Letter II (C.D. to F.M.)

My Dear Foofri,

Put away the smelling salts and keep your record unblemished. I am safe and sound, but if you think YOU had an awful afternoon! Through no fault of my own (mostly), I spent the entire council in a Royal Residency broom closet. (Stop laughing!)

As you know, I made the mistake of mentioning to the director of BMEFYC* that I had done a paper on the structure of the elementary transmutation back at the Academy. All I meant was that I would be happy to share my notes with the instructor. I never dreamed I would get roped into doing the presentation myself. I did my best to put a cheerful face on the matter, but the truth is, two and a half hours with Young Citizens who can grasp enough of the concept to turn their neighbors’ hair ribbons into slimy antennae but whose attention span has run out long before my lecture notes, is perfectly exhausting. And to think you once told me I should concentrate my emphasis on Beginning Magical Education. I shudder.

I was not pleased to arrive home after that grueling session and discover a personal invitation from Princess Ameliorene to join her for tea at that afternoon’s Court. It was odd as well as annoying, since I’ve only spoken to the princess perhaps three or four times. Still, one does not ignore a royal invitation, so I strapped myself into the only black Court gown I own (you know, the crinoline monstrosity with the fringe) and trotted down to the Residence.

Half an hour spent in the princess’s less than stimulating company left me no wiser as to why she thought it would be entertaining to have my company. Part of the time, she just sat there staring at me, doe-eyed, as though she expected me to come up with a topic of conversation. The rest of it she spent making remarks like, “I think the new fashion in cloaks is simply marvelous, don’t you, Magi Demestheln?” And I’d say, “Oh yes, marvelous,” and then she’d ask whoever was sitting next to me whether they thought it was marvelous too. The rest of our circle kept changing, but every time I’d start to stand up, she’d ask me another question until I was ready to dunk her perfect golden curls into the tea pot!

I finally escaped on the plea I would be late for the council and was headed for the courtyard when who should I see coming toward me but that insufferable Count whatsis name. The one with the greasy mustache who has been hanging about ever since I inherited grandfather’s estate. I was just about to slip on a quick invisibility spell when I remembered the palace burglar alarm with the invisibility detector, so I shut myself behind the first door I saw, which turned out to be a broom closet. Of course it was. I intended to pop out again as soon as whatsis face went past, but two guards decided they had time for a chat right in front of my closet! (Whatever they pay Imperial door guards is too much!) Imagine my trying to explain to security why a fifth skillhouse magi was lurking in a royal broom closet. I was stuck, and believe me it was sweltering inside those layers of velvet (not to mention the fringe getting tangled up in the mops).

Three thrilling quarters of an hour full of gossip later, they finally left. I just had my hand on the doorknob when I heard more footsteps out in the hall, and yet another conversation began outside my closet. (I don’t know why they bother with sitting rooms.) But this is the strangest part of the whole afternoon. They were speaking softly and I could not distinguish the words, only the timbre of the voices. One of them I found entirely unrecognizable, but the other sent chills down my spine! You remember our little curfew breaking escapade your second year at the Academy? The time we almost got caught and had to hide up the nearest tree while one of the kitchen maids enjoyed a rendezvous with her lover (or so we assumed). The man had a distinctly sibilant voice and you said it made you feel as if a wraith were breathing down your neck. I would wager the secret family recipe for R’uc Wing it was THE SAME VOICE!! But I didn’t dare peek until they were gone and so am left simply burning with curiosity.

That is how I spent my afternoon. By the time I escaped the company of the mops, it was much too late to make the council, and I arrived home (traffic was dreadful) barely an hour ahead of your note.

I don’t know how I am going to explain my absence since Head Councilman Lastra isn’t fond of me at the best of times. I wish those cursed Stones had stayed disappeared! The scandal of the last century had finally died down and the Demesthelns were a respectable (sort of) family again. But you can’t pick your relatives.** (To be fair, there are a few who probably wouldn’t have picked me either.)

The next time Damorin accosts you with a probe, I would do more than stare. I would throw something. Of all the presumptuous arrogance! He acts as if he has the rights of a Master, which he does not, even if he is seventh skillhouse. And he especially doesn’t have any right to be nosy about me, since I have graduated (with honors that should have satisfied even him) and he is no longer responsible for my academic well being. So why he was so concerned about me, I don’t know, but I’m sorry my absence brought you under the baleful glare of the council!

I opened the mysterious missive first thing after reading your letter. Unfortunately, the whole thing is written in those impossible shadowlink runes. I shall be up half the night translating (all those late nights cramming for Calligraphic Lang. at the Academy, and I still only just squeaked through), and I wanted to send this off immediately and set your mind at rest.

Most affectionately,
Cordy

P.S. Sorry if I babbled, but I feel considerably relieved having vented the whole frustration into your sympathetic ear.

P.P.S. You didn’t mention how your experiment with the mirror came out. Better than you were expecting I hope (but you underrate your own abilities, dear, you really do!)

P.P.P.S. This is growing ridiculous. But I do hope you tripped gracefully. And just how handsome was this young man?

*Beginning Magical Education for Young Citizens was at this time considered the premier preparatory school for the Imperial Academy of Magic. Within ten years, however, it would be defunct, due to its failure to adhere to the Valerian Education Act of 432.

**For the full genealogy of the Demestheln family, see Appendix G.