by C. L. Polk
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To Robin and Maire, who stuck through it all
ONE
A Favor for a Favor
The knock came an hour after we had put up the stormboards and battened down to wait it out. Everyone in the second parlor looked in its direction, as if we could see who it was bracing themselves against the wind that scoured the street. Aunt Glory dropped her knitting on her lap to wave a burl-knuckled hand at me. “Robin. Go see who it is.”
“I will!” Amos shouted, and he left the parlor quick as counting, pelting down the hall. I set down my notebook and Bones of the Body to follow little Amos, leaving my seat near the rear fire to step into the foyer. Joy followed, melting through the wall as spirits do, following her nephew down the hall.
Only trouble would come to Clan Thorpe on the teeth of a cyclonic blizzard. No other reason for it. The door lever was icy to the touch, and I pushed against the door to keep it from slamming into my face.
Trouble indeed. Grace Hensley had come to my door, holding a dome of still air while the Stormbowl’s gift howled up the street. Trouble. Worse than trouble, and Grace had brought it to me without a moment’s pause.
Amos wormed in front of me and craned his neck, pointing at Grace. “Ahoy. I remember you.”
“Ahoy,” Grace replied. “You should go inside; it’s very cold out.”
I put my hand on Amos’s head and steered him back inside. “Why are you here, of all places? There’s a storm on the way.”
“That’s exactly why,” Grace Hensley said. “I have news.”
I couldn’t shut the door in her face, not with the snow swirling in the street. Even if I still mistrusted Grace Hensley, I couldn’t deny her hospitality.
“Hurry inside,” I said. “Put your skis anywhere they will fit on the rack.”
Amos had already scampered back to the second parlor to tell the elders who had come to Clan Thorpe in such terrible weather. Grace shed her wet boots and found slippers in the seagrass-woven basket.
Grace stood up, and I fought a flash of irritation as she flexed her knees to half crouch to match my height. But then she spoke in my ear, her voice low: “Constantina abdicated. Severin’s first act as king was to abolish the Witchcraft Protection Act. Is there somewhere we can talk?”
“Not just prorogued.” A hundred responses trampled each other for the chance to be first. “Why would he do that?”
Grace’s shoulders came up as she winced her way through a smile. “That’s the reason why I’m here. But can we—”
“Ah. You want something.”
“I do. But consider this: I ought to be with the Storm-Singers right now. I’m not. It’s that important.”
I could at least hear her out. She was here for the duration, as there was no turning her out in that wind. “Back parlor,” I said. “But first we run the gauntlet.”
The Witchcraft Protection Act was no more. What I had fought for these past twenty years, the fight I thought I would pass on to the next generation of my clan, was done. Too late to free those I loved, but our struggle was over.
“Why did Prince—excuse me. Why did King Severin strike down the law?”
“The Amaranthines wanted it.”
“I thought the Amaranthines wouldn’t get involved in our politics.”
Grace sighed. “I bullied him into it. I don’t know if I’ll be able to pull it off again. What’s the gauntlet?”
“Robin,” Eldest called. “Who was at the door?”
I led the way to the second parlor, where four generations of Thorpes gathered next to hearth-fires and watched curiously. The children seated on chairs and stools knitted and sewed while the younger children sprawled on the floor to play Slap with four decks of playing cards. Eldest spotted Grace and grinned.
“You couldn’t stay away,” he said, wagging one finger playfully. “No one forgets our fish fry.”
“I’ve had dreams about it,” Grace said.
Eldest leaned forward in his seat, still smiling. “And what brings you here, Chancellor?”
“I wanted to speak with Miss Thorpe.”
“In this weather?” Bernice turned her head to gaze at the snow flying on the other side of the window. “It must be important.”
Grace nodded. “It is.”
“We should go,” I said. “Come with me.”
“Not so fast,” Aunt Glory said. “I want to know what brought you here, when the storm of a lifetime is at our doorstep and by rights you should be up on your hill with your Royal Knights trying to turn it back.”
Grace’s jaw dropped. “We didn’t hide a thing from you, did we?”
“You did not,” Glory said. “Strutting all over town with your auras blazing, imagining no one knew your secret. We knew. We had to know, if we were going to survive you.”
“Aunt Glory,” I said. “I don’t think Grace has time to go over all this.”
“Stay where you are.” Aunt Bernice pointed at Grace. “There’s only one reason why she’s here at a time like this. She knows about our Circle. She’s here to press them into service.”
“We have to unite our power,” Grace said. “It’s our only chance.”
“Mm-hmm,” Glory said. “And then you’ll round them all up—”
“She had the Witchcraft Act abolished,” I said.
Gasps arose from everyone in the parlor. “Is that true?” Eldest asked. “Miss Grace, you said you couldn’t—”
“Constantina abdicated,” Grace said. “Severin is now king. His first act was to repeal the law—”
“Because you convinced him,” I supplied, since she wouldn’t tell the others. Modesty. I didn’t expect it from her.
