Tournament of Ruses

by Kate Stradling

  “I didn’t,” he replied with a winning smile. He turned his attention upon Flora and added, “I assure you, Miss Flora, that those creatures will not return. They’re not capable of it: I incinerated them all. We’ll strengthen the wards along the city wall to keep any others from getting any strange ideas, too. The city is far safer for you than the countryside would be,” he added in a lower voice, so that Cook and Mrs. Finch could not hear him. “Location isn’t going to change what you are now.”

  She stared up at him in surprise. He looked away uneasily. “What were those things?” she demanded.

  He did not meet her gaze. “They’re called ‘sceadugengan’ in the old tongue,” he said. “They’re creatures that dwell in darkness. They usually don’t get so bold as to attack in civilization, and certainly not in broad daylight.”

  “Then why—?”

  “They probably felt that time was of the essence,” he replied intently. He turned his attention to Cook and Mrs. Finch, who had listened to this little exchange with deepening suspicion. “The Prime Minister should be here shortly. I left word for him to come as quick as he could, and I can’t imagine that he would delay, given the quickness of my own departure. He’ll want to inspect the damage, and I suspect he’ll want to relocate the household, if only for the night.”

  His words spurred the pair of women into action. Mrs. Finch snatched up a broom and began to sweep the ashes from the floor while Cook hurried to tidy up the various projectiles—knives, ladles, potatoes—that they had thrown at the insidious intruders. The Prime Minister might be coming to survey the damage, but that was no reason to present him with a more chaotic scene than was necessary.

  Flora caught Will’s sleeve to draw his attention. “What about the you-know-what?” she muttered.

  “What about it?” he replied.

  “What if those monsters come back to find it while none of us is here?”

  He leaned in close and whispered in her ear, “They can’t find it without a guardian, which is why they wouldn’t have harmed you until after you took them to it. That’s the nature of the charm we laid.”

  “They said it was rightfully theirs,” she argued.

  “Of course they did. A brand new well? Of course they would try to lay claim to it.”

  “I don’t want to be a guardian anymore.”

  A pained expression crossed his face. “The well chose you, Flora.”

  “I don’t care! It almost got me killed!”

  “No. It protected you from getting hurt,” he replied. “It called on my secondary bond. If they had injured you before I was able to arrive, the well itself would have reacted and destroyed them. Make no mistake: your being a guardian is the very reason you’re still alive. I understand that you’re afraid,” he added when she opened her mouth to protest. “You’re also still in shock. Really, we should wrap you up in a blanket and send you off to bed, but I somehow doubt that you want to sleep under this roof right now.”

  He was right about that. Flora swallowed her protest and hunched lower in her chair. The hot cup in her hands felt comforting, but she had made no attempt to drink its contents. Mrs. Finch and Cook were busy cleaning up the place for the Prime Minister’s impending arrival. She envied them their seeming resiliency after such an ordeal.

  The front bell rang loud and clear. The housekeeper flew from the kitchen to answer it.

  Flora remained in her seat with Will, silent, next to her.

  Voices and footsteps approached. Someone ran ahead of the others. Viola Moreland swung the kitchen door open and surveyed the scene, her eyes honing in upon Flora, and on Will beside her.

  “Is she all right? What attacked her?”

  Flora lifted her eyes to study the pale blonde. “Has this happened to you before?”

  Viola didn’t answer, but she glanced self-consciously to Will.

  “No?” Flora guessed.

  “Let’s have you lie down, Flora,” said Will diplomatically. He offered her a hand of assistance. Flora ignored it. She didn’t feel like moving. She didn’t feel like being shuffled out of the way while everyone else surveyed the damages and discussed what needed to be done about them.

  He might have pressed the issue, but Viola’s father appeared on the kitchen’s threshold. “Miss Dalton,” Prime Minister Moreland said, “I am most relieved to see you safe and whole.” He stepped closer and, wary of Cook in the corner of the room, inquired of Will in a low voice, “What happened?”

