Foxfire in the Snow

by J. S. Fields

  Magda’s eyes flicked down. “Alchemy?” she asked, incredulous, the irritation dripping from her voice. “One of the unbound guilds? That’s new. What are you doing here, Sorin, if you’re not a woodcutter?”

  “Looking for Mother. I didn’t do this.” I gestured to the empty yard, then berated myself for acting so defensively. I had nothing to hide, but this encounter felt more like an interrogation than a reunion.

  Magda raised an eyebrow and straightened her vest. “I know. Calm down. The guildhall has been closed for almost three weeks. Even before the grandmaster died, the journeys and masters were drifting away. Demand isn’t what it used to be for any of the guild wares, and somewhere outside the three countries, they’ve got new saws and a way to cut nails with machines. We’re still doing it by hand over in the smith guild.” She tossed her hands up in frustration. “Hand-cut nails hold so much better, but people don’t care. We can’t compete with the price and speed of machined nails, and the woodcutters and carpenters can’t keep up with the new saws.” Her brow wrinkled. “Surely you know about this.”

  “I still… The grandmaster is dead? Really?”

  “I just said that. Have you not left that Thujan house for five years?”

  I looked away. I had, for the most part, been either in the Thujan woods or in Mother’s house. It sounded terrible, thinking on it, but there’d been so much work to be done, and going into the town proper, or even venturing to the capital, all too often came with stares and comments I didn’t want. “No, of course not.”

  Magda folded her arms across her chest. She tilted her head, but there was no playfulness in her expression—only irritation, or what looked like irritation. “Uh-huh. Where have you been, Sorin? Why aren’t you a woodcutter?”

  Her voice had that same authoritative tone I remembered from childhood, but I couldn’t seem to meet it with the same brashness I’d once possessed. Magda’s confidence, it seemed, had only grown in the intervening years. The same could not be said of mine.

  Magda sighed and uncrossed her arms. “Never mind. It isn’t important. I’m here because I want to turn the hall into the new Queensguard office. The one in the palace smells like woodsmoke from the queen’s last visitors. Imagine my surprise to see Amada’s daughter sleeping on the floor. Were you going to lay claim to the building through matrilineal inheritance? That’s fine if you are. Just say the word, and I’ll take a look at the abandoned textile hall instead.”

  I ignored the tone. I ignored the question. The word “daughter” hit like a slap, but I didn’t correct her. I’d still used that word, back when we’d played together, and the royal daughter certainly didn’t keep up to date on the evolution of guild children, no matter how familiar.

  “No. No, I don’t want the hall. I’m not a woodcutter. I lay no claim to it. Mother can,” I started, but Magda cut me off with a sharp wave of her hand.

  “Let’s talk about Amada. Where is she? Why isn’t she with you? I’ve never seen you not glued to her side or hopping at her every command.” Magda’s eyes were sharp with accusation, which I didn’t understand.

  I swallowed a lump in my throat and scratched the inside of my palms with my fingernails. My chest felt tight, and it wasn’t because of my binding. “She was supposed to be here. She should have taken over for the grandmaster. That’s why I’m here.” I sounded meek. I hated that.

  “Missing? That seems convenient. She’d never let you out into town alone. Where is she, Sorin?”

  I blinked at the steeled words. My hands shook. “I really don’t know!”

  Magda growled and balled one of her fists. “Of course you don’t. My only decent lead. Well, you should know, then, that the master woodcutter is under suspicion for kidnapping. She took a meeting with the queen at the palace, and neither came back out. Vanished. In a room with only one exit, no windows, and well guarded, and—damn it, Sorin, are you trembling? I’m not going to eat you!”

  “Huh?” I looked down at my shaking hands and clasped them. They were sticky as well. I’d torn skin. “No. Of course not. I’ve just…I’ve had a rough night. I’m tired, that’s all. I don’t think Mother would kidnap the queen. They were friends, weren’t they? Like us?” That last part felt wrong to say—like I was pleading for her to remember some fondness for me so she’d stop yelling. To prevent myself from derailing into babble, I asked, “Am I under arrest?”

