Phoenix and Ashes em-4

by Mercedes Lackey

  People who actually are something don't need to make a show. No, it was more than that. Wasn't there a quote? "To—know you know nothing—is the beginning of wisdom?" she faltered.

  "And the wisest man does not claim wisdom for himself, though others may account him as wise," the Hermit said, gently, and with what she recognized with astonishment was true humility. "But that is not why you are here now. You will seek for wisdom your whole life long, little Fire-mage, and sometimes it will be through pain and trouble, and sometimes with joy and pleasure. You cannot cease from learning, especially you whose Element is Fire, for Fire changes all it touches, and everything it touches, changes. Fire is the transmuter of all. Earth becomes ash and glass, Water becomes vapor, Air is consumed. In alchemy, only through tempering and trial in the crucible, through Fire, can base become noble. Fire is a bad master, but a good servant, and for it to serve you, you must be more clever than it is."

  She nodded earnestly. Not that she was entirely comfortable with all this business of master and servant—but some of what she had read in her mother's notes had made it clear that while there were some Elementals who were, well, people, the vast majority of them were no brighter than a cat or a dog. But all of them had a dangerous side. Well, look at her Salamanders, for instance. Sweet-natured with her, but she'd seen them go after those nasty little gnomes, fierce as ferrets. And the Fire Elementals were terribly dangerous when they weren't controlled.

  Look what had happened in San Francisco in the United States, after that terrible earthquake.

  "So you aren't to grant me wisdom," she said, looking up at him, for he was very tall, even stooped over as he was, bowed with the weight of his knowledge and years. "Because obviously wisdom is only earned with experience, and I haven't got much."

  "But I can give you knowledge, and I have." He nodded at her, and to her astonishment, continued, "And you have shown yourself ready to proceed by admitting that you lack wisdom and knowledge both. Sometimes, little one, the answer is to give no answer. Sometimes it is better for the Fool to ask not, 'what is that cup?' but to say, with an open heart, 'I do not know, can you help me?' And now I am to take you to Justice, who marks the halfway point in your journey."

  She stared at him, unable to believe that she had passed his tests, had won her way to the next card. Surely not.

  But he was walking away, as if he fully expected her to follow. So follow she did, through the darkness that was illuminated only by his lantern, a thick darkness that closed in around them, until they came to another of those marble halls with classical pillars that seemed to be everywhere here. There he stood aside, and waited for her to go inside.

  "I'm not ready!" she exclaimed, feeling a rising panic.

  "No one ever is," he said, and—

  —to her immense relief, she woke.

  She realized instantly what had awakened her. It was the sound of voices, coming up through the floor. Alison and her daughters were back, and Carolyn and Lauralee's voices were unusually shrill with excitement.

  "I can't believe it!" Carolyn exclaimed. "A real weekend party and a real Society ball! Mother, how did you persuade her?"

  Good gad, what are they up to now?

  "I have my ways," Alison purred. By the sound of things, they must be in Lauralee's room, directly beneath Eleanor's. "I pointed out that Reggie certainly knew any number of officers who were on injured-leave, as well as being able to extend invitations to the pilots in training at Oxford, and suggested that a proper weekend party, the kind we all remember from before the war, could be just the thing to shake him out of his gloomy spirits. And of course, I used my influence on her." Alison laughed. "I must admit, the presence of the other guests has helped in this far past my expectations. I do believe that Lady Devlin has woken up to the fact that she's buried herself in that old place for two years, and that she misses polite society. One can hardly call her father either polite or society."

  Carolyn giggled. "If he'd been my father," she said boldly, "I'd have sent him packing months ago! I'm glad he's gone. And if Reggie marries me, I'm going to see to it that he stays where he belongs!"

  "Hmph," Lauralee replied. "If Reggie marries me and that horrible old man turns up, he just might climb into bed one night and find himself sharing it with kobolds. And if that doesn't frighten him into heart failure, I don't know what will. Better to find a way to be rid of him permanently, Carolyn; he has a fortune of his own, and his daughter will inherit all of it. Waste not, want not, I always say."

  "Don't bicker, girls," Alison said absently. "We need to plan for this weekend party carefully. The difficulty, however, is that we must go into London for several days if we are to get proper costumes for this occasion. It will be a fancy-dress ball, after all. Now, are you quite certain your magics are firmly in place on your rivals? We cannot afford any slippage."

  "Absolutely," Lauralee said, in a voice that allowed for no doubt. "Our spells are working flawlessly, and they are so subtle I doubt that anyone has noticed any changes in the other girls. No matter what they sound like to anyone else, the moment they are in Reggie's presence, they will be irritating. Their conversation will be inane, they'll talk too much, and their voices will be shrill. It isn't much of a change, just half an octave or so, but it does grate on his nerves."

  "Whereas we make sure to pitch our voices low when we speak to him," Carolyn said smugly. "We don't talk too much, we get him to talk about things he likes, and we try to be soothing. The contrast alone has endeared us to him."

