The Conspiracy of Magic

by Harriet Whitehorn

“Good morning, everyone!” she cried cheerfully, walking over to her sledge. There was a chorus of polite replies and Dacha opened the door of the sledge for her, bowing low.

  “Good morning, Dacha. How are you?” Arden asked him.

  “Very well, Your Majesty, thank you,” he replied.

  “Good morning, Cass,” Arden said as Cass curtsied to her. “Have you two met?” she asked as Dacha helped her into the sledge.

  “I had the honour of collecting Miss Malvino from her house this morning,” he replied, with just a faint touch of laughter around his eyes and in his voice.

  “Excellent,” Arden replied, smiling. She sensed a joke but she didn’t pursue it. “Well, I am very lucky to have her, Dacha, so you be sure to be kind to her and give her any help she needs. Not that I think she’ll need any; she is a most capable young lady by all accounts.”

  “I’m sure that’s true, Your Majesty,” Dacha replied smoothly. And after Cass had got into the sledge, he closed the door behind them.

  The sledge was quite the most luxurious that Cass had ever seen, with velvet-covered seats more comfortable than armchairs, and a burner which meant that it was as toasty as Mrs Potts’s overheated little parlour. There were even candles in holders which Tiger lit and Arden immediately opened the first of the navy-blue boxes that had been placed by her seat. She pulled a pair of spectacles from her pocket and began to read the stack of papers within them. Tiger fussed around arranging things, and then she got some embroidery out of a basket that had been placed on the floor of the carriage. Cass felt rather at a loss without anything to do.

  “Can you sew, Cass?” Tiger asked her abruptly.

  “Er, yes, but not brilliantly,” Cass replied, feeling inadequate.

  Tiger began to rootle around in the basket, but Arden said, looking up from her documents, “Let her sleep, Tiger. Cass, you still look shattered. While we are in the Minarian outlands, why don’t you rest? Don’t worry, you’re not here for your sewing skills. The mending can wait.”

  Cass thanked her and by the time they passed through the city gates, her eyelids were drooping and soon the warmth of the sledge and the rocking movement had lulled her into a heavy sleep.

  Cass was indeed exhausted and slept for most of the day. This time her sleep was untroubled and she did not wake up until late in the afternoon. She rubbed her eyes a little and looked out of the window to see that the day had been and gone and the sky was dark. She could only dimly pick out the silhouettes of the guards riding beside them. Arden looked up from her papers, noticing Cass was awake.

  “Better?” she asked.

  “Much,” Cass replied, stretching her neck. It was stiff from being in the same position for hours.

  “Good. You must be starving,” Arden remarked and without waiting for a response said, “Tiger, hand Cass the tiffin box and please pour her some tea. You must have one of these excellent scoodle pies.”

  Tiger put down her sewing and did as Arden had instructed. Cass drank the cup of bitter tea gratefully as she was thirsty and helped herself to one of the scoodle pies, which were indeed very fine – flaky and cheesy in just the right amount.

  “Aren’t they delicious?” Arden asked. “Cass, you’ll have to forgive me. I adore feeding people. You must tell me if it becomes annoying!”

  Cass laughed, replying, “I love food so I can’t imagine it will. And they are very tasty scoodle pies.” She glanced back out of the window as she cleaned her hands on a napkin that Tiger passed her. “Where are we?” she asked.

  “We’ll be at Aravura soon,” Arden replied.

  Sure enough, about fifteen minutes later street lanterns appeared, casting an orange light that illuminated the outskirts of a town.

  The pretty border town of Aravura sat at the confluence of two rivers and was famous for the ancient stone bridges that spanned them. It had long been at the centre of trade between the Bundish and Minarians. In the summer the water was crowded with barges and in winter, when the rivers froze, they became like roads, alive with skaters and sledges. As the royal party arrived, people turned and cheered and Arden stuck her head out of the window, waving at everyone.

  “I do like this inn,” Arden remarked as the sledges drew up in front of a large stone building. It looked inviting with every window brightly lit. The Inn of the Leaping Fish, Cass read on the sign. “The beds are particularly comfortable and the landlady is a sweetie. Remind me, Tiger, is the mayor coming to me for dinner?”