  Magda’s eyes opened in startlement, and the tension dropped from her shoulders. She laughed then, a full, throaty sound that sounded much more like the Magda I remembered. The corners of her eyes crinkled. They were eyes I remembered, dark and intelligent. They were so familiar that if I hadn’t been damp and cold, I could have easily imagined us standing on the palace lawn, the queen sipping tea and smiling, while we chatted about the curious topics of adolescence.

  “Arrest? Don’t be silly. You’re being silly. Just, we should talk, you and I.” Again, she looked at my clothing, and when she spoke, there was a trace of confusion in her voice. “I could get you some new clothes? Maybe something to eat? We could catch up.”

  My clothes. An uncomfortable reminder that my cloak didn’t cover as much as I would have liked, and my sagging binding was, in fact, noticeable. Gods, I couldn’t go back out into public like this. I couldn’t make eye contact anymore. I pushed my arms into my sides as if I could make my chest somehow smaller.

  “Hey, we’ll sort it out.” Magda laid a strong hand on my shoulder. The odd familiarity came again at her touch, along with the scents of flowers, the tang of metal, and an echo of childhood laughter. I looked at her muscled arm and wide shoulders, and memory crossed my mind. She’d joined a guild, hadn’t she? Blacksmith maybe? I vaguely remembered Mother telling me about Magda completing her journey. That meant she was a master now, a master smith. I was…I was nothing. Not even an apprentice.

  “Yeah,” I said, my voice scratchy and hollow. I quickly corrected my informal words. “Yes, Your Highness.”

  Magda made a noise somewhere between a cough and a grunt. “We should get you dry, at least. The royal daughter can’t be seen with a vagabond, right? No matter how well she’d grown up.”

  I understood the attempt at levity, but my emotions seemed to eat it, crushing it beneath the pain in my body, the wrong pronouns, and the events of the past day. Magda offered me her hand, calloused and ink-stained, but I declined. She shrugged, then lead me from the hall and onto the road. There, she pointed west to a string of shops with deep alleys along a brick lane. The second one, with a thatched roof and cedar plank siding, had a swinging sign with a glass wine decanter on it.

  “I’ve set up an operations table at the pub there. It’s closer to the Queensguard building than the palace, and I manage a lot more paperwork without servants nagging me. We’ll go there. Pour you something warm to drink, and see if we can’t get a runner for new clothes.” She cocked her head to the side as she studied me, this time, her eyes lingering on the lumpiness of my chest. “This is a different look for you.”

  I didn’t know how to respond, so I didn’t. Magda looked so similar to her child self—the same neatly braided black curls, her skin a deep umber-brown, although more scarred now than it had been as a child. Her chin was more pointed than I remembered, her brow more furrowed, but she was still Magda. And I was still me, just a little different.

  “Sorin?”

  “I’m not a she,” I mumbled.

  She paused, eyes still questioning as they went down to my hips, then back to my chest, and finally, my face. “Okay,” she said, nodding. “I can work with that. Come on. We’ll get you dry, get you fed, and then maybe you can explain…well, explain Sorin the Alchemist. Explain why Master Rahad talked to me for two hours last night about fungal powders and some funny oil, and an enchanted palm, and Sorin, his next apprentice.”

  I nodded, still not speaking, and followed her from the guildhall into the main road, my arms wrapped high around my chest. Eyes followed us, but mostly, they were on Magda a
s they had always been in our youth. It was surreal to walk with her now, tracing cracked bricks around the old king’s statue, tripping over the same clumps of weeds we’d tangled up in during our youth. We fell into the same old walking rhythm. If Mother wasn’t at the guildhall, and she wasn’t at the palace, then I had no idea where to look. I’d tried. Surely that would be enough for Master Rahad. If not, well, the royal daughter could release me from a guild bond too. Maybe if we chatted for a bit, I’d get up the courage to ask.

  I stumbled on a chipped brick as I continued to follow her but managed to stay on my feet. Magda turned immediately around.

  “You all right?” Magda’s eyes flicked down to my crossed arms, and she frowned. “You’ll lose your balance walking like that.”

  “I’m fine, and I’m used to it.” I pulled my arms tighter because it was a lie, and she knew me well enough to know it. I expected her to laugh or shake her head, but Magda set her jaw in a manner I couldn’t quite interpret, then reached out and lightly touched her fingers to the back of my left hand.

