Seraphina

by Rachel Hartman

  “I want to believe that.”

  “Believe it.”

  He took a shaky breath. “I’ve got to go.”

  “I know.”

  I let him go inside first; my presence was not appropriate for tonight’s ritual. I leaned against the parapet, watching my breath puff gray against the blackening sky as if I were a dragon whispering smoke into the wind. The conceit made me smile, and then an idea caught me. Cautiously, avoiding ice, I hauled myself up onto the parapet. It had a wide balustrade, adequate for sitting, but I did not intend merely to sit. With comical slowness, like Comonot attempting stealth, I drew my feet up onto the railing. I removed my shoes, wanting to feel the stone beneath my feet. I wanted to feel everything.

  I rose to standing, like Lars upon the barbican, the dark city spread at my feet. Lights twinkled in tavern windows, bobbed at the Wolfstoot Bridge construction. Once I had been suspended over this vast space, hanging and helpless, at a dragon’s mercy. Once I had feared that telling the truth would be like falling, that love would be like hitting the ground, but here I was, my feet firmly planted, standing on my own.

  We were all monsters and bastards, and we were all beautiful.

  I’d had more than my share of beautiful today. Tomorrow I’d give some back, restore and replenish the world. I’d play at Princess Dionne’s funeral; I’d put myself on the program this time, on purpose, since there was no longer any need for me to stay out of the public eye. I might as well stand up and give what I had to give.

  The wind whipped my skirts around, and I laughed. I stretched my arm up toward the sky, spreading my fingers, imagining my hand a nest of stars. On impulse, I threw my shoes as hard as I could at the night, crying, “Scatter darkness! Scatter silence!” They accelerated at thirty-two feet per second squared, landing somewhere in Stone Court, but Zeyd was wrong about the inevitability of hurtling toward our doom. The future would come, full of war and uncertainty, but I would not be facing it alone. I had love and work, friends and a people. I had a place to stand.

  AT DOMBEGH HOUSE

  Seraphina Dombegh—our charming heroine, often called Phina

  Claude Dombegh—her father, a lawyer with a secret

  Amaline Ducanahan—Phina’s counterfeit mother

  Linn—Phina’s real mother, alas

  Orma—Phina’s mysterious mentor

  Zeyd—Phina’s former tutor, a dragon

  Anne-Marie—Phina’s not-so-wicked stepmother

  Tessie, Jeanne, Paul, and Nedward—the moderately wicked stepsiblings

  THE GOREDDI ROYAL FAMILY

  Queen Lavonda—a monarch who faces down dragons

  Prince Rufus—the Queen’s only son, inexplicably murdered

  Princess Dionne—the Queen’s surly daughter, first heir to the throne

  Princess Glisselda—Princess Dionne’s cheerful daughter, second heir to the throne

  Princess Laurel—the Queen’s other daughter, dead of elopement

  Prince Lucian Kiggs—Princess Laurel’s embarrassing bastard, fiancé of Princess Glisselda, Captain of the Queen’s Guard, possessor of too many descriptors