“It was the right thing to do,” Grace said. “Every witch in Aeland is free and safe from persecution. And I did it just in time, because I need your people to help us fight this cyclone.”
I knew it. She did want something, and she had changed history by abolishing the Witchcraft Act to get it. Abolished. Not just suspended in the legal oubliette of a prorogue, but erased from the books. I waited for the dream to switch, for someone to turn into a beast or a tree or a monster, so this would all make sense.
I wasn’t dreaming. I knew I wasn’t. But it still didn’t feel real. “Did you bring a copy of the writ?”
Grace’s shoulders slouched. “There wasn’t time. But Jacob Clarke had to have heard by now—I half expected that the news had already spread.”
“Everything’s under storm alert,” I said. “Parliament didn’t meet today.”
“I swear to you. It’s true,” Grace said. She slipped a white-handled witchknife from her pocket. “I will swear on my blood, before the entire clan—please. I need you to believe me.”
/> “You should have brought Miles with you,” I said. “Everyone would believe Miles.”
“I couldn’t bring Miles. He’s still not well enough. Tristan was in no shape either.”
Grace was no fool. Ignorant, where it benefited her to be ignorant. Accustomed to being treated as a figure of authority and respect. She knew that I could convince the others to believe her, if she convinced me herself. But I had seen the faces of neighbors who worked as navigators aboard our sailing vessels—pinched with worry and glancing to the west, bringing firewood and stove oil to clans who might need it.
“We know it’s bad.” I startled when the stormboards rumbled so loudly it was like being inside a drum. “But if you’re here, it’s worse than we thought.”
“Worse than this?” Aunt Glory asked. A distant crack of thunder, nearly buried in the force of the wind, made us all look west.
“This is the edge of it.”
Grace was prepared to swear on her blood. But still I kept my silence, standing in the midst of my clan. Could I trust her word?
Could I afford to doubt it?
“Please, Miss Thorpe,” Grace said. “It’s the best chance Aeland has to survive. And Aeland will demonstrate its gratitude for your witches. I will see to it.”
She had the power—and a king who seemed sympathetic to the needs of his nation’s citizens. She could pull a great many strings, and she would. I was just stalling. It was time to bargain.
“What do you plan to do once this storm is put down?”
“So many things I don’t have time to list them all,” Grace said. “With Severin’s rise to the throne, we have an incredible opportunity to build something better. But to do that, I need you.”
I took a half-step back. “Me.”
“I don’t truly understand the extent of the corruption in the system. I can’t know. Up until recently, I didn’t even know there was a real problem. I had dismissed you all as complainers.”
I let an exasperated sigh escape my lips. “And why wouldn’t you? From where you sat, everything was fine.”
“I was wrong,” Grace said.
How easily she admitted mistakes, ignorance, vulnerability—her candor disarmed me, her honesty meeting the walls of my suspicion and gently melting them away.
Glory sat up straight, her posture all icy dignity. “And now you need our Robin. For what?”
“Aunt Glory—”
“How do you know she isn’t trouble?” Glory demanded. “How do you know what her promises are worth?”
“Ma’am,” Grace said, “you have an excellent point. I’m not trustworthy, not yet. But I’m trying to be. You all know exactly what’s wrong with Aeland. Robin knows what the people want. Which is why I want her—”
She turned back to me. “Which is why I want you to come work for me.”
The parlor murmured. I put up my hand, forestalling comment. “You want me to work for you?”
“I need your vision. I want to give you access. Do you want to talk to the King? I can make that happen. Do you want to write new laws? We can do that. It’s perfect. You can start right away. The salary is twelve thousand marks a year.”
A thousand marks a month. That was what I could expect to make as a surgeon, and she was lowballing me. She did want me—but she couldn’t know what she was offering.
“Chancellor Hensley,” I said, setting my hands on my hips. “Do you know what my vision is? Do you know what the Solidarity Collective wants?”
She blinked, her face blank with thought. “Uzadalian democracy. You want Aeland to be like the countries in the League of Uzadal.”
The word “uza” meant something that didn’t quite translate to Aelander. It meant solidarity. It meant unity. But something more than that—it meant that the people banded together in a community had a moral duty to each other, to serve one another.
“We want more than just a resemblance to Uzadalian ideals.” I gestured to include the clan in this room, but the circle went wider than that. “We want Aeland to join the league.”
Grace stepped back, pushing herself away from my words. “Uzadalian countries don’t have ruling monarchs.”
“They do not.”
“They support the common vote.”
“They do. Is that job offer still on the table?”
Grace’s face lined itself as she thought. A gust of wind bashed itself against the window, and Grace turned her face westward, intent on whatever she sensed out there.
She went pale. “There’s no more time. And I need you on my team, even if you do want to upend all order and tradition. So yes. The offer stands, only please, we need to go now.”
