A Muddle of Magic

by Alexandra Rushe

  “Someone has a key,” Raine said.

  “Obviously,” Gertie said. “Unless they’re wraiths and slipped through a crack.”

  Raine ignored the troll’s sarcasm. “And the other men? The ones who were captured?”

  “Dead,” Gertie said. “Turned black in the face and fell over before Gorne had time to question them.”

  “Poison,” Raven said. “We found the empty vials on them.”

  “Who hired them?” Mauric asked.

  “We don’t know for certain, but we suspect they were in Glonoff’s employ,” Raven said. “Their pockets were full of Shaddish gold, but they died before we could get the details.”

  “Glonoff, eh?” Mauric pulled a knife from his boot and fingered the blade. “I could have a go at the ambassador, if you like.”

  “Thank you, boy,” Gertie said, “but that’s a matter best left to the rowan.”

  Raven turned to Raine. “The attackers were Finlaran. I’d feel better if you were moved to a safer location. The enemy is among us, and this tower is too remote.”

  “I’m not worried,” Raine said. “Anyone who tries to harm me will have to get through you first.”

  Raven’s brows rose. “You expect me to sleep on stone for the duration of your stay?”

  “Of course not. I’ll have Drifa make you a pallet. If you’re nice, I may even give you a pillow.”

  “Brat.” Raven frowned in thought. “On second thought, Hedda may have done us a favor. True, you’ll be isolated here, but ʼtwill be easier to keep an eye on you than in a busier part of the fast. I’ll speak to my father, and have an extra patrol placed in the halls.” He turned to Mauric. “She is not to step foot outside this chamber alone. You, Gertie, Bree, and I will take turns standing watch outside her door. Only those we trust can stand guard.”

  Sudden, unreasoning anger swept over Raine. Damn Glonoff. Would she never be free of his shadow?

  “No.” She pushed her chair back with a loud scrape and rose to her feet. “I won’t be made a prisoner.”

  “Tro, Rainey, no need to fly into a temper,” Mauric said. “We’re trying to keep you safe.”

  “I know, and I appreciate your concern, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that there are no guarantees. I can’t—I won’t—”

  Raine’s hand crept to the wizard stone at her throat. They didn’t understand. They couldn’t. She’d been trapped by illness for years on end, bound to her bed by her failing body. She hated being confined. The walls of the room shimmered and closed around her. She couldn’t breathe. Air, she needed air. She had to get away.

  Morven? Flame’s voice sounded in her head, full of concern.

  Raine reached for him without conscious thought. Her limbs stretched and thinned like taffy, and she dematerialized in a shower of sparks.

  Chapter 12

  Hidden Talents

  Raine materialized in the yard of the old mews and landed in a puddle of slush. An icy wind whipped the folds of her robe around her legs. She pulled the garment tight and looked around. Snow sparkled on the stable roof and on the house tops marching in orderly rows down the mountain. The city was awake; wood smoke curled from chimneys, smudging the face of the sky, and the faint cries of vendors hawking their wares drifted uphill.

  A wagon clattered down the road toward town. Gurnst held the reins and Chaz sat beside him.

  “Morning, Raine,” Chaz shouted, waving madly. “I washed last night. No more goat!”

  The wagon rounded a curve and disappeared. Raine floundered across the snowy yard, tugged open one of the stable doors, and slipped inside. The building was warm and smelled of fresh hay and the faint, sulfurous odor of dragon.

  She started down the wide central aisle in search of Flame, halting in surprise when a unicorn stuck its head out of a stall. The creature was glowing white, with the body of a horse, a long goat-shaped head, and a flowing beard.

  “Good morrow.” The unicorn’s voice was a deep, fusty baritone. He eyed her curiously. “I am Gowyr.”

  “Good morrow, Gowyr,” Raine said politely. “I’m Raine. I don’t recall seeing you last night.”

  Gowyr dipped his spiraled horn. “I arrived but this morning, following an unpropitious encounter with a stone fairy.”

  “Stone fairy?”

  “Poisonous creatures,” the unicorn said. “No more real fairies than a rock troll is truly a troll. Stone fairies and such ilk were the last monsters created by Kron.” Gowyr rolled a limpid, blue eye at her. “Couldn’t bear to let the divine spark go to waste, I daresay. He made the remnants from the dross, you know.”

