Kalix was slouched on a chair, looking bored. Her outfit was almost identical to Vex’s but was completely without color. Her tank top, vest, tiny shorts, wide plastic belt and clumpy ankle boots were all either black or dark gray. The contrast between the colorful Vex and the monochrome Kalix was startling, as Thrix had intended. Vex’s dark skin was surrounded by the brightest hues, and Kalix’s very pale frame was sheathed in darkness.
Though Kalix had informed Thrix that she loathed the clothes, really she didn’t hate them quite as much as she’d expected. At least they weren’t bright. But she didn’t like displaying her legs or her arms. There were various scars on view, and she was sensitive about them.
Knowing that Dominil would refuse to appear in public dressed as a messy urchin, Thrix had taken the opportunity to show her expertise in evening gowns. Dominil was dressed in a dark-blue, full-length dress, which contrasted quite startlingly with her long white hair. She wore pearls at her neck and stood very tall in her matching high heels.
“Dominil, you look most splendid,” enthused Malveria. “I have met real ice queens who looked less like ice queens than you.”
Thrix thought to herself that if it turned out that any seducing did need to be done, Dominil might be the one to do it. She doubted that many people could withstand her beauty, provided they weren’t too intimidated to talk to her.
“For someone not used to high heels, you seem to have mastered them easily,” said the Fire Queen.
“I practiced.”
“Of course you did,” muttered the Queen a little testily.
Daniel, looking slightly lost, wandered into the middle of the room. He studied his reflection in the mirror. “Do I look all right?”
Thrix didn’t normally design clothes for men. That didn’t mean she wasn’t aware of current and upcoming trends. Perhaps fortunately for Daniel, who had feared being dressed in anything too outlandish, she had dressed him in a sober, stylishly cut gray suit and, unusually, a gray shirt, a garment that was just about to come into fashion. The only flash of color came from a dark-blue tie, which Daniel thought was acceptable.
“You look nice,” said Kalix.
“Is it suitable for seducing duchesses?” Daniel looked troubled. “‘Duchess’ sounds quite old. Do you get young duchesses?”
“It depends on whether the old duchess fell into the volcano or just burned up naturally,” said Vex.
“Agrivex,” said Malveria. “Try not to talk to anyone at the ball.”
Dominil raised her voice to address them all. “I doubt there will be any need to seduce duchesses. We’re more likely to find ourselves trying to steal a wallet, or look at an address book.”
“But we might have to seduce people!” cried Vex. “You never know!”
“I admit it’s possible,” said Dominil.
“I’m not going to be doing any seducing,” said Thrix.
“But surely it is a thrilling prospect?” said the Fire Queen. “To outwit the enemy by luring them with sex?”
“I really don’t think I’ll be doing that, Malveria.”
The Fire Queen looked disappointed. “Really, Enchantress, what possible objection could you have? And remember, you have access to the most potent means of increasing passion.”
“You mean a love spell?”
“No, I mean alcohol.”
“Returning to the subject,” said Dominil coldly. “We won’t know till we get there who we’ll be targeting. I’ll try to assess the situation during the fashion show and then give you your assignments.”
Dominil seemed to have assumed command of the operation. Thrix might have objected, but knew she’d be too busy to give much thought to anything other than her fashion show. It might be only a minor event, but Thrix was always serious when it came to showing her clothes.
“Queen Malveria,” continued Dominil, “the Empress Kabachetka does not know we’re attending. I imagine she will be shocked.”
“I hope she is,” said the Fire Queen.
“It occurs to me that there may be some sort of confrontation.”
The Fire Queen’s eyes lit up. “I hope so. I will put her in her place very swiftly, I assure you.”
“I’d rather you didn’t,” said Dominil. “It won’t help. It will put her on guard. It will be better if we can all remain calm.”
The Fire Queen pouted. “You may be right, Dominil. I will try to avoid an immediate confrontation. But I was looking forward to abusing the Empress.”
“Is everyone ready?” asked Dominil. “Then we should go.”
