by M. J. Scott
Elarus stared at him. There was a long pause, broken only by the sounds of the breeze moving through the trees in the garden and the falling songs of the birds in the branches above.
[Elarus] Sophie said cautiously in her head. [Is everything all right?]
[Yes]. Elarus replied. [Wet no good. I will stay. But I watch.]
Well, that was clear as ash. But for now it seemed a good thing if the sanctii kept to herself.
[All right. We'll talk later, if you like.]
[Yes] Elarus said. Then she vanished as quickly as she had appeared. A few seconds later, Ikarus disappeared as well.
Imogene released a breath in a long careful-sounding sigh. "Sophie, you may need to be careful about that."
"About what?" Sophie asked, still not entirely sure what had just happened.
"With your sanctii doing as she chooses. I had heard your bond with her is different, but it might be safer to retain the illusion of control."
Where exactly had Imogene heard that? "Why? Aren't Illvyans used to sanctii?"
"They are used to water mages with bonded sanctii who appear to be obeying orders. Who are obeying orders," she amended. "But Illvyans have a healthy respect for what a sanctii can do. They have heard the stories of sanctii gone rogue, as Anglions have. So it would be more comfortable for everyone if you keep things...somewhat normal."
"That would be easier if I had a better idea what normal was," Sophie said.
"I imagine it would. But we can speak more in the bain-sel." Imogene glanced around as though fearing they might be overheard. "It will be easier there. Come."
She set off at a brisker pace, her green dress swishing over the grass. Sophie followed behind, still confused. The building that Imogene led her to was a long, low box built from the same gray stone as the main house. There were no windows and only a single door painted what Sophie was coming to think of as du Laq blue. It reminded Sophie more of a smoke house or storage shed than anything else, but she doubted Imogene had dragged her across the garden to show her sausages and hams.
When Imogene withdrew a key from her pocket and opened the door, a waft of warm air hit Sophie's face, carrying with it a smell almost like the sea. Curiosity rising, Sophie followed Imogene inside and found herself in a small room, tiled in shades of blue and green, the colors flickering under the light of a bevy of lanterns.
Imogene turned and closed the outer door, locking it again before tucking the key away. Then she pressed her hand to the inner door and Sophie saw wards flare to life beneath her touch.
"Don't worry," Imogene said when Sophie raised a brow. "The servants have a key for emergencies. But this prevents unexpected interruptions. Follow me."
She opened a door in the far side of the room, freeing an even warmer gift of air. The room they stepped into was so unexpected, Sophie stopped where she was, too enchanted to do much more than stare. Communal baths weren't used in Anglion, other than the ritual baths in the temples. But the size of the bain-sel was beyond even the scale of the temple bath where Sophie had been bathed before her Ais-Seann rites.
In fact, it wasn't only one bath. Four—no, five—bodies of water were spaced over the softly sparkling white tiled floor. The largest was bigger than any bath Sophie had ever seen. It had to be nearly forty feet long and half that wide, a rectangle of softly, steaming water that appeared dark blue thanks, she had to assume, to being tiled in that color. At the farthest end of the room, past the large pool, was another square pool about ten by ten feet and closest to where they stood, three, well, perhaps they could truly be called baths, though they were large enough for two or three people to share comfortably. Two of them had towels neatly stacked on their edges, along with baskets holding soaps and various glass bottles. Lanterns hung from the ceiling in rows, the light dancing over the water. The walls were as white as the floor tiles and between the water, the soft layer of steam in the air, and the lanterns, the whole room almost glowed.
"Imogene," she breathed. "This is...magnificent." Or decadent, perhaps. The sort of place where one of the fabled Illvyan courtesans Anglions told tales about might relax.
"It is all rather overindulgent," Imogene said. "But that doesn't mean we shouldn't indulge." She gestured toward the end of the room past the largest pool. "There are two dressing rooms there. You can undress, there are robes if you wish. We wash and soak in the small baths—then you can swim in the larger one if you like. The square one isn't heated. It lets you cool down if you grow overly warm." Sophie was only half paying attention. The thought of sinking into hot water unto her neck sounded so tempting, she didn't want to wait any longer.