  AT COURT

  Viridius—the irascible court composer

  Guntard—a professional musician

  scrawny sackbut player—exactly as you imagine

  Lady Miliphrene—Princess Glisselda’s favorite lady-in-waiting, called Millie

  Lady Corongi—Princess Glisselda’s governess, an antique despot

  Dame Okra Carmine—the Ninysh ambassador, an antique darling

  Josef, Earl of Apsig—a Samsamese lordling

  Regent of Samsam—the regent of Samsam

  Count Pesavolta—the ruler of Ninys

  OUR DRACONIC FRIENDS

  Ardmagar Comonot—the leader of the dragon world

  Ambassador Fulda—the dragon with the best manners

  Undersecretary Eskar—Fulda’s laconic second-in-command

  Basind—a walleyed newskin

  NOBLE BANISHED KNIGHTS

  Sir Karal Halfholder—obeys the law, even if the infernal fiends do not

  Sir Cuthberte Pettybone—his somewhat less humor-impaired comrade

  Sir James Peascod—once knew General Gann from General Gonn

  Squire Maurizio Foughfaugh—one of the last practitioners of dracomachia

  Squire Pender—the other one

  IN TOWN

  Sons of St. Ogdo—unhappy with the treaty

  Lars—the genius behind the clock

  Thomas Broadwick—a cloth merchant

  Silas Broadwick—the reason they call them Broadwick Bros. Clothiers

  Abdo—a dancer in a pygegyria troupe

  A pygegyria troupe—and there’s the rest of them now

  IN PHINA’S HEAD

  Fruit Bat—the climber

  Pelican Man—putting the grotesque in “grotesque”

  Miserere—the feathery one

  Newt—the wallowing one

  Loud Lad—the noisy one

  Jannoula—too curious for her own good

  Miss Fusspots—the finicky one

  Pandowdy—the swamp thing

  Nag and Nagini—the speedy twins

  Gargoyella and Finch—mentioned in passing

  Five more—to be named in a future publication

  IN LEGEND AND IN FAITH

  Queen Belondweg—the first Queen of united Goredd, subject of the national epic

  Pau-Henoa—her trickster rabbit companion, also called the Mad Bun and Hen-Wee

  St. Capiti—representing the life of the mind, Phina’s patroness

  St. Yirtrudis—the spooky heretic, Phina’s other patroness, alas

  St. Clare—lady of perspicacity, Prince Lucian Kiggs’s patroness

  Allsaints—all the Saints in Heaven, invoked as a unit. Not a deity, exactly; more like a collective

  apse—part of a cathedral behind the quire and altar (and Golden House, in Goreddi cathedrals), often with radiating chapels

  ard—Mootya for “order, correctness”; may also denote a battalion of dragons

  Ardmagar—title held by the leader of dragonkind; translates roughly to “supreme general”

  aurochs—large, wild cattlebeast; extinct in our world, but existed in Europe until the Renaissance

  binou—type of bagpipe, used in traditional Breton music in our world

  cloister—peaceful garden surrounded by a colonnade, where monks may engage in peripatetic meditation

  Comonot’s Treaty—agreement that established peace between Goredd and dragonkind

  Daanite—homosexual; named for St. Daan, who was martyred for that particular quality, along with his lover, St. Masha

  dagged—deep scalloping, as of houppelande sleeves

  dracomachia—martial art developed specifically for fighting dragons; according to legend, it was invented by St. Ogdo

  Golden House—model of Heaven found in the center of Goreddi cathedrals and larger churches

  Golden Plays—dramas depicting the lives of the Saints, put on by the guilds of Lavondaville during Golden Week

  Golden Week—cluster of Saints’ days at midwinter, bookended by Speculus and Treaty Eve. It is traditional to see the Golden Plays, walk circuits around the Golden House, hang Speculus lanterns, throw parties, give gifts to friends and charities, and make grandiose pronouncements for the coming year.

  Goredd—Seraphina’s homeland (adjective form: Goreddi)

  Heaven—Goreddis don’t believe in a singular deity, but they believe in an afterlife, the dwelling of Allsaints

  houppelande—robe of rich material with voluminous sleeves, usually worn belted; women’s are floor-length; a man’s might be cut at the knee

  ityasaari—Porphyrian for “half-dragon”

  Ker—council of dragon generals that advises the Ardmagar

  Lavondaville—Seraphina’s hometown and the largest city in Goredd, named for Queen Lavonda

  Mootya—language of dragons, rendered in sounds a
human voice can make

  nave—main body of a cathedral, where the congregation gathers for services

  newskin—dragon who is inexperienced at taking human form and living among humans

  Ninys—country southeast of Goredd (adjective form: Ninysh)

  oud—lutelike instrument, common in Middle Eastern music in our world, often played with a pick, or plectrum

