The Queen and the Tower

by Shannon Page

  My room was small enough already; adding an eight-foot-tall mud-creature did not help. I cleared a space in the corner by the closet and stashed Petrana there before breakfast. I wasn’t ready to endure the rest of the house openly freaking out about her just yet. Though Niad was only ninety-three (barely out of her first blush of youth, by witch standards), the older sisters generally rallied behind her more conservative opinions. At forty-five, I was the youngest full coven member, and something of a rebel, or at least a nonconformist. Sirianna usually took my side in any dispute, as did the students; Maela often did as well.

  In other words, I pretty much always lost.

  It wasn’t supposed to be this way. The coven system had been created to take advantage of the centuries of experience accrued by older witches: they would, in theory anyway, pass their wisdom along to younger generations in a loving, family-like setting. Our coven particularly, as a teaching coven, was designed to guide and instruct its students and junior full members into witchkind life. Except…witchkind life was only part of the story—a smaller part all the time, in my opinion. The world outside our little confines was changing rapidly. To a four-hundred-year-old witch, the modern human-dominated world probably looked like a passing fad, easily ignored. A youngster like me saw things differently.

  Or maybe it was because I was a scientist. As I saw it, witchkind in general, and my coven particularly, was in danger of irrelevancy at the very least if we did not adapt. Yes, magic was important, and we were powerful; but history had already shown that humans’ sheer numbers could help them win the day.

  Not that I thought we should be trying to defeat humans—not at all! I liked humans, some of them very much. I wasn’t Niad, after all. I just felt that witchkind’s separatist, us-versus-them stance wasn’t doing either species any good. We could learn from them, and we could teach them things.

  Well, we could, if we had been permitted to reveal our nature to them. But that was strictly prohibited by the Convocation of Elders. Many of whom remembered firsthand that nasty little business in Salem.

  Maybe Niad was right to ally with the older crowd. She certainly enjoyed the benefits of our elders’ favor: she was Leonora’s second-in-command, with the biggest bedroom, the lightest teaching load, and a generous discretionary allowance. But I knew there was more to life than household perks.

  Anyway, it wasn’t in my nature to be teacher’s pet.

  After a tense breakfast and a lengthy nap, I sent a message through the æther to my best friend Logan: Hey, I need to get out of the house. You free?

  Sure, she sent back a few minutes later. Come by the stand, I’m just finishing up with a client.

  I quickly French-braided my hair, tied it off, and slipped out of the house and onto one of the major ley lines leading down to the bay. I emerged behind an unoccupied building on North Point. After glancing around to make sure I hadn’t been seen, I walked the few blocks to the Embarcadero and the entrance to Pier 39, enjoying the fresh smell of salt water.

  Logan spotted me and smiled, waving me over to her fabric-draped table. I took the red velvet-cushioned guest chair across from her.

  She scooped up her tarot cards and set them aside. Her blond hair, bangs and all, was pulled back and tucked into the snood she wore while working; the effect only highlighted her bright, piercing blue eyes. She leaned forward and gazed at me, taking the measure of my aura and energy. “You made the golem last night.”

  I nodded. “Does it show?”

  Now she grinned again. “Not exactly. I can see a huge energy drain, but mostly, you told me you were going to.”

  “Ah.”

  “So, did it work?”

  “Yes!” I told her all about it, pulling a small zone of inattention around us as a human approached looking for a tarot reading. Confused, the human shook his head, stared a moment, and wandered off toward the other tourist attractions of the pier.

  Logan shook her head admiringly when I finished. “I can’t wait to see her.”

  “She’s not much to look at,” I admitted. But I was still bursting with pride. At least here was someone who appreciated what I’d done.

  “Callie, you are too modest.” She leaned forward once more with an earnest gaze. “The fact that you created her at all!”

  “Tell that to my sisters,” I muttered.

  My best friend gave me a sympathetic smile. “Yeah.”

  “Sometimes I think I should just live alone. You don’t have to put up with this crap.”