  “No one will say anything, Sorin. Not with me around.”

  I smiled tightly. People didn’t have to say anything. Sometimes their stares were plenty.

  “It’s really nice to see you again. I’m sorry if I didn’t make that clear earlier.”

  I nodded, knowing my smile couldn’t look anything but forced.

  “I missed you.”

  I bit my lower lip and looked down at the red brick of the street. Something deep in my belly twittered. “I missed you too. Mother said—”

  “It shouldn’t have taken both our mothers going missing for me to see you.” The bite returned to her tone, and when I looked up, her eyes were stormy again.

  “I’m sorry.” I didn’t know how to explain, not in the middle of the capital, and not with so many eyes upon us, but neither could I look away. Magda snorted, and though she started walking again, her arm went around my shoulders and drew me to her, close enough that our shoulders and hips touched. She was warm, and I wanted to lean into her, but my shoulders stayed rigid, and my back refused to bend.

  “You can explain at the pub, and it had better be detailed and sufficient. You’re a terrible liar.”

  I shivered at the sting in her words. “Royal Daughter, we need to talk about the guilds. Also, in Thuja, people came, and…”

  Magda directed me through the door to the pub, then pointed to a narrow staircase. She stepped away, leaving a gap of cool air between us. Her voice calmed and warmed, and when she spoke again, it was with a gentleness I never would have believed she possessed.

  “It’s all right, Sorin.” A smile ghosted across her face, and I shut my mouth. I hadn’t known what to say anyway. “Get clean, get warm, and then we can talk about the woodcutters, and the alchemists, and any other dead guild that will never return to Sorpsi. Then maybe, if we have time, we can talk about us.”

  Six: Mercury

  Dry clothes, still warm from the sun, pressed against my skin. I finished wrapping my new binding and slid a long gray tunic over my head. It lay smoothly, but I ran my hands down the front anyway, clearing where the fabrics caught together. I pulled on soft cotton trousers that were loose on my legs and stuffed the ends into leather boots so new they squeezed my feet. On the belt, I hung my three pouches, dry now save for the very bottoms. My foraging knife, I’d already sheathed and attached.

  My sash and old clothes had disappeared—taken while I was in the pub’s upstairs bath. I wasn’t sure if they’d come back, but I didn’t need to see them again. It felt…cleansing to be in new clothes. As if the stains from the forests had been scrubbed from the textiles as well as my memory. I felt like an alchemist, no thick woodcutting leathers left to remind me of my past, only the pouches, snuggly tied to my belt, upon which to base my identity.

  I left the bathing room and went down the stairs to the main floor of the pub. Magda waved me over to a small table covered in paper. In this lighting, she looked tired. Half-moons of darkness shaded under eyes, and her shoulders sagged almost imperceptibly. Only someone who had steadfastly measured height against hers for years, back-to-back and ramrod straight, would have likely noticed.

  “Better?” she asked.

  “Warmer,” I replied as I ran a hand through my damp hair, trying to push it into some semblance of order. Without a fire to stand over, the waves would turn to curls, so I pulled the strands as I combed, straightening them.

  Magda’s body seemed to soften as she watched me grapple with a tangle. It was nice to know I could still amuse her, though I wondered what she thought of the much shorter cut. I’d had long hair when we’d last played together—hadn’t cut it, in fact, until perhaps a week after we’d seen each other our final time. Sometimes I missed the length, and the way Magda or my mother would weave flowers and ribbons between my curls. But short hair brushed easier, and didn’t get in your eyes, and didn’t confuse people when you had a flat chest.

  “We had to toss your clothes. The pub owner didn’t think the stains would lift.” Magda held her hand out, her palm cradling the small amount of money I’d had in my pockets. “Salvaged these. Is this all you’re carrying?”

  “I…yes. And the clothes can burn. That’s fine.” They could burn and take as much of Mother’s legacy as possible with them. I took the money, put it back in my pocket, and turned my eyes to our table. It was bloodwood, by the color, and had only one chair at it.

  “They’re bringing food. Come sit, and we can talk.”

