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

Oh my poor Foofri!

To be first deceived and then abducted, in a troll wagon of all discomforts! I suppose They only did it for what They thought was your own good, but it is small consolation for the indignity. We are not children! And thrice bless that wretched muse. (How have you managed to put up with him over the past weeks? I know I ought to be more grateful for the truly vital service that he and he alone can provide for us, but he is the most aggravating creature!) At least we are not completely cut off from communication, and can discuss what had best be done (if there is a best).

After writing my last letter to you, I found myself too keyed up to sleep. What I need is a swim, I thought, so I pulled on my bathing suit and climbed over the wall into Winterfast’s property. I had only been swimming for about ten minutes when Jamin joined me. We ended up sitting on the edge of the fountain and talking for a ridiculously long time about not much at all, until I felt ready to fall asleep right there.

“You should go to bed!” Jamin said with belated concern. “You’ll catch a chill if you sit in the damp in the night air.”

“That’s an old wives’ tale,” I told him, but I was happy enough to go, since it was after three.

I was lying in an exhausted but peaceful slumber in my own bed, just before dawn. Suddenly, an authoritative knocking echoed on the front gate, and my poor porter was obliged to hustle out of bed and see who could be making such a prodigious commotion at such a ridiculous hour. A small company of Justicum guards coolly stalked through the gate, rapped on the door and demanded Magi Cordelimaera on urgent Imperial Business. When my faithful Murkin attempted to ask for credentials, they forced entrance to the house (alas, I procrastinated one day too long on those burglar alarms), invaded my bedroom and quite literally dragged me, until this time oblivious, out of bed. By the time I was cognizant of what was happening I was wrapped in blanket with a demobilization spell on it and was galloping through the city streets on the front of a military charger. When we dismounted at one of the side entrances to the Justicum the sun was just peeking over the rooftops (I’m certain I would have enjoyed my first sunrise in recent memory more under other circumstances. As it is, I shall continue to sleep through them without a qualm). I was tossed over a shoulder in a most undignified manner, carried inside and carted up numerous corridors and down countless stairs before at last set on my feet and released from that ridiculous blanket.

I have no need to describe my feelings. Suffice it to say that I requested to be enlightened regarding my incarceration.

One of the two guards who had accompanied me into the room bowed respectfully. “Forgive us, Magi Cordelimaera, but we must ask you to remain here for the time being.”

They exited the room without another word, leaving me gaping like a fish as they closed the door. I marched over and wrenched it right back open. “If you think for one moment that I am going to sit placidly in that room and wait for –”

A guard laid a detaining hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Magi, but I have orders not to allow you beyond the doorway. I will call for reinforcements if necessary.” Damaging a Justicum guard has serious consequences, the consideration of which restrained me. Barely.

I drew myself up to my full height (not very great) and put the full force of emotion (extremely great) behind my voice. “I am a magi of the fifth skillhouse and a member of the Imperial Court. I demand to know who has had the audacity to order me treated like a common criminal.”

“Of course, Magi. We are under orders from Master Damorin.”

My jaw drop closely resembled that of a whale. “Master Damorin? Since when does the Magi hold a Mastership?”

The poor guard replied, “I apologize, Magi, but we have orders not to discuss the matter.”
“Orders,” I savagely repeated, and shut the door with a force that would have shattered the windows (had there been any). For the first time I took note of where I was. A small, windowless, thickwalled room, buried in the vast interior of the Justicum. The only furniture was a short conference table and chairs, but I was much too upset to sit down and stormed up and down the small space, disbelievingly trying to decipher the small bit of information the guard had given me.

Damorin had ordered that I be detained by the Justicum guard? Master Damorin? Impossible. Damorin was not a Master, and could not possibly become one until one of the incumbent seven either resigned or died. And then I knew that one of the Masters must be dead, and that it probably had something to do with the Suldan Stones.

Now that the heat of my temper had passed, the room was decidedly chilly, and I felt exhausted. I rested my head tiredly against the table and found it increasingly difficult to think clearly. It wasn’t long before I began to realize the stuffy feeling in my head was due to more than lack of sleep. Apparently, Jamin’s warning about swimming in the night air was more than an old wives’ tale. I opened the door again and humbly asked, “Would one of you gentlemen happen to have a handkerchief?”

I sat sniffing and sneezing in lonesome misery for three hours before the door opened and Damorin finally deigned to make an appearance.

“How very kind of you to come,” I tried to say. What I actually said was something like, “How bery kind ob you do gome. Achoo!” I wiped my nose on the now sodden handkerchief and tried to look dignified. “And do I receibe an egsblanation ob dis brebosterous arres’?” (That will be the last of my phonetic transcription. You can imagine the rest.)

He just stood there, frowning down at me. “You’re ill,” he said, as though I had caught a cold on purpose.

“Sorry to disoblige you,” I snapped, and slapped away the hand he tried to lay on my forehead. “Don’t touch me!” Petty, I suppose, but as already stated, I wasn’t thinking clearly.

“Let me do something for your cold.”

“The only thing you can do for me is explain why I was dragged from my bed and imprisoned. Without breakfast, I might add.”

His frown deepened, and he strode over to the door. I jumped up and hurried after him. “You cannot leave me here like this!”

“I’m not—” he started to say, and broke off as he turned to look at me, his eyes widening.

Too late, I remembered that I was only wearing my nightgown, which is not exactly suitable for mixed company. Crossing my arms, I glared at him. “Well, what do you expect people to be wearing when they’re dragged out of bed?”