  “Sceadugengan,” Will grimly replied. “I don’t know the modern word for them; the old one translates to something like, ‘they who go by shadow.’”

  A muscle along the Prime Minister’s jaw tightened. “We call them shadow-shifters. They were after the well, then?”

  “Most of their innate magic is defensive, but they’re aggressive by nature, and instinctively power-hungry. They can taint the magic from a well and amplify their powers through it, the same as other creatures of the dark. After Lenore’s recent dry spell, it’s little wonder they would come out of the woods in hopes of possessing a new and strengthening well.”

  “Will there be more?”

  “I doubt it. I destroyed the ones that were here. Any others should realize they would meet the same fate if they tried.”

  “Nevertheless, I’m having soldiers surround the area. There’s already a small crowd gathering on the street, and my presence here will only fuel the rumors that have begun. We’ll have to announce that some forest creatures infiltrated the city, that they came to scavenge due to the cold of the winter but that the Prince was quick to intervene.”

  Will nodded.

  “Will anyone believe it?” asked Viola skeptically. “We’ve never had forest creatures come into the city before!”

  “We’ve kept the legends alive for a reason,” her father replied. “And it surprises me that you would so easily forget last summer, when we had a great many forest creatures flood into the city. There were enough witnesses then for the story to have credence now.”

  He swept past them to inspect the busted side-door, where cold air poured into the kitchen.

  Viola looked defensively to Will. “Last summer was for an entirely different reason,” she muttered. “There was a rebellion. This time there’s been no provocation that anyone knows of.”

  “The townspeople won’t make that distinction,” he replied. “Flora, I really must insist that you come out of this room. Do you feel too weak to walk? I can carry you, if so.”

  After everything that had already occurred, she was not about to suffer the indignity of being carried. She primly set her cup on the countertop. Her knees felt like they were made of jelly as she stood, but she forced them to work properly and marched stiff-backed from the kitchen to the corridor beyond.

  Charlie was helping Mrs. Finch right the bookcase that Flora had tipped. “Are you all right, Miss Dalton?” he asked when he saw her, a note of worry in his voice.

  “Yes,” she replied, and she kept walking. Viola and Will followed at a close pace.

  She heard Charlie tell Mrs. Finch, “I was just here. If I’d only delayed—”

  “No one expects forest creatures to attack out of the blue,” Mrs. Finch interrupted with a tremulous voice. “We’re lucky the palace reacted as quickly as it did.”

  Flora moved beyond earshot. Charlie wasn’t at fault for anything. It was her fault. She had brought this calamity down upon them.

  The front door stood wide open. From the entryway she could see a small crowd—many fine ladies among them—and a row of soldiers that prevented them from coming near the house. One person was allowed to pass: it was Flora’s maid, Mary, returning from her afternoon errands. She mounted the steps in something of a daze and paused on the threshold to gape at the hole in the door.

  “Goodness, Miss Flora,” she said when she saw her. “I’ve only been gone an hour! What’s happened?”

  “Mary, would you please go upstairs and pack me an overnight bag,” Flora
replied tonelessly. “I’ll need the files from the little table next to my bed, too. You probably want to pack your own things too—I don’t think anyone can stay here tonight.”

  Mary was wise enough not to question further; immediately she left to carry out her instructions.

  “You really ought to sit down, Flora,” Will remarked.

  Her resentful eyes snapped to his face. “Is it safe?” Her initial shock was fast melting into an unfathomable anger. Even as she directed those words at Will—the very man who had saved her—she knew it wasn’t fair of her, but she didn’t care, either. He was the one who had told her to drink the magic from the well. He was the one who had insisted it had to be her. He was the one who was telling her now that she couldn’t run to the countryside and expect to be safe.

  Suddenly a slim arm slipped through hers and forcibly pulled her toward the drawing room. Flora’s attention snapped to Viola, who wore a solemn expression as she guided her.