  Magda brought around another chair. I sat, but not before running my hands over the turned spindles that made up the back support. They were poorly done, with the beads and coves not aligning properly. If I turned it over, I suspected I would not find a carpenter’s guild mark. The owner likely hadn’t wanted to pay guild prices and had hired an amateur woodturner with a rudimentary understanding of guild skill. That was shoddy, and illegal, by guild law if not by country law. Mother would have demanded a refund and left the establishment. I wanted to toss the entire thing into the fireplace and strike the flint myself.

  Instead, I sat on the wobbly thing as Magda gathered the paperwork to one side of the table and attempted to stack it. Wax seals hung from edges. I caught sentence snippets in passing as sheets slid from the tabletop and onto the floor. Treaty talks. King of Eastgate and his son. The Triarchy of Puget. Amada.

  I wasn’t going to be pulled into Mother’s vortex again. “Royal Daughter, could I talk to you about Master Rahad? I need some help with guild semantics and—”

  Magda cursed. “Could you help me with these papers first, Sorin?”

  I let out a long breath and moved to my knees. The first sheet I lifted had Mother’s name across the top, followed by the masters from three other guilds. The unique marks of all thirteen guilds that spanned the three countries of Sorpsi, Puget, and Eastgate covered the rest of the page.

  I held the paper tightly between two hands, letting Magda gather the rest. Amada, master woodcutter. Ervin, master of glass. Walerian, master witch. Badria, master of textiles. All names I knew. People who had been to our home or us to theirs. Ervin had taught me color theory, back before I could even read. Badria had made me special clothes after menarche. Walerian…I hadn’t known as well, but his name had been on Mother’s lips often enough, and he was…a witch, apparently? I’d met a witch?

  My hands shook. The paper rustled, threatening to tear. Were they all missing? Had anyone found…bodies? Mother out gallivanting was one thing. Mother dead was…well, very different.

  Magda took the sheet from my hand, firmly, for I had it in a death grip and had to let go so as to not tear the edges. She stacked it in the middle of the others. “They’re just daily reports. I don’t know how much you need to… I mean, you know how it is. You saw the paperwork the queen used to do when we were little. It was what she used to make those folded paper animals you loved so much.” Magda rubbed at her forehead with her palm, leaving a red mark. “Now it’s
my job, I guess, until she comes back.” She forced a smile. “It’s been a long time, Sorin. I’ve missed you. You’re…different. Although I am, too, I’m sure.” I caught a hint of melancholy in her voice. “Guess you had a good reason for disappearing. Don’t suppose I could interest you in a puzzle?”

  “A puzzle? Probably not, unless we can solve it tonight. I’m starting my apprenticeship with Master Rahad in the morning, which is why I wanted to speak with you. He wants Mother’s permission, but with her gone, yours would work just as well.”

  If Magda caught the unmistakable eagerness in my voice, she didn’t show it. Instead, she released a heavy sigh as the proprietor, a short woman with a plunging neckline, placed mugs of hot cider on the table. Another woman followed with bowls of wild rice and hot tea. The proprietor winked at Magda as she placed the second bowl and brought her arms together, pushing her chest forward.

  I blinked several times and tried not to stare. It had to be…interesting, having that level of confidence in your appearance. I sipped at my drink, Magda’s paperwork puzzle momentarily forgotten. The tea had a bitterness I was not expecting, and my cheeks puckered.

  Magda laughed, her eyes on the intended target. “Thank you, Iroume. That will be all for now.” The woman gave a short bow and left the room. Magda’s eyes followed.

  I coughed.

  “Thoughts, Sorin?” Magda turned to smile impishly at me, as if half a decade, and a forest, weren’t between us. She pinched a small amount of rice into a ball, then popped it into her mouth.

  “She’s very nice,” I returned dryly. She did have very nice breasts, which I was sure Magda was driving at, but I didn’t see the need to remark on them, especially not to the royal daughter. Besides, it wasn’t as if I couldn’t appreciate them on others. I just…wasn’t keen on displaying my own.

  “Not a fan?” Magda asked with her mouth still full. Her eyes went to my flattened chest, and suddenly she straightened, like I was a puzzle she’d just realized was put together differently. “Are you a man then? Your breasts did come in eventually. I remember. You never wanted to compare or talk about them when we were kids. You were so embarrassed.”