by Melissa Mead
"Not coming from my pocket. Near the back, where Juliar saw Kimo."
"That makes no sense. If that root is poisonous to Cantrips..."
"I'm not certain it is. Once we're safe at your house I'd like to try..."
"Are you two coming? Don't tell me I'm outrunning you.” Juliar called, laughing. “Climb in!"
But Miska wasn't listening. She was staring in horror at the cart next to theirs.
"The poor things! What happened to them?"
The next cart was a work of fantasy—glimmering white, with gilt trim and painted roses on the tailboard. Hitched to it were two pure white chevrals. Each animal had its horns twisted around each other to form a single spiral. They stood with their heads drooped, starting up wildly at every sound.
"Lady Myringa's ‘Unicorns'.” Juliar scowled. He finished untying the Temple animals and gave each one a quick pat. The animals nuzzled his hands. “She dotes on them, they say. Calls them things like ‘Precious', and ‘Boopsie-doll'."
"And what are these two called?” Lindi wanted to know.
Juliar colored. “Starshine and Skydove,” he mumbled. “Don't look at me like that—it was Lila's idea. But..."
"But Elder Myringa's—look!” Miska pointed to the base of the nearest horn. The chevrals tried to back away, whickering and clattering against the cart. “Dried blood! What happened to make their horns like that?"
"The Honorable Lady Myringa"—Juliar's voice dripped scorn—"told Vedi Sharanis once that the horns are set to grow that way when the chevrals are young kids. ‘Quite gentle and painless,’ she said."
"Like the Monk's Trees in the Eastern Islands,” offered Lindi. “They wrap the branches with wire to make them grow a certain way."
"But these are grown up, and there is still blood. And they're frightened.” Miska slowly approached the restless creatures, making gentle hushing sounds.
Lindi also took a cautious step toward the shying animals. “Poor things.” She reached out her hand.
"Careful,” Juliar warned. “They can bite...” But the closest chevral stretched its neck and lipped gently at Lindi's fingers. “Well, I'll be struck! You've got quite a touch, Miss Salera."
"Lindi. Just Lindi.” She stroked the chevral's velvet nose. “Aren't you a dear? Yes, and you too.” The second chevral, attracted by its mate's ecstatic nuzzlings, thrust its own nose forward. While they were distracted, Miska slipped across the Border and soothed the raw wounds around the twisted horns.
"Children! What are you doing?” The indignant voice reverberated through both worlds. Quickly raising her hood, Miska hastened back to the Solid World, into a rose-scented, smothering cloud. Even in this warming weather, Lady Myringa was as draped and layered as ever. She still wore her indigo mourning band and veil.
"Lady Myringa! The Ladies’ Blessings on you.” Juliar stepped into the breach, in full diplomatic mode. “We were just admiring your beautiful animals."
"That may be, but you shouldn't just march up and handle someone else's beasts like that. Especially these. Vicious brutes.” The “vicious brutes,” eyes rolling, shied away.
"They've responded very well to gentle treatment,” said Juliar mildly.
"Would they have been treated any other way?” The voice behind the veil took on a harsh edge.
"There was blood!” Miska protested. Myringa's hidden face turned toward her.
"Where ... Have we met? Who are you, Sweetheart?” Her voice became soft, coaxing.
"The Temple's newest acolyte,” Juliar interposed. “She's supposed to be under a vow of silence, but she isn't quite accustomed to it yet. It would be most charitable of you to overlook her ... indiscretion."
"A vow of silence? Things certainly have changed since I was an acolyte."
"You served the Temple, Lady Myringa?” Juliar, though still polite, sounded skeptical. “I've never seen you wearing the Silver Flame."
"For a year. I left when my dear Thanli died. It's not as though I were bound to service, of course.” Juliar's knuckles whitened on the head of his stick, but Lady Myringa paid no attention. “We never took a vow of silence, although we certainly dressed more soberly.” She moved still closer. Miska's breath tightened in her throat. “Blue uniforms? And green cloaks? Take off that hood, child. Let me see..."
Before Miska could move, someone else thudded into them both. Lady Myringa shrieked.
"Are you hurt, Lady Myringa?” said Lindi.
Miska caught her balance. Lindi was steadying Lady Myringa by the elbow, her gentle face filled with concern. Juliar had run a few yards after the offender before his bad leg protested and was now heading slowly back to them, leaning heavily on his lion-headed stick. His face was grim.
