Copper Ravens

by Jennifer Allis Provost

  “What is wolfram?” I interrupted. I had never heard of such a substance. “Metal used by wolves?” Micah smiled again, a bit wider this time.

  “No, love,” he replied, kissing my hair. “In the Mundane realm, you refer to it as tungsten.”

  “Tungsten,” I repeated. I wondered how many other metals went by stage names in the Otherworld. “Are there a lot of…of wolframs?”

  “Many of them, far more than can claim to be of gold, or silver or copper for that matter,” Micah replied. “Ferra was never picky in choosing her minions.”

  “Huh.” In the midst of wondering if a tungsten-wolfram Elemental looked, um, wolfish, I realized that Micah was looking at me expectantly. “I’m sorry. Go on.”

  “So the lesser metals joined with Ferra,” Micah continued, “as did other beings not of the Elements.” I remembered the pervading chill of the Iron Queen’s court, dark and dank and populated with the creatures of nightmares. Those lesser metals must have been pretty desperate to have their voices heard, to hang out with those monsters. “Once her army had been raised, Ferra invaded the Golden Court and beheaded Eurwynn herself. After seeing her beloved husband’s head rolling away from his body, Oriana was easily captured. Once the Gold King was dead, and the Gold Queen was bound in iron chains, Ferra became our queen.”

  “Shouldn’t the next rulers have been your parents?” I asked. Micah squeezed his eyes shut, his voice little more than a rasp when he answered.

  “My father died while I was still very young,” he said with the detached grief of one who could hardly remember the person he grieved for. “I am their only child.”

  “Then, your mother should have been the Silver Queen.”

  “She was killed,” Micah whispered. “We were caught unawares, just she and I, in the far orchard. My mother summoned the silverkin, but only a few were able to reach us in time. She ordered them to shield me, and then she drew the attackers away from me. That was the last time I saw her alive, heard her voice.” He went on to describe the protective cairn the silverkin had formed as a shield above him, how he had heard his mother’s cries, her killer’s laugh deep and terrifying, like boulders breaking in an avalanche. True to their orders, the silverkin hadn’t dispersed until they were certain that Micah was safe, and by then it was too late. Selene Silverstrand was dead.

  Micah went on, explaining that he had been so distraught that after he buried his mother he’d destroyed the family home, unable to bear so many memories. In his mother’s honor, he’d built a new house, the solid silver manor we now lived in, directly on top of the old. While he was drowning in his grief, the Elemental power struggle played out without him.

  “Oh, Micah,” I murmured, wrapping my arms around him. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It was war,” he mumbled. “Casualties happen in war. That is to be expected, but no one ever expects the ones they love to fall.” Micah tightened his arms around me, holding on to me as if I was a lifeline. I silently vowed to never, ever complain when he sent the silverkin to guard me. Maybe I’d start sending them to guard him.

  “Ironically, the strife in this world is what led to the Magic Wars in your world,” Micah said, his lips against my neck. “We couldn’t support your war mages, since we were so busy fighting amongst ourselves.”

  “And you were all alone,” I mumbled, remembering the first time Micah had brought me to his home. I’d found a lavish estate, so beautiful I’d had to squint to see it all, filled with luxuries I’d never imagined, and not a living soul in it, other than Micah.

  “Alone no more.” Micah shifted so he could see my face; now, his smile was genuine. “Now, I have my copper girl. Soon, our family will fill these halls, and we won’t be alone ever again.”

  I ignored the flutters in my belly and returned his smile. “Soon.”

  6

  Ashort time later, Micah departed for the latest Gathering of the Heavies, this time without his loyal consort. He was apologetic and reassured me yet again that once I was Lady Silverstrand, my burgeoning belly and I would be welcome at any and all functions.

  Great. So by the time people paid attention to me, I’d be fat.

  I stayed in bed for a while after he left, my hand resting on my flat stomach, wondering how much longer it would stay flat. I had no reason to not want a child with Micah; he was kind, and gentle, and loved me completely. And I loved him.

