She could hear the unctuous note in the shopkeeper's voice gradually moderate to one of genuine approval and interest as Wendee made her selections—though to Firekeeper one shade of scarlet or indigo or primrose yellow seemed much like the rest.
Another forest where I am a stranger
, she thought with a trace of her earlier dissatisfaction.
Time to learn these trees
—
which have thorns and which bear fruit, and which do both
.
Wendee Jay neglected neither bartering for the best price nor proper packaging for her purchases. Despite this care, Firekeeper was pleased to see that the sun had moved only a little when they emerged.
"The next job will go more quickly," Wendee said, catching the direction of Firekeeper's gaze. "I want to buy a half-dozen or so robes. They sell them here for the tourists. I understand the prints are so basic that no one of the upper classes would be seen in them, but common and undistinguished is just what we want."
True to her word, Wendee was in and had made her purchases before Firekeeper had even finished examining the curiosities stacked on the shelves and piled on the floor. Glass was in ample evidence, mostly blown into vessels or drawn into soft-limbed forms that Elise claimed were monsters from legend. There were stone carvings, garishly painted wooden masks, and heaps of carpets that glowed with color.
"Trade goods for the tourists," Wendee sniffed when they were out on the streets. "Exotic 'antiquities'—none older than last year's workshop."
"They're lovely," Elise protested. Only the reminder of the journey ahead of them had kept her from buying gifts for her parents.
"Until you see the real thing," Wendee said. "You'll understand when we go deeper into the heartland."
"We go now?" Firekeeper asked, trying to keep a pleading whine from her voice.
"Right away," Wendee said. "There's Doc coming out of the apothecary's."
Firekeeper noted that Doc's coat pockets bulged, but she was too eager to get under way to ask questions. When they arrived at the edge of town, she found Elation waiting. The falcon did not even wait for flattery or questions.
"
I found the raven. Baron Endbrook and Lady Melina crossed into New Kelvin five days ago. They traveled north on the Dragon's Breath road until nightfall. That night, Baron Endbrook fled on horseback with nothing but the clothes on his back. The crow had caught up with them. Together, raven and crow elected to remain with Lady Melina, for Waln could not have borne the treasures away with him.
"Come daylight, Lady Melina and a white-haired New Kelvinese rode in a sleigh to the north. The crow understands some human tongue New Kelvinese-style and his understanding was that they were heading to Dragon's Breath. The raven came to find us, while the crow went on."
Firekeeper translated this as the falcon spoke. Wendee Jay looked somewhat wide-eyed. Even her awareness of the history of this venture and her observation of Firekeeper and Blind Seer had not prepared her for the reality of the situation.
The others were more inured to miracles.
Derian started tightening girths, slapping the horse's bellies when they tried to hold their breaths. The sound punctuated his words.
"I've been studying the maps and had a few words with the stablekeeper here. This road goes slightly north around the local fields, then doglegs northeast. Even with the best possible roads, we have at least four days' travel in front of us—probably more."
Firekeeper gave an impatient leap into the air.
"Then we go," she said, running a few steps down the indicated road. "We go
now
."
L
est their guest think herself too important, Apheros told Grateful Peace to have her wait a full day before he would see her.
"Let her recall that she is separated from family and friends, that none may recall her to them unless we so will it," the Dragon Speaker said. "Then she will be eager to work with us with the proper humility an apprentice should show a master."
Privately, Peace didn't think such a small thing could humble Lady Melina. However, in keeping with the spirit of Apheros's command, he himself did not bring Lady Melina the message. Instead he trusted it to Kistlio, an apprentice Illuminator who had reached the top of his form without rising to mastery. Still ambitious, Kistlio now sought advancement by working as a clerk in the Speaker's offices.
As Kistlio was Peace's own nephew, he encouraged the lad and gave him advantages whenever possible—nobly refusing to hold his sister's childhood tormenting against her son.