"Are you all right, Miska?"
"Yes. Did you see who did that? I just know they were big, and hairy-faced. And clumsy.” Miska laughed ruefully. “They stepped on my foot."
"And dressed in gray.” Juliar glanced toward Lady Myringa. Lindi was fussing over her as though she were the older woman's nurse. Passers-by stared at them briefly and moved on. “I think it was a Steel Thorn,” he said softly. Lady Myringa looked up.
"A steel thorn? Is that what this is?” she asked, sounding puzzled. “It got caught in my shawl."
As the others watched, horrified. Myringa fumbled through the folds of pink wool and brought out a gleaming metal sliver.
"Be careful!” cried Lindi.
"Don't touch it,” Juliar warned.
"Give it to me. Carefully.” Miska held out her hand.
"It's not something a little girl should play with.” Lady Myringa shook her veiled head. “Oh my, I feel quite dizzy."
She hardly sounded dizzy to Miska. Even whispering, Lady Myringa's voce reverberated through her head.
"Here's a bench. Sit down, ma'am.” While Juliar helped Myringa to her seat, Miska took her other hand, palmed the Thorn, and hid it in her own pocket.
"Did it stick you?” Lindi asked. “How do you feel?"
"Perfectly fine.” Myringa shrugged her off, seeming more impatient than afraid now.
"You should go to the Temple, and have Nurse Dannae make sure you're all right, Lady Myringa,” said Juliar. “If I let you go, and anything happens to you, it will be my responsibility."
"That won't be necessary.” Myringa heaved herself to her feet, adjusting her drapery.
"I could insist, by Temple authority."
"Are you always so impudent, young man?"
"Absolutely, ma'am. I'll settle for having Miska look at you, though.” Miska shot him an alarmed look, but he ignored her. “She's quite skilled in that regard, and I think we can waive her vow in this case. If you would remove your veil?"
For a frozen second, no one moved. Then Myringa sighed heavily.
"Estrellia is far too lenient with her servants. Very well, young man. Let the child practice on me. But remember, I'm in a hurry.” She sat back down and unfastened her veil. “Come here, Little One. Tell your friends I'm fine, so I can be on my way."
Miska studied her gravely, trying to remember how quickly Humans aged. She guessed Lady Myringa to be near the same age as Aldinan and Doria, but it was hard to be certain. Her hair, scraped back and strapped down with an indigo band, looked dyed with ink. Brownish powder blotched her sallow, doughy face. Harsh lines marked the sides of her mouth. She had the eyes of a wild creature; confused and frightened, yet angry at being cornered. All the same, Miska felt as though the Human woman were also studying her.
"Give me your hand, please, Eld ... Lady Myringa."
Lady Myringa extended one gloved hand. Miska hesitated.
"Miska will be better able to help you if you would remove your gloves, Lady Myringa,” Juliar prompted.
"A lady never removes her gloves in public, young man. If the child insists on testing her nursing skills on me, she may do it this way."
After assuring herself that there were no holes in the glove, Miska laid gentle fingers on Myringa's wrist. It felt cool, bu
t not icy as Lila's and Naneri's had. Her pulse beat steadily.
"Did the thorn stick you anywhere?” Miska watched the woman's face. Her breathing was normal. She didn't look in pain. She looked fascinated, watching Miska's every move with an intense, almost hungry curiosity.
"No, little nurse, it did not. Are you one of Dannae's pupils, little one?"
"No, El ... Ma'am.” Miska shifted uneasily. If she had been helping another Kankenni, or even Juliar or Lindi, she would have slipped into the Second World just to see positively that there was no thorn-poison in Lady Myringa's blood. But to cross so near the crowded marketplace, under Lady Myringa's scrutiny, was unthinkable.
"You seem well to me, ma'am. But perhaps you should go to the Temple and have Nurse Dannae see for certain."
"You're a fine little nurse,” Lady Myringa replied. “And a Temple Orphan? Tsk-tsk.” Myringa shook her head. “Perhaps you should come home with me."
Miska stiffened. Juliar stepped in front of her.
"Miska is not a Temple Orphan, Lady Myringa."
Lady Myringa turned slowly in his direction. “You did say she was an Acolyte, young man."
