“Very nice! You are a magician yourself now.” Hirizjahkinis came forward from the entrance to the tower, smiling.
“Not exactly,” Nora said, pleased and abashed. “But Aruendiel’s been teaching me.”
“He did not tell me. How do you like him as a teacher? Very strict, is he not? Show me what you have learned.” Nora was dying to ask Hirizjahkinis about her escape from the Faitoren, but Hirizjahkinis looked at her with a calm expectancy that brooked no refusal. She watched gravely as Nora ran through her small repetoire of spells, and provided some useful guidance on the vexing candelabra problem. (“Why are you lighting each candle one by one? Try lighting them all at once—only the ones you want to burn—and leave the rest of them out.”)
She doesn’t really want to talk about the Faitoren, Nora thought suddenly. It seemed to her that, even in the soft light of the candles, Hirizjahkinis’s face looked grooved and tired, sadness tucked into the corners of her mouth. Should I say something? Nora wondered. Tell her I know what it’s like to be the Faitoren’s prisoner, to have Ilissa use your dreams and fears to make you her plaything? And then the kitchen door swung open: Mrs. Toristel with a pair of mutton chops on a plate, catching Nora’s eye in a way that meant there was something to be done in the kitchen.
By the time Nora came back, bringing ale and bread and a fierce solicitude for whatever Hirizjahkinis had endured, she found Aruendiel, Hirgus Ext, and Hirizjahkinis already seated. The sound of Hirizjahkinis’s laughter greeted her.
“—I think you are disappointed to see us alive, Aruendiel. We have ruined your plans for a war with Ilissa.”
Aruendiel did not smile. “I have stayed my attack,” he said, brows knotted, “as you asked. But not willingly. The Faitoren have repeatedly taken prisoners and broken treaty terms. They will continue to do so until they are punished for it.”
“You are probably right.” Hirizjahkinis leaned forward. With her arms stretched before her on the table, she looked like a small, proud lioness. “But you cannot wage war against Ilissa alone. Even you, Aruendiel! Your king in Semr is a little wiser than he was—he will not trust her so easily again—but he has no stomach to take up arms against the Faitoren. Not without good reason.” She smiled broadly. “And as you say, there is no reason now. The prisoners have freed themselves.”
Hirgus Ext the Shorn gave a rumble of assent. “While I objected very strongly to being deprived of liberty, I can’t say that the Faitoren mistreated us. No, they were quite civilized.” Aruendiel grunted malevolently, but Hirgus Ext continued to smile with imperturbable bonhomie. He was stout and, as his name indicated, completely bald, but he was evidently a man who elected to grow as much hair as possible on his chin if he could not grow it on his head. Gold and silver threads and a few jewels were woven into the graying strands of his long, pointed beard. He wore one earring shaped like the sun, another like the moon, and his blue velvet robe was embroidered in silver with a text in a language that was foreign to Nora, although it used the Ors alphabet. He was the first person that Nora had met in this world whom she would have identified unhesitatingly as a wizard even before she knew such beings really existed.
Nora put the ale and bread on the table and sat down next to Hirizjahkinis as inconspicuously as possible.
“I fail to understand,” Aruendiel said, “exactly why two experienced magic-workers would put themselves in the power of the Faitoren. Why they would abandon all good sense and visit the Faitoren realm in the first place.” His eyes rested on Hirizjahkinis.
“There were promises made, guarantees of safe conduct—” Hirgus began.
“And you believed them.”
“Oh, no. Give me credit for that much good sense, as you put it, Aruendiel,” Hirizjahkinis said with some passion. “I have heard you say it often enough—that the Faitoren cannot be trusted! And that is exactly what I told Hirgus when I met him at the inn in Foluks Port.”
Aruendiel raised his eyebrows. He looked genuinely shocked. “What were you doing in Foluks Port?”
“A dreadful place,” agreed Hirizjahkinis. “But I was not there by chance. I went there as a favor, let us call it, to your king.”
She glanced around the table as though challenging any of the others to turn their attention away, and seemed pleased by what she saw. “You remember that portrait spell you taught me, Aruendiel? I must thank you for it again—it made my time in Semr very profitable. Everyone wanted their pictures to speak! I was hired many, many times. One of the king’s ministers—ah, it doesn’t matter who!—summoned me to work the spell for him. And then he asked me afterward if I would undertake a different sort of job on behalf of the king.”
