The Queen and the Tower

by Shannon Page

  “Have a glass of wine, it’ll relax you.”

  “How come you’re so calm?” I asked her. “You’re supposed to be the shy one.”

  “It’s not my party. I can go hide in the kitchen any time it gets to be too much.”

  “You can not!” I said. “You think an empty spot at a table for eight won’t be noticed?”

  “Kidding, kidding!” She laughed and patted my arm. “Seriously, here, drink some wine.” She reached for the Margaux.

  “No, not that one—I’m saving it for the rack of lamb. I’ll just get a glass of elderflower.”

  Ten minutes later I sensed the essences of both my parents, and was already at the door to welcome them in when the bell chimed.

  “It looks lovely, my dear!” Mother exclaimed after stepping over the threshold. She gave me a light kiss on the cheek, handing her coat to Petrana with barely a glance.

  “You look great, Mom,” I said. She brought no familiar—she had never replaced Promise when the calico had passed on a few years ago—but she was wearing her finest gown: a Dior from her trousseau in the early sixties, slender and apple-green, with a matching short jacket of ruffled organza. Dad’s forest green suit complemented her dress without calling undue attention. I smiled to myself. I could almost hear their ritual conversation as they’d dressed, debating the venue, the participants, the formality (or not) of the occasion. It was sweet that they’d done it for me.

  Mother stepped from the entry hall into the front parlor and looked around. “You’ve done so much—where did you get the rug? And the sofa! You told me you didn’t have one.”

  “I didn’t, then. Logan’s taken me shopping at all the best places.” I leaned up to kiss my dad, then turned to my best friend, waiting in the front hall behind me. “She’s a home decorating genius.”

  “It looks very nice,” my father allowed.

  Petrana hung their coats in the deep under-stair closet, then stood stolidly by, waiting for the next guests. Logan fetched cocktails for my parents as Elnor registered her token objection to the presence of a male in her domain. I petted her fur back down. “Three more warlocks are coming this evening, and they are invited, so just chill, you.” Her tail lashed back and forth a few times, but she purred. “You don’t do this for Willson,” I added.

  We sat down, and I was about to ask my parents about their trip when I felt Leonora materialize on the front steps. She held back a moment, perhaps taking the measure of things inside, before ringing the doorbell.

  “Greetings, Mother Leonora, and welcome,” I said, drawing the door open. “Please, come in.”

  My coven mother was dressed in a plain, heavy overrobe of a purple so dark it was almost black. I could see enough of the clothing beneath her robe to realize that she must have dug all the way back to the Elizabethan part of her closet, where she kept favorite items from when she had come of age. The woven, beaded snood cradling her salt-and-pepper hair was also a clue. Leonora’s familiar, Grieka, twined about her ankles, nearly unseen amid the many layers of petticoats and skirts.

  “Thank you, Calendula Isadora.” She stepped over the threshold, looking around with an appraising eye, and saw Logan. “Greetings, Logandina Fleur,” she said to the covenless witch. There was perfect correctness in her tone, if no warmth.

  “Leonora Scanza,” Logan replied, with a short, practiced curtsey.

  I helped my coven mother out of the overrobe and handed it to Petrana. Leonora’s dress underneath was gorgeous—and ancient indeed. The tight-bodiced gown was puce, heavily embroidered with golden thread, small emeralds, and jet buttons. Though she had kept the lace ruff to a frugal minimum, perhaps in a nod to comfort, I could see that the sleeves were sumo-wrestler thick. The full, bell-shaped kirtle skirt pushed against the robes, cascading to the floor in a weighty fall of larger jet amulets and semi-precious gemstones. The back was less heavily decorated than the front, but I still saw a splash of garnets and tourmalines amid the jet beads.

  Well. She had certainly taken my “formal dinner party” invitation seriously. I didn’t know whether to be flattered or terrified.

  “What can I get you to drink?” I asked.

  I sensed her scan my kitchen quickly before returning her attention to me. “Elderflower wine would be fine, thank you.”

  Logan hurried off to get her a glass as I escorted Leonora into the front parlor. “Lucas Grandion, Belladonna Isis,” she greeted my parents, less coolly than she had Logan.