Juliar returned her gaze. “She's not looking to be adopted, Lady Myringa."
Myringa smiled a thin smile. “I'll speak to your mistress about that. Now, if you'll excuse me, people are staring.” She retied her veil, bowed stiffly to them all, unhitched her balking chevrals, and drove away.
"Why did you make me do that, Juliar?” Miska moved into the shadow of the hitching-rack, away from passing stares. “You said I was ‘easy to spot,’ but you had crowds of people looking at us. And you lied.” She shuddered. “Lady Myringa stared horribly at me. Vedi Sharanis won't let her ... take me, will she?"
"She can't!” Lindi took hold of Miska's hand so suddenly that Miska jumped. “Aunt Doria and Uncle Aldi and I won't let her."
Juliar stood clenching and unclenching his free hand. “I'm sorry, Miska. I should have let her go, poisoned needle or no.” He smiled sourly. “Don't worry. ‘My mistress’ wouldn't let that woman adopt a goldfish.” He turned and climbed into the driver's seat.
They rode a while in silence. Miska took the thorn from her pocket, sniffed it, then touched a dampened finger to it and licked the fingertip.
"Juliar?"
"Mm?"
"There's no poison on this thorn."
"None? I suppose they missed one. Lucky for Lady Myringa."
"Yes,” Miska said. “Juliar, how did you know?"
"Know what?"
That that man was a Steel Thorn, and not someone from the Temple?"
"I don't know. But I didn't recognize him, for one. The Temple has as few men as the Majestra's Circle—maybe less. And I saw him talking to that other fellow earlier—the one I was writing a letter for when you two left. Did you see how he looked at you, Miska? I meant to follow him, but while I was putting his letter in the mailbag, Kimo ... dropped in."
"What did the letter say?” Lindi prodded.
"I forget ... Something like ‘I'll bring it to the Citadel.'” Wherever that is. It could've meant anything.” Juliar snapped the reins, and the chevrals stepped more briskly. “I'll tell Vedi Sharanis what happened when I get back. After I take the two of you home."
"Take us home? We need to come back to the Temple with you!"
"Your aunt and uncle would be frantic, Miss Salera."
"Don't go all formal!” Lindi snapped. “That man tried to kill Lady Myringa. Miska and I have to be there when you tell Vedi Sharanis. We were witnesses."
Juliar sighed.
"If you saw Kimo, someone may have brought him to the Temple. Or that Steel Thorn...” She stopped short.
He brought the chevrals to a stop and looked at her.
"All right,” he said at last.
Chapter 9
Vedi Sharanis was waiting for them in the Prayer Room.
"Lady Myringa just left,” said the priestess sternly. “She was nearly in hysterics, Juliar. She said you told her to take off her clothes in the middle of the Market.” The sternness took on a note of disbelief.
"What?” Miska could see Juliar, dread-filled as he was, fighting to suppress a snort of laughter. “Vedi Sharanis, I only asked her to take off her glove. I never ... Oh, no, no, no...” He shook his head emphatically. “Lady Myringa just isn't my type."
"I could hardly credit it, myself.” A faint glimmer of amusement, quickly suppressed, flickered in the grim expression. “Just what did happen?"
They told her. Miska brought out the thorn, and Vedi Sharanis shook her head.
"Lady Myringa certainly seemed very healthy when she was here. She never mentioned the thorn."
"Is she going to take me to live with her?” Miska swallowed.
Vedi Sharanis shook her head. “She can't just walk off with a child. I'd need more reason than her whim before I'd let her adopt so much as a goldfish."
Juliar choked. Lindi giggled. Miska, relieved, only smiled.
Vedi Sharanis looked sidelong at them. She laid the fragment of metal on the altar and paused, thinking. “I'll bring it to the Citadel ... Are you certain that's all the note said, Juliar?"
Juliar rummaged through his writing materials, came up with a single sheet of paper, and spread it flat. “'I'll bring it to the Citadel at New Light,'” he read. “And addressed to ‘Ossifer'—what kind of name is that?"
"It means ‘bone holder',” answered Vedi Sharanis, looking puzzled. “There are some in the older, lower parts of the Temple—reliquaries of some of the first Daughters of the House."