  And yet…A few short months ago, I was an office worker at Real Estate Evaluation Systems. I lived in a small apartment, ate only (okay, mostly) government sanctioned food, and avoided magic like the plague. I went so far as to dye my copper-colored hair dirt brown and wore long shirts to cover my mark, which manifested as a copper raven emblazoned across my lower back. It signified my Elemental status, and it also told whoever was looking that I’m a member of the Raven clan, one of the most powerful magical bloodlines in history. By so thoroughly hiding my heritage, I was, for all intents and purposes, living the life of a Mundane.

  Then Micah had appeared in my life—in my car, to be exact, while I was napping away my lunch hour—and everything had changed, almost immediately. In many ways, Micah wandering into my dream was the best thing that had ever happened to me, and many good things have happened since our first, somewhat scandalous, meeting. There was Micah, for one, the man who I loved more than I had ever thought possible. Together we freed my brother from the Institute for Elemental Research, a prison disguised as a medical/research facility.

  It still amazed me that Max had gone there willingly. I mean, his intentions were sound, being that he had only wanted to distract the Peacekeepers from Sadie, and he was following Dad’s instructions. However, when Dad told Max to keep the family safe at any cost, I don’t think he meant for his son to sacrifice himself for the greater good.

  Boys. So literal.

  I also learned that my lifelong best friend, Juliana H. Armstrong, was a government spy, and that my job at REES, which was actually run by Peacekeepers, not real estate moguls, was a carefully constructed maze in which I was the rat. And, just yesterday Max had informed me that Juliana’s uncle, Mike Armstrong, was some sort of mad scientist-politician, and that he had now decided to campaign for President of Pacifica.

  So, no, not only good things had happened.

  All these changes in just a few weeks…Was I a bad person for wanting things to just stay as they were for a little while?

  There was also my complete and utter lack of maternal instincts to contend with. When I had mentioned this deficit to Micah, he merely shrugged and assured me that motherhood was natural, as if the knowledge of how to care and feed a tiny person would magically appear inside my brain. This, coming from an only child who lived with metal servants. It’s not like he knew anything about parenting.

  I sighed and kicked my way free of the bedclothes. These ruminations were getting me nothing but a headache. Besides, Micah was so, um, attentive, I’d likely be pregnant soon enough anyway, and I’d yet to find an Otherworldly form of birth control. However, it wasn’t like I’d really looked…

  After I got dressed and asked Shep for the location of the nearest apothecary, I made my way downstairs. When I saw the heap of parcels in the atrium, I asked a nearby silverkin if Santa had arrived. He didn’t get the joke, but he did tell me that others of copper had begun sending me gifts.

  “For me?” I approached the heap, full of items in all sorts of shapes and sizes, wrapped in crisp brown and white papers, and secured with trailing vines in lieu of strings. A few were decorated with brightly colored flowers, and some of the larger ones had shiny copper baubles dangling from silky ribbons. “Why me?”

  The ’kin chittered away, informing me in his high-pitched cadence that the gifts had begun arriving yesterday, shortly after I’d been seen in the village with Max. That pixie must have had a pretty big mouth.

  Anyway, the news was that I had single-handedly held off the iron warrior; the fact that the pixie was the one who’d immobilized the br
ute was a little detail that the rumor mill had failed to mention. Well, since there was no current leader for those of copper, at least no one local, and I’d done such an awesome job of fighting off the enemy, others of my Element were now looking to me for guidance.

  “We can’t accept these!” My outburst scared the ’kin, whose only real fear was of displeasing me or Micah, and he scuttled off for reinforcements. Another heartbeat later, Shep was kneeling before me, proffering his shiny hide as penance for whatever offense had been committed. Once I’d calmed them down, and assured them that no one had done anything wrong, I attempted to reason with Shep.

  “Don’t you see?” I said. “They think I’m going to be their leader, but I’m not. I don’t lead anything.” Shep hung his head, so I crouched down to his level. “You didn’t do anything wrong when you accepted these, because you didn’t know. But if anyone else comes with a gift, can you explain—nicely—to the people that we can’t keep them?”

