Letter XXX - Fin (C.D. to F.M.)

My dear Foofri,

I suppose that since you insisted the only thing you wanted for Christmas was a letter detailing my final part in last summer’s adventure, I will have to give it to you. But in exchange for sending this to you on your travels, I want an authentic Nirabian dance costume. Also, if you can find it, a flying carpet with a pattern of camels.

After that disastrous interview with Damorin, where his not-so-brilliant solution for disentangling our magic was to put a freezing magical void between us, my first recourse was to write you that half hysterical letter, I discovered that without Muse, I did not know how to send a letter to the Outskirts, or even find out if you still were in the Outskirts. So I went to bed. I was determined to stay there either until you came home or the world ended. Whichever came first.

But after two days of moping beneath the blankets, I found, first, that I was starving (my bedside supply of munches running out midway through the second day), and second that I really needed a bath.

Giving up self pity as a bad job, I set about making myself presentable and proving to the world that Damorin Ardaya meant nothing to me, or at least that I could easily forget him, just as easily as I would cope with the new conditions of my magic.

That last, at least, proved to be much more difficult than I had anticipated. It wasn’t that I’d lost any of my full power, the spell had restored that, but every time I used magic it was like plunging into an ice bath. I could endure it for the first minute, but after that I started shaking, my focus wavered, and the spell flew to pieces.

At least I got my staff back from the extended holiday they’d been on ever since I’d gone into protective custody. I practically fell on Cook’s neck and wept tears of pure joy. I also gave her the new munches recipes I’d gotten from Lucenza (which she accepted with some grumbling about being restricted in her creative field—as though the infinite variability of the munch were not enough to occupy a culinary genius for a lifetime!).

It was shortly after this that Jamin knocked on my front door. I told the butler to let him in, since the sooner we cleared up the little misunderstanding between us, the better.

“Maera, darling!” he exclaimed, striding toward me with his arms open.

I crossed my own arms and glared at him. “Shut up and listen, rat fink.”

He froze, gaping at me in shock.

“I am not, never have been, and never will be in love with you. The only reason I kissed you was because I needed to convince you to help me save the emperor. But you’re a liar and a cheat and you helped try to kill me, and if you ever come here again, I will send you back to the Outskirts in a box. Do you understand?”

“But you love me!” he protested, as though he hadn’t heard a word I’d just said.

“No. I. Don’t. I was pretending in order to manipulate you. That’s a concept you should be familiar with. And frankly, you’re not even my type. I prefer intelligent men, and you’re, well, not. By the way, you kiss like a fish with cement lips.”

I think it was that last bit that finally got through to him, and his face crumpled. “But what will I do?” he wailed.

“Without my money?” I asked cynically, then sighed a little. I found that even to a rat fink I couldn’t maintain that level of brutal insult. “Apparently you have a mother who, Jalwa bless her heart, still loves you. I suggest you go home to her.”

“But—”

“Go!” I ordered, pointing at the door. “Unless you’d rather have me send you out. In a box.” I made a circle with my two hands and showed it to him. “About this big.”

He went.

On the evening of the very same day, Sean also knocked at my door. I was better pleased to see him than his brother, and we had tea in the library. Our talk was a little stilted, and I suppose I was looking rather haggard, because he kept giving me worried looks in the conversational blanks.

“What?” I finally asked.

“Nothing,” he said hastily. “It’s just that you look a little tired.”

I slumped down in my chair. “I feel like a caravan of troll wagons ran me down,” I admitted, and then, to Sean’s dismay, I burst into tears.

He knelt by my chair and offered his handkerchief, looking half panicked. “Don’t cry,” he pleaded. “All you need is a little rest. Maybe you could take a vacation.”

I was too proud to tell him the real reason I was in such a state, so I settled on you as a scapegoat. “Foofri’s never coming home. And I don’t know how to send a letter to her in the Outksirts!” I wailed.

“I can take it for you,” he immediately offered. “I’ll be seeing her in a couple of days.”

To his relief I managed to stop crying. “Really?”

“Of course,” he promised, and I ran upstairs to get my letter. I also retrieved a copy of the Dorthwany Daily News, the edition with the front page headline that read “Young Magi Slays Wraiths, Saves Realm.” It also had your school picture in full color with the caption, “Foof the Slayer.”*

“I promised Foofri I’d make sure everyone knows she’s a hero,” I said, a little proud that my leak to the Daily had had such a dramatic result.

Sean barely glanced at the paper before setting it on the floor by his chair, so I supposed he had already seen it. Much to my annoyance, he forgot to take it with him when he left a few minutes later.

However, I did decide to take his advice and get out of town for some peace, quiet, and comfort. Obviously, there was only one place I could go.

Grandmother Coqui welcomed me with open arms, and I willingly let her pamper and coddle me. The morning after I arrived, a large envelope came with the morning post. Grandmother opened it, examined the legal looking documents, and said, “My dear, it’s all settled.”

“What is?” I asked.

“Your guardianship. Everything has been transferred to me, so I can look after you until you turn twenty. Of course, that’s only two months away now.”