“How do you think we’re going to make it to the hall?” I asked. “That wind is—”
“I can shelter us with my power,” Grace said. “It’ll deplete me, but we must.”
Aunt Glory sighed. “You can’t. They’re pretty words, Robin. Maybe even true ones. But they’re not enough to risk exposing the Circle—”
But she couldn’t be lying. Not about the law, and not about the danger. If I didn’t take her, would we survive?
“We need her,” I said. “We can’t risk letting this storm howl across Aeland. I have to take her.”
“Robin,” Glory said. “Are you certain?”
I’d get in deep trouble with the Circle for this. They’d censure me, distrust me, maybe even shun me, but this was the only choice.
“Yes,” I said. “I will face the cost of doing this. We have a storm to put down.”
* * *
We arrived at the Maritime Hall gnashed by the teeth of the wind. The front door slammed shut when I pulled it open, but Grace wrestled it far enough for us to slip into the vestibule. Boots, skis, and winter gear filled the space with only a few pairs of felted slippers left in the basket.
Grace eased yellow and green half-socks over her feet. “Thank you for doing this.”
“I don’t see how I have much choice—Carlotta.”
I smiled as the biggest gossip in the Circle caught sight of me and hurried over.
“Robin, what are you doing here? Circle’s about to—” Carlotta Brown stopped in the doorway, staring straight at Grace. “You.”
I checked my urge to stand in front of Grace like a shield. “She’s here to help.”
Carlotta turned a look of betrayed surprise on me. “You told an outsider about the Circle? No, it’s worse. You brought a Royal Knight to us?”
“She convinced the King to strike down the Witchcraft Act,” I said. “The law is no more.”
Carlotta lifted her chin. “I know that. Jacob Clarke is here. But we’re still a secret.”
Grace coughed. “I knew there was a group of witches out here. I kept it a secret. But Aeland cries out for your aid. We must strike the storm together. I will join our groups in magic—”
“You can’t just walk in here and expect to order us to—”
“Peace, Sister.” Marlon stepped out of the knot of witches. “Miss Robin. I trust you have an explanation. I’m sure you have a very good reason for exposing us to anyone, let alone this woman in particular. So tell me—do you trust her?”
I couldn’t stop a sharp breath. “I trust that Grace isn’t lying about the Witchcraft Protection Act.”
Carlotta dismissed my words with a wave. “We already said that Jacob Clarke told us—”
“She’s saying that she didn’t have the news from Clarke, Sister,” Marlon interrupted. “You’re saying you had only her word, and you believed her.”
“Yes.” The band around my chest loosened. “I brought her here because I believe Grace would unite us with her Royal Knights if it meant stopping the storm, and she would use her power to protect us.”
“I don’t know if our groups together are enough,” Grace said. “But we have to try.”
“Truly spoken,” Marlon said. “Storm-Singer, you are welcome here. What is your plan?”
Grace stared at him astonished as Eldest welco
med her. “I can join our power, but I won’t be able to do that and fight the storm too.”
“You will gather; I will weave,” Eldest said, the smile stretching the lines on his face. “The storm calls. Come, Dame Grace. You will stand in my Circle.”
Marlon took Grace away. I joined volunteers at the buffet to stir salt and vinegar into fresh-pressed apple juice. The wind roared past the walls of the hall, flinging snow smack into the many-paned windows. It battered against the rooftop, screeching as it tried to pry the roof loose. It nearly drowned out the song rising from the witches. But the hall had been built by shipwrights, and not a breath of a draft snuck into the room.
A loud crack made everyone jump. Trees would crack and fall in winds like this. Anyone who had been caught outside was dead already. The witches sang, united against the fury of the Stormbowl, and Grace’s voice blended into the choir. My fingers went cold as we glanced at each other, the same question in our eyes: What if it isn’t enough?
All around us, the wind screamed like a death-herald. Too strong. If the witches weren’t enough—if they couldn’t protect us from this—the storm would rip across Aeland. It wouldn’t be possible to count the dead. The Circle had to hold.
Marlon’s younger brother Maurice took off his apron and shuffled between the singing witches, his hand on his ring-husband’s shoulder. Octavius smiled as he took up the thread of Maurice’s power and added it to the Circle. Tressie Lawrence followed Maurice’s lead, dropping her apron on top of his. All of the medical recovery crew’s witches followed suit, joining their power to the Circle that had one chance to stop the blizzard that would bury us.
It was heroic. Was it enough? There were only twenty witches on the recovery crew. The storm had crashed into us. It was too late to get more people. Every witch but me was in the weaving, adding power to the work, but were we enough?
It wasn’t. I knew in my bones that it wasn’t.
The wind didn’t let up for a moment. It hadn’t slowed; the sky cracked with thunder, louder still. They didn’t have enough power, not even combined. It was too late to bring in more witches. All we had was the magic in this room, and it wasn’t enough.