  Tiger nodded. “With his wife and eldest daughter.”

  The sledge had hardly stopped when the door shot open and a lady appeared, her face eager and shiny with excitement. She scurried over to the sledge and opened the door before any of the Queen’s Guard were off their horses.

  “Your Majesty, we have been so excited about your visit,” she cried, bobbing up and down in a curtsy. “Here, let me help you down. I have cooked all your favourite dishes and the water is heated ready for your bath.”

  “Thank you so much,” Arden replied. “It is indeed nice to be back here. Now, tell me, how are your children? Your son had a terrible cough the last time I came and we left you with a bottle of Tiger’s special linctus…” Taking the landlady’s arm she walked up to the inn, while behind her a scene of organized chaos unfolded, as stable boys ran to take the horses and the inn staff rushed around, unloading trunks and taking orders from Captain Toskil.

  Meanwhile, Cass, mindful of her real role on the journey, had a good look at the inn. There was the main building in front, with the stables on the left and a separate guesthouse to the right, which was where they would be staying. It sat right by the river and Cass was just wondering if there was a path between the river and the house when her thoughts were interrupted.

  “You go with the queen, Cass. I’ll sort out the luggage,” Tiger instructed.

  Cass followed Arden and the landlady through the front door of the guesthouse and into the cosy hall.

  “You’ll remember I’m sure that the receiving rooms are to the right, and that is where we’ll show the mayor to when he arrives in an hour or so,” the landlady was saying to Arden. “Then on the left are the kitchens and quarters for your guardsmen. Now, let me take you up to your rooms.” They walked up the stairs. “Here is your bedchamber, Your Majesty, and then there are two smaller rooms for your ladies-in-waiting. I hope that’s satisfactory.”

  “This all looks perfect, thank you. Now, if you’ll excuse me I will get ready.” Arden dismissed the landlady with a smile. “Cass, please can you help me with my things.”

  “Yes, of course.” Cass hurried over.

  “Gloves first,” Arden instructed, holding her hands out to Cass, who pulled the gloves off as delicately as she could.

  “Hat next,” she said and Cass removed the fur hat. “And now my coat.” It was fastened with a single button, which was easy enough for Cass to undo, but she could still feel her hands quivering with nerves.

  “Hang them up over there,” Tiger said, coming into the room and pointing to a set of hooks and hangers on one wall. “Carefully,” she added.

  “Tiger,” Arden said. “I’m going to have a bath and then get ready for the mayor. Is my travelling trunk on its way in?”

  “It’s just coming now. Are you still happy to wear the green silk tonight?”

  “Yes,” Arden replied. “Cass, can you help me off with my boots, please.” Cass knelt down and untied her laces then eased them off her feet.

  A procession of servants brought in one of the queen’s enormous trunks and Cass and Tiger’s much smaller ones. “Put the large trunk there, please, and then the other ones, put one in each room. Cass, the jewel case always goes by the queen’s bed. Do not move it under any circumstances,” Tiger instructed. “Now, please can you go downstairs and find the maids. Tell them to bring the copper and hot water up for the queen’s bath and we also need an iron. Not too hot but hot enough. It’s for silk.”

  “Of course,” Cass replied, feeling sli
ghtly overwhelmed.

  “And some lavender tea too, please, Cass,” Arden called after her.

  Cass dashed down to the kitchens and found the maids, who were a great deal surlier than their mistress. However, she chivvied them along, and the copper, hot water and iron were brought upstairs. But the iron proved too cold, the water too hot and where was the lavender tea? Up and down the stairs Cass ran, chasing forgotten soap, fetching more tea, more cold water, until at last Arden, looking every inch the queen in a magnificent ruby necklace and earrings and an emerald-green silk evening dress, walked graciously down the stairs to greet the mayor.