  “Oh, hi Leonora,” my mother said with a big smile. “What an amazing dress!” Mom was technically still a member of the coven led by Isadora, a botanical worker, though she’d taken a leave of absence decades ago to sign the contract with my father, then extended her leave when they renewed their contract. Coven life, and its attendant courtesies, were a distant memory for her, though Leonora merely nodded at Mom’s lack of formality.

  Father rose and gave Leonora a short bow. Grieka glared at him before joining the other cats sniffing around under the coffee table, all of whom were clearly wondering why there weren’t any appetizers set out.

  Even my largest chair would not contain my substantial coven mother in such a battery of garments. She chose a padded, armless stool I’d picked up at a neighborhood estate sale and sat carefully, arranging her skirts in a fetching arc around her.

  “So, this is the house,” Leonora observed, looking through the open pocket doors into the second parlor. “It seems to be well constructed, though I detect some unfamiliar energies.”

  “It has only ever been inhabited by humans,” my father said. “Until now.”

  “Is that so?” she asked, glancing at me, adding “Thank you” as Logan brought her wine.

  “So far as I have been given to understand,” Father answered. “Why?”

  “Its energetic boundaries feel a little softer than normal.” She peered toward the entryway.

  “Elnor is particularly fond of that closet,” I put in.

  Dad smiled. “Well, the house is quite old, for San Francisco. Well-built structures atop strong ley lines can mature and take on…not life, of course, but a better harmony with their surroundings and occupants. As you are of course aware, Leonora.”

  She nodded. “Was that the reason you chose it?”

  “Yes, plus, the price was good. It felt solid and stable—still does—and this is a decent enough neighborhood. Of course, it was purchased as an investment, not a home.”

  I moved to the front window, monitoring the energy fields around my house for the arrival of more guests as I parsed the conversation so far. What was Leonora digging for? Was Father criticizing me? Their words were all very polite, very mild. I made myself go sit down and sip my drink.

  I felt nothing before the doorbell rang—my next guest, I presumed, though fully shielded. Springing up to answer the door, I almost tripped over the party of cats who were now in the middle of the floor. “You guys! Go find some other room to play in.” Elnor glanced up at me, and ignored my command.

  I opened the door to find Jeremy there. He handed me a small faceted bottle filled with amber-colored liquid, closed with a jeweled stopper. “I know you said not to bring anything, but this is just a small housewarming gift. Put it away to enjoy later.”

  “Thank you! What is it?”

  “Frajella ice wine, from the Old Country.”

  “Wow. That’s…amazing!” He remained on the porch, smiling, until I realized that his gift had thrown me off the ritual of greeting. “Come in, please—welcome to my home.”

  He stepped over the threshold and paused, surprised. “No wards?”

  “No,” I said. “They’re really not necessary here.”

  “I’m not sure I’ve ever been to a witchkind dwelling without them,” he remarked. “Even in San Francisco.” He shrugged out of his long wool coat—gorgeous, if a bit too warm for this climate. Petrana stepped forward to take it; Jeremy started to hand it to her absently, then gave a little jerk of further surprise. “What
…oh, um,” he faltered, still clutching his coat.

  “This is Petrana,” I said.

  “Yes! Your golem, of course. Father told me about it.” He relinquished the coat, somewhat reluctantly. “You…named it?”

  “Well, yes,” I said, feeling a little silly. “She doesn’t have a whole lot of personality, but it would feel weird to treat her like a machine.”

  He opened his mouth and closed it again. From the front parlor, I could hear my mother laugh at something.

  “Come in,” I said, leading Jeremy into the room. Logan blushed and smiled at him; he went to sit next to her.

  “Can I get you a frog brandy?” I asked.

  “Yes, thank you.”

  I was just returning from the kitchen with it (and musing that buying a sideboard for this room too would be a good idea) when I sensed Gregorio’s arrival, along with a second, less familiar presence. I handed Jeremy his glass as the doorbell rang again.

  “Greetings, Calendula Isadora,” Gregorio said as I opened the door. “I am afraid Dr. Winterheart is indisposed, so I took the liberty of substituting another of my assistants. You remember Dr. Sebastian Fallon?”