  The silverkin both nodded vigorously, excited to have a new task, and the three of us set about opening the parcels. Even though I fully intended to return these gifts, I was itching to see what was inside the cute, little packages. Most of the items were perishable, food and flowers and such, so I couldn’t really have sent them back to the givers. Well, that and the fact that I didn’t know who had given them to me in the first place. The Otherworld wasn’t big on using return addresses.

  The few nonperishable gifts were a sight to behold, comprising such varied items as candlesticks, jewelry, and ornate mirrors, all of highly polished copper. After we’d found the third such mirror, I asked Shep if it was customary to send gifts to one’s leader. To my utter horror, he replied that it was only done when two or more were vying for the position, and the gifts were used as a show of support.

  “Support against who?” I demanded. When Shep claimed that he didn’t know (though I’m not so sure I believed him), I yelped, “But I don’t want any support!” Who did these people think I wanted support against? Another of copper? Whoever that person was, they could have the job. I did not want it. The silverkin freaked at my outburst, but I calmed them down…again. After we had opened the bazillionth package, I left Shep and his flock to sort out the gifts on their own. As for me, I continued on my quest for breakfast. This “support the ruler” fiasco wasn’t going to get resolved any time soon, at least not before I talked to Micah, and I had other fish to fry. Before I got to the kitchens, I found Sadie in the parlor, sipping something warm from a delicate silver cup.

  “How do the silverkin manage espresso?” she murmured. I pictured the manor’s rustic kitchen with its large, open ovens and well-worn surfaces, and had to admit that I hadn’t the foggiest. “And the foamed milk?”

  “Magic?” I offered with a shrug. I took a seat beside her and was promptly presented with my own frothy concoction. Really, I didn’t care what steps were necessary to create cappuccinos in a medieval kitchen, so long as those steps worked.

  “And the muffins,” Sadie continued, now enamored of a basket of baked goods that had appeared alongside my cappuccino. Maybe the silverkin were really angels, sent to earth in order to watch over dry throats and empty bellies. “I never knew something this bready could be so delicious.”

  I laughed and recalled that Sadie had spent her last few years subsisting on school food, which was little more than cardboard compared to what I had been getting from the Promenade Market and Mom’s garden, and had likely forgotten what real food tasted like. It was amazing that she had been able to complete two-thirds of her master’s degree while eating only government rations.

  Sadie and I sat together for a while, sipping our drinks and talking about nothing, before I got up enough courage to ask, “Want to come to the village with me?”

  “I—” she began, then she clamped her mouth shut. She knew that I knew she didn’t have anything better to do. “What for?”

  “I need to hit the apothecary.”

  “For what? To replenish your cauldron?”

  “Something like that.” She pursed her lips and turned away. “Listen, I know it’s freaky out there, but you have to get used to it. It looks like we’re going to be here a while, and you’re the Inheritor. The Metal Inheritor. You can’t be seen as weak.” I left off the rest of my thought, that if Sadie was deemed incompetent, others of metal were likely to murder her, in the hopes that their own offspring would take her place. Her blanched face told me that she already knew that.

  “Just the apothecary?”

  “Just the apothecary.” I tossed back the rest of my cappuccino and stood, just as Shep appeared bearing our walking shoes. These silverkin do think of everything.

  Whispering Dell, the village, was located at the opposite end of the valley from the Silverstrand manor. It was a short enough walk, though I hadn’t planned on walking. Under Micah’s tutelage, I’d gotten pretty good at traveling along the vein of silver that runs the length of the dell, just underneath the grassy surface. The vein was how Max and I had gotten to the village and back yesterday, but since Sadie had never traveled by leaping from metal to metal, I didn’t even bring it up. I was just happy she’d agreed to set foot outside the manor.

  Gods, but I missed my car.

  Still, it was a lovely day and a lovely walk. I’d worried that Sadie would invent reasons to run back to the manor, such as a possibility of rain or a woodland creature looking her way in a menacing fashion, but she seemed to enjoy being out in the fresh air as much as I did. If only I could manage to repeat this experiment at a later date and enjoy similar results.