  “You mean, they’re leftovers?”

  “Hmm,” said Gowyr. “An interesting way to put it. Crude, but interesting.”

  “So, stone fairies are like goggins?”

  “Noooo,” Gowyr whinnied. “Goggins are abominations, sprung from the dark recesses of Magog’s twisted mind. Stone fairies and rock trolls and the rest of the remnants are proper monsters.” He sniffed. “Just not First Made.”

  “I see,” Raine murmured, thinking the unicorn a terrible snob. “And you had a fight with a stone fairy?”

  “Y-e-e-s-s,” Gowyr nickered. “I stopped at a brook to quench my thirst and found the little slag diving for minnows. ‘Away with you,’ I told him, ‘and cease befouling the stream, so your betters may drink.’ The vicious gnat attacked me. Can you believe it?”

  “You insulted him,” Raine said, “and he was there before you.”

  “It matters not. I am First Made and had precedence. Kron shall hear of this insolence, depend upon it. First, however, I had to see to my wound. I hobbled to the Citadel and found Clegg. He’s a good man with a poultice. Acquired the trade from his father, who was trained by Glogathgorag herself.” Gowyr snuffled. “A dab at herblore, the old troll, and generous with her craft. Through the years, she’s trained others in the ways of healing, including Clegg, on condition that any creature of Udom may find succor here.”

  “Including stone fairies and rock trolls?”

  “Certainly not.” Gowyr nickered. “The dross keep to themselves, as they should.”

  “I see.” Raine eased away from the stall, anxious to make her escape. “If you’ll excuse me, I must be going.”

  “If you’re looking for the dragon, he’s in the back. Roasting something, I believe.”

  “Roasting something?”

  Raine felt a stab of alarm. Flame had been kidding this morning about eating Clegg…hadn’t he?

  Whirling, she ran the length of the stable and pushed open the heavy door at the far end. Behind the stable was a spacious enclosed yard. Her wild gaze scanned the corral and found Clegg. The burly stablemaster stood in one corner of the yard, alive and unroasted, repairing a bit of broken bridle. Her shoulders sagged in relief.

  Clegg paused in his work to gape at her. “Milady, you’re here?”

  “Good morning. I…um…popped in to see about Flame.”

  “In your night things? ʼTisn’t seemly.” Clegg whistled sharply, and a stable hand poked his head from the hay loft.

  “Master?” the young man said.

  “Trot up to the fast and have a carriage brought down for the lady.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  The stable hand disappeared.

  “Steady, Flame. You don’t want to burn ’em.”

  Startled, Raine turned at the sound of the familiar voice. Chaz and Flame were across the yard. The dragon was on his back, his tender underbelly exposed, and his wings tucked close to his body. His barbed tail made lazy patterns in the snow, and a narrow jet of flame issued from his steely jaws. Chaz was roasting apples on a stick over the fiery stream. One of the apples on Chaz’s spit sagged and plopped into Flame’s maw.

  “That’s it. They’re done.” Chaz plucked the remaining apples off
the stick and tossed them into a snowbank. The hot fruit hissed and steamed when it hit the icy crystals. “Morning, Rainey,” he said, waving at her. “Want a roasted apple?”

  “Chaz?” Raine stared at him in astonishment. “You’re here.”

  Clegg cleared his throat. “Been at it since first light, milady. Eaten the better part of a bin o’ apples betwixt the two of them. ʼSpect they’ll have the runs later, and I’ll be cleaning up apples of a different sort, if you take my meaning.”

  Raine nodded absently and picked her way across the mushy ground to Chaz. “I don’t understand,” she said to the boy. “I saw you not five minutes ago on the wagon with Gurnst.”

  Chaz threw a half-eaten apple over his shoulder. “Aye, Gurnst was going to market, and I wanted to go with him.”

  “But, Chaz, you can’t be in two places at once. That’s not possible.”

  “It’s not?”

  Raine glanced over her shoulder at Clegg. The big man was frowning at them. “Okay, maybe it is possible,” she said, lowering her voice. “You can split yourself?”