CHAPTER 80
The Empress and her entourage materialized smoothly in the hotel. Kabachetka, Distikka, Adviser Bakmer, Secretary Gezinka and Handmaiden Alchet appeared one after the other, completing the journey from the realm of the Hainusta. The Empress wrinkled her nose.
“This is their best suite? It is hardly satisfactory. Bakmer, complain to the manger.”
Adviser Bakmer appeared not to understand. “The manager?”
“Yes, the manager,” snapped the Empress. “Please do not be tiring, Bakmer. I know you have never been in this realm before, but if you go around wondering what everything is, it will be very tedious.”
The Empress turned to her handmaiden. “Alchet, stop whimpering.”
“I don’t like it here,” said the unfortunate Alchet. She hated when the Empress brought her to Earth, and spent the whole time terrified in case she got wet.
“Must you always be like this?”
“I’m scared of the rain.”
“There is no rain in a hotel. Pull yourself together. I will need you to travel back and forth from the palace to bring me clothes and other items as necessary.”
The young handmaiden looked miserable. “I might get lost on the way.”
“Alchet, it is a curse that you have such a great talent for dressing me. Were it not so, I swear I would have replaced you long ago. Forget your foolish fears of being rained on or getting lost. Observe.”
The Empress took a jewel from her handbag and laid it on a dressing table. She touched the jewel and a large oval portal of light opened up in the room.
“You see? I have brought this jewel to make a passage. Using it, you may travel from here to the palace without fear of losing your way.”
The Empress surveyed her companions. “This is a great day for me and I do not want it spoiled. Bakmer, have you complained to the manager yet?”
“There’s no point,” said Distikka. “This is the best the hotel has to offer. I made sure they gave us their three finest suites.”
The Empress looked round at her rooms, which were, by any normal standards, very luxurious.
“This is the best they have? Really? It is most unsatisfactory.” She strode into the main bedroom and frowned as she saw the full-length mirror on the wall.
“Very poor quality,” she muttered. She uttered a spell, causing a new mirror to materialize, bigger and clearer than the other. “That is a little better. Alchet, prepare to help me dress. Distikka, what is first on the agenda?”
“The afternoon fashion show and clothes auction.”
“Excellent. No doubt there will be some worthy young designers showing us their wares. Fill my purse with gold coinage. We must bid enthusiastically for some items, to show our generosity.”
The Empress smiled for the first time since her arrival. “Bakmer, inform the relevant people that I am here. The fabulous heiress from South America has arrived, to sponsor events, break hearts and have her picture taken. This is going to be the most glorious day.”
CHAPTER 81
The Mistress of the Werewolves had tramped a long way through Colburn Woods and was beginning to feel frustrated.
Where is she? She should have appeared by now.
Verasa walked along paths that were not as familiar as they once had been. She swore as she caught her skirt in some thorns, and struggled to release it.
“I knew I should have come at night,” muttered
Verasa. At night she’d have been able to change into her werewolf shape, leaving her untroubled by thorns. She’d realized some time ago that her clothes were unsuitable for walking through the thick woods. Her skirt kept getting caught up in the vegetation. The Mistress of the Werewolves disliked wearing trousers. She’d grown up in an era when that was seldom done, and it had never come naturally.
Am I even going in the right direction?
It was so long since Verasa had visited Colburn Woods that she’d almost forgotten the way to the dell where the Fairy Queen held court. She was sure the pathways had been different back then. Verasa carried on, but was brought to a halt almost immediately by another thorn bush.
This is infuriating! And why hasn’t the Queen appeared? She must know I’m here. Does she expect me to walk all the way through her woods just for an audience?
There was a sudden peal of laughter behind her. Verasa turned round to find a very small fairy hovering in the air.
“Is that really Verasa MacRinnalch, Mistress of the Werewolves, blundering through Colburn Woods in her Sunday best?”
“Nice of you to put in an appearance, Dithean NicRinnalch,” said Verasa. “I thought I was going to have to walk all the way to your dell.”