  “Yes, of course, nice to see you again.” How many young warlocks did Gregorio have in his stable? How were there even room for them in his lab? I shook Dr. Fallon’s slightly damp hand. He was wearing an awfully nice suit, almost as nice as Gregorio’s own. It set off his dark hair and eyes quite elegantly. “Please, do come in.”

  Both men nodded and stepped inside. “Thanks for including me!” Dr. Fallon burbled, as if I’d had anything to do with it. He grinned as he looked around the entryway, ignoring the grumbling hostility of the familiars. Warlocks must be used to such things. “Nice house!”

  “Thanks,” I said with a smile. “And please, call me Callie.”

  Logan stood at the parlor door. “Bulgarian frog brandies? Or something else?”

  “A brandy would be delightful,” Gregorio said, and Dr. Fallon nodded agreement.

  Neither man was wearing an overcoat, so Petrana stood by, even more awkwardly than usual. Logan had wanted me to have her serve drinks, but I wasn’t ready for that. “That’s all for now,” I said to her. “Please wait in the kitchen until I need you next.”

  “Yes, Mistress Callie.” She walked off down the long hallway, her stride looking maybe a little more natural than before.

  Gregorio watched her with undisguised approval, then turned to me. “Truly remarkable, that.”

  I shrugged, though I couldn’t entirely hide my delight at his compliment. I ushered the warlocks into the front parlor; a moment later, Logan returned with their drinks. Dr. Fallon took the chair I had been sitting in, so I sat on the couch between my birth parents. “So!” I said, smiling around at everyone. “Thank you all so much for coming.”

  “It is an honor to be invited,” Gregorio said smoothly.

  “Indeed,” my mother said, patting my knee. “My little girl is growing up at last!” She smiled brightly. “I mean, of course you are a responsible woman of the world, and a member of the city’s best coven, and all.”

  I kept a smile pasted on my face as I glanced around the room, trying not to cringe noticeably. Everyone—Leonora, most importantly—seemed to be taking the remark in the spirit it was intended. “Thank you, Mother,” I said.

  Logan caught my eye from across the room, giving me a smile of gentle reassurance as she sipped her drink. Gregorio’s expression was unreadable; Jeremy looked—amused?

  “This is an awesome house,” Dr. Fallon said. “And can I just say, I find it very refreshing, the idea of witches living alone.”

  I looked at him, my eyes widening. What was this about?

  “‘Refreshing’ is one way to regard it, I suppose,” Leonora said, her voice dangerously mild. “May I just say, there is nothing quite like the focused power of thirteen witches living and working together, day after day, in an unbroken chain of graceful industry.”

  No one else seemed to catch her undertone—well, no one reacted to it, anyway. Perhaps I was being oversensitive. Or perhaps I knew Leonora better than the rest of them did. My father nodded and smiled. Gregorio said, “It is true, though, the rate of change in the world today is unprecedented.”

  “But that’s how we learn and grow, isn’t it, Dr. Andromedus?” Dr. Fallon asked.

  “Of course.” Gregorio turned to my mother. “Which reminds me, Belladonna Isis: Lucas mentioned the other day that you have received a new contact from the Beyond, without benefit of a full Circle. That is quite extraordinary.”

  “Oh, it was nothing so spectacular.” She gazed back at him with her cool brown eyes. Her earlier burble of excitement was now just a polite smile. “One of my ancestresses sent me a dream, that’s all.”

  “A dream?” Gregorio raised an eyebrow: a perfect, practiced motion. “And you are sure that…?”

  “Yes. She described a means of botanical divination I had never even heard of. When I awoke, I performed it three times, and it holds true.”

  “Ah.” Gregorio went on looking at my mother as though they were the only two people in the room. “I have not heard of such a thing in quite an age,” he said at last. “I am impressed.”

  “I did find it interesting myself, yes.” My mother’s smile was starting to seem a bit fixed. “Though I am not sure what it means.” She turned to my father with a softer look on her face. “Lucas, you don’t need to brag about me. I’ve no need to impress anyone.”

  “I’m just proud of you, my dear.” My father shrugged. “Why shouldn’t everyone know how your work is going?”

