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

Dear Foofri,

When I first read your letter, I was too stunned to feel anything but, well, stunned. Like someone had dropped half a ton of frozen carp on my head. Sean is my cousin? Jamin is his step brother? And Winterfast is a traitor? It was simply too much to take in. I’m not quite so stunned now, and a lot angrier, but I suppose it doesn’t do any good to rant. (I did a bit of that already this evening.)

After I sent Muse off with my letter yesterday morning, I climbed out of the bath and got dressed. I tried fixing my face, but felt utterly exhausted before I was halfway through and had to stop. Then I discovered I was extraordinarily hungry, but a prowl through the kitchen turned up nothing but half a loaf of moldy bread that seemed to get greener even as I stood there wondering if I could scrape off the bad bits.

Fortunately, I was saved from possible demise and certain indigestion by a knock at the door. Jamin Winterfast, the dirty lying rat, stood on my doorstep. He looked relieved when he saw me and told me that he’d been worried about me. (A lie, no doubt). Furthermore, he had a picnic basket emanating all sorts of delicious odors, so I naturally invited him inside (which, I confess, I may have been hungry enough to do, even had I known his dirty lying rat-like nature).

He had brought, Jalwa bless his little rat soul, a platter full of bacon, and I was crunching through it even before we had everything set out on the table. I have no doubt now that he brought the food with the purpose of distracting me while he plied me for information, but fortunately, he overplayed his hand. The breakfast was so good that I really couldn’t be bothered to answer his questions about where I’d been all of yesterday, and why I’d left Winterfast without saying goodbye, and how I got that nasty bruise on my face. I told him to stop pestering me until I was done eating.

He bit into a bagel with lox, looking moody, and then he said, “Maera, there’s something I have to tell you?”

My mouth was full of breakfast munch, but I looked at him encouragingly, since if he talked, I wouldn’t have to.

“I’m falling in love with you,” he said.

I froze mid-chew and stared at him, hoping I had heard wrong.

“I know we haven’t known each other very long,” he continued, “but I’ve never met a girl like you. And after our first meeting, I knew I could love you like I had loved no other woman.”

I briefly wondered how many other women Jamin had loved. Finally managing to swallow, I said bluntly, “I’m sorry if I have in any way led you on, and I’m sorry to cause you pain, but I don’t love you.”

“You haven’t even thought about it,” he accused, grasping my hand. “Only let me try to change your mind.” And before I could believe that he was brazen enough to do what he was doing, he leaned over and gave me a sloppy, loxy kiss.

I tried to keep the revulsion off my face as I pulled away, although in retrospect, I realize I should have beaned him with his own bagel. “That was, uh …” I fumbled for a nice way to tell him that he was a really terrible kisser before I realized that he was staring past me.

I turned and looked. Damorin was in the doorway. Of course he was. Cleary, the entire episode was orchestrated by the universe to cause me the most humiliation possible.

After examining both of us like we were enchantezymes under his magiscope, Damorin finally sauntered forward. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” he said, in a silky voice as threatening as it was smooth.

The dirty lying rat didn’t even flinch. “Last I checked, Master, this wasn’t your house.”

“Oh for Jalwa’s sake!” I exclaimed, entirely out of patience with both of them. “Sit down, Damorin, and have some breakfast. You’ll feel better.”

“I’ll feel fine when I’ve assured your security by escorting Mr. Winterfast off the premises,” he answered, without breaking his eye lock with Jamin. “It’s nothing personal.”

Unfortunately, if Damorin was determined to kick Jamin out of my house, there wasn’t anything I could do to stop him at least, not without getting violent. It wasn’t worth it.

“Jamin, you’d better go,” I said tiredly.

He looked at me. “Are you certain? I’d be happy to stay if you want company or …” he glanced at Damorin “ … additional protection. It doesn’t look like what you’ve got has been doing a very good job.” He looked pointedly at my bruised cheek.

“Thank you,” I said, “but I’ve got all the protection I can handle. I’ll see you later.”

He left at last, Damorin stalking after him to make sure he actually exited the house.

Fortunately, he took a long time coming back, so I had time to compose myself, and remind myself that who I kissed was none of his business. I half expected him to grill me, but he looked positively cheerful (for him) as he sat down across from me and helped himself to the toast.

Well, if he didn’t care about what had just happened, I didn’t care either. I took another munch in order to prove just how much I didn’t care.

“How do you feel?” he asked, ignoring my observation.

“Fine, thank you,” I insisted. Of course I was fine. Perfectly, absolutely fine. “Did you take the Stones back to the vault?”

“Do you honestly think I would leave you alone in the house with them?” he returned. “How is your magic?” he persisted.