He just shook his head and opened the door. “Breakfast from the kitchen,” he told the guard. “A cold draught from the apothecary, and a dressing gown.”

Seeing that he was not about to desert me again, I sat down at the table. “Why am I under arrest?” I demanded as soon as he sat down across from me.

“I wouldn’t precisely term it an arrest.”

“Then what would you term it when a magi is dragged from her bed, abducted from her home and confined under guard?”

“Let’s just call it protective custody.”

“How convenient. That way you can keep an eye on me and make certain I don’t disappear with the Stones the way Sedgwick did. Or do you think that I murdered the Master?” It was a bit of a shot in the dark, but the arrow hit home.

“And how did you know that?” he asked softly, and I imagined I heard menace behind his words.

I pointed at his shimmering blue robe. “If you’re wearing the silver threads of Mastership, a Master must be dead. Since they were all in splendid health the last I heard, the most logical conclusion is foul play.”

He narrowed that penetrating grey gaze upon me. “Sometimes, Cordelimaera, you are too clever for your own good.”

“Was that supposed to be a threat?”

Not a wise thing to say to a Master. But his expression lightened and he laughed, making him look almost human. “No, merely an observation.”

“Oh.” Momentarily deflated I sat back and sniffed. “Which was it, by the way?”

“Blivius.”

“Because of the Suldan Stones?”

He sighed. “Possibly. But that’s why you’re here. If he was murdered because of something he knew about the Stones, then you could be in danger.”

“You didn’t arrest me because you think I killed him,” I said, just to be sure.

“Of course not.”

I echoed his sigh, settling back in my chair. It did seem to be a reasonable explanation, and I certainly did not want to be murdered in my bed. “How did it happen?” I asked.

“He was stabbed sometime after midnight, which was when his butler last saw him, but before three, when his valet found him.” Damorin ran a hand through his hair, which already stuck up in dark little clumps as if he’d been doing that all night. “And of course, nobody has an alibi for that hour.”

“I do,” I said.

He frowned again. “Oh? And where were you at that hour, Magi?”

“Swimming with Jamin at Winterfast,” I said. “That’s why I have a cold. But if you ask, me, it’s much more important to ask whether you have an alibi. After all, you’re the one who got the big promotion.”

“Yes,” he said slowly. “That’s true, isn’t it?”

At that point, the guard knocked on the door with breakfast, medicine, and a dressing gown. The draught was bitter and the gown was a man’s, but I took both gratefully and felt better. “Bacon?” I asked Damorin, offering him a piece.

“No, thank you.” He stared at me moodily while I ate.

“What?” I finally asked.

“I am trying to decide what to do with you.”

“Send me home,” I said promptly.

“Not until you have your security spells redone. Someone planted that listening thread in your garden. I could send you to my mother.”

I stared at him horror. “What does your mother have to do with anything?”

“Nothing, only I happen to know that the security on my estate is secure.”

“I am not staying on your estate. What does this have to do with you, anyway? And why did you hire the Underground to spy on me?”

“Montphish’s daughter,” he said resignedly.

I didn’t give you up, dearest. “That doesn’t matter. The point is that you’ve been poking around in my business and I want to know why.” The medicinal drink had had its effect by now, and I was feeling clear headed and feisty.

“Stephanus was my friend,” he said. “Before he died, he asked me to look into the mysterious return of the Stones. He was afraid you would be in danger.”

I was almost certain I believed him. I knew he and Grandfather had frequently worked together. “I’m still not moving in with your mother,” I informed him. “If I can’t go home, then what about Winterfast? It should be safe enough. I’m certain Magi Winterfast would be happy to have me.”

Damorin watched me for a long moment, until I was ready to squirm. “Very well,” he said at last. “Winterfast. After all, you have friends there.”

It took several more hours to arrange everything, but I finally arrived at Winterfast with some luggage. I pleaded exhaustion and went straight to bed.

The next thing I knew, bright sunlight was streaming into my face and an unfamiliar voice was saying pettishly, “Well, it’s about time you woke up. I’ve been waiting quite long enough, and after all my trouble, too.” I opened my eyes to look into the face of, yes, your Muse.

He pointed at the table where he had deposited both your letters, and embarked on a long explanation about how he’d expended all this extra effort to find the first one which the ordinary post (“And why anyone would use such an untrustworthy institution when they have a brilliant and powerful, not to mention handsome, magical servant begging to wait on their every whim, I don’t know”) had delivered to my house.

I honestly don’t know how to advise you on what action to take. I agree that coming back to the City would do little good as you would have to remain concealed to avoid being caught and sent directly back by your father. On the other hand, why has Uncle agreed to let you travel to the Outskirts? Surely such a journey (through the Shazar Pass!!!) is far more dangerous than staying here with me in protective custody! At any rate, I consider it unlikely that Sean (speaking of, are you talking to him yet?) Is completely cut off from contact with the rest of the Underground. If you could discover his means of communication it may prove a valuable source of information.

The muse is growing impatient, so I will conclude. Take care, and do your best to keep from fainting. Try not to let a little thing like a barren wilderness deter you from a life long determination!

With the greatest affection,
Cordy

P.S. I realize you have much more important things to worry about, but if you have time, would you mind writing a detailed description of the troll wagon? Are they actually as grim as everyone says? Is there a bone grinding apparatus? I do hope it is not infested with squinchers, although I fear the worst!

P.P.S. Remember not to drink the water in the Outskirts.