“You’d never have made it,” said the fairy. “Not in that skirt.”
Verasa looked down at her skirt, which was torn in several places. “It was a poor choice,” she admitted. “Though I wasn’t expecting to have to walk so far.”
“Why not? Did you expect the Fairy Queen to just pop out the moment you arrived, when you haven’t visited me for hundreds of years?”
It was an awkward moment, as Verasa had known it would be. The Mistress of the Werewolves had not visited Colburn Woods for a long time. She knew the Fairy Queen would be offended.
“You exaggerate, Dithean. It’s not hundreds of years.”
“It’s a very long time.”
“It is. I apologize.” The Mistress of the Werewolves was finding the conversation with the small fairy difficult. “Could you make us the same size?”
“Of course,” said Dithean. “Big or small?”
“Big, if you don’t mind. I don’t think I could cope with small any more.”
Queen Dithean laughed again, quite mockingly. “What happened to you, Verasa MacRinnalch? You used to love coming here and playing as a fairy.”
The Fairy Queen made a slight movement with her hand and immediately became the same size as Verasa. They stood facing each other on the path. The Fairy Queen’s long golden hair swayed gently in the breeze.
“So,” said Dithean. “Here we are. One human-sized fairy and one werewolf in human shape. And what does the werewolf want from the fairies, after neglecting us for so long?”
“Could we go somewhere a bit less thorny? With somewhere to sit?”
“Are you tired?”
“Yes. I’m not the same young werewolf that used to play with the fairies, Dithean.”
“I’d say you were still quite vigorous,” said Queen Dithean, leading Verasa along the path. “Vigorous enough not to have ignored me for so long.”
Verasa realized that the Fairy Queen was not going to drop the subject easily. She understood why. The MacRinnalch werewolves were friends and allies of the fairies of Colburn Woods. They had a shared history, and their roots extended far back in time. They had many connections. It was from the pure water of the burn running through the wood that the MacRinnalchs obtained the water to distil their whisky. The fairies had assisted the MacRinnalchs in difficult times. Their Queen did not like to be taken for granted.
“Not all the MacRinnalchs ignore us, of course,” said Dithean. “Why, not long ago we were honored by a visit from many of your clan, and the MacAllisters too.”
The Fairy Queen halted and turned to look accusingly at the Mistress of the Werewolves. “They fought, and there was death and bloodshed in my forest.”
“Yes . . . we’re very sorry about that. The feud, you know. Many regrettable incidents occurred.”
“I do not expect the MacRinnalchs to spread fear and destruction in my land.”
“I’m sorry. I understood Clan Secretary Rainal sent you reparations.”
“MacRinnalch gold is not as welcome as MacRinnalch respect. Why has the new Thane not been to visit me?”
Again, it was a difficult topic. Verasa knew that Markus should have visited Queen Dithean. Markus was aware of it too. But somehow, other things kept getting in the way.
“I’m sorry, Dithean, it’s remiss of us. But life outside, it’s different these days. There’s so much to take care of.”
The Fairy Queen sniffed. “I am aware of life outside the woods. And I know more about Markus than you might suppose. He could have made time to visit me.”
“I promise he’ll come soon.”
The Fairy Queen did not look assuaged. She tossed her long blonde hair as she turned and led Verasa on. They emerged into a clearing. Whether it was the Queen’s Dell or another space, Verasa couldn’t tell. A young fox was drinking from a small pond, and glanced up as they arrived. Verasa and Dithean sat on a natural shelf on the grass. The fox ignored them and carried on drinking. The glade was sheltered from the wind, and warm in the sun. Verasa caught glimpses of a few other fairies in the trees. She wondered if she might know any of them. She had once been a frequent visitor.
“That was a long time ago,” said the Fairy Queen, reading her thoughts.
The Mistress of the Werewolves felt a tinge of annoyance. “Dithean, are you going to spend my whole visit lecturing me? I’m sorry I’ve ignored you. I can’t do anything to change that now. And if I haven’t visited, I haven’t let the clan forget you either. We keep up our payments for your water.”