  "Good. And after a week of nothing but high-pitched irritation around him, he will be all the happier to see you back," Alison said gaily. "Well, off to bed, girls! We have a journey to make in the morning!"

  The sound of footsteps below marked the departure of Carolyn and her mother from Lauralee's room. Now fully awake, Eleanor listened to the sounds of her stepsister preparing for bed in the room below.

  So they were going to be gone for a full week! She could scarcely believe her luck. A week without the extra chores, the extra laundry— there would be so much more she could get accomplished! If there was the slightest chance that she could get through all of the rest of the Major Arcana cards in their absence—

  Well, perhaps not all of them, but surely one each day wasn't too much to try for.

  She caught herself just in time. Just be glad you have the peace to work in, she told herself. Don't try to jump ahead of yourself.

  Still, she would have a week alone, and after that, this ball couldn't possibly take place terribly soon. She vaguely remembered what she knew about the big country weekends at the homes of the wealthy and titled. These things took time, a great deal of time, to organize. There were orders for food to be given, substitutions for things that couldn't be obtained would have to be made, rooms prepared, invitations sent. So while that was going on, everyone in this household would be distracted, too. Surely if Alison was now Lady Devlin's especial friend, her ladyship would ask Alison to help with the preparations. Even if not, there would be so much concentration on the weekend that no one would pay a lot of attention to Eleanor, especially if she kept herself quite quiet and unobtrusive.

  Perhaps the end of July would be the earliest that this weekend could take place. By then it was possible, just possible, that she would have enough understanding of magic and her Element to break free. She was coming nearer to it, she could sense it. She could see the bonds of Alison's spells now, and they were weakening. Like a prisoner rasping her bonds against the stone wall of her prison, she was wearing away at them. But she needed more power; she needed greater understanding of her Element, and the ability to call up an Elemental who would be more than a helpful little pet, or something that mostly would not offer advice, like the Salamanders.

  One step at a time, she warned herself. First, you have to learn, and you have to practice. Remember what the Hermit told you. Fire must respect you before it will serve with you. She would see how much time during the next week that S
arah could spare, and spend every free moment practicing, reading, and finding her way into the realm of the Tarot to learn still more.

  And somehow, keep Alison from finding out about any of it.

  July 11,1917

  Longacre Park, Warwickshire

  "My mother has gone insane," Reggie said flatly. "This business of holding a weekend and a fancy-dress ball is absolute folly." He stared across the breakfast table at Lady Virginia, daring her to disagree. Breakfast was, as usual at Longacre, a matter of helping one's self from the sideboard, so the only people present were himself, Lady Virginia, and the Brigadier.

  Lady Virginia sighed, and looked meditatively at a grilled tomato resting in lone splendor on her plate. "I would not put it quite so strongly, but for the most part, I admit I do find this plan of a weekend party and fancy-dress ball to be somewhat ill-advised."

  "Ill-advised?" He shook his head. "My lady, have you any idea how much work the staff is already doing? A staff that is adequate for a few visitors, but is seriously undermanned for something like this?" He'd been fielding plaintive pleas already, mostly from the cook and her staff, who were trying to find a way to provide four fancy dinners under rationing, not to mention the afternoon teas, the buffet breakfasts, and the luncheons for the guests who would be spending the entire weekend. He was going to have to do some foraging among the neighbors and his friends, and scour the home farms for produce.

  Fortunately, I have some contacts among the Yanks, who seem to be overburdened with provisions.

  He didn't want to think about what this weekend was going to mean in terms of being personally besieged by marriage-minded maidens and mamas. They'd be coming from miles around for the ball.

  Lady Virginia sighed. "Nevertheless, Reggie, I understand completely what is motivating her, and it is not entirely the urge to see you bound up in wedlock."

  He gritted his teeth, and studiously buttered a piece of dark toast. "Not—entirely, you say." The thought of fielding all those women made his head ache. Or maybe his head was aching because of the way his jaw was clenched. Nevertheless, it was not something he could contemplate quietly.

  The Brigadier, wisely, was keeping silent, pretending a polite deafness.

  "No." His godmother looked up at the ceiling for a moment, as if searching for inspiration in the intricately carved plaster. "I think she has finally gotten over your father's death. I think she has realized that the world still goes on outside the gates of Longacre Park. And I think this is her first, rather rash step towards rejoining that world. Your aunt and I have both been attempting to coax her back out of her retired state. I should hate to see this fail to come off; I fear it might send her back into seclusion again."

  Reggie stopped buttering his toast, and stared at Lady Virginia, struck dumb with first astonishment, then guilt. If that were true—

  He needed another opinion on this, quickly. He turned to the second of his breakfast companions. "Brigadier? What do you think? You've known Mater for as long as anyone; you should be some sort of judge here."

  The Brigadier, still erect, still fit, and still every inch the soldier despite his years and gray hair, coughed once, politely. "I wouldn't be so discourteous as to contradict a lady, but I also wouldn't even make an attempt at guessing what is going through any lady's mind, no matter how long I've known her. These are mysteries that a man dares to plumb at his peril." He raised one bushy eyebrow and nodded at Lady Virginia. "I leave that to the members of their own sex."