  “So why don’t you?”

  I shook my head. “Because I’m in a coven, silly.”

  “Is there a rule that you have to live there?”

  “Sure there is—” I started, but then thought about it. “Actually, I don’t know if there’s a rule per se, but…well, everyone does.”

  “Except for witches who aren’t in covens,” she indicated herself, “and ones who take a leave of absence to form a union,” she waved in the general direction of my parents’ Pacific Heights home, “and retired witches who haven’t moved Beyond. Oh, and every single warlock, of course. But other than that, you’re totally right: everyone lives in covens.”

  I snickered. “Fine, point taken. But…”

  “But what? You even own a house.”

  “It’s rented out.”

  She just gazed at me.

  “Um…” I continued. “I guess my renters did just give notice, didn’t they?”

  “Yes, I believe you mentioned that.” She picked up her cards and began shuffling them idly, trying to hide a small smile. Under the table, I could feel her familiar, a big orange tom named Willson, rubbing against my ankle. I reached down to scratch him behind the ears.

  Could I move out? Should I move out? Oh, Leonora would absolutely freak.

  “I’ll even help you move,” Logan went on.

  “Let me think about it,” I said. “I’ve never actually lived alone, you know? I went straight from my parents’ house to the coven.”

  “I know. And I don’t mean to push.” She held her tarot deck, letting the cards fall from one hand to the other. “But you’ve felt stifled there for a while—and it’s only been getting worse. I know you need more lab space.” Now she gave me a wicked grin. “And then there’s Raymond.”

  “Indeed.” I grinned back at her as I thought more. My house was still here in the city; I could get back to the coven house in a heartbeat if I needed to. And more privacy…yeah, that would be really good. Then I sighed. “I don’t want to just run away from my problems, though. I should really try and work things out there. They’re my chosen family, after all.”

  Logan rolled her eyes. “Niad never chose you, and you didn’t choose her.” Before I could protest, she went on. “But yes: take your time, there’s no deadline here. I just want you to be happy.”

  I smiled at my best friend. With such a warm heart and a generous spirit, she would have been welcome in any number of covens. The fact that she had chosen to go her own way when she came of age at twenty had felt tragic and baffling to me at the time, but as the years went on, I had to admit that her life suited her. She was shy and introverted, craving her alone time. Her apartment was small, cheerful, peaceful. She had Willson, and work she enjoyed, and a best friend.

  Would I enjoy alone time myself? Or would I just get lonely?

  I thought about Niad’s haughty sniping about Petrana, about Sirianna’s aghast face, the students’ discomfort, Leonora’s stern disapproval. There was real fear underneath all those reactions.

  Wasn’t I already quite alone, even in a crowded coven house?

  — CHAPTER TWO —

  And so it came to pass that, not three weeks later, I found myself packing my belongings.

  More specifically, my lovely assistant, the creature of mud and stones, was. Or at least that was the theory.

  “You can put more than one thing in each box,” I said to Petrana, stifling a weary sigh. “Fill them all the way to the top, please.”


  “Yes, Mistress Callie,” she said in her toneless voice. She bent over, taking a sweater out of one box and carefully placing it in the one next to it. Then she straightened up, shuffled over to a third box, bent laboriously down and reached inside for its sweater, and began to repeat the process.

  Blessed Mother, this would take all day. How hard would it be to just send it all through the æther? “They don’t need to be organized, Petrana; just put everything in the dresser into as few boxes as possible. I’ll set what I want from the closet on the bed for you to pack after that.” I turned away—it was easier not to watch—and started sorting through my jeans and T-shirts. I pushed aside most of the gowns, dresses, and long robes. There wouldn’t be much call for witchkind formalwear at my new house.

  Maela had come by for a concerned chat, and Niad had already popped in to bother me three times, each excuse more transparent than the last. Now I heard footsteps outside my door again. What is it now? was on the tip of my tongue as I peered through the solid wood, preparing some choice words for her. But this time it was young Gracie, shadowed by two other students, Mina and Kat.