“Weak,” I had to admit. “I tried healing my cheek, but I couldn’t.”

“Self-healing spells are draining anyway, and magical ability is always the last to recover after an encounter with the Stones,” he told me pushing away from the table. “Come over to the light, and I’ll do it for you.”

Since I was perfectly fine, I walked over to the window and tilted up my face. “I think I hit the edge of the worktable on the way down,” I explained, as his fingers gently probed my discolored cheek. “I don’t know for sure, that is …” It was a bit difficult to think, since I couldn’t help remembering the last time we had stood this close, and I desperately willed myself not to blush. I closed my eyes as warmth began to radiate from his fingers.

He sounded amused as he said, “Don’t look so apprehensive. I consider it bad form to kiss during breakfast.”

My eyes flew open. “I wasn’t thinking about that!” I insisted, even though, of course, I had been.

He smiled. Slowly. “Yes, you were.” He dropped his hand and stepped back. “The bruise is gone.” Then he frowned and reached to touch my other cheek. “Did you strike both sides of your face?”

I remembered the princess’s scratch and said hastily, “If you must know …” I paused, distracted as he began a new healing spell.

“Go on,” he encouraged.

“I was wondering why you gave me that mask.”

“Do I really have to explain that to you, Cordelimaera?”

“I think you owe it to me.”

“You asked for it.”

“That is not what I meant!” I protested. “The point of a mask is to hide what you’ve been doing. The one you gave me did the opposite! You should have seen your mother’s face.”

He finished the spell and stepped back again. “By the way, Lastra wants to see you,” he told me, effectively changing the subject.

“Why?” I asked, dismayed.

“He wants to tell you about the Stones.”
“Tell me?” I repeated in disbelief. “Not punish me?”

“Those were his words,” he promised.

That afternoon, I found myself in Master Lastra’s office, trying not to cower as the head councilman himself glared at me.

“Magi Cordelimaera, you’ve been causing me a great deal of trouble,” he growled.

“And the Board of Masters has been causing me a great deal of trouble,” I answered back, supposing that I couldn’t possibly be getting myself into any worse trouble.

To my relief, however, his glower faded into a look of amusement. “I suspect that is true. So I propose a truce. I will tell you why we have been putting so much effort into keeping you from the Stones, if you will, in turn, promise to stay away from them.”

“I will if I agree with your reasons,” I said.

“I find that I don’t have the energy to argue with you,” he said dryly. “Very well. The reason we have tried so hard to keep you from them is that they are dangerous.”

“That, I knew,” I informed him.

“They killed your grandfather,” he told me.

I felt lightheaded and had to grip the sides of my chair very hard. “What do you mean?”

“I mean exactly that.” He sighed and tugged at his beard. “I am sorry to be so blunt, but you are obviously not the kind of young woman who takes well to coddling.” He pulled on his beard again, before continuing, “I think we were all of us sorry to see the Stones come back. We’d gotten along fine without them, and as the records show, their presence always caused more trouble than they were worth. There was their danger to those who used them, for one thing. And the constant fear that someone would steal them. And the … inappropriate requests from various personages in the government. In some ways, it had been a relief when Sedgwick disappeared with them. But somebody returned them anonymously, and, well, it was important that we know who that person was. Stephanus tried to use the Stones to find out, but they don’t work well without a specific focus. You felt their power. You know how dangerous they can be, if you get lost in them.”

I remembered my own terrifying experience, and the thought of Grandfather going through the same thing, only not able to get out – Foofri, I nearly couldn’t take it.

Lastra was saying something else, but I had a hard time listening to it. “The terms of your grandfather’s will,” was the first thing that registered.

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that?” I asked.

“I was saying that since under the terms of your grandfather’s will, Master Ardaya is the estate’s executor and your legal guardian, he assumed responsibility for the Stones until you come of age in six months.”

“Damorin is my guardian?” I asked, dumbfounded.

It was Lastra’s turn to look surprised. “You didn’t know?”

I shook my head. “No, I thought Uncle …” I tried to understand that Damorin, of all people, was my guardian, and I found I didn’t like it at all.

“Thank you, Master,” I said abruptly, “you’ve very kind to explain all of this, but I think I need to go now. You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

Damorin was waiting to take me back home, and I did my best not to talk to or look at him on the way. He let me sit in silence until we arrived at the house. I climbed down as fast as I could, not waiting for assistance, and practically ran up the front steps.

“I want you to leave,” I said, as I fumbled with the lock.

“Whatever Lastra told you, we should talk about it.”

“No!” I said sharply. “I’ve been begging you to talk for weeks. It’s too late. I don’t want to hear it.” He laid a hand on my shoulder and I jerked away, spinning to face him. “How could you possibly be my guardian? You’re not even family!”

