Reese cleared his throat. “It’s getting late. I should bring you back to your rooms.” He stood up and nodded at Dada, who was watching him; the rest of them got up too, brushing themselves off.
“What were you two talking about?” Dale asked.
“The council,” Emeline said truthfully.
“Miserable, hateful group of people…” Fish muttered. “They all ought to be locked up.”
“It wasn’t always this way. For one thing, the Sapients didn’t attack the idea of magic so much,” Reese said wistfully. “They used to just focus on science and technology, which is more than worthy of pursuit. The Theurgists’ mistrust of all of that will actually hold us back, as a society. But ignoring the uses and dangers of magic will too.”
He looked up at the sky, where stars cut through the deep blackness. “I keep thinking that we need both philosophies.” He crushed up the last of the grass in his hands. “I don’t understand why one side has to be completely right and the other one completely wrong. But I’m not someone anyone of importance would listen to,” he added, sounding dispirited.
Emeline felt the truth of his words.
Perhaps she or Reese could bring something to the council room—like a recently watered plant. Then she wouldn’t have to decide now. She could make up her mind during the council herself whether to show her magic or not.
It was her decision. Something felt very right about that.
group of boys suddenly appeared among the dwindling market-goers. They were joking loudly and shoving one another roughly, dressed in holey trousers and dirty-looking shirts. As if their arrival were a signal, the stall keepers began to pack up.
“Let’s go,” Reese said, leading the villagers back toward the carriage. Emeline watched as the new arrivals overturned a stall, and laughed when the keeper yelled at them.
“Some of those boys need a good whipping,” Fish said, frowning at their antics.
Reese stiffened.
“They’d like it if you tried. They’re just poor, and angry about it.”
Fish went quiet at that, and Emeline glanced up at Reese’s face. He looked very tired, suddenly.
He took a roundabout way to avoid the crowd. A little girl screamed nearby, and Emeline looked up to see a woman hushing her.
“Your brother’s just trying to scare you!” the woman said. “You know there are no Dark Creatures here. There’re no woods in the city!”
Except for the King’s Grove. A cold breeze blew and she hugged herself. She and Reese were ahead of the others now.
“Reese,” she said softly. “Would you bring a plant to the council room? Just in case I decide to do it?”
He met her gaze, his eyes bright with concern. He nodded.
Then he said, “Here,” and pulled the little package from his belt that she’d noticed earlier. He handed it to her, looking away. “It’s getting colder. This might help keep you warm.” He sounded gruff, uncomfortable.
Astonished, she unwrapped the parcel and found a round woven cap folded up inside. It was a deep red that perfectly matched her cloak. Wish a rush of joy, she remembered how she’d told him that she liked these caps.
“Thank you!” she breathed, looking up.
But Reese had walked off already, striding down the road as if no one were following him. Her happiness faded into confusion. Was he embarrassed? Did he already regret giving it to her? She squeezed the soft cap tightly.
Then the boys caught up to her, and she hid the gift in her cloak pocket.
Before long, they were riding through cleaner, busier streets, lit by lantern-topped poles and the lights of carriages and bicycles. They were back to their rooms soon enough, where the two guards greeted them silently at their doors; Dada and Fish sighed heavily with relief.
Emeline tried to catch Reese’s eye as they thanked him several times and said good night, but he just smiled at the boys and drove away.
That night, in a restless sleep, she dreamed about Mama. She saw her the way Fish had described her, arriving in Equane as a girl, her bright blue eyes peering out from under her shock of black hair. She had more worldliness in a single glance than anyone in the village, but she liked it there—she loved it—and she made her decision.
Then, all at once, she swirled up into the sky like a column of colorful air. She danced among the clouds, faded into the stars. And she gazed down on Emeline lovingly…admiringly.
Yes, I have the magic too, Emeline thought in her dream. And I can make my own decisions.
* * *
“How come we have to eat here again?” Aladane asked at the Mother’s Milk in the morning. Quaith had sent a liveryman and fresh guards to take them to the café and then back to the council room. Emeline sat in her blue dress with the stars and the red cap from Reese, her heart hammering and her palms slick. She drank the bitter coffee because it warmed her up, but it made her even more jittery.
Of course, Dale had asked her where she’d gotten the cap, but Dada had surprised her by changing the subject: Someone gave it to her. Look at that bicycle, Dale, it seats three.
Was telling the king really the right thing to do? She could not even ask her father, because she knew he would stop her, for her own safety. But it felt wrong keeping it from him. She chewed on her lip and drank more coffee.
“We have to eat here because it’s free, remember?” Dale told Aladane.
An aproned girl arrived at the table at that moment and caught his words. She hooted and Emeline looked up in surprise.
“Nothing’s free here, honey,” she declared, drying her hands on her apron. Dada and Fish gave each other worried looks.
“We’re supposed to have the royal lodger breakfast,” Dada said politely, repeating Quaith’s words. The girl’s eyes widened and she looked them up and down incredulously.
“You’re a pack of villagers! Or else I’m a goose!” she exclaimed. Emeline’s face grew hot, but another server appeared then, the one who had witnessed Aladane’s coffee accident.