"Why don't you go and undress?" Imogene said. "I'll meet you back here."
Sophie did exactly that, disrobing in record speed, glad that she'd insisted that Helene make day dresses and under clothes that she could remove herself. The sort that would be useful when they ran.
She was lowering herself into one of the small baths when Imogene reemerged from the other dressing room, wearing a light muslin robe.
"Not too hot?" Imogene asked as she walked to the bath next to Sophie's, stopping at the other end so she was facing Sophie rather than sitting beside her.
"No." Sophie sank deeper into the water to prove her point. Then decided to go all the way under. She surfaced again, groping for a towel to dry her face, eyes stinging unexpectedly. "Salt water?" she asked when she could see again.
"Yes," Imogene said. She didn't offer any further explanation.
Sophie closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the tiles, feeling the tension running out of her muscles. There were no sounds to distract her other than the lap of the water and Imogene's soft breathing, and she let her mind drift, not wanting to think any more. There would be time enough to think when Cameron returned. It was only when she realized she was in danger of nodding off that she forced herself to open her eyes.
The walls almost sparkled in the flickering lamplight, as though there were tiny crystals embedded in whatever the white material was. "This is lovely," Sophie said. "So peaceful."
"Peaceful and private," Imogene said. "That was the reason the bain-sel was built this way."
"This way?" Sophie said. The warmth of the bath was soothing all her aching muscles. And the salt added a sensation of weightlessness to the warmth. The combination was like being rocked in a perfectly soft warm bed and it was difficult to concentrate and not let herself lean back and doze.
"It's not just the water that is salt, Sophie. The walls are made from salt bricks."
Sophie's eyes flew open. "Salt walls?" How? Was that even possible? But she had seen salt transported in large blocks sometimes. There was no reason why they couldn't be used for walls in theory. But, in practice, water dissolved salt. "Don't they dissolve in the weather? Or from the steam?"
"Over time, if left alone they would, yes. But the walls are several feet thick and the baths are lined," Imogene said. "It's expensive to maintain, but it's secure. The sanctii won't come in here. More to the point, nobody can send one in here. Not with this much salt. No one can eavesdrop. The emperor has a room lined with salt somewhere beneath the palace. Not baths, a council room. But I've never seen it. Such places are proof against sanctii but not against other forms of espionage or loose tongues. I'm not sure they're of great use for keeping secrets, if you are dealing with large groups of people who might be able to subvert a ward or don't know how to hold their tongues. Nor does the emperor have a sanctii he might wish to avoid from time to time. I suppose if a water mage went rogue, it might come in useful to hide in."
"Do you sometimes want to avoid Ikarus?" Sophie asked, curious. "Don't you trust him?"
"I trust him," Imogene said, with a shrug that sent the water rippling. "But sometimes it is nice to know that you are truly alone." She grinned at Sophie and swiped a hand over her face where steam—or maybe sweat—was starting to bead at her hairline. "Jean-Paul and I come here from time to time."
Sophie hoped the heat alread
y in her cheeks from the bath hid her blush. She wasn't a stranger to women chatting about such things—you couldn't be one of a dozen ladies-in-waiting who lived in each other's pockets for several years without becoming familiar with the way women talked together. But she still didn't know Imogene terribly well. And Jean-Paul, hardly at all. She didn't necessarily want to know about the intimate side of their marriage. She definitely didn't want to talk to Imogene about Cameron in the bedchamber.
"Did Jean-Paul build this?" she asked, waving a hand at the room to change the subject. She reached for one of the bars of pearl-white soap piled on the edge of the bath. Her fingers closed over the bar, but it slipped through her wet hand and flew into the air. Directly toward Imogene's face. Without thinking, Sophie flung out a hand. And the soap...stopped. Not caught. At least not by her hands. Instead, it hung in the air like an unlikely butterfly.
Her mouth dropped open as she contemplated it for a long moment.
A discreet cough from Imogene made her look up.
