The Smoke-Scented Girl

by Melissa McShane

  “Am I?” she said absently, prodding at her cheeks as if she thought the mask might come off.

  The words You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen froze behind Evon’s lips. He just nodded. “Piercy thinks so too. And when the spell is gone, you’ll look like yourself again.”

  “I feel so shallow, but now that I’ve seen this, removing that spell seems more urgent,” Kerensa said, stepping away from the mirror and grinning ruefully at Evon. She went back to the window and leaned on the sill. “Not really, but you know what I mean.”

  “I do. And I don’t think it’s shallow to want your life back, even if just in that small way.”

  “I want it back in every way, but I’m afraid to hope. I—” She stiffened. “Evon,” she said, her voice sounding strained, “Piercy’s coming. And he’s not alone.”

  Evon came to join her at the window. He was just in time to see Piercy pass out of sight below, headed toward the inn door. Behind him were five or six people, all wearing the plain black cloaks and wide-brimmed hats Evon associated with Home Defense. Their heads were constantly moving, as if assessing possible threats from any direction. One looked up and seemed to gaze directly at them; Evon resisted the urge to duck out of sight.

  “Sit down,” he told Kerensa, and cast epiria but not desini cucurri, so when moments later Piercy tapped at the door and then opened it, Kerensa sat demurely in the center of the room, wreathed in flying blue spell-ribbons that glowed with a light that burned the eyes of anyone who looked at it too long.

  Evon looked up from a page of notes, pencil in hand. “Piercy,” he said. “And these must be your colleagues.” His hand holding the pencil was shaking a little; he gripped the pencil tightly and willed the tremor to vanish.

  “Evon, may I make known to you Mr. Garaid Terantis,” Piercy said, inclining his head in the stranger’s direction. “Mr. Terantis, Evon Lorantis.”

  Mr. Terantis nodded at Evon, more curtly. “You’re too young,” he said. He was a broad, bulky man with a thick mustache that covered most of his mouth and neat black hair parted in the center and swept back over his ears. Under his cloak, he wore a black frock coat with a white shirtfront and black waistcoat from which hung a silver watch chain. His feet were enormous and seemed to take up most of the space between himself and Evon, vast black shoes whose shine was somewhat diminished by the filthy slush that covered the toes. He looked like a prosperous undertaker, and Evon was suddenly reminded of Odelia and her funereal garb. Behind him stood a man and a woman, both wearing black cloaks, the woman dressed in trousers like the man.

  “I have more than enough experience to handle this situation,” Evon replied, biting back a harsher response.

  Mr. Terantis glanced over the room, saw Kerensa, and in an instant his self-possession deserted him. “What the hell is that?” he shouted.

  “That, Mr. Terantis, is the spell Mr. Faranter and I were searching for,” Evon said calmly, though his stomach was in knots and his heart pounded as if trying to break free of his ribcage. “You can see it’s not like other spells. It—”

  “What the hell do I know about other spells? Mr. Faranter, this is not what we were led to expect. We’ll have to take her into custody immediately. Who knows what damage she might do?”

  Kerensa’s knuckles went white. Evon said, “She’s no danger to you, sir. The spell is dormant now and Miss Haylter has no conscious control over it, so she could not harm anyone even if she were minded to do so. Which I assure you she is not.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m afraid of,” Mr. Terantis said. He stepped closer to Kerensa, though not within arm’s reach of the spell-ribbons, and walked around her, examining her like a mare he thought he might buy. “She’s got no control over it, so who knows what it might do?”

  “Mr. Terantis, please stop talking about me as if I wasn’t here,” Kerensa said in a quiet but firm voice. “My name is Kerensa Haylter.”

  “Miss Haylter, I ought to arrest you for murder,” Mr. Terantis said, coming to a stop in front of her. “Ten incidents—eleven, now, I’ve just learned—and nearly forty dead. I’ve seen the remains of some of your victims. You expect me to believe that you’re not dangerous?”

  “Miss Haylter is a victim of the spell you see surrounding her,” Evon said. The dead look had returned to Kerensa’s eyes and he felt like beating the huge man senseless. “It is attached to her, but it acts of its own volition. She is in no way to blame for those deaths.”