“I didn’t realize my guardianship was being transferred,” I mumbled, looking down at my plate.

“Didn’t Master Ardaya tell you he came to see me?” I shook my head, so she continued, “Since the danger surrounding the Suldan Stones has been eliminated, he thought it best the responsibility be passed to one of your own family. Besides, it would be difficult for him to continue as your guardian in Nirabia.”

“Nirabia!” I exclaimed.

“Yes, dear. He’s the new ambassador. Such a handsome young man! I think he’ll look well in those dashing desert costumes.”

Looking back, I realize she was fishing, but at the time I was only aware of my own misery. “Oh yes, he’s very handsome,” I sneered, “and arrogant, and overbearing, and a complete flirt. Did you know he broke the heart of the poor late princess with his careless dalliance? And he’s perfectly notorious for his conduct at the Anniversary ball. He lays in wait for unsuspecting young ladies and practically assaults them.”

“How dreadfully shocking,” said Grandmother, wincing as my knife scraped against her best china.

I spent the rest of the day alternately fuming and sulking, telling myself how much I hated Damorin Ardaya. Not until evening did I calm down enough to at least pretend to take myself in hand. “If he is glad to wash his hands of you, then you shall be glad to wash your hands of him,” I told myself.

As the first step toward this metaphorical scrubbing I tried, once again, to regain control over my magic. I thought my previous attempts might have been too ambitious, so I chose a very simple heating spell. I also hoped that the nature of the enchantment would naturally counter the backlash of the separation spell.

Shutting myself in Grandmother’s workroom, I filled a beaker with water and began the incantation. At first I felt a flush of warmth on the glass, but then the inevitable chill crept over me. My hand shuddered convulsively; the beaker slammed against the counter and shattered. I looked at my bleeding hand and thought that it was lucky I hadn’t been heating anything but water.

I was still shaking from the effects of the magic, so I suppose that is why I didn’t pay much attention to the footsteps that entered the room or the low exclamation of alarm. I assumed Grandmother had heard the crash and had come to see whether I was all right.

“It’s just a scratch,” I tried to say through my chattering teeth.

A hand took hold of my bleeding one, and it didn’t belong to Grandmother. I looked up at Damorin, shocked, and he, in his turn, appeared alarmed. “Cordelimaera, what’s wrong?”

“This wretched separation spell, what do you think?” I snapped as well as I could. I did feel warmer, although whether it was from surprise or anger or something else, I didn’t know.

He looked confused. “What about the separation spell?”

“I suppose working magic in a snowdrift is second nature to you,” I said bitterly, “but as a warm blooded creature, I’m having trouble adjusting.”

“You feel cold when you work magic?” he clarified.

“You mean you don’t?” I demanded, outraged that he hadn’t been suffering as I had.

H shook his head. “I must have wrongly calibrated the spell.” He reached for me and I stepped backward, running into the work table. It wasn’t that I didn’t want him to touch me. The problem was that I wanted it far too much. His presence was making it hard to remember that I hated him.

“I’m going to have to touch you to break the spell,” he said tightly.

Of course there was no protest I could make to that, but the thought of him kissing me again was both terrifying and exhilarating. I would make a fool of myself—I would either cry or throw my arms around him and never let go—but I suddenly didn’t care. I only wanted to feel his mouth on mine, for whatever reason.

But he only lifted my wounded hand with a delicate touch and murmured the words that would dissolve the enchantment.

And like morning sun on frost, the dark void that had surrounded my consciousness melted away. I groaned in relief, leaning back against the counter as I reveled in the sheer well-being that flooded through me. “Thank you.”

“I’m sorry. I had no idea the spell could produce such a side effect. You should have told me.”

I belatedly remembered I was very angry with him and said coldly, “We weren’t on speaking terms.”

“No,” he replied, turning away. “And I’m afraid I must now distress you further.”

“What is it?” I asked, my heart sinking, although I couldn’t imagine what more he could do to hurt me.

He remained unresponsive for a moment and then I saw his shoulders stiffen and he swung back to face me, his expression frozen. “I’ve forbidden Benjamin Winterfast to come near you. And I made it clear to him he won’t like the consequences if he disobeys me.”

“Oh, is that all,” I said, relieved. “Not that it wasn’t high handed and dictatorial, especially considering you aren’t even my guardian anymore, but it’s not half as bad as some of the other things you’ve done.”

“He’s gone,” Damorin said carefully. “You won’t see him again.”

I rolled my eyes. “Thank Jalwa.”

Damorin looked utterly bewildered, as though some foundational axiom of the universe had been proven untrue. “You’re not upset?”

“Why would I be? I sent him back to his mother days ago. The poor woman apparently still harbors some grains of affection for the rat.”

“But you’re in love with him!”

I was stunned and enlightened; ashamed and furious that he had thought such a thing of me. For one ghastly moment I thought I might actually swoon, like some pathetic Dorthwany Daily heroine.

But I rallied and chose shouting over fainting. “In love! With Jamin! How could you possibly insult me like that! I don’t know which is worse—assuming that I would fall in love with someone who at his best is silly and selfish, or believing that I could love any man who proved to be a base coward, a traitorous liar, and a complete rat!”