“Was it Falfn?” Aruendiel asked.
“It was a lord who had some heated words with the portrait of his mother,” Hirizjahkinis said. “But that is not important. He told me they had it on good authority that the emperor in Mirne Klep had been exchanging messages with the Faitoren for some months now.”
“Only one emissary every three years, they are allowed under the treaty,” Aruendiel said.
“Yes, well, we ought to have known that Ilissa would not stop at trying to charm only your Semran king. She wants to get out of her little prison very badly. But I am going ahead of my story.
“In Semr they knew the emperor and Ilissa were in communication, but they did not know exactly what sort of messages were going back and forth. Your king needs better spies in Mirne Klep, Aruendiel. They did know that the wizard Hirgus Ext had left Mirne Klep for a tour of the northern countries in the middle of autumn, an odd time to be heading north.
“The minister asked me to find out what I could about Hirgus’s mission.”
Hirgus held up a plump hand with an air of deprecating protest. “My dear friends, I hope there is no misunderstanding. I travel for pleasure and research only—and of course my conflagration coach is perfectly adapted for cold weather.”
“Hirgus, there is no misunderstanding at all,” Hirizjahkinis said, smiling at him fondly. “You were off to visit Ilissa about a silly toy that she had. And whether you were acting on a hint of the emperor’s or his command, it is the same thing.
“I found Hirgus at the Green Head in Foluks Port—that carriage is very easy to track, you know,” she went on before Aruendiel could say anything. “We had a long talk, Hirgus and I, and I told him very frankly that he was mad to go alone to the Faitoren kingdom. It was not so difficult to persuade him that I should go with him. He had heard about Bouragonr already.”
“I am always pleased to have your company, Madame Hirizjahkinis,” Hirgus said.
“But why would you go at all?” Nora asked urgently. Hirizjahkinis turned to her at once, her dark eyes dancing.
“I wanted to see what was afoot! Hirgus was very cagey. I did not find out until we arrived at Ilissa’s that he was seeking Voen’s Chalice. Yes—” She looked significantly at Aruendiel. “Voen’s Chalice.”
Aruendiel uttered a snort that sounded suspiciously like laughter.
Hirgus flushed slightly. He said: “The Chalice has a range of significant magical properties, all worthy of study. Poisoning one’s enemies, conveying invulnerability—”
“I’m quite aware of the legends surrounding the Chalice,” Aruendiel interrupted. “And it is part of the empire’s official coronation paraphernalia, is it not? Only the rightful emperor can drink from it, the day he’s crowned, and live. But it disappeared some years ago.”
Nora was beginning to catch on. “And the emperor would like to have it back? To prove that he’s the legitimate emperor?”
“Or to keep someone else from proving that he’s the emperor,” Hirizjahkinis said, shrugging a little under the Kavareen’s hide. “The Chalice was not always very selective.”
“In fact, the Chalice was a sham,” Aruendiel said, resting his chin on his hand. “There was almost nothing magical about it at all.” He sounded so certain that Nora almost asked how he knew, but Hirgus spoke first.
&n
bsp; “I must beg to differ with you, sir,” he said. “There is a long record, going back centuries, of the powers of the Chalice. When I heard that it had come into the hands of the Faitoren queen, and that she was willing to discuss parting with it, quite frankly I was beside myself with anticipation. The opportunity to study a unique magical artifact like the Chalice—” He shook his head as though overcome with emotion, and the sun-shaped earring flashed in the candlelight.
“So Ilissa tried to use the Chalice to bargain with the emperor,” Aruendiel said thoughtfully. “What did she want?”
“Her freedom,” Hirizjahkinis said at once. “She wanted Hirgus to lift the barriers around her kingdom. That was why the emperor sent a magic-worker.”
Aruendiel gave Hirgus a long look and the corners of his mouth twitched once, but he said only: “I see.”
“Of course,” Hirizjahkinis said slyly, “Ilissa’s Chalice was a fake. I mean, it was an imitation of the real fake, the original Chalice. She was not pleased when I told Hirgus so, in her presence. And neither was Hirgus, I believe.”