  “Sure, it’s easy. Flame was lonely, so I came to see him, and I sent the other with Gurnst.”

  “The other?”

  “The other Chaz. Sometimes, when I’m angry or grouchy, I give him my bad moods.”

  “That’s a handy trick.” Raine laid the back of her fingers on Chaz’s forehead. “Does it hurt?”

  Chaz pushed her hand away. “I’m fine, Rainey. Stop fretting.”

  “What’s he doing right now?” she asked. “Your shadow.”

  Chaz’s eyes went unfocused. “Gurnst has stopped at a booth to buy the other a slice of pie.” He inhaled. “Cherry, I think. It smells good.”

  “Pie, on top of a bin of apples? You’ll be sick.”

  “No, I won’t.” Chaz gave her an impish grin. “I’ll give the other the bellyache.”

  “Chaz, this ability of yours…it’s unusual.”

  “That’s nothing. Watch this.” Dropping the stick in his hand, Chaz ran at the dragon, his arms outspread. “Show her, Flame.”

  Flame rolled to his feet and took a deep breath.

  “Flame, no,” Raine cried.

  The dragon belched out a sheet of flame, engulfing the boy.

  Raine sat down in the snow and buried her face in her hands. Flame, oh, Flame. What have you done?

  Morven?

  Go away, Flame. Just go away.

  With the thump of heavy limbs and the slither of scales, Flame slunk out of the paddock and into the stable.

  Raine wrapped her arms around her head and rocked back and forth, sobbing uncontrollably. Chaz was gone. No one could survive such terrible heat. She felt a pat on her shoulder and raised her head, expecting to see the stablemaster.

  “Don’t cry, Rainey,” Chaz said, gazing down at her with an expression of concern. “I’m not hurt. Look.”

  The boy was hale and whole, not so much as a hair on his head singed.

  On the other side of the yard, the stablemaster made a strangled sound. Dropping the bridle in his hand, he fled into the barn after Flame.

  “What’s the matter with Clegg?” Chaz asked, watching the brawny man with a puzzled expression.

  Shivering with cold and reaction, Raine got to her feet, torn between the urge to shake the boy until his teeth rattled and the equally strong desire to snatch him close.

  She closed her eyes briefly and opened them again. “He’s afraid of you. You should be dead.”

  “But I’m not.”

  “Chaz, normal people don’t—can’t—replicate themselves or walk into dragon fire and live to tell about it. Clegg is a Finlar, and Finlars don’t approve of magic.”

  Chaz scowled. “That’s stupid. Clegg is good with animals. Really good. A unicorn came in this morning with a festered leg, and Clegg healed him in a trice. That’s a kind of magic.”

  “I agree. Their aversion to magic is illogical, but there you go.”

  Chaz ducked his head. “Tarin and the other lads aren’t speaking to me.”

  “Why? Did someone get hurt in the snow fight last night?”

  “No…not exactly.”

  “Then, what happened?”

  “When I got back to the courtyard, some of the boys were picking on Tarin.” Chaz kicked the soggy turf with the toe of his boot. “They were calling him names—kern and sea scrub and such—and throwing snowballs at him. Said we shouldn’t be friends, ʼcause I’m not a Finlar.”

  “Oh, dear,” Raine said. “That was unkind.”

  “That’s not all. Malcus—he’s a mean boy—called Raven a baseborn half-blood. He told Tarin he was a worthless jack-straw for sailing with him.” Chaz scowled. “That’s when I set the snow devil on them.”

  “The what?”

  “She has black hair and blue lips, and her eyes and mouth go sideways, like this.” Chaz demonstrated in a startling fashion, simultaneously stretching his mouth and eyes into a ghoulish mask. His face snapped back into place. “She lives to the north and feeds on lost sheep and travelers.”

  “I see.” Raine regarded the boy with increasing alarm. “How… How did you know the snow devil was there?”

  Chaz shrugged. “I dunno. I just did. The storm blew her out of the mountains and into a snowbank outside the fast. She was frightened and confused. I told her I’d help her get home, if she did me a favor.”

  “What sort of favor?”

