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

Dear Foofri,

If I weren’t so desperate to see you, I’d be angry enough to shake you. How could you possibly think your life wasn’t worth anything, that you wouldn’t be missed if you were gone? I’ve barely survived this last month of not being able to talk to you—if you had died, I doubt I’d be able to get out of bed ever again.

I’m unspeakably grateful to Muse for saving your life, and I swear I’ll stop taking you for granted and be the friend you deserve. One thing I have already done. I took your account of how you destroyed the wraiths, censored the personal bits, and sent it to the Dorthwany Daily, journalism division, as the scoop of the century. When you come back from the Outskirts, you will receive a welcome that will decide, once and for all, whether you are “the person no one takes notice of.”

My side of the story is rather embarrassing, compared to yours. After Muse disappeared with my last letter (I wished I’d known that was the last time I’d see him. I would have kissed him or something—he would have hated that. Even though I didn’t think I liked him very much, it’s hard not to be able to say goodbye), I read yours (the one you’d sent before your self-immolating heroism in the Pass) and the excerpts from Sean. (By the way, I suspect the censored sections were the most interesting. I suppose some things, like love letters, should be kept private even between cousins.)

Damorin and the troll brothers didn’t return to the cave until that evening, by which time I had eaten so many munches that I actually thought I never wanted to see another munch ever again (insanity, utter insanity). Lucenza wouldn’t believe me when I said I didn’t have any room for the lavish dinner she had prepared, so I slipped out as soon as I could to get away from her kindly bullying. I found myself a nice, flat boulder and watched the stars coming out.

After a while, Damorin emerged from the caves, as I had rather hoped he would. “How was your day?” I asked, as he leaned against my rock. The height of the rock put us on about eye level, and he was distractingly close. I had to push my hand hard against a sharp crevice to stay focused.

“We hiked to a vantage point over Fort Thunderhall. It’s crawling with extra troops.”

“Wonderful,” I muttered. “They must really miss us back there.”

“I’m not worried about the soldiers. With the help of our troll friends, we could probably elude them forever.”

I sighed. “But we can’t hide forever. We have to go home.”

“And we will, as soon as our enemies make a move. Valerian can contact the trolls through the Underground, and we’ll be ready to act. But we have to wait for them to commit themselves.”

“To another assassination attempt?” I asked.

“Probably.”

“Isn’t there something we could do hurry things along? Push them into acting? I could always go back and let Winterfast try to kill me again.”

“It doesn’t have quite the same legal consequences when you’re already running from the law.”

“I suppose,” I reluctantly agreed. Not only was I itching to bring well deserved justice to Winterfast and company, but the thought of spending even a week with the trolls made my stomach ache. I would probably gain fifteen pounds. “Damorin …”

“Yes?” he prompted when I didn’t go on.

“I wanted to apologize for shouting at you the other night.” I felt very guilty over the fight I’d provoked between us to cover my planned escape.

He turned and looked at me, our faces only inches apart. “I understand.”

I hoped that meant he forgave me, but I was having trouble thinking clearly. Desperate to put some space back between us, I demanded, “ But why didn’t you tell me you were my guardian? It was such an unnecessary secret.”

“I told you why. It was irrelevant.” I thought he sounded a little frustrated, so I pushed on.

“It wasn’t irrelevant to me,” I protested. “And don’t tell me it was because of the Suldan Stones.”

“It wasn’t,” he said unexpectedly. “If you must know, I insisted on the secrecy. It was an empty legal title I wanted to discharge as easily and quietly as possible.”

“But wouldn’t it have been easier if I had known? We might not have had so many fights. If I had known my grandfather had invested you with authority …”

“That is precisely the point,” he interrupted. “Jalwa, Cora, you think I wanted your Grandfather’s authority over you?”

“I see.” I did. I don’t know why I’d been so slow. Of course Damorin hadn’t wanted to be saddled with me. It must have been very irritating to have the responsibility thrust on him like that, but he’d accepted out of friendship for Grandfather. I was practically writhing with humiliation, but I forced myself to say, “It was very kind of you.”

“You think I was being kind?”

“Considering your obvious feelings in the matter, yes.” He seemed to be leaning even closer, and I tried to look away without obviously looking away. “It was very self-sacrificing, and … I’m grateful.”

“You’re grateful in spite of my obvious feelings,” he reiterated, and now that I remember it, I think he actually sounded angry, which wasn’t fair at all, considering that I was trying to recognize the burden he’d taken on, but at the time all I could think about was how hard my heart was pounding, and that I couldn’t feel the rock biting into my hand at all.

I tried to go on. “Yes, I am grateful, and …”

And then I lost my head. I don’t know how else to explain it. But he was right there. And I

Well

I kissed him. And it wasn’t a sisterly peck of good will either.