  Lady Virginia smiled slightly. "I never thought you were a coward, Brigadier."

  He lifted his hand to interrupt her—politely. "I was, in my time, considered a good strategist, my lady," he said, with a twinkle in his eye. "And a good strategist never attacks a fortified stronghold. Ever." He spread his empty hands in a gesture of conciliation. "Besides, I am at a disadvantage. My daughter-in-law and granddaughter will be invited for the ball. If they were to discover that I dared to be against it, however briefly, I will have to watch for arsenic in my brandy."

  Reggie swallowed his groan. If it was, indeed, the case that this was the sign his mother was ready to move back into her old circles again— then how could he possibly object to something that would get his mother to do what he had been praying she would ever since his father's untimely death? She couldn't keep trying to lock the world outside away. It wasn't healthy. She'd turn into a Miss Havisham if she weren't careful.

  But there was no denying the fact that this weekend party was a thinly disguised attempt to force him to make some sort of choice of fiancee and announce an engagement. If not announce an engagement and a wedding—at this point in the war there had been so many hasty marriages that virtually any young man who wanted or needed a special license could get one on a moment's notice. Not that he entirely blamed her on that score; he was the only heir, and he was going back to the Front when his leg healed—

  —when his mind healed—

  But dash it all, there wasn't one of these society fillies that he could stand being in the same room with for the course of a cardparty! How was he to tolerate one day in, day out, for the rest of his life?

  The mere thought took away his appetite, and he excused himself from the table, going out onto the terrace to stare unseeing down into the gardens. He had made some progress towards the goal that Lady Virginia had set for him; his shields were far more transparent now, and he had been making some small, tentative attempts at reading the currents of magic around him. As a result, he sensed it was her coming up behind him, long before she spoke.

  She stood beside him, looking out onto the vista that had cost his distant ancestor a pretty penny to produce. "Sometimes I wonder if you hate me, Reggie," she said, in a voice that sounded tired.

  He turned towards her with surprise. "Hate you? No! Why should I hate you?"

  "Because I tell you all the uncomfortable truths you would rather not hear. It's a privilege of age. But that doesn't make it less painful to hear them, I'm sure." She made a little, annoyed sound in the back of her throat. "Not that I'm going to stop telling them to you."

  "Not that I expect you to," he countered. He leaned on the marble balustrade and looked out into the garden. "Mater wants me married. She wants it with a desperation that frightens me. I don't want a wife, or a fiance, or anything like one. I won't insult you by claiming some noble motives, my lady, or pretending I want to spare some unknown girl grief when I go back to the Front; the simple fact is that I have not met one single young woman who would be 'suitable' in Mater's eyes who was not a dead bore, an empty-headed mannequin suited only for displaying expensive clothing, or—"

  He almost said, "Or a hard-eyed chit who would wait just long enough for me to get onto the train to the Channel-ferry before collecting her lovers to populate my house at my expense," but decided that discretion was the better part there. Besides, Lady Virginia would want to know who he was talking about, and he didn't want to tell her.

  "Or an opportunist more interested in my title and social connections than myself," he concluded, instead.

  "Ah," said her ladyship, nodding wisely. "The Robinson girls."

  "Among others." He laughed without humor. "They aren't the only ones by a stretch, but they are the most persistent at the moment. I think even their mother would be casting her cap at me, if she thought she could slip herself past Mater's eye."

  Lady Virginia sighed. "I almost wish she would try; it might shake your mother's friendship with the creature. I know this is unreasonable of me, and I know that I should be happy for her to have a friend— but there is something about that woman and her girls that puts my back up."

  Reggie knew what it was, even if Lady Virginia didn't. She would never admit it, never recognize it in herself, but Lady Virginia was a snob . . . the idea of someone whose money came from trade marrying into the aristocracy secretly outraged her. Well, it probably wouldn't outrage her if the girl was also a Master—but Mastery was another sort of aristocracy.


  Or perhaps, as long as it's someone else's blue-blooded family, and not hers, nor that of her friends, it wouldn't matter so much.

  It was hardly her fault; it was the way she'd been raised. And he probably would not have noticed, if it hadn't been for that stupid not-quite-quarrel he'd had with Eleanor.

  He sighed. He missed those conversations. He missed her company, her wit, her intelligence, and how she was kind without making him feel as if he owed her something for her kindness. He'd been down to the meadow several times, but she'd never again appeared. Either he had offended her so much that she was shunning his company, or else his timing was so exquisitely bad that she thought he was avoiding her—and as a result she had stopped coming.

  Or else, and this was the likeliest, she was kept too busy for frivolous visits in the middle of the day to the meadow. It was summer, after all, and there were probably a thousand chores she was being made to do. Oh, it made him depressed to think about it, that fine, keen mind, shackled to some sort of menial work. It was like seeing a Derby winner hitched to a plow.

  If only he could do something for her without insulting her further.