Trusting Kistlio to do his duty, Peace walked the carpeted pathways behind the stone walls of the residence in which Lady Melina had been given a suite. There were peepholes here, perfectly concealed within the shadows of a wall carving, through which he could observe the encounter.
Lady Melina was alone when the door chime rang, her head bent over a book. She did not move to answer it at once, perhaps accustomed to servants who performed this service. The Dragon Speaker had ruled, however, that she was not to have servants for now—another of his lessons in humility.
When the chime sounded a second time, Lady Melina sighed, closed the tome, and, tucking it under her arm, crossed to the doorway.
"Who's there?" she called.
"A messenger from the most powerful and influential thaumaturge, Grateful Peace," came Kistlio's reply, slightly muted by the weight of the wooden door.
"Just a moment."
Lady Melina set the book down and went to work on the door latch. Despite himself, Peace was impressed that she did not—as would be the way with most women and many men-check her appearance. Either she was supremely confident or didn't care what kind of impression she made. Neither boded well for Apheros's intention to humble his guest.
Kistlio entered promptly when the door was opened. He was a slim youth of thirteen or so, wide-eyed and full-lipped, new enough to shaving his face and foremost head that the ritual remained a delight rather than a trial. He wore the blue-black silk robe of a clerk with poise, shaking the sleeves from his hands with the ease that transforms a routine action into grace.
He ducked his head in the slight bow that youth always grants to age, but otherwise offered no courtesy.
"I am here," he announced, the basso flatness that had disqualified him for song making even the most routine words sound portentous, "to inform you on behalf of the thaumaturge Grateful Peace that the Dragon Speaker will be unable to grace you with his presence today. He will see you tomorrow, if possible, the day after perhaps."
Lady Melina's back was to the peephole, but a provident designer had placed a long mirror near the door so that Peace was able to see in its reflections the slight look of annoyance that touched her features before she could school them into implacability.
"And what am I to do in the meantime?" she asked a trace sharply.
"Wait and prepare yourself for the great event," Kistlio suggested pedantically.
"May I leave this room?"
"I have no orders on that point, but I will remind you that the snows outside of the building are heavy."
"I see." Lady Melina turned now and paced toward the window, her steps quick and light. "Then you are suggesting I remain in these rooms."
"I make no suggestions. I only comment on the weather."
Peace smiled to himself. Kistlio could go far in the government—even though his lack of rank within a sodality barred him from a seat among the voting representatives.
"I see," Lady Melina said again. "Very well. I will wait here. My breakfast was brought to me. May I expect other meals as well?"
"I have no reason to believe not," Kistlio said.
"However, I lack basic comforts—servants, entertainment, books other than those I brought with me. May I ask you to tell the thaumaturge Grateful Peace that I would like these comforts provided?"
"You may," Kistlio agreed.
Peace grinned. Kistlio had only agreed that she might ask—he had not consented to relay the message. He wondered if Lady Melina realized the messenger's game.
"Thank you," she said after a long pause.
"I seek only to serve my masters," Kistlio replied.
Then, after performing another perfectly insulting bow, he withdrew.
Peace continued to watch, but Lady Melina proved to be supremely boring. After pouring herself the last dregs of what must be cold tea, she reopened her book. As best as Peace could tell, she was reciting lists of verbs in New Kelvinese.
Lady Melina haunted his thoughts throughout the morning. In the late afternoon, he decided that he would not be violating either the letter or the spirit of the Dragon Speaker's commands if he called on the lady. Indeed, he might learn something of her state of mind.
Her face when she opened the door ran through a gamut of emotions: pleasure, irritation, and finally mere politeness.
We wear our face paint for many reasons
, Grateful Peace thought,
not in the least in that it provides us with a constant mask
.
"Good afternoon, thaumaturge," she said.
Her New Kelvinese was good but accented, making him unsure if he had imagined a slight stress on the word "afternoon."
"Good afternoon," he replied. "I have come to see if you are comfortable."
