Between the Water and the Woods

by Simone Snaith

  “It’s electricity!” Dada said with a smile. “I’ve read about it, but I didn’t think we’d have it!”

  Fish grunted and squinted up at the ceiling. “That’s some kind of generator in the back, keeping it going,” he said, sounding reluctantly impressed. “I’d hate to have to repair that mess. Seems like a lot of trouble when you can just light a lantern.”

  “But you can just turn it on with this!” Dale reminded him, patting the crank-handle.

  Emeline looked at the room itself. There were two narrow beds in elaborate, silver-etched iron frames, two iron and silver dressers with mirrored doors, and one narrow table with matching chairs. The walls were darkly paneled in wood with framed paintings of unfamiliar land- and townscapes.

  There was also a large ticking clock with a pendulum underneath, a washroom door, and a large diamond-paned window with sheer curtains revealing only darkness beyond.

  She put her bundle of things down on one of the silver beds. “It’s beautiful here,” she breathed.

  “These are just guest rooms! Imagine the King’s Hall!” Aladane did a bizarre little dance that made Emeline laugh.

  Dale threw himself onto the bed while Aladane started opening the dressers. He pulled out several blue blankets and thick furry towels.

  “Put that back, Al, and Dale, don’t break that bed,” Dada said sharply. “I’m sure we’d have to pay for that.” He sat down next to Emeline and shook his head. “I wish your mama could see this.”

  “Well, I’m going to sleep in the other room where it’s nice and dark,” Fish said, yawning. No sooner had he spoken than the lights switched off and the room went black. Aladane yelped and knocked into something.

  “The crank unwound all the way,” Dale said. There was the sound of the handle turning again and the bulbs switched back on immediately.

  “It’s a good system. Saves the power,” Fish admitted, leaving.

  The washroom turned out to have a basin large enough to lie down in, and a large silver knob that twisted to run the water, not a pump handle. Emeline hung her worn dresses on the many wall hooks and sprayed them with a bottle of perfumed water that sat on a shelf. The tub water was hot, and there were loads of sweet-smelling soaps and soft towels, which altogether made her feel like she was melting.

  When she curled up in one of the soft beds, however, her thoughts flew back to her fears in the washhouse. She was sure Dada was turning restlessly, worried about tomorrow too. She imagined the Sapients and Theurgists would start shouting and arguing the moment Reese told them about the Ithin—all while she stood there with her burning secret.

  Aladane was right, though. Couldn’t her magic end this conflict that had become desperate and dangerous? Was it right not to tell anyone at all? Shouldn’t they find someone important to tell in private, someone neutral?

  Or maybe they had already done that by telling Reese. The idea soothed her a little.

  There wasn’t much time to figure things out anyway. The king was likely to simply thank them for their testimony and then send them away, especially now that Reese had seen the Ithin himself. He was a much more important witness. She knew they would be lucky if the king even agreed to investigate their woods.

  But he has to. He must.

  Out of nowhere, Emeline realized that she was eager to see Reese again, and she frowned at herself. An image of his smile and his eyes was interrupted by his stupid comment, Is that an Equanian look? She huffed and rolled over. Are bodice dresses coming back in style? The washhouse girl’s voice came back to her too. They’re so country village.

  She groaned inwardly. It was very possible that they would all look ridiculously rustic to the king and his council. All things considered, she knew it wasn’t the slightest bit important, but she still wished she had the time and money to buy clothes in an appropriate style, whatever that might be. Maybe it would up their odds of being listened to.

  But time was what they had least of all. She sighed and tried to will herself to sleep.

  stood looking through the sheer curtains at a patch of green grass and a bench painted deep red.

  “Morning, Em,” Dada said, giving her a thin smile. He did not look rested.

  “Dada, it’s a garden out there,” she said, her elbows on the windowsill. The sun was bright and clear, and she could see grass sectioned off by hedges. The sound of water trickled from a nearby fountain.