  She wasn’t even that weirded out once we arrived in the clearing before the village, though weirdness certainly abounded. The clearing was innocuous enough, though it bustled with people, Elemental and otherwise, going about their day. A harried woman who reminded me of the Old Woman in the Shoe was herding a group of young fauns toward the schoolhouse, without much success. Carts and deliverymen sped across the clearing, narrowly avoiding collisions. Off to the side, a hawker peddled cold drinks and parasols to shield our delicate skin from the sun. Being that I never managed to tan, I thought his stand was brilliant.

  Beyond the clearing were the village gates, the first official—well, for the village, anyway—station of weird. They were towering masses of organic, living silver, constantly twining together and apart, depending on whether or not you were allowed entry. Footmen stood on either side of the gates, clad in bright silver mail and armed to the teeth. While I’d never seen anyone be refused entry, I sure didn’t want to be on the business end of their spears.

  The footmen immediately recognized my oak leaf and acorn token and bowed. They frickin’ bowed! Sadie was as shocked as I was, but before I could stammer out a “hey, stand up straight!”-themed comment, a doorway swirled into being before us. Sadie eyed the silver walls dubiously but followed me through, anyway. Good for her. Once we’d passed the gate and she saw the village proper, her eyes nearly fell out of her head.

  As with most centers of habitation, there are good parts and bad parts of the Whispering Dell. Unlike most Mundane cities, these two halves are very easily discernible to the naked eye. To our right lay row upon row of brothels, badly-lit pubs, and more than a few criminals masquerading as magicians for hire. The entire path was swathed in a thick, palpable darkness akin to the dense smoke generated by burning soggy leaves, which was just as well. This wasn’t the sort of vista you wanted to see all that clearly.

  In stark, sunny contrast, the path that snaked to our left was carpeted in daisies and bluebells. No, really; as you walked along, inevitably crushing flowers as you meandered down the path, a lovely perfume rose up for your enjoyment. Birds sang, dew sparkled, and the street was lined with maidens seated before the shop fronts, combing out their shining tresses, while minstrels plucked away at their lutes. Truly, the left path seemed like a veritable heaven, and, to my jaded eyes, just a bit too perfect. Give me an honest thief over a simpering two-face any day.<
br />
  Having taken a good, long look at our options, my sweet, innocent sister asked, her voice wavering only a bit, about which way Max and I had gone yesterday. “To the right, of course,” I replied. And we were headed to the right today.

  “This must be the wrong way,” Sadie said, clutching my arm as I stepped toward the mass of smoky, stinky fog. “It has to be.”

  “Shep said that the apothecary was this way,” I said. “It’s just a few doors in.”

  “There isn’t one that way?” she asked, hopefully eyeing the path to the left.

  “Shep said that the one to the right has a better selection of herbs and stuff.” I tugged at her arm, but she remained rooted in place. “C’mon. We’ve come all this way. We’ll leave as soon as we’re done.”

  At that she relented, and we walked confidently into the darkness. Okay, I walked confidently; Sadie had her fingers wound so tightly around my arm I lost circulation.

  True to Shep’s directions, the apothecary was the fourth shop on the left, situated right along the main way. We stepped—well, I stepped, Sadie was dragged—inside the modest building, which hardly had space for the two of us. Once my eyes adjusted to the dim interior, I sucked in a breath at the towering heaps of clutter, then the coughing started. The place was blanketed in filth, and I’d just inhaled a vacuum’s worth of dust.

  Once my hacking subsided, and I could see again, I took a good look at all that junk. The shop was packed from floor to ceiling with jars containing murky liquids and dull-colored powders. From the rafters, various things, some animal, some vegetable, and some unidentifiable, were hung up to dry. In the space not occupied by hanging and jarred dead things, rolls of parchment and dusty, cracked leather tomes were stacked in teetering piles. In short, if Shep were to ever visit the apothecary, he would have his work cut out for him.