  With a sigh of relief, Cass set about helping Tiger clear up the muddle that Arden had left behind. The room was stuffy with heat and perfume, so Cass eased open one of the casement windows to let some air in. As she glanced down to the river path she gave a start, because she clearly saw a figure loitering there. They immediately stepped back into the shadows, obviously having seen her at the window. She remembered the warning Idaliz had given her before they parted. “Do not get complacent at any point on the journey; you will be being watched. The queen’s jewels are like a magnet to the Sins and other thieves.”

  A maid appeared with a tray laden with bowls of pumpkin soup for Tiger and Cass, accompanied by a loaf of soft white bread and two generous helpings of rambleberry tart and cream.

  “Mmm,” Tiger said appreciatively. “Let’s eat this before it gets cold.”

  But Cass was pulling on her coat. “You go ahead, I just need to check something,” she said, hurrying out of the room, leaving a bewildered Tiger.

  “Just getting a breath of air,” she said to the guards by the main door, before sprinting round to the back of the house.

  The moon’s white light reflected back off the river and the snow, which meant that Cass could see pretty well. There was a line of trees between the path and river and, as Cass walked along, a small figure shot out from behind one of them, sprinting away from her. Cass could see it was a child and she sped after them. They were quick but Cass was faster, so it only took her a moment to catch them.

  It was a young girl of about ten dressed in a hotchpotch of grubby furs with a grimy, frightened face. A scared child, Cass thought, relaxing, although she still asked her, “What were you doing lurking there?”

  “I wanted to see the queen,” the girl replied in a sing-song voice. “Is it true that she’s staying in the inn and is on her way to Oskbar?”

  “Perhaps,” Cass said with a smile.

  “Are you one of her ladies-in-waiting?”

  “Yes,” Cass replied.

  The child began to sing a well-known nursery rhyme,

  “Oh, I’m the Queen of Minaris

  And all the ladies have to curtsy to me,

  Curtsy to me,

  Curtsy to me,

  In the City of the Fishshhhhhhh.”

  And as she drew out the shh of fish she raised one finger up to her mouth, as if she was telling Cass to be quiet.

  “Very good.” Cass applauded her.

  “You’re very pretty,” the girl went on. “Are you from Minaris?”

  “Yes,” Cass replied.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Cass. Now I’ve got a question for you. Have you eaten tonight?”

  The girl shook her head. Cass pulled a silver out of her pocket and pressed it into the girl’s hand. “Go and get some food. No more skulking around.” The girl, looking delighted by the money, skipped off.

  Cass went back upstairs and ate supper with Tiger, and then wrote brief letters to Rip, Mrs Potts and Tig. She kept a watch out of the window but there was no sign of anyone else down by the river. However, Idaliz’s instructions were firmly anchored in her mind and since Arden was expected to be occupied with the mayor for another hour at least, she decided to take the letters up to the main inn to post and take a look around.

  She saw nothing unusual until she was about to head back to the guesthouse, when she noticed the young girl from before. She was speaking to a man, a northerner around thirty years old, with dark hair and eyes, dressed in a scruffy, nondescript way. He listened intently to what she said then handed her some coins.

  Cass was alarmed. Perhaps the girl had been spying after all. The girl slipped away and the man headed upstairs to his room. Cass waited to see if he would reappear but there was no further sign of him so she returned to the queen’s quarters. She helped Tiger get Arden to bed, all the time wondering uneasily about the man and the girl and the silvers that had passed between them. When Cass finally got to bed herself, she found that no matter how much she told herself the queen was safe with guards posted outside her door and several more downstairs, her brain would not settle and she slept poorly, waking every hour or so to check on Arden.

  The following day dawned cold and clear. The sky was bright blue and it had snowed lightly overnight, making everything glitter and dance like diamonds in the sharp sunshine. The sparkling weather lifted Cass’s spirits, and although she was still wary, she decided that she had been overly suspicious the night before and it was probably nothing.

  The sledges were ushered through the border crossing without delay and when they were only a little way into Bunderland, Cass, her eyes moving restlessly around, noticed that the scenery began to change from the flat Minarian Plains. The road rose and fell as gentle slopes appeared in the white landscape and orchards broke up the monotony of fields. Groups of cottages appeared, with diamond-paned windows and deep-thatched roofs. Trails of smoke escaped from the chimneys and the yards were full of geese, chickens, goats and cows. The frozen River Mira meandered along next to them, crowded with sledges and skaters wearing traditional Bundish embroidered sheepskin coats and hats. They saw the royal sledge and waved and cheered.