“You knew all of that when I saw you kiss him, and heard you tell him that you loved him,” Damorin flung back.

Of course it would have been that moment he saw, when he used the Suldan Stones to find me.

“Oh yes, of course,” I said, sarcasm running off my words in rivers. “Because I had the blinding revelation that I loved him while he was holding a knife to my throat!” I was waving my hands wildly and practically hopping up and down in my fury. “What else was I supposed to do? You were monopolizing our combined magic, and the emperor was about to be slaughtered. Believe me, if I’d had any option other than seducing Jamin, I’d have taken it. And how you ever got appointed Master I don’t know because clearly, you are an idiot!”

I at last ran out of breath and words, so I stopped, panting and glaring at him with all my might. His face had gone chalk white and he looked as though a troll had punched him in the gut. My conscience winced, but no matter how stricken he looked, I wasn’t taking it back. He was an idiot.

“The last time I saw you,” he began in a low voice that I almost had to strain to hear, “you tried to tell me something. I thought you were about to say you were in love with Jamin, and I stopped you. I never heard what you actually wanted to say.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I muttered, looking down and turning away.

“Cora—”

“For the last time, don’t call me that!” I shouted, spinning back around. “Nobody calls me that except Grandfather! You want to be my new Grandfather?”

And, at last, he was shouting back. “No! I don’t want to be your grandfather, or your guardian, or your advisor. Jalwa help me, I fell in love with you the first day you walked into my office. And since then, I’ve been forced to do everything that would make it dishonorable for me to pursue you.”

“Oh,” I said in a tiny voice. Almost everything suddenly made sense. I almost believed that he meant it when he said he loved me. “I kissed you in the Pass and you pushed me away.”

“I thought you knew how I felt—I’d made it obvious enough—and that you felt sorry for me.”

“That was a very silly thing to think,” I whispered, stepping forward.

“Was it?” he asked, looking miserable and hopeful at the same time.

“I can’t believe you thought I was in love with Jamin.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, but looking less miserable.

I wound my arms around his neck. “This doesn’t mean you’re through groveling. I expect at least …” I was momentarily distracted as he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me close. “At least six more apologies,” I continued determinedly. “Also chocolate. And …” His face was very close to mine now, and I lost focus completely.

“And?” he prompted.

I closed my eyes. “Just kiss me.”

“I’m sorry I was a fool,” he whispered, brushing his lips across my forehead. “I’m sorry I was so jealous I couldn’t see what was right in front of me.” His mouth traveled down my cheek to my jaw line, and made me shudder. “I’m sorry I didn’t just tell you the truth. I’m sorry I doubted you. I’m sorry I’ve wasted so much time not kissing you.”

Not caring that he was still one short, I turned my face and stopped his apologies.

Some time later, I found myself leaning against his chest while he healed the cut hand I had forgotten about. Despite my very comfortable position, I couldn’t ignore the sinking sensation I felt as Damorin’s use of magic pulled away my own power.

“This is awful. We can’t live like this.”

“Sorry,” he murmured, kissing my healed hand and making me feel better all over. “I should be able to modify the separation spell to get rid of the side effects.”

I looked up at him innocently. “But such experimentation might take weeks.”

“Not real—” he began, but I put my fingers over his mouth.

“Weeks,” I repeated. “And with your magic in such a tangled state, you can’t possibly fill such a demanding position as ambassador to Nirabia.”

Understanding crossed his face. “It might even take months.”

“I knew you would agree. I don’t know what Lastra was thinking when he appointed you.”

“I begged him for it,” Damorin confessed. “I couldn’t stand being so near you but unable to do anything about loving you.” I admit I wasn’t entirely sorry that he had suffered.

He had to go back to the City then, to hand in his resignation as ambassador. “Hurry back,” I pleaded, and he did.

I think I’ll end my story here. There is such a thing as too much information, even between cousins.

Merry Christmas, dearest!

Affectionately yours as always,

Cordy

P.S. If possible, learn how to belly dance so that you can teach me. We could do an act at the next International Cultures Appreciation Night at the Bunsnigger arena.

P.P.S. Damorin was looking over my shoulder as I wrote the above. He says that as a liberal minded man, he has no objection, but he’s afraid the idea might set Sean off on a lecture about the abuses of cultural diversity.

*Despite urban legend claiming Foof the Slayer was a member of Jalwa’s war band, the name indubitably originated with the Dorthwany Daily’s imaginative captioning. A surprisingly accurate history of the ensuing mythologizing of the wraith slaying can be found in the handbook of the Girl Scouts of the Imperial Realm, which organization adopted Foofribelle as inspiration and role model.

Editor’s Note:

I would like to add my thanks to Solsticia’s. I deeply appreciate every person who has taken the time to read Foofri and Cordy’s letters, and especially those who have made the extra effort to let us know they were reading. This story is dear to our hearts, and sharing it has been richly rewarding.

A very happy holiday season to you all!

Best wishes,

Dianarama Ottorius

Imperial Magic Academy