  Chaz’s eyes gleamed. “She chased that bully Malcus and his friends all over the bailey. Nipped their arses and left ʼem smarting. It was grand.” His jubilation faded. “But now Tarin won’t talk to me. Why, Rainey? I don’t understand. The snow devil left him alone. I made sure of it.”

  Raine put her arms around him. “You know how the snow devil was frightened and confused?”

  “Yeah,” Chaz mumbled.

  “Tarin feels the same way. You confused him, but if he’s truly your friend, he’ll come around.” She wrinkled her nose, detecting the unmistakable aroma of unwashed boy. “Chazmas, you lied to me. You said you took a bath.”

  “I didn’t say I took a bath. The other did.”

  Raine pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. “Smarty pants. From now on, when I tell you to bathe, that means all of you must wash—however many there are of you. Understood?”

  “Yes, Rainey.”

  Remembering Mauric’s proviso of the night before, she added, “What’s more, you are to use soap.”

  “Yes, Rainey.”

  Raine tousled his hair. “That’s my boy. I think we’d better talk to Gertie and Bree about your little ‘adventures.’ If you’re not a wizard, I’ll eat my hat.” She gave him a sharp look. “That snow devil… You did send her home?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Thank goodness. She sounds horrible.”

  “She’s not so bad, once you get used to the stink,” Chaz said. “Remember that bag of rotten taters Dodd found in the galley? She smells like that, only worse.”

  “Delightful,” Raine said. “Let’s go into the stable. I hurt Flame’s feelings, and we need to smooth things over with Clegg.”

  “Don’t worry about Clegg,” Chaz said. “He’ll come around. Braxx and Gurnst were grumpy, too, at first, remember?”

  Raine laughed and linked arms with the boy. “I remember.”

  As they started across the yard, a hawk plunged out of the sky and landed at their feet, followed closely by a red swift. The birds shimmered and solidified, and the two wizards appeared, glowering at Raine.

  “Translocation, really?” Brefreton said in a thundering voice. “Your mouse has a crooked tail and you can’t manage a decent bird to save your life, but you do one of the most challenging bits of magic without a second thought, or instruction?”

  “Good morning to you,
too,” Raine said. “How did you know where to find me?”

  “We guessed,” Gertie said. “Where else would you go?”

  “I stopped by your chambers this morning to see how you fared, and found everyone in a lather,” Brefreton said. “Your maid fainted dead away when you vanished. Mauric had to throw water on her.”

  “Why?” Raine asked. “Was she on fire?”

  “Very funny.” Brefreton’s scowl deepened. “The chit was in a dither when she came to, moaning and wringing her hands. ‘Traipsing about in her nightie,’ she kept saying. ‘The queen will toss me out on my ear.’”

  “Poor Drifa,” Raine said. “First Mimsie shows up, and then I disappear.”

  “What?” Gertie said. “That infernal spook paid you a visit and you didn’t tell us?”

  “Because I knew how you’d react.” Raine sighed. “And I was right.”

  “Kron’s hammer, girl, we’re trying to keep you alive. What did the shade say?”

  “Doom and gloom,” Raine said. “Same old same old.”

  “Did she tell you the identity of the traitors, by any chance?”

  “No.”

  “Confirm that Glonoff was behind the plot?”

  “No,” Raine said again.

  Gertie growled impatiently. “Useless.” A brown wren darted up and fluttered around her head. “Stop that,” the troll snarled, slapping at the creature with a mammoth paw. “What do you want?”

  Glory materialized in the yard. “Is aught awry? I detected a strange disturbance.”

  “Raine translocated,” Brefreton said. “That sort of thing causes a ripple.”

  “Did she, indeed, and in her nightdress?” Glory said. “How odd.”

  Raine blushed. “I was upset. It just happened.”

  “That seems to be a frequent refrain with you, young lady.” Brefreton gave her a stern look. “You have got to learn self-control.”

  “Have done, Bree, and let’s get inside,” Gertie said. “The gal’s half frozen.” She cuffed Chaz lightly on the head. “You, too, boy, I expect.”

  “I never get hot or cold,” Chaz said. “I can even walk through dragon fire.”

  “You don’t say?” Gertie nudged Raine as they entered the warmth of the barn. “The boy in the habit of telling corkers, pet?”