomach sank with worry. “What about the first two?”

  “They have actually shown some slight signs of improvement.” He looked at my face. “No one else has…departed.”

  “I’m glad. But—” I paused as Sebastian’s dark eyes went vague; he was clearly talking with someone through the æther.

  When he returned his attention to me, he said, “Flavius is on his way.”

  Flavius? It took me a moment to remember who he was—Dr. Winterheart, who’d been in Gregorio’s lab the day I’d brought my samples by. The one who didn’t come to my dinner party at the last minute. “He’s not a healer, or an Elder,” I protested.

  “No, but he is on the Elder path,” Sebastian said. “He’s smart, but also a nice guy. And it doesn’t hurt that he’s Dr. Andromedus’s current favorite.”

  “I don’t really know him,” I said. “He seemed kind of tightly wound, the last time I saw him.”

  “Oh, he’s fine. Probably he was feeling the effects of working under such scrutiny all day.” Sebastian gave me a wry smile. “You know.”

  “I suppose I do.” Gregorio was my mentor as well, though I hadn’t worked with him on a day-to-day basis for years now.

  The young researcher slipped into the café and took a seat at our table. “Hi.” He shrugged off his jacket—just as rumpled as his hair—and hung it on the back of his chair. “Sebastian told me you want to help, Calendula Isadora. I was—”

  “Callie,” I said, automatically. “And yes: I’ve been doing biomedical research for over twenty years now.” I peered at the young warlock. Probably not even much past fifty. Where did Gregorio find all these guys?

  “Um.” He stopped, flustered, and pushed the mop of hair out of his eyes. “Callie. Right.”

  “I’ve told her what the coven mothers have said,” Sebastian put in. “But don’t you think we could speak with Dr. Andromedus on her behalf? I mean, it seems like we could use all the help we can get at this point.” He gave Dr. Winterheart a shy smile; and was that a glimmer in his eye? Sebastian, really? I thought, as I turned back to look at Flavius. Yeah, I supposed he was cute enough. But was he really Sebastian’s type?

  Not that I knew anything about Sebastian’s tastes. Except, I liked him; but did that mean we should be in agreement about everything? Callie, really? I chided myself. Focus.

  Flavius frowned, clearly thinking. “I don’t know,” he said, giving Sebastian a helpless look. “Dr. Andromedus was pretty clear that we were to keep this all in-house at the moment.”

  “You could, I don’t know, bring me material to look over in my home lab,” I offered. “Quiet-like.”

  Flavius glanced at Sebastian again before looking back at me. “He’s asked me to try my Melanian Assay on the newest patients. He didn’t actually specify where I should do the work, though.”

  “Melanian Assay?” I asked. “What is that?”

  The young researcher sat a little taller in his chair. “It’s a new design of mine—a method of measuring the levels of certain endocrine hormones by filtering them through ætheric rhythms.”

  “That sounds just like a basic kel assay,” I said, confused. “What’s the difference?”

  He looked a little embarrassed, though still with an eager light in his eyes. “Well, it is similar, though I did tweak a few of the parameters, and I don’t use the traditional hormones.”

  “Oh, really? Which endocrine hormones do you use?”

  “It’s a little complicated to explain in a café—it’d be a lot easier to show you in the lab.”

  “You have a lab in the clinic?” I asked, now leaning forward myself.

  “Well, er, sort of,” he hedged.

  “Callie, we will get you in there,” Sebastian broke in, “but please understand, we can’t just yet.”

  “I can try to get you some tissue samples,” Flavius said. “I’ll tell Dr. Andromedus I need to work on it at the lab in Berkeley, that it’s too emotional here.” Sebastian nodded agreement. “That’s part of why they want to keep everyone out—it’s just crazy. What with the coven mothers and the relatives of the sick witches, there’s not a moment’s peace, and that’s with keeping the general community out.”

  “Right, good idea,” Sebastian said. “You need a quiet, clean place to work. Awesome.” He patted Flavius’s arm, lingering a moment before withdrawing his hand and tucking it into his lap.

  “And I should get back—I told him I was just grabbing a coffee.” Flavius stood up and pulled his jacket back on. “Callie, I’ll be in touch soon about those samples.”

  “Thanks.”

  After he left, I leaned back in my chair and studied Sebastian. “So?” I asked.

  “So what?” He was trying not to grin.

  “He’s all right, I suppose,” I said.