He did not apologize for his absence to this point. He owed her nothing. Nor did he step around her and into the room. If she wished to scorn him, he would leave and suggest to the Dragon Speaker that her interview be moved to some later date.
Lady Melina hesitated before replying. Finally, she said:
"I have had food brought to me, but I am rather lonely. Will you come in and speak with me? I very much enjoyed our long talks on the road from Stone Giant Inn to the capital."
Grateful Peace smiled. "I have some time before my next duty."
She ushered him to the grouping of chairs where he had seen her reading. He took a high-backed chair upholstered in red brocade, resting his hands over the carved claws on the armrests. Lady Melina returned to the small couch a short distance away where she had been seated before.
Peace expected her to begin listing complaints, but she surprised him.
"On our last day on the road," she said, "you were telling me the theories why magic does not function easily even in New Kelvin, about seals, and about the hopes you entertain for the objects I have brought with me. The artifacts are safe, aren't they?"
"Very," Peace said. "The Dragon Speaker is having their case examined for traps. At least one has been found and deactivated."
That last was a lie. The boxes were securely locked and sealed, but there was no evidence of any traps. Still, it didn't hurt for the lady to think there had been.
"I'm glad to hear they are safe." She leaned forward slightly. "Have you unsealed the individual boxes?"
"No. We are still examining them."
Lady Melina's expression became so neutral that Peace imagined her features were merely painted lines; then she animated into polite sociability once more.
"Tell me," she said, fastening her pale blue gaze on him, looking deeply into his eyes, "about your hopes for those artifacts. Doubtless I share them as well."
Peace blinked, feeling a touch light-headed. Then he tugged on his long braid—a gesture that dated back to his earliest days with pen and ink, when a more vigorous shrug might have smeared his work.
"Very well," he said. "Where did I leave off?"
"You had told me how your government was structured," she said, "about the Healed One who is your king, about the sodalities who send representatives to counsel him, and about the Dragon Speaker who is the first among these counselors. You also mentioned the theory that the Founders of New Kelvin might have placed a seal against magic over the land in an effort to halt the spread of the plague—what you called the Burning Death."
"All that," Grateful Peace said with an amused chuckle. "Well, then let me tell you a bit more. I told you that few of our magical artifacts work."
"That's right," she prompted, "because of this seal."
Something in her inflection conveyed her doubt. Momentarily angered, Peace snapped:
"You may doubt me, but let me tell you this. In all… most," he hastily corrected, "cases magic has failed to function within the boundaries of New Kelvin. Even those gifts your people term 'talents' are so rare as to be unknown among us. Where they do occur, the possessors tend to live near the borders of New Kelvin—near the edges of this seal."
"I am convinced," Lady Melina replied mildly. "Pray, continue."
Still somewhat angered, the thaumaturge did so.
"Some of us hold the theory that awakening the magic in those enchanted artifacts which the Founders left behind when they returned to the homeland would be very difficult unless one first found a way to deactivate the seal."
Lady Melina frowned slightly, but did not interrupt.
"However," Peace continued, "magical artifacts from
another
land—such as the three you have brought here—would not have been sealed in the same fashion."
(Unless
, a defeatist voice from deep inside him whispered,
the sealing was placed upon the entire region the Founders held, rather than upon specific items. If that is the case, the seal will have barred magic from the land as effectively as rubbing wax into fabric causes it to repel water.)
He shook his head as if to physically displace the doubts.
"Quite certainly not," Lady Melina agreed, "unless, of course, they were constructed in New Kelvin. Many of the texts I have consulted say that even before the plague, New Kelvin was known for her deep and abiding interest in sorcery."
Grateful Peace hid his reaction to this disquieting notion beneath an urbane smile.
"We cannot know," he said, "until we make the attempt—an attempt I feel certain was made by King Gustin the First or one of his successors. However, their failure need not be ours. Only in New Kelvin were the libraries not burnt; only here was the old knowledge preserved."