  Porphyry—small country, almost a city-state, northwest of the Southlands; originally a colony of dark-skinned people from even further north

  psalter—book of devotional poetry, usually illustrated; in Goreddi psalters, there’s a poem for each of the major Saints

  pygegyria—Porphyrian for “bum-waggling”; an acrobatic variation of belly dancing

  pyria—sticky, flammable substance used in dracomachia for setting dragons on fire; also called St. Ogdo’s fire

  Quighole—dragon and quigutl ghetto in Lavondaville

  quigutl—subspecies of dragon, which can’t transform. They are flightless; they have an extra set of arms and terrible breath. Often shortened to “quig.”

  quire—enclosed area behind the altar of a cathedral (or behind the Golden House in a Goreddi cathedral), where the choir and clergy sit facing each other on benches

  saar—Porphyrian for “dragon”; often used by Goreddis as a short form of “saarantras”

  saarantras—Porphyrian for “dragon in human form” (plural form: saarantrai)

  sackbut—medieval ancestor of the trombone

  St. Bert’s Collegium—once St. Jobertus’s Church, now a school in Quighole where saarantrai scholars teach mathematics, science, and medicine to those brave enough to attend

  St. Capiti—patroness of scholars; carries her head on a plate

  St. Clare—patroness of the perceptive

  St. Gobnait’s—cathedral in Lavondaville; St. Gobnait is patroness to the diligent and persistent. Her symbol is the bee, hence the skep in her cathedral.

  St. Ida’s—music conservatory in Lavondaville; St. Ida is the patroness of musicians and performers

  St. Masha and St. Daan—the lovers; often invoked in anger, perhaps because it’s safe—it’s hard to imagine paragons of romantic love actually smiting anyone

  St. Ogdo—founder of dracomachia; patron of knights and of all Goredd

  St. Vitt—champion of the faith; this one will smite people, particularly unbelievers

  St. Willibald’s—covered market in Lavondaville; St. Willibald is the patron of marketplaces and news

  St. Yirtrudis—the heretic; it’s an open question how there can be a heretical Saint

  Samsam—country south of Goredd (adjective form: Samsamese)

  shawm—medieval instrument similar to an oboe

  skep—old-fashioned beehive made of woven straw

  Southlands—three nations clustered together at the southern end of the world: Goredd, Ninys, and Samsam

  Speculus—Goreddi holiday on the winter solstice, intended to be a long night of reflection

  Tanamoot—dragons’ country

  transept—wings of a cathedral built perpendicular to the nave

  Treaty Eve—celebration commemorating the signing of Comonot’s Treaty, concurrent with New Year’s Eve

  Ziziba—very distant land indeed, far to the north; home to many strange beasts such as crocodiles and camelopards (adjective form: Zibou)

  My heartfelt thanks to: my sisters (including Josh); my parents, stepparents, and in-laws; Dr. George Pepe; Mac and the Children’s Book World gang; my intrepid Beta Readers; the Sparkly Capes and Oolicans; Epicurus; George Eliot; Lois McMaster Bujold; and Arwen, Els, and Liz.

  Thanks to Dan Lazar, my agent, who has the singular ability to see things that aren’t there yet. Thanks to Jim Thomas, my editor, who understands the correlation between laughing at my jokes and getting me to work hard.

  To Scott and Byron, who made me laugh when I was grumpy and gave me reasons to keep working. And thanks to Una, whose tiny whippet bladder ensured that I went for several walks each day.

  As a child, RACHEL HARTMAN played cello and lip-synched Mozart operas with her sisters. The famous Renaissance song “Mille Regretz” first moved Rachel to write a fantasy novel rooted in music, but her inspiration didn’t end there. She wrote Seraphina while listening to medieval Italian polyphony, Breton bagpipe rock, prog metal, Latin American baroque, and Irish sean nós.

  Rachel Hartman lives with her family in Vancouver. To learn more about her, visit her website at RachelHartmanBooks.com.