  I opened the door. “Come in,” I said, smiling at the girls and patting a bit of vacant space on my bed.

  After glancing uncomfortably at my golem, the younger witchlets sat down—there wasn’t enough room for everyone to stand up anyway. Gracie gave me an uncertain smile and hovered near the edge of the dresser, paying unusual attention to my perfume bottles as Petrana continued to pack.

  “What’s up?” I asked.

  Gracie shrugged. “Oh nothing, we just…you know, wanted to see how it was going?”

  “Fine. I think I’m close.” I glanced around the room. “I’m not taking everything; I’ll be back here too often to need a lot of it over there.”

  “You will?” Gracie’s heart-shaped face filled with relief.

  I reached over and ruffled her dark hair, which curled around my hand before falling into some semblance of order. “Of course I will. You’ll hardly know I’m gone.”

  “So why do you have to move out?” Her voice was plaintive, though I could see she was working to keep it from climbing to a whine.

  I gave her a gentle smile. “I don’t have to, Gracie, I want to. There’s not nearly enough room for my work here, and my golem and I are getting in everyone’s way.” Which was a mild way of putting it.

  “Can we visit you there?” Mina piped up from the bed.

  “Of course you can! Whenever you like—as long as Leonora says it’s okay.”

  Gracie shifted from foot to foot. “Isn’t it dangerous to live alone?”

  Mina gave me an uncertain glance. “We heard solitary witches don’t live as long.”

  “Sometimes they don’t, but that’s probably because they drain their essences by working all their magic alone. I won’t be doing that.” Just some of it. I peered at Mina. “Who’s filling your head with such stories?”

  She shrugged. “We learned in Human Studies that lone witches get hunted down by humans, and burned.”

  “Or drowned,” said Kat.

  Human Studies! I might have known. Had Niad sent these girls to me just now, or had she been working on them for weeks? “Mina, nothing like that has happened in over three hundred years. Niad shouldn’t be scaring you like that.”

  Gracie chimed in. “She says that Leonora remembers such times, and so do Honor and Ruth. She says that humans are unpredictable and can shift on a moment’s notice, and that we always, always have to be on our guard against them.” She frowned at me. “You aren’t going to live in a house with humans, are you?”

  “Blessed Mother, no. I’ll be living alone, just me and Elnor, and Petrana. And probably only for a few years.” Never mind who I might or might not let visit me there—not their business. I shook my head. “It’s perfectly safe, as are humans. You know that as well as I do. Don’t you all have human friends at home?”

  “Well.” Gracie leaned over to pet Elnor, not meeting my eye. “Sure.”

  “Do they seem like monsters to you?”

  “No,” she muttered.

  “That’s because they aren’t.” I reached for the last few sweaters in my bottom drawer and handed them to Petrana, who seemed finally to have gotten the complicated logistics worked out, though this was still taking forever.

  Mina and Kat got the hint, and hopped down from my bed.

  “Do you need any help?” Kat asked.

  “Sure, girls, thank you.” There were a few boxes of books stacked by the door; I pointed to them. “Those could go downstairs, if you can lift them.”

  The younger girls each hefted a box. I noticed Kat using a little power to help her bear the weight, and suppressed an urge to caution her. Being overprotective was no way to teach a witch how to manage her resources.

  Gracie hung back as the other girls left.

  “Okay, what is it really?” I asked, as soon as they were out of earshot.

  “I just wish…” She gave me a helpless look. “You’re our favorite teacher.”

  “I’ll still be your teacher.” I smiled at her. “You don’t think you’re getting out of biology classes, do you? And I’ll be back for all the regular rituals, and lots of dinners. You’re not losing anything.”

  “But we are.” She fiddled with the perfume bottles again. “You’re just…just better than…” She didn’t finish the sentence. “You understand us. You’re more like us. You know?”

  “It’s important for you to be able to relate to all witches, Gracie—not just the ones closest to your age. Maybe that will become easier if I’m not here for you to run to all the time.”