“You are a goose, Setta,” she hissed, pointing at the guards who were watching them. “They’re important lodgers. Go take the back table.” The other girl turned red and then scurried away.
“I’ll be right back,” the regular girl told them, and swept off toward the kitchen.
“A pack of villagers! What are we, wolves?” Fish grumbled.
“Well, she’s a goose,” Dale said, grinning. Aladane laughed at that and Emeline had to admire her brother for not being bothered by the girl’s words. How had Reese gotten used to this?
That afternoon, the liveryman returned and they were rushed to the King’s Hall. Outside the brilliant council room, a gardener stood holding a potted plant.
Emeline stared at it, her heart in her throat. It was a lady star, the red spiral-flower that Reese had identified at the market. She knew it was no coincidence that it was here. He had chosen it for her to use, if she decided to.
Then they were ushered inside, right next to Reese and Innish in their place near the doors. The servants were once again straightening seats and preparing the room for the council. Innish stared across the room, fingering the mysterious chain around his neck, lost in his thoughts.
Her hands shook, but her eyes met Reese’s and he smiled. There were shadows under his eyes, as if he hadn’t slept well. She colored up, remembering that she was wearing his cap.
“I feel like my true self when I’m around you,” he told Emeline suddenly, in a quiet, fierce voice. When he looked at her again, his eyes were on fire with a sweet, intense warmth she had never known before.
She took his large hand and held it tight, her heartbeat spiraling wonderfully out of control. It was so nice just to hold his hand, to feel the strong, warm fingers. She knew that others might be watching, but she didn’t care. She didn’t care if the king and the council saw them. Th
en Reese squeezed her hand and let it go.
She walked unsteadily to the seat that held her family, afraid to look at them. Dada glanced at her for an instant, then looked away. The boys were thankfully distracted, fascinated by the man with the recording machine, who sat behind them once again.
“Can you keep up if someone talks really fast?” Dale asked him. The man was very surprised that anyone was addressing him.
“Oh, yes,” he said, blinking. “I’ve been trained to. I’m very fast.”
“Did you have to learn at an academy?” Aladane asked.
“Oh no, my father taught me,” he said, amused. “He was the council transcriber before me.”
“Maybe that’s what we can do when we move here, Dale. I mean, unless you can’t be a village boy.”
Emeline cringed at his words, but the transcriber smiled kindly. He was younger than Dada, but old enough to have children of his own.
“You can be from anywhere for this job, son. You just have to learn fast and work hard,” he said, just as the bell announcing the arrival of the Sapients and Theurgists rang out.
The mirrored door opened to admit King Olvinde and his attendants. He seemed impatient, as if he were eager to get started, or perhaps eager to finish. He wore a blue suit this time, and his expression was sharp, his hands steady, even if he still had to be helped into his throne.
“Good morning,” he announced hoarsely. The transcriber cranked his machine and began to punch the keys. “Thank you for reassembling. I apologize for my hasty dismissal yesterday. I’ve taken a cure-all from the esteemed Doctor Nallor, however, and feel vastly improved.” As he spoke, he shot an amused look at his council, which erupted into bickering.
If the king was exercising his sense of humor, he was clearly in better spirits than yesterday, at least.
“Today I believe we will hear from the villagers, who did not travel this far in order to sit silently in my council room,” he declared, his gray eyes pinning Emeline in place. “I shall attempt to move things along more quickly. Which of you saw something in your village woods? Please rise.”
Dale gave Emeline an anxious look, and she was reminded all over again of the village meeting. It was strange how far they had come since then. She stood up, pulling her brother to his feet next to her.
“Please state your names.”
“Emeline and Dale Bird,” she said, a little shakily. King Olvinde nodded and then began to cough, gesturing for her to continue. “My brother, Dale, was playing by our moat in the village. It’s there to separate us from the woods, and no one crosses it. But he ran across a plank bridge, and I ran after him.” It felt easier than before to tell this part of the story. “Then we heard something rustling in the woods, and we saw a shape moving. It did look like it had a hood, just like the one Reese and I saw later—”
Emeline was interrupted by outright laughter from both sides of the council. Startled, she saw that the king’s eyebrows had shot up to his hairline.
“ ‘Reese and I’?” Helid echoed, incredulous. “Is she so familiar with this knight?”
Emeline felt herself reddening from her head to her feet. She had spoken without thinking, leaving off the “Sir.” She and her family had casually dropped his title altogether, without realizing it.
What does it matter if I say “Sir Reese” or not?
Reese cleared his throat and Emeline forced herself to look at him, afraid she had embarrassed him. He was scowling, but to her relief, it was at Helid.
“We’re not used to titles, Your Majesty. We don’t have them in Equane,” Dale spoke up. She stared at him, impressed. There was a snort or two from the council.
“Please, go on,” King Olvinde said, amused now. “What did you see?”
“It was kind of like a man in a hooded cloak, but it moved…weirdly, more like a snake,” Dale told him while Emeline kept her eyes on the floor, wishing she could just sit down again. Or perhaps even crawl underneath the benches. “And then Emeline grabbed a water lily from the canal and threw it,” he said proudly. “And the thing hissed! Then we ran away.”