Imogene's brows were arched, her eyes wide. A minute ago her skin had been as pink as Sophie's from the heat, but now she looked somewhat pale. "I don't think you ever did tell me what happened after the carriage accident." Her tone was very...careful.
"Elarus came. She helped me," Sophie said, too distracted by the soap hovering in the air in front of her to wonder why Imogene was asking. The longer she stared, the wobblier it became until it suddenly dropped into the water with a splash that sent salt water straight into her mouth. She spluttered and coughed. "Damn." She found the soap near the bottom of the bath and held it firmly while she put it back where it had come from.
"Helped you how, exactly?" Imogene asked. Through the steam, her eyes were suddenly intent. A cat watching a mouse she hadn't quite decided what to do with.
Sophie's neck prickled. Weren't they supposed to be relaxing?
"She lifted the carriage." Sophie sank lower in the water. She didn't really want to remember the horrible moment when she'd realized that Cameron was trapped beneath the carriage and that the men who had tried to kidnap her could return at any second and kill them both. The sensation of feeling like a fox in a snare, waiting for the hunters to close in, was one she tried hard to forget even though it seeped into her dreams sometimes. She shivered despite the warmth of the water. "I pulled him free."
"Lifted it herself or by using magic?" Imogene asked.
Sophie tiled her head. "I'm not entirely sure. The whole thing is a blur. Why? Is it important?"
"Yes," Imogene said bluntly. "What you did with that soap...floating it. That is not a common thing. Not for you to do it so easily." She caught her lip between her teeth. "We know sanctii can lift things when they choose, but it is not an ability they can share easily with their mages. Some water mages have been able to move small things in such a fashion with the help of their sanctii. Those who are most skilled usually also have some blood magic. Which makes sense given that it is blood mages who usually have the ability to move objects. But I understand it is quite fatiguing. And usually a skill acquired after many years of practice. Do you have any blood magic, Sophie?"
Sophie blinked. Damn. And more damn. She didn't want to tell Imogene her secrets. She had used Cameron's blood magic before. Not intentionally, but she had done it. But she wasn't sure if that was something she should reveal.
"Maybe? I'm not sure." Prevarication. She hoped Imogene wouldn't see through it.
"Or perhaps, if you share an augmentier with your husband, you have it through him?"
Triple damn. Imogene knew too much. Bloody Illvyans. "I've been told that it is possible that I could," she said cautiously.
"Can you lift the soap again?"
She didn't want to try. Imogene's interest was making her nervous. "I don't know how I did it the first time."
"Try to think."
Sophie reached for the soap. Placed it on her palm. Stared at it wondering if she should actually try to do as Imogene asked or not. Perhaps, until she better understood why Imogene was so interested it would be better to not...or to merely give the appearance of an attempt perhaps. But then again, Imogene could see her connection to the ley line, if she wanted. She would be able to tell if Sophie wasn't actually trying to use her magic.
She touched the soap with her free hand, considering before letting that hand sink back into the water. Then stared at the soap hard, reaching for her magic. But she hadn't been lying when she said she had no idea how she had floated it and the soap stayed stubbornly in place even when she tried to direct a careful flow of magic toward it.
She let the soap fall into the water. "It would seem not."
Imogene frowned. "You did it once."
"And perhaps, in time, I might be able to work out how. But not today, it seems." She shrugged. "It's not important, is it?"
"Sophie, you made something hover in the air. Without a sanctii," Imogene said, sounding exasperated. "Of course it's important."
"Why? You said the sanctii could do it anyway."
"They can't do it surrounded by salt water. Or over salt water," Imogene said. "After all, if the sanctii could make things fly through the air over an ocean, the history between our two countries would be entirely different. Anglion, I imagine would either be part of the empire or perhaps ruling it herself."
"I don't understand." She didn't want to understand. Because she was afraid she'd unwittingly stumbled on something that would only make her of more interest to the emperor.