  “Sit,” Viola commanded, and before Flora could respond, she dropped to the couch and dragged her down alongside her.

  Flora stared, astonished.

  Viola met that stare unflinchingly. “You’re alive, and we’re glad,” she said. “I’ve never encountered these shadow-shifters that attacked you. I’ve never even heard of them, but they seem like terrifying creatures. I can imagine what you must’ve suffered.”

  “No, you can’t,” said Flora bluntly. “You’ve never been attacked by such things.”

  “No, I haven’t,” Viola agreed, and her jewel-like eyes never wavered from Flora’s face. “My only attackers thus far have been human, but they were terrifying enough. There are dangers that come with being the guardian of a well, and we failed to warn you of them. The truth is that I’m not entirely sure what they are myself. I’ve only been a full-fledged guardian for half a year. I’m sorry that we’re still discovering new things, that we couldn’t just sit you down and tell you everything you should expect from the outset.”

  Flora scowled. “That’s not fair. That makes me feel like a monster for getting upset over the whole thing!”

  “That wasn’t my intent,” Viola replied.

  Of course it wasn’t, which only made Flora’s guilt that much worse. “What good is it for me to be a guardian if I’m so weak? I can’t even guard myself!” She tipped her nose in Will’s direction. “He was able to destroy the whole lot of them with only a couple of words!”

  “Will knows more magic than any of us,” Viola said, “my father included. That’s one of the reasons Father chose him to be your secondary. He’s my secondary as well.”

  Again Flora wondered what sort of odd arrangement she had gotten entangled in. Will and Viola’s relationship was close. Flora felt like an awkward tagalong, and not for the first time.

  Impulsively she stood. “I should check on Mary.”

  “Sit,” Viola commanded, and she yanked her back down. “You can scream and cry and carry on if you’d like, but we have absolutely no intention of letting you out of our sight at present.”

  Flora obeyed, cowed by such an imperious decree. Instantly she reassessed her views of Viola Moreland: the girl could be plenty commanding when she wanted, which was a far cry from the cool-headed, disinterested creature that Flora had originally branded her as being.

  Silence suffused the room. She glanced to the chair next to the window and the little stack of files there. “This is where I was when that first creature showed up,” she said quietly. “It knocked politely at the door. I wonder that it didn’t just attack outright.”

  “It didn’t want to make trouble with the wrong person,” said Will. “It needed the guardian.”

  “But how could it know that was me?”

  “Magic… changes a person,” he said then, and Flora noticed that Viola had trained her gaze firmly upon the wall. “It’s a very subtle change for most people, but some creatures of magic are especially sensitive to recognizing it. The sceadugangan—shadow-shifters, that is—are among those that have that ability. I suppose it’s one of the reasons that the Prime Minister insists upon fledgling magicians studying for a while before they actually touch any magic at all.”

  “On that count you are correct,” said Prime Minister Moreland. He stood in the door, with Charlie at his elbow.

  “That was never an issue where I came from,” Will replied. “I’m sorry I didn’t take it into account.”

  Flora wondered on the meaning of this, but of course no one bothered to explain. Prime Minister Moreland actually waved the apology aside. “It’s done already. There’s no point in dwelling on regrets. Miss Dalton, I’ve sent word to your father that something’s occurred here and that we’ll be bringing you to him. Are you ready to leave?”

  “My maid is packing me a bag, and the Prince’s files, as well,” she replied meekly. “The ones I received earlier are tucked away behind that chair there. May I?” she added to Viola. The girl tipped her head in mute permission for Flora to leave her seat.

  She retrieved the small stack and returned to her spot.

  “I wonder if we can blame this little attack on those applications,” mused the Prime Minister. “We can put out a rumor that one of the applicants coerced some forest creatures into tampering with the files to give her a better chance at winning the Prince’s heart. We wouldn’t mention it in our official statement, of course, but such a rumor would explain to people why this house in particular was targeted.”