Silence followed from the council, and the king’s intense gaze moved from Dale back to Emeline. His eyes seemed to bore right into her head, but she forced herself to meet them.
When he finally spoke, the king’s voice was filled with unexpected respect. “Young lady, am I to understand…” he asked slowly, “that twice you have fought these things with water?”
The words made no sense for a moment—she’d been expecting a rebuke. But then her heart leapt like a fish. He believes us! He must!
In no time at all, the council room was ringing with voices. “Your Majesty!” a Sapient shouted. “Surely you don’t believe this!”
“It must have been some wild animal!” another added.
“The knight saw the other one with his own eyes!” a Theurgist argued.
“No one has any proof!”
Dismayed, Emeline and Dale watched the council’s men and women wave their arms and shake their fists.
“Both times, water deterred it! What does that tell you?”
“It was in the dark! They don’t know what they saw!”
The king tilted his head to one side, listening wearily to the outburst before a coughing fit overtook him. Gradually, the council members noticed and fell silent.
Finally, he regarded Emeline and Dale once more. “You appear somewhat battered this morning,” he declared hoarsely. “Or do I imagine it?”
Emeline put a self-conscious hand up to her injured head and glanced at Dale, whose lip was swollen.
“We were in a carriage accident,” she told the king, anger rushing in suddenly at the memory. She cast a defiant look at the council. “We were in a carriage for hire with Innish and the driver wore a Sapient symbol. He parked the carriage in an odd place—”
“And then he left us!” Dale chimed in.
“Just in time for another carriage to crash into us,” Emeline finished sharply. “It was deliberate, Your Majesty. The carriage that struck us didn’t try to stop.”
Several Sapients glared back at her, but most appeared unconcerned, even amused. The Theurgists whispered excitedly to one another, which she found almost as loathsome as the Sapients’ nonchalance.
“I see.” King Olvinde’s voice was icy as he regarded his council members. “And where is this driver?” he demanded.
“Your Majesty,” Reese spoke up, “my guard and I have put out a notice with his description.”
The king succumbed to another attack, filling the room with his wracking cough. Then he clenched his fist and rasped, “Let us hear from the guard.”
All heads turned to Innish, who stood like a statue in the back of the room. He strode forward and stopped on a level with Emeline and Dale, bowing low.
“Did this carriage accident take place the way the young lady described it?” the king asked him, barely audible.
“Yes, Your Majesty, exactly,” Innish said, keeping his eyes on the king’s feet. He spoke in a deeper voice than usual, which was strange.
“Did you see the creature in the abandoned house as well?”
“No, Your Majesty. But I did see what it did to Loddril, the assassin. He was torn to shreds, just as Sir Reese said. A normal animal could not have done it.”
This was followed by sounds of disgust from the Sapients and exultation from the Theurgists.
King Olvinde studied him for a moment. “You strike me as rather familiar. How long have you served in the King’s Hall?
“For many years, Your Majesty.”
The king rubbed his eyes, nodding a dismissal. The guard spun and took up his place by the doors again. King Olvinde cast his weary gaze on Dada and Fish.
“And these men?” he asked. “Have they testimony as well?”
Dada and Fish frowned
at each other and then stood reluctantly. Dada put an arm around Emeline and Dale.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” he said. “My name is Wender Bird and this is Airn Fish. We went to investigate the spot where my children saw the Ithin in Equane, and can testify that something gave off a terrible smell.”
“Not just terrible, unnatural, Your Majesty,” Fish added. “So we came to report it.”
“And based on the two incidents, we’d like to ask that some forces be sent to protect our village. Guards or knights—whatever Your Majesty sees fit,” Dada said, and bowed his head. “There is something in our woods.”
The king studied him a moment as everyone waited in silence. He glanced at Aladane, the last one left on the bench.
“Aladane’s just a stowaway,” Dale told him. Emeline winced at his familiar tone and Aladane glowered, but Fish suddenly laughed. It was oddly loud in the quiet chamber.
King Olvinde cleared his throat, and then gestured impatiently for the villagers to sit down. They sat quickly, Emeline eyeing Reese. He was watching the king sharply as one of the blue-robed attendants produced an enameled vial and passed it to the ailing man. Emeline suspected this was medicine—real medicine.
The king took a long drink, then regarded everyone with weary eyes. “And so we’ve come to the difficult task of deciding what actions to take. Do I send investigators to this manor in the Cinderin Valley, or perhaps to this southern village? Let us discuss this in a civilized fashion.”
The king’s voice grew stronger as he addressed one of the Theurgists, a large, white-bearded man. “Grimdi, what say you, who recently returned from a similar journey?”
“Well, Your Majesty, there is no reason to assume the Ithin at the manor would still be there, but we could send a group to Equane.”
“But the evidence from the manor is much stronger!” a balding man said, the Theurgist who had been at the academy with Helid.
“We could examine the surrounding woodland in the Cinderin Valley,” Helid suggested.
Between the Water and the Woods Page 20