  Sebastian tossed his head and affected a look of utter disinterest. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  In my pocket, my cell phone rang. Crap. I hadn’t answered Raymond’s text. I’d meant to. I’d even been keeping my phone charged up.

  “Do you need to get that?” Sebastian asked.

  “No, I…it can keep.” I pulled it out and tried to refuse the call, but fumbled with it, accidentally answering it and then immediately hanging it up. “Oh crap,” I swore. “That was smooth.”

  “Was that…the human?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Why the dramatic pause? You’re as bad as everyone else. Plenty of witches and warlocks date humans.”

  Sebastian gave me a cheerful grin. “No, Callie, plenty of witches and warlocks sleep with humans. Don’t you remember our wise elders explaining that to us at your dinner party?”

  “I would hate you, if I didn’t like you so much,” I grumbled.

  As I waited for the samples from Flavius Winterheart, I tried to work on the rest of my research. But a few days went by, and then a few more, and nothing. Any progress? I sent him through the æther. Working on it, he responded. Hang tight.

  And everything just seemed to get harder and harder. I continued to not call Raymond back, like the cowardly coward that I was; after another unanswered text, he fell silent.

  I kept the phone charged, though. I would call him back. Soon.

  I told myself I was busy. But I wasn’t. I would think about climbing the stairs to the third floor, only to find something else more pressing to do. Even if that was reading a book on the sofa. I should have been building my microscopic research assistants, sending them through their paces, winnowing out the unsuccessful ones, breeding more of the stronger ones. The few times I had used it, I’d found that the pneumative Gregorio had given me was indeed much more effective than the old stuff. That was promising! So why couldn’t I focus? I just felt so dang tired.

  Finally, I forced myself up there, made myself set up a batch of potion and seeds to run. After mixing a solution of neutral wash and bathing them, I set the beaker on my lab bench, wiped my forehead, and pulled up my stool. “Whew,” I said aloud as I sat. You’d think I’d just run a marathon.

  Elnor looked up from her station guarding the top of the stairs, watched me a long moment, and went back to her divination. Or nap. They looked much the same.

  Why was I so tired? Yes, it was a little warm up here, on the top floor.
But this was San Francisco. It was probably fifty-five degrees outside.

  Oh Blessed Mother, was I the next victim of this mysterious illness? Heart pounding, I put a hand on my chest and one on my belly, taking a quick scan of my own essence, and then a deeper probe. A minute later, I breathed out in relief. Both scans showed that my essence was as strong as ever—perhaps even stronger than usual, coursing bright and firm through my system. And it wasn’t just the sudden fear-spiked adrenaline. I was healthy.

  But I still just wanted to take a nap. It was barely noon. Was the emotional overload finally getting to me? The loss of Logan, the mysterious illness rampant in our community, the sudden complexity of my romantic life, on top of my ongoing tensions with the coven… Yes, perhaps I should go a bit easier on myself.

  It wasn’t too early for lunch. I nudged Elnor awake on my way to the stairs. “Come on, kitten, let’s go find something tasty.”

  Once in the kitchen, though, I suffered a bout of indecision. I conjured up a cup of pennyroyal tea without much thinking about it, but then didn’t even want to take a sip: it smelled wrong. Weird, kind of off. I dumped it in the sink and drank a glass of water instead. I looked through the fridge, but I didn’t want any of my Chinese leftovers, or an apple, or a piece of cheese. Finally, I found some stale crackers in the cabinet. They didn’t taste very good, but at least they didn’t make me feel ill.

  “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say I was pregnant,” I said to Elnor.

  Then I stopped, standing in the middle of the kitchen, hand on my belly.

  “No.”

  I sent my magical senses through my fingers once more, probing. It was confusing; life energy is complex, and the many threads just doubled back on one another. It is very hard to diagnose oneself. Determining whether essence was strong or weak was simple, as easy as feeling a pulse. Discerning particular energies within that essence, trying to untangle them from the dozens, even hundreds of others in the same thread? Far more complicated.

  I couldn’t be pregnant! Though my own line conceived more easily than most witchkind, I still would have had to consciously, deliberately try—and with a viable warlock, of course; witchkind is sterile with humans. Even with a viable warlock, I would have had to actively open my system’s energetic channels, release an egg, invite and welcome the new spirit to reside in me. I had done no such thing with Jeremy. My mother had told me that she and Father tried for nearly five years before conceiving me.