  “I am always interested to hear such things,” Gregorio said. “It is a crucial part of what keeps us a viable community.” He set his empty glass down on the table beside his chair.

  “Can I get you another?” I was already on my feet even as I asked the question.

  “Yes, thank you.”

  Back in the kitchen, I took a few deep, calming breaths. Why in the world had I thought throwing all these people together would work? My silly mother. And this Dr. Fallon—a complete wild card. I just had to get through the evening, somehow.

  I refilled the drink, then remembered the rack of lamb, prepped and ready to go. It looked amazing: Logan had chopped a bucketload of garlic and rosemary and I don’t even know what other spices, creating a paste that encrusted the meat. Tiny red potatoes, steamed to tenderness, sat around the roast, garnished with parsley. She was a marvelous cook. Maybe good food would distract everyone. Maybe we could just all talk about nothing for the entire evening.

  I put the meat into the preheated oven, set a small timing spell, and glanced around the kitchen, checking to see what else I’d forgotten. The casserole still sat at the back of the stove. I tasted a bit of it, from the corner. Delicious. Would it need reheating?

  Petrana stood against the back wall, impassive as ever. “You can sit down if you like,” I told her.

  “Do you want me to sit, Mistress Callie?”

  “I…honestly have no idea,” I told her. “I mean, if you want to, then yes.” Was she even capable of wanting? “I can’t decide if you’re a person or not.”

  “I am a golem.”

  “Yeah.” I stared at her. “Do you have feelings?”

  “If you want me to have feelings, Mistress Callie.”

  “How does that even work?” Before she could answer, I went on. “I’m sorry, Petrana, I shouldn’t be asking you to explain yourself to me.” What is the matter with me? Focus. “I don’t care if you sit or stand.”

  Without a direct order, she simply stood there. I made myself turn away from her, picking up Gregorio’s drink. Then I realized I should have checked on everyone else’s. I opened a line of energetic awareness to the front parlor and looked through. Mother could use a refresher, as could Logan. My glass appeared to be empty as well. Actually, within a few minutes, everyone would be ready for another.

  But was there time? Twenty minutes was going fast.
There would be wine with the meal.

  Logan appeared in the kitchen doorway. “Everything all right?”

  “Yes—should we get folks to the table?”

  She sniffed the air, looking at the stove. Willson strolled up behind her, also sniffing. “The meat needs to rest after it comes out, and it’s still got at least ten more minutes in there. So, not yet.” Then she studied me. “I didn’t think you’d hide in the kitchen. Come back, relax. Everything’s fine.”

  “No it’s not!” I hissed. “What was I thinking! They’re all just humoring me!”

  “And what if they are?” she asked, her voice kind. “They’re here because they love you. This is your family, and your oldest friends.”

  “And your new boyfriend, and some dweeby warlock I hardly know!”

  She shrugged. “So?”

  “So…yes, okay, I suppose he’s harmless. If he can just manage to keep his mouth shut.”

  “It’s a dinner party, Callie. One evening. Food and drink and conversation. Nothing to be afraid of, nothing bad is going to happen. Okay?”

  I sighed. “Okay. Yes.” Then I smiled at her. “Sorry.”

  She gave me a quick hug. “No problem. Now, let’s go enjoy ourselves.”

  “Right. Can you take this in to Dr. Andromedus?” I handed her the glass of brandy, grabbed the bottle of elderflower wine, and followed her back out.

  I finally relaxed a little once we were seated around the dining table. Here, the rules seemed clearer, and there was something for everyone to do: eat, sip wine, and compliment everything. Plus, the formal seating chart meant that I had Logan right next to me. Her calm presence was a continued comfort. After a few minutes, the table broke up into several smaller conversations. Dr. Fallon, at the far end, began telling my mother a story. She leaned in, looking fascinated. My father also listened, with an air of polite, professional detachment.

  “Father,” Jeremy said to Gregorio at our end of the table, “you never mentioned that Logan here has a connection to the Old Country. I was wondering if we could help her find out what might have transpired with her parents.”

  “Her parents?” Gregorio dabbed at the corner of his mouth with his napkin.