Somehow my hands got all tangled up in his hair as I pulled his face against mine, and when our lips touched, I knew it was going to be exactly like our kiss at the ball, only, possibly, better. I leaned forward, ready to slip off the rock and into his arms, and then I nearly fell face first onto the ground, as he stepped back, out of reach.

“I do not need your tokens of gratitude,” he said, and I can’t even explain how furious he sounded. I tried to stammer an apology, but he didn’t stick around to listen. And I ran back to the caves, wanting to crawl into an abandoned crevice and never, ever be seen again.

You know a lot of what happened next. I awoke in the middle of the night to find the thing I thought was you standing over me in the dark. It put a finger over its lips and beckoned me to follow it out of the caves. I did, of course, without question. And then, when I found myself surrounded by wraiths, and poor Arturo dead, and the creatures claiming they’d destroyed you and Damorin, I was so angry. I wanted to kill all of them, and I wanted them to suffer while it happened. I didn’t know I was capable of feeling like that, but I’m certain I could do it again if ever anybody is stupid enough to tell me they’ve just murdered all of my favorite people.

At any rate, I was going to throw everything I had, life-force and all, at the one who had impersonated you, but just before I launched my spell, something brushed the edge of my consciousness. It was Damorin’s magic, and I don’t know how I knew that, except that it smelled like him, if that makes any sense. I didn’t know what or how he was doing it, or if I was only imagining it, but I automatically opened my mind to it—just a fraction, and that was enough. My magic exploded out of me, running along his like heat through copper and it hurt, and then I fainted, or, judging by what you said in your letter, fell into hibernation. I suppose it wasn’t all that different from what happened to you and Muse, except that Muse was strong enough to keep the flow of magic all going into you, which is why you ended up with both sets of powers.

The next thing I remember is waking up in Damorin’s laboratory. I recognized it from visits I’d made during my apprenticeship, which was a good thing since I was all alone. I sat up, feeling dizzy, and tried to piece together my memories of what had happened in the Pass. The dizziness subsided after a minute, which helped to clear my head. It was quite awful, remembering, but I had reason to hope that you and Damorin were actually alive. I desperately wished I hadn’t been abandoned and that I had some way of immediately finding out what was happening. And then I finally recalled that the Suldan Stones were still hanging around my neck.

I slipped down to the floor and dumped them out onto the rug. Very carefully, and still fighting off moments of dizziness, I figured out which Stone was which, and then, using the Stone of sight, I looked for you. I saw you with Lucenza in the caves in the Pass. Arturo’s corpse was laid out, and you were both sobbing on each other’s shoulder. You looked miserable, but healthy and very alive, so with a sigh of thankfulness and relief, I let go of the Stone and let my mind rest for a moment before I searched for Damorin.

I saw him in Lastra’s office, along with Sean and your father. He looked exhausted, but not damaged. I added the Stone of hearing in time to hear Lastra say, “The emperor is safe for the moment, and we’ve gathered enough evidence to arrest Winterfast, if he hadn’t disappeared.”

“Ameliorene’s the greater threat,” Damorin interjected.

Lastra ran both hands through his hair, making it all stand on end like a wild, woolly bush. “I believe you. But we have no proof. If we could just get our hands on Farnswell, but he’s disappeared, along with Winterfast and his so-called grandson. But we can’t march into the Residency and tell the emperor his daughter is trying to kill him before we can prove it beyond a shadow of a doubt.”

I let go of the Stones then, because the colors in the room were starting to increase in intensity, but as soon as I had rested, I picked up the Stone of seeing again, and looked for Winterfast.

I found him in Grandfather’s study, in my house, the last place anyone would ever look for him. With the princess, and the emperor, who was tied to a chair. Winterfast and Ameliorene were arguing, but I was so shocked, that I dropped the Stones before I could learn what the argument was about. Obviously, Lastra had made a mistake about the well being of his imperial highness.

I picked up the Stones of hearing and sight again, and this time I saw Ameliorene with a knife pressed against her father’s throat. “Ami, why are you doing this?’ he was pleading pitifully, his double chin trembling.

“Should we stage it here or in her bedroom?” Ameliorene asked, and I realized that they were making one last attempt to frame me. Or maybe Ameliorene just got a warm, fuzzy feeling over the idea of murdering her father in my bed.

I think Winterfast had a pretty good idea that their plans had gone so far astray that there was no real hope of success because he said, “Princess, I must urge you to reconsider the idea of using your father as a hostage to gain our freedom.”

“You incompetent coward,” she hissed, whirling around to glare at him. “You sent an entire pack of wraiths after Cordelimaera Demestheln, and she’s still not dead. Any plan you’ve thought up is bound to be a dismal failure.”