  “It won’t.” Her voice was suddenly fierce. “Nothing will be easier. I don’t fit in here; I don’t understand anything, why I have to be stuck here all week. Weekends off aren’t enough; I miss my parents, I never even see my human friends any more, and now you’re leaving.”

  “You are here to learn who you are, and how to wield your power,” I told her. “Nobody fits in anywhere when they’re fifteen, I promise you. Me particularly.” And I still don’t, I thought, not that that would be helpful to point out at the moment. “In five years, you can do anything you like.”

  “Five years!?” Now she was whining. “That’s forever!” Her dark eyes filled with tears.

  “Okay, Gracie, that’s enough,” I said. “You’re more mature than this.”

  “I am not! I thought you’d understand!” She turned and fled the room.

  Elnor bumped her head against my leg as the door slammed. I scratched her ears and let her soft purr comfort me a moment as I resisted the urge to chase after Gracie. Finally, with a sigh, I returned my attention to Petrana, who had finished the dresser but seemed thoroughly confused by the few dresses I’d draped across the bed.

  Golems may be biddable, but they are not at all smart.

  Forty-five years old, and I had never lived alone a day in my life. I wasn’t frightened, not at all; it just felt…weird. Different.

  I went ahead with Elnor first, a little early, traveling up the ley line and emerging on the front porch. I stood there a moment, glancing up and down the quiet street, before using the key to let us in.

  The house felt somehow emptier than ever, even when it had been between tenants before. Empty and…expectant? What do houses know? Was it aware that I was its owner? Did it know I was a witch—did it truly “know” anything at all? There is magic in every molecule of matter and every iota of space, and this was a very old house. Well, by San Francisco standards, anyway.

  A knock on the door interrupted my musings. I went to let Logan in. The movers, with a truck full of my clothes, books, chemicals, cauldrons, flasks, and herbs, plus a large sealed wardrobe box containing Petrana, would be along in an hour or so. Being human, they would have to negotiate actual mundane physical space, with traffic and everything.

  “Oh my goodness, this is gorgeous,” Logan said, as she stepped in and looked around the grand entry
way. “I hope you were charging your renters a fortune.”

  “Enough,” I said, smiling. My father had bought me the house as an investment when I’d joined the coven twenty-five years ago. I’d cashed the rent checks, invested the proceeds, and given the whole business very little thought over the years.

  Elnor gave Logan a look, obviously wondering where Willson was. “You go explore,” I told her. “This is our home now.” My familiar began sniffing corners in the front parlor. She had been here before, but now the house required far deeper scrutiny. Who knew what threats it might hold?

  Logan tugged on the pocket doors separating the front and second parlors, finally pulling them closed. “These could use a little oil,” she said.

  “I’ll probably leave them open most of the time. I like the space of the two rooms together.” I grinned, sending my senses around the house. Three stories, so many rooms, all mine! Mine alone. It did feel good.

  I showed Logan around the first floor, our footsteps echoing in the empty rooms. Despite its decades of human tenants, it remained lovely: a very classic San Francisco Victorian, not completely brutalized by “modernization”.

  “This dining room is amazing,” she said, running a hand across the built-in sideboard. “I love the leaded glass on this piece. And that chandelier!”

  “I’m kind of amazed it’s still here,” I said.

  She smiled. “This room has ‘elegant dinner party’ written all over it.”

  “Ha!” I snorted. “Did you hit your head on something? Remember this is me you’re talking about.”

  In the kitchen, Logan laughed when I peered at the stove as though I’d never seen one before. “I’ll show you how to use it,” she said.

  I grumbled something about “can’t teach an old witch new tricks.”

  Back in the front hall, we were about to head up to the second floor when I noticed a small door underneath the staircase. Opening it, I peered into the dim depths of a musty closet. Elnor brushed past me at once, disappearing inside. I almost followed, but she’d want to claim the space first, especially if its energetic boundaries were soft.