"So now the late Daughters are having their mail forwarded?” queried Juliar innocently. At the High Priestess’ glare, he resumed reading. “'I'll bring it to the Citadel at New Light.’ Hm. He signed it with a triangle, it looks like. Or maybe a letter D. And I thought my handwriting was impossible!"
Lindi squinted at the body of the letter. “It is."
"Where is the Citadel at New Light?” Miska wanted to know.
Juliar shrugged. “I don't know where this citadel is, but New Light's a major Temple festival, a few weeks from now. Lots of fun.” Vedi Sharanis looked from Juliar to Miska, questioning. Juliar smiled at Miska. “That's another of those things everyone knows, by the way."
"Juliar, why is your hair damp?” Vedi Sharanis interrupted. “If this was another snowball fight, you certainly came off the worst this time."
"He saw my cousin!” Miska said.
"For about five seconds, before he knocked me cold,” Juliar clarified. “I don't like the way this whole thing is looking. He was there not too long after our friend with the sloppy handwriting left. Oh, Miska"—he rummaged through his pockets again and pulled out a crumb-spattered cloth—"I think I know what he was up to. Finishing off the remains of our lunch, it looks like."
"He always did like rolls. Has he come here, Vedi Sharanis?"
"No, Miska. I would have told you first of all, if he had.” She stood up. “Well. Juliar, you may take the young ladies home. Then go to see Nurse Dannae about that bump, and do as she directs you. For once."
Lindi giggled.
Juliar backed away. “I'm fine. Honestly! Miska did a marvelous job."
"Juliar! You practically dragged poor Lady Myringa into the infirmary,” Lindi chided him. “Now take your own medicine."
"It's not my medicine I'm worried about—it's Nurse Dannae's! Sweet little girls like Lila get stuff with honey in it. I get it straight, and bitter. She acts like the worse it tastes, the more good it does. And she'll keep me cooped up inside until New Light Day."
"She won't do that,” said Vedi Sharanis.
"Promise? Thank you, Vedi..."
"I'll do it myself. I won't have Temple servants getting mugged in the Market. You can practice your solo for the Festival. And if that's not enough, don't worry. I'll find work enough indoors to keep you busy."
"That's what I'm afraid of,” he muttered. “After you, ladies.” Assuming a look of hunched des
pair appropriate to a condemned felon, he bowed Miska and Lindi through the door and trudged out behind them.
Doria and Aldinan, of course, got only a carefully edited version of the day's events. That little bit was still enough to bring Doria's protective instincts to full alert. She forbade Lindi and Miska to leave the yard. No amount of pleading, wheedling, or cajoling would change her mind. Whenever Miska ventured anywhere near the gates, she found that a houseman in cream and blue livery had chosen just that moment to lean casually against the gatepost. The chunk of Impsbane still lay heavily in one of Miska's pockets. Strange suspicions about the wrinkly root had begun forming in Miska's mind, but she hardly dared think about them herself, let alone discuss them with Lindi.
To make matters worse, gossip was spreading. Every day Doria came back with another story: an Imp had stolen all of Gerun's cheeses while his back was turned ... An Imp had turned invisible and stolen all the cheeses right out from under Gerun's nose ... No, it was a dozen Imps, with eyes like hellfire and hands like claws ... Or maybe it was twenty Imps, and they'd stolen Gerun and his cheeses...
Miska listened to these stories with increasing disbelief.
"One foolish boy takes a cheese—yes, it was very wrong, but now they talk as though he were a horde of pit-bogies out of a child's nightmare. Yet no one can find him!"
"Because they're looking for pit bogies, not a little boy,” Aldinan commented.
"But, Elder Aldinan, they aren't thinking! And Humans are dangerous, when they don't think. You weren't there when the Humans in the Market thought I was a thief.” Miska grimaced at the memory. “If Juliar hadn't come along ... Well, I don't know what they'd have done, but they're even less calm now. And this boy is likely to make them even more upset, I'm afraid.” She imagined Kimo, frightened and furious, pinioned in Gerun's beefy hands, and shuddered.
"It will blow over, Miska,” Doria assured her. “People like to talk, and get all worked up over nothing. But it's only one little incident."
Until Kimo gets hungry again, Miska thought.
"Just stay out of sight for a few days,” Doria went on. “Let people forget we've been looking for this boy. Not that we'll stop looking for him, but we'll do it quietly. Let things cool down."