  “The people here seem happy,” Cass remarked to Arden.

  “I think they are,” she replied. “Everyone has enough food to eat and extra to sell on to earn some silvers; we are on the fringes of the fertile lands of Metrete.”

  “Ah, yes,” Cass replied, remembering her geography from school. “Metrete was part of Veraklia before the Magical Wars, wasn’t it?”

  Arden nodded. “It was taken from them by the Bundish as compensation for Veraklia starting the wars. But looking back I’m not sure it was the right thing to do. Not only does Veraklia still miss Metrete terribly in terms of feeding the rest of the country, it also hurt their pride, making them turn in on themselves. You have to remember, Cass, that Veraklia was once the richest and most powerful nation in the Longest World and then suddenly they were struggling to feed their people. It was soon afterwards that they started to build the Invincible Wall and the country has become more and more closed with every year, until we have the situation now where the borders are entirely shut and even messenger birds are shot down.”

  Cass nodded, wondering whether Arden would mention Idaliz. The reason Cass had taken Idaliz’s place as Arden’s sword was that King Lycus had sent Idaliz to Veraklia to try and find out what was going on there. Idaliz was Veraklian herself and therefore able to blend in to a certain degree, but it was still incredibly dangerous. The country was ruled by the tyrannical Queen Vegna. Her informers were everywhere and anyone suspected of spying for a foreign government would be instantly put to death. Cass felt anxious for Idaliz whenever she thought about it.

  Arden looked as if she were about to say something else but thought better of it. The conversation moved on and although Cass listened far more than she contributed, partly because she was keeping her eyes on their surroundings, she enjoyed herself. Arden and Tiger were good company, both fiercely intelligent and well read, and it was interesting to listen to them debating politics or discussing books.

  At about midday, with an air of secrecy, the sledges turned off the main road and slithered on to a track that led quickly into a dense forest. Cass was surprised and must have looked it, for Arden, after exchanging glances with Tiger, said, “Cass, we are going to meet so
meone. She is an old friend of mine and I need to know I can rely on your discretion.”

  “Of course,” Cass replied, trying to look as nonchalant as possible, although inside she was alive with curiosity. What old friend could Arden have that she couldn’t meet in the open?

  After about ten minutes, the coaches stopped. Captain Toskil dismounted and appeared by the sledge window.

  “The cabin is over there, Your Majesty,” he said, pointing to a narrow path through the snow. Cass could see a small, simple wooden hut, almost hidden among the trees just a few minutes’ walk away. “I don’t believe the other party has arrived yet.”

  “Very good,” Arden replied. “Cass, as my sword, you’d better come with me and I’ll take Dacha too. Captain, please will you stay here to put off anyone who should happen to come along the lane.”

  “Very well, Your Majesty,” Captain Toskil agreed.

  Cass quickly checked that her knife was in her pocket. It was a spring knife that folded up small enough to fit in the pocket of her dress.

  She had hidden her sword under a blanket in the carriage and she wondered for a moment whether she should bring it. Arden, reading her mind, said, “No swords, Cass. It wouldn’t be appropriate.”

  As they got out of the sledge, Captain Toskil was giving orders. “Dacha, go and check the cabin first.”

  Dacha jumped neatly down from his horse and jogged along the path to the cabin. Cass scanned the wood. It appeared empty but it was hard to tell with so many trees. Arden picked up her skirt and walked along the path to the cabin, with Cass following closely behind.

  “All clear,” Dacha announced as he came out. “Would you like me to light you a fire in there, Your Majesty?”

  Arden shook her head. “No, the less attention we draw the better.” As she finished speaking they all heard the gentle thud of hooves in the snow. “Here she comes,” Arden said.

  Dacha and Cass looked away discreetly as a young woman on horseback rode up. In the blackand-white winter landscape, her rust-coloured furs and copper hair were as vivid as jewels.