  “Why not just blame it on Lord Conrad?” asked Charlie. “You could say that some of the creatures returned to take vengeance on anything he might’ve left behind.”

  “I’d rather not bring his name into it. Besides, a vague rumor like that would likely twist into the creatures seeking out some odd treasure he left behind, and then you’d have all sorts of people prowling around the house in the hopes of finding such a thing. As I’m sure I’ve told you many times before, you really do have to be careful when creating rumors, Charles. If they’re not simple and specific, they tend to warp beyond your control.”

  Flora goggled at this little interchange.

  Viola just grunted unhappily. “Will people really believe that someone would go to such lengths to tamper with those silly applications? Doesn’t the rumor have to be at least plausible?”

  “I think many would find such a rumor more than plausible,” her father replied. “You don’t seem to appreciate how seriously some people are taking this contest, my dear.”

  “Yeah, Viola. You might want to take it a little more seriously,” said Charlie knowingly. “What’re you going to do if one of these enterprising girls cuts you out of the picture?”

  “This is utterly ridiculous,” she said to Will in a low voice.

  He smiled. “If you’ll just run away with me into the forest, everything’ll be solved, darling.”

  Prime Minister Moreland cleared his throat in disapproval. Flora felt like she had intruded upon a private family conversation, like they had all forgotten her presence.

  “I liked Viola’s application,” she said out of the blue, grateful to have something non-magical to discuss. “It was different than the others.”

  Charlie and Will both sniggered.

  Viola frowned in confusion. “I never turned in my application.”

  “Oh, yes you did,” said Charlie. “I handed it over this afternoon.”

  “You made up an application for me?” she asked, appalled.

  “No such thing. Will and I found yours in your room and turned it in.”

  She turned all shades of red. Her attention snapped to Flora. “You have to give me that application back.”

  Flora’s eyes shifted to Will. “So did you really write that last bit? I figured it was you.”

  He grinned shamelessly. “Guilty as charged.”

  “What did you write?” Viola demanded in horror.

  “Only the honest truth, Viola, I swear.”

  She seemed torn between tackling Flora to steal back th
e application and tackling Will for his impertinence in adding to it. She did neither, for it was upon this scene that Flora’s maid, Mary, finally reappeared, two neatly packed bags in hand. Flora suspected that she had been down the back staircase to see Mrs. Finch and Cook in the kitchen, for her face was ashen and her eyes darted about nervously.

  “There you are at last,” said Flora, standing. “I’d started to think I was going to be stuck in this wretched house until nightfall. Did you happen to pack my diary among my things?”

  Chapter Twelve: Lessons Begin

  Dad has rented a couple of rooms at a very fine hotel for now. I have no idea how long he intends for us to stay. I have no idea what he was told about the attack, either. Prime Minister Moreland met with him behind closed doors, and when he came out, he was pale and gave me a very long, very tight hug.

  I suspect he was told something about forest creatures attacking me because they’d been coerced into tampering with the consort applications. At least, I hope that’s what he’s been told. Poor Dad. The last thing he needs is to worry about me. (Though, if he had left me in the countryside as I wanted, none of this would have happened.)

  The prosaic side of me would like to note that this episode has given me the perfect excuse for declining the stacks upon stacks of invitations I’ve received. The hotel staff has been instructed to decline all visitors, too. It’s a small silver lining, that I should secure some solitude and isolation. The price I had to pay for it was much too high, though.

  For now, Mrs. Finch and the coachman are the only servants with us. The others are to stay with friends or family until the house is set back to rights. The extent of the physical damage amounts to replacing two doors, which shouldn’t take too long. For obvious reasons, I have no desire to return there. I have no choice in the matter, either, because of the well and because Dad insists that I live wherever he does, as a family should.

  It makes me wonder what he’d do if I were to get married. He’d probably want to live with us. I’ll be sure to warn all of my suitors about that happy prospect. (As they’re all fictitious, I’m sure they’ll be delighted.)