  “So you say,” Mr. Terantis growled, turning on Evon. “I’ve never heard of a spell like that before. Far more likely she’s a magician who got some idea in her head about prosecuting her own justice and found a way to do it.” He spun back to face Kerensa. “Tell us how to work the spell, and you’ll go free, much as it pains me to let a murderess go unpunished.”

  “I didn’t do it,” Kerensa said, her voice dull. “I don’t know how it works. I can’t help you.”

  “You’d better change your mind before we have to change it for you.”

  “Don’t threaten her,” Evon began, and Piercy cut in with, “Mr. Terantis, I assure you Mr. Lorantis knows his business. If he says the spell is independent of Miss Haylter, he is speaking the truth.”

  Mr. Terantis waved his hand in the direction of the spell. “You expect me to believe something as damned unsettling as this isn’t dangerous? That she doesn’t have control over it? We need this spell, Faranter, and I didn’t come all this way to be told that’s not possible.”

  “If you would listen instead of tossing off threats,” Evon said, “I will explain everything I’ve learned about the spell. It’s certainly a weapon—”

  “Under no one’s hand!”

  “—as I said, it is a weapon, and I think if it is safely detached from Miss Haylter—”

  “Forget about that,” Mr. Terantis said. “We’ll take her back to Matra where our magicians can examine her.”

  “You are not taking her anywhere,” Evon shouted, “because if you interfere with the spell’s function, the results will be disastrous. Remember the second event? That’s what happens when Miss Haylter is prevented from following the spell’s direction. Do you really want that to happen in the center of Matra? Of your headquarters? You can’t be that foolish.”

  “Evon,” Piercy said, “I think—”

  “Don’t call me a fool, boy,” Mr. Terantis shouted back. “You think to threaten me? You’ve already said the spell is under no one’s control and now you pretend you know when it will strike? Abretis. Wylter. Find a way to get rid of these...things...and prepare to transport the girl.”

  “No,” Kerensa said, her voice firmer now. “I won’t go with you.”

  “Stay away from her,” Evon said, stepping in front of Kerensa and flexing his fingers. Frantically, he ran through spells in his mind, looking for something that might stop them without escalating this nightmare. Were they magicians? Surely not, or they’d have slapped him with desini cucurri or something more potent the second he moved. Abretis and Wylter both took a step and then halted, hands on the clearly not decorative blades at their hips. They eyed his hands as if assessing their chances at reaching him before he loosed a spell. Evon tried to look fiercely determined instead of filled with despair. Mr. Terantis had come with no intent to listen to him. In a moment he would realize that Evon couldn’t attack his people without committing treason, and he would take Kerensa back to Matra, and the Gods only knew what disaster would come of that.

  Footsteps sounded in the hall. “Garaid, the area is secure,” said a woman, and the next moment she came into view. She was in her mid-forties, a few years younger than Mr. Terantis, with graying brown hair and a square face with a prominent chin. Her blue eyes took in the situation in one glance, pausing briefly on Kerensa wreathed in blue, catching Evon’s eye and then moving on to rest on Mr. Terantis. “Stand down,” she said to Wylter and Abretis, who quickly stepped back all the way into the hall. “Garaid, is that the girl?”

&n
bsp; “You can see she’s dangerous,” Mr. Terantis said.

  “It’s not true,” Kerensa said, her voice trembling, but to Evon’s surprise with anger, not fear. “I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

  Mr. Terantis ignored her. “Get out of the way or I’ll charge you with treason,” he snarled at Evon.

  “The only danger she poses to you is if you try to take her back to the capital,” Evon said, not moving.

  “May I see?” the woman asked, and walked around Evon without waiting for his permission. He fell back, startled, and Mr. Terantis grabbed his arm and twisted it painfully behind his back and put a pistol to his side. Piercy said, “Don’t!” and moved toward Mr. Terantis, but hesitated when the man pressed the gun more firmly into Evon’s side.