“Alain was unreachable. Because of the Stones, I was the only other person Stephanus trusted.”

“The Stones,” I said bitterly. “How could you? How could you know how Grandfather died and not tell me?” And then I ran into the house and slammed the door behind me.

I spent a long time pacing back and forth, crying a little, trying to get myself under control. I couldn’t decide whether I was more upset over learning the truth about Grandfather’s death, or furious over Damorin’s betrayal.

I did feel betrayed. I know this adventure has been full of secrets from the beginning, and we’ve all kept things from each other, but this is different. The other secrets he kept were part of his job, but not this. As a friend, he should have told me.

I spent a miserable night and an equally miserable day, until Muse appeared in the late afternoon, with your letter. I seized it with relief, and read it with all appropriate accompanying emotions of horror, betrayal, anger, etc.

It does make a terrible kind of sense. No one was so well placed as Winterfast to make the two attempts on my life. And he was the one who talked me into using the Stones, without guidance or protection. It’s incredibly awful to believe that someone you’ve known your whole life, someone you’re fond of and thought was fond of you, is trying to kill you.

Which, actually, does puzzle me. Why does he think putting me out of the picture will give him access to the Stones and the power he so obviously craves? If I’m dead, the Stones will still be under the control of the Board of Masters, and even if he manages to kill another Master (I think we can assume his involvement in Blivius’s death, can’t we?) what possible benefit does my death give him?

At any rate, I paced and stormed as I read, and Muse watched my dramatics with an expression that wavered between condescending pity and condescending I-told-you-so-ness. I finished by throwing my hands in the air in the best histrionic fashion and declaring, “Isn’t there anyone I can trust?”

“Apparently not,” Muse said, in what he believed to be a sympathetic voice.

“Winterfast wants to kill me, Damorin does nothing but lie to me …” I raged on.

Muse humphed happily. “I could have told you the Master was trouble the first time I saw him. Why else do you think it took me so long to deliver that letter? He closed the security loophole we left for me to get in and out of the house.”

“What?” I demanded.

“And would you like to know what he did the night after you used the Suldan Stones?”

I frowned. “He said he took the Stones back to vault. I think.”

“A convincing cover story,” simpered Muse, “but as a matter of fact …” he paused dramatically, “THE STONES ARE IN YOUR SAFE DOWNSTAIRS! What he actually did …”

But I was already running for Grandfather’s study. Unlocking the safe, I stared at the jumble of contents inside (unlike the vault, the safe is not well organized).

“Back left hand corner,” Muse offered helpfully, and there they were. Had I not known to look for them, I never would have found them. Despite the fact that I obviously should have known better, I’d fallen for Damorin’s assertion that he had put them back in the vault, out of my reach.

And as I held the little velvet bag in my hand, I plan sprang fully formed into my head. Oddly enough, despite what I had learned about the Stones, I felt almost eager to use them again. I wasn’t going to cower from them—I wanted to master them and in so doing, give some dignity to Grandfather’s death.

I wasn’t stupid enough to make another attempt without more information, however, and I wasn’t going to get any more of that from official sources. There was only one place I could think of that might harbor the necessary secrets—the Outskirts, and the records Sedgwick and his daughter may have left behind. Also, the thought of again being with someone whom I trusted (namely you, dearest) was too tempting to resist.

I am going to run away to Fort Thunderhall and hire an escort to bring me through the pass. I even have a cover story that would make you proud of me, all about my only sister who is dying of a rare and incurable disease.

Although I briefly contemplated trying to gather supplies for the journey, I dismissed it as too complicated and too likely to draw attention to my plan. Whatever I needed I would have to buy at the fort. I could, Jalwa forbid, even wear pants if I had to.

The most important thing to figure out was how to get myself to the Fort without being stopped. Once in the Pass and out of the reach of magical communication, I thought I would be safe, but in order to get there, I needed to buy myself at least twenty-four hours. Practically, that meant convincing Damorin to leave me alone, without raising his suspicions.

I at last decided that the best thing to do was finish the fight I had started the day before—if I could make Damorin believe I truly loathed him, he might give me enough space to get away.

I did not find myself looking forward to playing the role as much as I might have thought I would, had it been suggested to me two weeks ago, but I copied out the relevant sections of your letter to show to Damorin, while I tried to work up some of the outrage I had felt yesterday.

Just as I was finishing up with these interesting activities, a postman came to the door bearing a note from no one other than my own new cousin, Sean Valerian. He said that he supposed I had received your letter by now, and that he had just gotten into town. Could he come to see me in an hour? After a bit of deliberation, I sent back an affirmative reply, having decided that my proposed scene might be more effective in front of a witness.