  “I hope we can restock somewhere,” Dada said, counting the few payts he had left. He was wearing his nice gray coat, and his hat was out on the table. “I don’t suppose they’ll feed us, and there’s only a bit of dried fish left.”

  “Will someone come get us?” she asked, turning around.

  “I imagine that Mister Quaith will. Wake your brother up.”

  Emeline looked at the clock on the wall just as it struck seven. Then she poked the two boys still huddled in the soft bed. Dale groaned and rolled over, but Aladane popped up like a rabbit.

  So much for “sleeping like the dead.”

  “Dale, get up! We’re in the capital!” He grabbed his friend by the shoulders and shook him.

  Emeline went to the room door and opened it a crack.

  The corridor was shaded by arches, but in the courtyard beyond, sunlight sparkled on the water spraying from a beautiful stone fountain. It was a statue of a young girl with outstretched arms pouring water into a basin; she was cracked and green with moss, but still lovely.

  Lush vines twisted along the edge of the basin, and Emeline’s heart skipped a beat.

  I should never show anyone, ever…But the pull was so strong. She almost vibrated with it.

  She looked around quickly. The courtyard was quiet, a big, silent square surrounded by empty rooms behind columns and arches. Hadn’t the boy who had taken their horses told them that they were the only guests?

  Dale and Aladane were bustling around and Dada was in the washroom, so she grabbed her cloak and slipped outside without saying anything. It was cold in the shade, but warm in the sun. The ground was tiled in large brown squares, smooth underfoot.

  Emeline walked out to the fountain, birds fluttering around it, twittering. She looked down into the gurgling water and saw that the basin was half-choked with vines and leaves. That familiar, shimmering sensation was already growing inside her.

  She reached out over the water and a tendril came up to meet her hand, curling and dripping in the sunshine. It was a sweet rush, a little thrill of magic that surged through her blood. It felt so natural.

  Carefully, she drew the vine up into the air, startling the birds, and twirled it slowly around one of the statue’s arms. It looked pretty there, like jewelry. She reached for another one.

  “Emeline! I saw that!” Aladane’s voice made her jump. The vine fell back into the water with a splash.

  The boys stood just beyond the corridor, staring out at her. Aladane’s mouth hung open, but Dale was grinning. She was lucky it was only them.

  “Maybe I can do it too!” Dale cried. He ran to join her at the fountain. “How do you do it? Show me!”

  “Shhhh! Quiet,” Emeline snapped. “Someone might walk by.”

  “How does it work?” he asked again, in a lower voice.

  “I just hold my hand out,” she said as Aladane joined them. She looked around them just to be sure, then called up a bit of vine through the water.

  Dale tried it for a moment, but nothing happened. His shoulders drooped.

  “How come you can do it but not me?”

  “I don’t know,” she said, feeling guilty. “Maybe you have to grow into it.”

  “Maybe only girls can do it,” Aladane said, and Dale frowned.

  “Do you think Mama could do it and we never knew?” he asked Emeline.

  “I think she could do other things,” she said seriously.

  Aladan
e looked up at the vine that she had twisted around the statue.

  “You should do them all like that. It looks good.”

  He sounded a little awed, and it made her laugh. She rose up another one and—

  “Em!” Dada’s strained voice spun her around. He and Fish were watching, stunned, from the corridor. She put her hands behind her back.

  Fish whistled. “I have to admit, Bird, that’s quite a trick.”

  Dada nodded, too overcome to speak. Then he crossed to the fountain and put a squeezing hand on Emeline’s shoulder.

  “That’s what you have to say, heart, if anyone else sees it,” he told her. “That it’s just a trick. Stage magic that you learned at home.” His face was so serious that it pained her, and she dropped her eyes to the ground. “But no one should see you do it, Emeline. Especially not here. Do you understand? Please tell me you understand.”

  “Yes,” she said quickly, her heart heavy. It was like being asked not to hum, not to smile, not to let her eyes sparkle. She would just have to avert her gaze from any fountain or stream they passed.