  “Stop!” Kerensa leaped to her feet, a look of horror on her face. The spell-ribbons flew wildly about her body. The woman glanced at Mr. Terantis and Evon with no sign of agitation. “Let him go, Garaid, don’t turn this into something we can’t come back from,” she said. “Let him go,” she repeated when Mr. Terantis showed no sign of moving. Mr. Terantis stared her down for a moment, breathing heavily, then released Evon and shoved him away. Evon stumbled to his knees, caught his balance, and looked up at Kerensa. “It’s all right,” he said, though he wasn’t sure that was true. She reached out and helped him stand, gripping his hand tightly before releasing it to clasp her hands in front of her.

  “Mr. Faranter wasn’t clear on the details,” the woman said, “but I can see now that this spell defies easy description.” She turned to face Evon. “I’m Brenla Petelter,” she said, “deputy minister in the department of Home Defense. I take it you are Mr. Lorantis?”

  Evon nodded. “Miss Petelter—”

  “Mrs.,” Mrs. Petelter said with no rancor. “Tell me about the spell.”

  “Ah,” said Evon, caught off guard by her directness. “Well. It’s made up of hundreds of runes—do you know anything about magic, Mrs. Petelter?”

  “I have some magical training, yes.”

  “Then you know how unusual that is. The runes make sentences that describe and execute the function of the spell. I’ve already been able to decipher about a hundred of them, enough to make out a few details. It’s definitely a weapon—that is to say, the spell’s creator built it specifically to target and...and attack based on certain criteria.”

  “So there’s a pattern to whom you choose to kill?” Mrs.Petelter said, addressing Kerensa, whose face went expressionless. Evon could almost see her withdrawing into herself.

  “She’s not doing it,” he said, so frustrated he wanted to scream it at the woman. “The spell is using her as the means to fulfil its instructions. Miss Haylter dies, Mrs. Petelter, every time the spell is released, and it puts her back together again to repeat the process. Does that sound like something anyone would willingly undergo?”

  “I beg your pardon,” Mrs. Petelter said, eyeing Evon with a calculating expression. “You can see how that would be hard to believe.”

  “I know. It’s also the truth. Mrs. Petelter, I have been studying this spell for days. I admit there’s still a great deal I don’t understand. But I am convinced that the spell is separate from Miss Haylter and I am trying my best to detach it. Then we might be able to use it as a weapon in this war.”

  “You see how dangerous it is?” Mr. Terantis said. “It’s not under anyone’s control, Brenla. We can’t take the chance that it might injure innocent people. We have to take it back to Matra with us.”

  “That would be a huge mistake,” Evon said. “If Miss Haylter is prevented from reaching her target, the power builds until it can’t be contained, and the resulting explosion is devastating. As I explained to Mr. Terantis.”

  “You claimed to have some control over the spell,” Mr. Terantis growled. “You dare to threaten us?”

  “I did not make such a claim, and if you weren’t such a self-involved—”

  “Enough,” Mrs. Petelter said, with enough force that Evon fell silent. “Garaid, I want you to check my assessment of the security of this building. Take Abretis and Wylter with you.”

  Mr. Terantis blinked at her, his broad face going red, but he left the room without another word. “Mr. Faranter, if you would shut the door, please,” Mrs. Petelter continued, and Piercy did as she asked. When they were alone, she said, “I would say that Garaid means well, but none of us would believe it.” She removed her cloak and draped it over her arm.

  “Mrs. Petelter, I apologize for my outburst—”

  “No apology needed, Mr. Lorantis. Garaid is enough to try anyone’s patience. Now, let me see if I understand you. The spell has an ongoing existence that is independent of—Miss Haylter, was it?—and is not under her control. It chooses targets based on some unknown criterion. And it was made specifically to do this.”

  “That’s correct, though I’ve seen Miss Haylter resist the spell’s activation for a short time, and I think that period might be extended. And I’m beginning to understand why it chooses the people it does.” Evon went to the dressing table and shuffled through his notes. “The phrase ‘no soul’ repeats itself throughout, and while it’s perhaps overly poetical, it probably means people who have no regard for human life. People who see other people as things. It fits with what we know of the victims who have been identified.”

  “You speak of it as if it were alive.”

  “It seems to have some limited self-awareness, based on its reactions to my spells.”

  “Self-awareness...and self-preservation?”