“Disappointed, dear lady! Disappointed beyond all measure. But I am grateful. The Faitoren magic can be quite convincing—up to a point, I mean.”
“You should be grateful to Hirizjahkinis,” Aruendiel said. “The emperor would have been even more disappointed with a false Chalice. I suppose it was really an old shoe or something of the sort, once you got the spell off, Hiriz?” He raised an eyebrow expectantly.
For the first time, Hirizjahkinis seemed chagrined, a ripple of hesitation flexing her wide mouth. Then she laughed. “Most of it came off, Aruendiel. Enough that we could all see that the Chalice wasn’t a chalice.”
Aruendiel began to look stormy again, and Nora remembered his scorn back in Semr, when Hirizjahkinis had turned Ilissa’s silencing spell into a large, gelatinous insect because she could find no other way to remove it from Nora’s throat. Well, Hirizjahkinis did get the damn thing out, Nora thought loyally; not everyone had spent years studying Faitoren magic. But she could tell exactly what Aruendiel was thinking now, because she was thinking the same thing: To go into Ilissa’s domain recklessly unprepared—knowing almost nothing about Faitoren magic—it was utter madness—
“So what precisely happened, when you got there?” Nora asked. “Ilissa wasn’t expecting you, was she?”
“No, but she was very gracious.” Hirizjahkinis seemed amused at the recollection. “She kept saying how happy she was to have the chance to get to know me better, after all this time. There was a splendid reception, and then we had a smaller dinner party—Ilissa, Raclin, Hirgus, and I. That was when she brought out the Chalice.”
“What possessed you to eat her food?” Aruendiel demanded. “It’s the easiest way for her to enchant you.”
“Oh, the whole place was awash in enchantments. There was no avoiding them. I thought, Well, I might as well enjoy it! We were hungry, and the food was delicious—although it is true, after we left I was starving.”
Aruendiel’s long, crooked nose had a pinched look, as though he had smelled something foul. Before he could say anything, Nora said swiftly: “Did Ilissa say anything about me?”
“Yes, indeed!” To her surprise, it was Hirgus who spoke. “Several of the Faitoren mentioned your spectacular departure. They regard it as very unsporting.” He chuckled a little.
“Ilissa called you a dear daughter-in-law,” Hirizjahkinis said, “and asked is there any chance you could be persuaded to return home. I said she is doing quite well where she is. And then Ilissa said that if any harm comes to you, she will take revenge on that criminal Aruendiel to the last drop of his black blood.”
“Thank you for bringing that message, Hiriz,” Aruendiel said. “Were there any others for me?”
“They were all in that vein. But truly, we did not spend that much time talking about you.” She laughed.
“What did you talk about?” Nora asked.
“The evening became a little awkward, once I pointed out that the chalice was not the Chalice. But Ilissa made things smooth again. She has very good manners—yes, she does, Aruendiel! She asked me to tell her something of my history, and she is a good listener. And then—” Hirizjahkinis cast a heavy-lidded, amused glance around the table. “I was back at home—my first home, before I went away to the temple, eating my mother’s guanish pudding, listening to my grandfather tell stories about sailing on the ocean when he was young. I mean, I was really there. Sister Moon, I haven’t had guanish pudding so good in years and years.”
“Illusions.” Aruendiel raised his hands as though he could wrestle some relief out of the air. “Fraud. She was tricking you.”
“Yes, of course, Aruendiel. I do know something about magic—I was quite aware I was being enchanted. But there was nothing to do but try to take some pleasure in it. After a while I was at the temple of the Holy Sister Night again, keeping vigil in the moonlight with my dear friend Janixiya. You know, you are not supposed to talk all night long. So we had to find other ways of passing the time.” A small, private smile played over Hirizjahkinis’s lips and then vanished. “It was a surprise to me—that Ilissa could do such good work.”
Aruendiel exploded: “Good work?”
Nora suddenly had a very clear recollection of the time, sophomore year of college, when Petra from her dorm told her about trying heroin with a new boyfriend: “And, Nora, it was heaven, it really was amazing.” Petra was doing fine, out of rehab for a couple of years now, Nora reminded herself.