  Footsteps sounded on the tiles and everyone jumped. A tall, trim man was walking toward them, very dapper in a long black coat and striped blue-and-silver trousers. His graying brown hair was long and tied into a little knot at the back of his head. He stopped and nodded at them, giving no sign of having seen anything unusual.

  “I thought you might rise early,” he said pleasantly. “My name is Quaith, and I will be taking you to a café near the King’s Hall for breakfast. Whenever you’re ready, you may follow me.”

  “Thank you,” Dada said, sounding embarrassed. “But I’m afraid that we may not have enough money left.” Fish straightened his shoulders, as if refusing to be ashamed.

  Quaith smiled somewhat patronizingly. “Not to worry. It will be taken care of.”

  Hurrying back inside to get dressed, Emeline wondered if this was how the king treated all lowly subjects who thought they’d seen a Dark Creature, or if it had more to do with their association with Reese and Rellum Sapient. The latter seemed a lot more likely.

  Everyone else was ready, of course, so she threw on her blue dress and combed through her hair, checking herself frantically in the washroom mirror. She looked flushed, her hazel eyes shining bright. She hesitated with her bodice for a moment but buckled it on reluctantly; the dress underneath was completely shapeless, so she couldn’t imagine that it looked better that way. Frowning, she pulled her red cloak back on to hide her unstylish outfit, pulled the handle crank all the way around to click the lights off, and then ran back outside.

  The others were standing in a semicircle around Mister Quaith.

  “Where’s our wagon and horses?” Fish asked.

  “They’re in the lodger stable, safe and sound, and will be returned to you after your testimony is heard,” Quaith assured him. He spoke very clearly and with an air of importance. “I’m afraid I can’t guarantee that you will see His Majesty today, however, as he is very ill, and all appointments depend on his current state. But we will receive further instructions after breakfast.” Dada and Fish looked at each other in surprise as Quaith turned and led them out of the courtyard, walking briskly.

  As they followed, Aladane whispered eagerly to Dale. “Did you hear that? The longer we wait to see the king, the more time we have in the city! Maybe we can explore!”

  Emeline had thought the very same thing. Would they be allowed to, though? Or would they have to stay in their rooms, waiting?

  Quaith marched them up to a small vehicle waiting in the road. It was a very small steam-carriage, but it had no roof. The cushioned seats were open to the air and an empty driver’s seat perched low in the front.

  “All aboard,” he said with a smile. Dada stepped into the carriage uncertainly, the boys pushing their way in right after. Emeline sank into a soft padded seat while Fish squeezed his long legs in.

  With a loud rattling and several puffs of steam, they started forward. She held on to her seat nervously, but the carriage was very smooth—so smooth, in fact, that it glided along at an alarming pace. The sun shone warmly, but the wind was so chilly that Emeline was glad for her cloak; the end of the summer bit more deeply here than in Equane.

  Now they had the chance to really look at the buildings of the city. By daylight, they were beautiful. Made mostly of cracked, weathered stone, their large windows were framed with oversized shutters in a wonderful variety of colors and styles. Some shutters were carved to look like doors, others like animals, especially dogs; a few were even shaped into pairs of bird or butterfly wings, and one pair formed two halves of a golden sun. It was clear that many of them were very old—their bright paint was cracking—but Emeline admired them all.

  Most houses had dark tile roofs and chimneys, and most were fronted by small patches of grass, sometimes planted beautifully with flowers. The city as a whole was dotted with trees, but she noted that none of them were clustered together. It was always one tree alone.

  The streets on which they drove were quiet, but before long they turned a corner and came out onto a much wider road, where steam-carriages of all sizes puffed by. Here, a great many people walked along the avenues, and if the Blynians or Equanians had seemed varied in color, these people were a rainbow.