“True. Though you are not the only ones willing to pay for the pure water that flows through my woods.”
Verasa felt herself bridling, though she controlled it. In recent times the Hiyasta Fire Queen had also paid in gold for the water from the woods, using it in her potions of youth and regeneration. The Fire Queen regarded it as the purest liquid in any dimension. The Mistress of the Werewolves did not like the arrangement, though she knew it was entirely up to the Fairy Queen whom she did business with.
“The Hiyasta take only tiny amounts,” said Dithean. “It doesn’t interfere with the flow of the stream. Or your whisky production.”
The fox trotted off into the trees. The glade was silent.
“I’m worried about Markus,” said Verasa abruptly.
“Markus? Why? I understood that he was now secure as Thane.”
“He is. But . . .” Verasa paused, and an expression of unbearable sadness settled on her features. She stared into the pool and shook her head.
“He’s going to go and fight in London. He’ll be killed, I know it. I can’t bear to lose him.”
CHAPTER 82
The Empress Kabachetka was leading her entourage along the corridor toward the west reception room when she was intercepted by Adviser Bakmer.
“Empress! Queen Malveria is here!”
“Malveria? Ridiculous. Have you been drinking already?”
“She is here, Great Empress. I saw her, in the company of a blonde-haired woman with a strange aura.”
“How strange?”
“Very strange. Not human.”
“Thrix MacRinnalch!” cried the Empress. “Thrix and Malveria have dared to invade my ball! I will soon put a stop to this.”
A flame shot from the Empress’s hand as she prepared to confront her enemies. She found herself halted by Distikka, who dragged her back.
“What is this, Distikka? You put your hand on the Empress?”
“We’re in a hotel in London where people don’t normally shoot flames at each other. Your new friends at Vogue are going to find it strange if they see it, which they will.”
The Empress considered this. “You are right. I must control my mighty flame. But what is the meaning of this, Distikka? Why have these peopl
e come? Are they here to sabotage my event?”
“I doubt it,” said Distikka. “I’d say it was more likely they’re here to spy on us.”
“To spy? Yes, sneaking and spying is quite in character for the appalling Fire Queen and her unspeakable werewolf companion. Well, they shall get no information from me.”
The young Empress addressed her followers. “Everyone is to remain calm. Do not shoot flames in public.” She composed herself, and continued along the corridor. “But I will kill them in private if they do try any sabotage,” she muttered to Distikka. “I’m more powerful now than the last time I encountered Malveria. I have my mother’s spells, and the power of the volcano. Malveria may find herself burned to a cinder, and the world would thank me for getting rid of her.”
In a small dressing room beside the west reception room, Kalix sat quite passively while Thrix applied the finishing touches to her makeup. It was an unwelcome experience, but Kalix had made up her mind to accept the inevitable indignities of the evening as calmly as she could. Aiding her in this was a large dose of laudanum.
I really hate my sister, she thought. But I don’t care at the moment.
Kalix was extremely pale. There were traces of dark shadows beneath her eyes; less than before, though still noticeable. The scars on her arms and legs were also noticeable. Thrix was aware of this. Rather to her shame, she didn’t mind.
“So I’m sending out a model who’s underweight, scarred and probably drugged. It’s not like it’s the first time. And she does look good.”
Thrix’s professional interest had begun to outweigh her personal feelings. Kalix looked quite special. With her wild beauty, her wide mouth, her perfect cheekbones, her scars, her scrawny frame, her deathly pallor, her long hair tousled like a river in flood, she was certainly going to stand out from the crowd. Most of the other models, amateurs helping out for the night, had the wholesome look of well-fed and wealthy young women. Kalix was nothing like them. And while St. Amelia’s Ball, as a friendly charity function, was not really the place for causing outrage, Thrix never minded drawing attention to her clothes.
The Anxiety of Kalix the Werewolf Page 31