Then, gathering my courage in two hands, I called Damorin on the mirror. He was in his office, and he took the call immediately.

“I’ve had a letter from Foofri,” I said flatly. “Also, Sean Valerian is on his way. I suppose you’d better come over.” And I hung up before he had a chance to reply.

He got there quickly. I wordlessly handed over the pages from your letter (don’t worry, I took out all the personal bits) and watched closely as he read.

It didn’t take a mind reader to know that he was angry. “I never suspected him,” Damorin muttered, when he was done reading, and I suspect that if Winterfast had been standing in the room at that minute, it would not have gone well for him.

“I didn’t either,” I said, slipping for a moment from my role of bristling hostility.

He gave me a look full of sympathy. “Cora—”

“Don’t call me that!” I snapped. “Why don’t you actually do something useful with that sparkly robe for once and go next door to arrest Winterfast?”

“It’s not that simple,” he replied.

“Oh, so you can throw me in the a locked room anytime you want, but you can’t arrest a criminal who has committed an actual crime. Oh that’s right, you can, you’re my guardian.”

“If I didn’t tell you Stephanus had appointed me your guardian, it was because it was irrelevant,” he burst out, his patience finally wearing thin. He took a deep breath and continued in a tightly controlled voice, “All we have is Seamus Valerian’s word about what happened. There is no actual evidence.”

“There must be something you can do.” I narrowed my eyes. “Are you keeping it from me so that I won’t tag along?”

“No,” he insisted.

“Really? Funny, I have absolutely no inclination to believe you.”

A knock on the front door echoed through the house, rather ruining our climactic moment.

“I’ll let Valerian in,” Damorin said abruptly, striding out into the hallway, although whether it was to get away from me or to exchange a private word with Sean, I didn’t know.

When they came back, I looked Sean over for a moment (I admit I noticed that he did grow up quite nicely), and then I said, “So you’re the one who dragged my cousin to the Outskirts on a larat.”

“Hello to you too, cousin,” he said. “I acted to protect Foofri, yes.”

“Protection, protection!” I waved my hands wildly. “Is that all you men ever think about? What about truth and justice? Damorin refuses to arrest Winterfast!”

“There is no evidence,” Damorin repeated, slowly and distinctly.

“He’s right,” Sean agreed. “So far all we have are some shrewd guesses based on hearsay. What we need to do is find the evidence.”

“I have an idea about that,” Damorin said.

Sean and I looked at him expectantly, and for a moment, I actually thought that I wouldn’t have to escape after all, that I could stay and we would all figure this out together. But then Damorin looked at me, and my bubble popped.

“No,” I protested. “No! You are not going to leave me out of this!”

“Winterfast has already tried to kill you.”

“And missed three times. He’ll miss next time, too. Why shouldn’t it be my turn to go after him?”

“Three?” Damorin repeated. “What haven’t you told me?”

“There was a rigged explosion. Amateurish and easily avoided,” I said airily.

“This is why it’s too dangerous!” he exclaimed. “I can’t trust you tell me the truth!”

“Well, maybe if you were more trustworthy, I would tell you the truth.”

He took a deep breath, obviously trying to calm down. “And furthermore, you rush into things without thinking them through.”

“That’s not true!” I protested. I’d had a very thought out plan when I had stolen the Stones.

“Yes, it is, especially when you’re angry. In the mood you’re in right now, you’d only endanger everybody,” he said heartlessly.

It hurt, but after all, wasn’t it what I’d been angling for? “Fine!” I shouted. “Just leave me alone and tell me when it’s over then. But don’t expect me to thank you.”

I started to storm out of the room, but he caught my arm. I wrenched away from him so fast that my sleeve tore. “Don’t touch me!” I shouted. “Don’t ever touch me!” And I ran upstairs to barricade myself in my bedroom.

I’m sorry Sean had to witness all of that, but I promise to apologize when it’s all over. At any rate, I must close this letter. Damorin and Sean left the house while I was composing it, and it’s now time for me to leave as well.”

I’ll see you soon. Muse is delivering this letter so that you will know to come and meet me at the border. He is acting strangely reluctant about the whole plan and has been making snide comments about how useless I’ll be in the Shazar Pass, but I suspect it’s because he didn’t think of the plan himself.

All my love,
Cordy

P.S. I stole a moment to cheer myself up by glancing over your memoirs, which look vastly entertaining. I especially enjoyed the part where you defeat Sean in a fencing duel. I sent them to Madam Dorthwany’s office via the post. No doubt she will become more firmly convinced that I am the author, since the much talked about Muse failed to put in an appearance.