  There was no shouting or running here, no drunken laughter spilling into the air. The capital folk moved in a stately fashion, their outfits proving that Quaith’s blue-and-silver motley was a popular look. There were also one or two other men who wore their hair long and tied up in a knot.

  Quite a few people had guns at their belts, but their holsters looked rather elaborate, even from afar. There was also no end of layers and accessories, such as fitted caps, fine rings, beaded purses, and gloves, although it certainly wasn’t cold enough to require them.

  Some people even wore bells stitched onto a sleeve or a pant leg. They sent a faint jingling up into the air, which explained what Emeline had heard the night before. She also saw with surprise that several people wore spectacles with colored lenses.

  “Why does everyone have so much clutter on them?” Fish asked as they all stared openly at the city people.

  “Clutter?” Quaith asked, surprised.

  “It’s for decoration,” Emeline said, smiling and admiring the knit caps that she saw some girls wearing.

  “Look at those shoes!” Aladane exclaimed, pointing rudely at a man whose shoes curled up into a point in the front. Emeline slapped his hand down.

  “A whimsical new fashion,” Quaith said airily.

  “Don’t tell me their feet curl up like that inside,” Fish muttered, and Emeline laughed.

  Soon the houses had been left behind, and now there were shops, places to eat, and services for hire. Emeline squinted through the windows as they passed, catching glimpses of gowns on racks, books on shelves, furniture on display, and more. It was a whirlwind of things to buy, if you had money. She realized that the people here would probably be astonished to learn that Equanians didn’t even use money.

  “Is this a market?” Dada asked Quaith.

  “Oh, no, the market is much more crowded. These are just a few shops.”

  A tall spire in the sky caught Emeline’s attention as their carriage made another turn. It was a massive stone tower that vanished and reappeared among the dark-tiled rooftops and scattered trees.

  “That’s the tower over the King’s Hall,” Dada said, following her gaze.

  “You are correct,” Quaith said. “A most formidable keep.”

  “What’s a keep?” Dale asked.

  “Sort of a hideout for when there’s trouble,” Fish told him.

  Aladane looked doubtful. “It’s not very well hidden,” he said, and Quaith laughed.

  The tower loomed closer and closer, until Emeline could see that it was made of truly ancient gray stone. Narrow sl
its of windows were carved into the walls.

  Soon it was directly before them, set far back behind a high stone wall that stretched in either direction. Front and center in the wall was a pair of elaborate silver doors, nearly as tall as the arched gates at the city’s entrance.

  “Look!” Dale cried as a pair of Lash Knights rode past the carriage; city folk turned to watch them too, in obvious admiration. Emeline caught herself looking for Reese, but neither of the knights was tall enough, nor did they wear his circle symbol. Riding up to the silver doors, the knights cried out for entrance and were admitted; the gates gave a loud mechanical groan as they opened.

  “I didn’t know they had so much silver here,” Dada said, watching the doors close again.

  “Where does it all come from?” Dale asked.

  “His Majesty’s royal colors are blue and silver, so of course he has made great use of the silver mines. Here we are,” Quaith announced, stopping the little carriage in front of a low building. A sign out front read MOTHER’S MILK in painted, curly lettering. There were long, tall, square-paned windows in the front that revealed a handful of people sitting inside at tables. “The Mother’s Milk will be your kitchen while you are here.”

  “I’m starving,” Dale said as they all climbed out.

  “I hope they’ll feed us something we can keep down,” Fish said, under his breath.

  They followed Quaith into the plain, low-ceilinged café. Several aproned young women were hustling about, picking up plates, carrying drinks, and sweeping under tables. The oldest one approached when Quaith waved her over.

  “Please give them the royal lodger breakfast. Have the guards arrived?” he asked.

  The girl nodded, gesturing to two sturdy men who rose from a nearby table. Their clothing was like Innish’s—black caps and panels of leather armor. They nodded to Quaith respectfully.

  “Ah, here you are. I’ll be at the hall for a short while, and then I’ll come collect them,” he told the men. Then he left without another word.