“Then Janixiya disappeared, and I was back in Ilissa’s dining room,” Hirizjahkinis said, her tone still wry, controlled. “She and Hirgus were gone. I was alone with Raclin. He had not said much at dinner. He let Ilissa talk and talk. Now I asked him, ‘Where are the others?’”
“‘My mother is at work on your fat friend,’ Raclin said—I am sorry, Hirgus, but that is what he said. ‘And you’re at work on me?’ I asked him. He laughed and poured more wine for himself. ‘Not yet,’ he said.
“‘I didn’t have the pleasure of seeing you when your mother was in Semr this year,’ I said.
“That set him off, mentioning Semr. He ranted about you for a while, Aruendiel—I think he was not happy to be a statue, not happy at all—but mostly he wanted to complain about his mother. Yes, his mother! The mission to Semr was a waste of time, he said, just like her scheme to fool the emperor with the fake Chalice.
“‘She keeps coming up with these ridiculous plans that never work,’ he said. ‘And she pulls me into them, and she won’t listen when I tell her how stupid they are. Look at all those awful human women I had to marry—so that she could have an heir.’
“‘My sympathies are with those women,’ I told him.
“‘I know you met the last one, Nima, in Semr. Ilissa was so proud of finding her and fixing her up. When I saw her afterward, with the cripple, I couldn’t believe how ugly she was, her natural face.’”
Nora’s mouth fell open. “It’s not as though the Faitoren are so good-looking, under all that magic! Nima? He couldn’t remember my name?”
“Raclin’s observations are as degraded as he is,” Aruendiel said. He had been sitting absolutely still, withdrawn into a state of icy, looming disapproval. “Must we hear them all in such detail?”
“Nora, I hope it does not pain you too much?” Hirizjahkinis said.
“No, I’m glad Raclin has obviously—moved on.” She wasn’t sure if the idiom would translate, but Hirizjahkinis, at least, seemed to understand it.
“That’s what I thought, too,” Hirizjahkinis said, her eyes narrowing, “but when I said to Raclin, Oh, then you are done with her—and her name is Nora, by the way—he said no, not at all. Again, he started to rant. It was very tedious. I will spare you the details, but he is still angry at what he calls your insolence, the dishonor you have brought to him, and so forth.” She blew air out of her cheeks. “Like a little boy when someone takes away the kitten he was torturing.”
“Rig
ht,” Nora said, not entirely at ease with Hirizjahkinis’s simile. She thought she merited a full-grown cat, at least. “Well, I guess I’ll have to live with that.”
“What I saw very clearly”—Hirizjahkinis was addressing Aruendiel now, and her tone had crispened—“there is division between Ilissa and Raclin. They both want to escape—he told me how bored he is!—but he is impatient with her plots. He wants to act, to make war.”
Aruendiel stirred. “Ilissa has always kept him on a short leash.”
“He wants to break it.”
“Perhaps I should not have called off my attack.”
“It would be wiser to bring others into the fight first.” Her sudden laugh sounded forced. “Raclin will give you your provocation, if you wait. He is not subtle. Not subtle at all.”
Aruendiel said: “What did he do to you, Hiriz?”
She folded her arms on the table. “You remember that day at Nazling Putarj?” When he nodded, she looked from Nora to Hirgus. Her eyes were old. “That was the first time I met Aruendiel,” she told them. “It was after I had been thrown out of the temple. I was to be stoned, then fed to the lions. Punishment for my disobedience.”
“Raclin made you go back there,” Aruendiel said. His tone was neutral but each word seemed to be weighted with his full concentration.
“Yes,” said Hirizjakinis, smiling fiercely. “I could feel the ropes again. I could smell the lions in their pit. I was parched—the guards were supposed to give me water, but they forgot, or the high witch priestess wanted me to die of thirst as well as blows and bites.
“That day, I saw you in the crowd, Aruendiel, your strange white face in the middle of all the angry ones. Do you remember, you winked at me?”
Aruendiel cocked his head meditatively, as though to examine the past more closely. “I suppose I did.”
“I did not know what it meant, that wink, but I kept looking at you. I remember you came up to the very edge of the scaffold, as they started to throw the stones, and one of the guards tried to shove you back.
The Thinking Woman's Guide to Real Magic Page 39