  “I...actually, I hadn’t thought of that. It certainly resists being separated from Miss Haylter. But it’s never objected to desini cucurri, other than to break its hold after a time.” He cast the spell as he said the words, and it froze. Mrs. Petelter jerked backward, then leaned in to inspect the motionless spell-ribbons. Kerensa raised her arm and the spell moved with her.

  “Astonishing,” Mrs. Petelter said. She poked one of the ribbons and her finger passed through it. “Why does it respond to you and not me?”

  “Evon—Mr. Lorantis—tells me it’s altered my body to see it as part of myself,” she said. “It’s made me unable to be burned by normal fire, and to be able to...communicate with it, or something, so I know where to go to find the next...” She took a deep, shuddering breath. “Mrs. Petelter, I swear I don’t mean to hurt those people. I don’t care if they’re evil or not, I don’t want to be forced to kill anyone. I don’t think I’m a murderer.”

  “Kerensa—” Evon began, afraid of the look in her eyes.

  “Based on the evidence, I don’t think you are either, Miss Haylter.” Mrs. Petelter looked in Piercy’s direction. “Nothing to say, Mr. Faranter?”

  “Evon’s the expert. I am merely the government’s eyes and ears,” Piercy said. “I’m sorry to learn that this department has such little faith in my abilities as to ignore my report.”

  “Careful, Mr. Faranter. I took your report very seriously. It’s fortunate you weren’t more specific; what I’ve heard here today would have truly set the cat amongst the pigeons, and you three would have had far worse than Garaid to deal with. I don’t suppose you have any ideas as to the identity of the magician who cast this spell, Mr. Lorantis?”

  Evon hesitated. There had been hints, all along, nothing substantial, but he could make an informed guess and something about this woman encouraged him to be honest. “I think the magician is long dead,” he said. “This isn’t a new spell. It’s old. Centuries old. How it came to survive all those years, how it came to attach itself to Miss Haylter, I have no idea. But I’m afraid finding the magician, and compelling him to give up his secret, is impossible.”

  Piercy and Kerensa just stared at him. Mrs. Petelter pursed her lips. “That’s...unfortunate,” she said, though her tone of voice said “unfortunate” was far too mild a world for what she was thinking. “How certain are you of this?”

  “As certain as I can be, given what little I’ve learned. The phrasi
ng of the spell...text, I suppose you could call it...is archaic, as if it’s written in an ancient version of our language, and there’s nothing modern about how it’s assembled. And there are places where a piece is, well, put together awkwardly, as if the creator didn’t know how to do it the simple way any modern magician would. It’s just possible that someone today put it together using old-fashioned techniques, but instinct tells me that’s not the case.” He didn’t tell her what else he knew, that there was a depth to the spell that almost frightened him at times, that sometimes as he studied it he had the feeling that something ancient was looking back at him. He’d become the most skilled magician of his generation not only because of his knowledge but because of the instincts that led him to make intuitive leaps beyond what his rational mind understood, and all those instincts told him he was dealing with something older than anything he knew.

  “And you’re certain Miss Haylter cannot be taken to Matra?” Mrs. Petelter said.

  “You saw the destruction at the second event site,” Piercy said. “That’s what happens if Miss Haylter refuses to follow the spell’s urging when it comes on her.”

  Mrs. Petelter turned away from Kerensa and wandered over to the window. “What I am about to tell you does not leave this room,” she said, putting her hands on the sill. “The war is not going well. Despite the snow, the Despot moves farther north every day, driving refugees ahead of him and leaving utter destruction in his wake. If nothing changes, he will cross Dalanine’s southern border by spring. Our generals are confounded at the Despot’s ability to see our greatest weaknesses and exploit them ruthlessly. We need an advantage. We need this weapon.”

  “I understand the urgency—”

  “I’m not certain that you do, Mr. Lorantis, but I take your word that you are fully committed to providing Dalanine with something that will change the outcome of this war.” She turned to look at him. “I do wish we had understood the nature of Miss Haylter’s involvement. We have been gathering magicians in Matra to study the spell, but as it seems taking her back to the capital is impossible, we will have to continue to depend on you for now. I’ll send word for our magicians to join us here as quickly as possible.”