"Flying machines are something that our mages who have a bent towards the work of an ingenier have been considering for a long time...so far no one has succeeded in finding a method that's sustainable. Humans find it tiring to lift anything of any size. Sanctii can't do it over the ocean, so while they can assist with some distances—if they choose to and if their mages can tolerate it, it hasn't been successful. You've seen my navire."
"Your ship of the air," Sophie said. No. Imogene's ship that should fly through the air but didn't. Her ship that needed to magic float. Magic that didn’t yet exist. “Oh."
"Oh, indeed," Imogene said. "How to fly the navire is the missing piece of the puzzle."
"A ship is a lot bigger than a piece of soap." Sophie's mouth was suddenly dry in a way that mere ingestion of salt water couldn't explain. "Or even a carriage. And I can't even lift the soap twice. What makes you think I can lift a ship?" Or fly that ship over an ocean, which is what had to be the ultimate goal. Would that be a way to transport sanctii to Anglion? If they could travel far enough above the ocean, with their mages, would they be able to make the journey?
A force of Illvyan army supported by water mages and sanctii would be as close to unstoppable as anything she could imagine. Anglion had nothing to stand against it.
If she had had any lingering doubts that she and Cameron needed to disappear, they melted like soap bubbles touching the ground at that realization.
"Indeed. And perhaps my suspicions may be unwarranted. But you are an unknown quantity. You are not bound like Anglion earth witches usually are. You have the augmentier with Cameron. That flows both ways, not only serving him. Which, if I understand the matter correctly, is the way that such things usually work between Anglion lords and their wives. And then there's your sanctii. You didn't do that in the usual way either. So what I am forced to wonder, Sophie, is what else you can do that isn't in the usual way?"
At her words, Sophie went cold despite the steaming water surrounding her. She was struck by the thought that perhaps Imogene's invitation hadn't been so altruistic after all. After all, the woman was a mage and a soldier and ingenier. She had to have had this in the back of her mind—that maybe she could put Sophie to use—even if she hadn't known about the carriage.
She ducked back under the water, buying time to think. Was she being paranoid? Or right to be wary? Or maybe the truth lay somewhere between those two options. Imogene was a servant of her emperor. Not to mention a mage searching for a solution to the challenge
of how to make her precious navire a workable tool.
But Sophie wasn't going to be a tool.
Her lungs began to inform her it was time to breathe again, and she resurfaced, pushing her dripping hair back from her face. "I'm not sure there is anything else." She stared down at the bar of soap, resting on the edge of the pool, avoiding Imogene's gaze. Who knew that a bar of soap could turn into such a tangle of complications? But it had.
So it wouldn't do any good to let Imogene think she was weak. "But you're not exactly in the usual way yourself, are you? How many Imperial mages are married to duqs? How many duquesses are ingeniers? Or favorites of the emperor?"
"More than you might think when it comes to that last one," Imogene muttered.
"But you're the only one I've seen with him with any regularity."
"Because when it comes to you and your husband, the emperor's concerns are diplomacy and magic and power. That intersects with my role in the Imperial mages."
"Queen Eloisa's father used to say that diplomacy is merely war getting the lay of the land."
Imogene wrinkled her nose. "He sounds like a cynic."
"You don't agree?"
"I think that it is better to try means other than force for two nations to coexist."
"But that has hardly been the policy of your emperors, has it? I mean, one doesn't build an empire by asking your neighbors politely to let you take over?"
"The empire has been formed for quite some time now. I wasn't involved in forming it, but I have a duty to help it run smoothly."
"Yet, Illvya still has an army, despite having run out of places to conquer."
"To maintain the peace."
"That doesn't sound far off war getting the lay of the land." She skimmed a hand over the water's surface, restless. Unhappy to be having this conversation even if she needed to hear it. Needed to know what she was avoiding. "After all, your navire d'avion, that is a tool of war, is it not? What are the uses for such a thing in times of peace?"
"Transportation," Imogene shot back. "If my calculations are correct, it will move faster than a ship traveling by sea or the fastest fabriques the Mage ingeniers have yet devised. If we can work out how to make them fly easily, then people would be able to travel far more easily."