Her voice grew unnaturally shrill, and I dropped the Stones, trying to think through the wave of nausea. There was no time to alert anyone or call for help. Ameliorene could stick her knife into her father at any second, and I was the only one who even knew the emperor was in danger.

I’d never actually done a transport spell before, and I don’t think I could have done this one if it had been to anywhere I knew less well than my home. I left the Suldan Stones on the floor for Damorin to find. If this turned out badly, as it probably would, I at least would not put that weapon into the hands of the enemy.

The spell went well until the very end. I saw the front door of my house materializing in front of me, and then my magic suddenly slipped away. I desperately reached out, grabbed the front step, and literally pulled myself back into the present dimension.

Before I could regain my equilibrium or find my feet, a rough hand grabbed my hair and something cold and sharp pressed against my throat. “Don’t move, Maera,” Jamin warned.

In my alarm for the emperor, I had forgotten that Jamin hadn’t been inside with Winterfast and the princess. I shut my eyes in an effort to forget about the knife at my throat so that I could think.

“You’re going to stand up very slowly,” Jamin ordered.

I complied, my mind racing. I remembered Winterfast pleading for me at my trial and Ameliorene saying, “Winterfast was unexpectedly sentimental about you.” I remembered Jamin telling me that he loved me.

“Don’t do this,” I pleaded. “This isn’t what you want.”

He nudged me toward the door. “How do you know what I want?” he asked, sounding bitter.

“You want your rightful place in your family. You want your inheritance. You don’t want to be a murderer and a traitor. I know you don’t.” I tried to put conviction into my tone, although it was very hard.

He hesitated and the pressure of the knife lessened. I pressed on, “You must know that none of the plans will work now. Your grandfather knows and that’s why he’s in there arguing with Ameliorene right now. Jamin …” I took a risk and tried to turn so that I could look at his face. He let me. “You must have realized that she’s insane. She doesn’t care about you or your grandfather. If betraying you gets her what she wants, she’ll do it without a second thought.”

I could tell by his expression that he believed me, and I pursued my advantage. “It’s not too late. Save the emperor, and all your crimes will be forgiven.” I actually wasn’t sure about that, but it was not the time to get technical.

Still he hesitated, fear in his face. “My grandfather is a powerful magi. If he learns I’ve betrayed him, he’ll kill me.”

“Just let me into the house,” I pleaded. “I’ll say I slipped past you. Jamin, please. You … you said you loved me.” Then I did the most disgusting thing I could think of. I kissed him.

I’ll skip over the icky details. Suffice it to say that the last of his resistance melted. He did want to run away together instead of going inside to rescue the emperor, but I told him that he wouldn’t love me so much if I didn’t honor my oath to the Council, and I also pointed out that it was much nicer to be a hero than a fugitive.

My plan was for me to take out Winterfast with a surprise binding spell, and for Jamin to grab the princess. Hoping we weren’t too late, I formed my spell as we crouched outside the study doors. When I had it ready to fling, I signaled Jamin and we burst through together.

We did take them by surprise, and the plan would have gone perfectly, had my magic not suddenly drained away as I flung my spell. I staggered, almost too dizzy to stay upright. Ameliorene screamed, and Winterfast hit Jamin with the same spell I’d been planning on using.

“Betray me, will you, you cowardly dog?” I heard him snarl as the room swirled around me. By the time I could see straight, both Winterfast and Ameliorene had turned their attention to me. I automatically threw up my hands, but it was as though I’d never had any magic at all.

Winterfast, who had been set to block whatever I threw, stared at me with dawning comprehension. “She’s lost her magic in the Pass.”

“She’s powerless?” Ameliorene smiled like someone had just handed her the whole Realm wrapped up with a big, red bow.

Winterfast looked at the emperor (still alive but looking terrified enough to keel over with a heart attack any second), then back at me. “She’ll be a valuable second hostage. We’ll be able to bargain for our complete freedom,” he said.

“Don’t be stupid, old man. This is the best possible thing that could have happened. Don’t you see, after succeeding in her diabolical plan to kill my father, she killed herself, in a tardy fit of remorse.” She actually laughed as she said it.

Winterfast looked pained but resigned. “What do you want me to do?”

“Winterfast, please,” I begged, but he wouldn’t look at me.

Ameliorene shot him a look of contempt. “Nothing. I’ll do it myself.” She raised her dagger and started toward me.

I at least had my balance, if not my magic, back, and I grabbed the poker from the hearth. I took a wild swing at her head as she lunged at me, forcing her to swerve aside. She came at me again, I sidestepped, dropped the poker, and jumped on her back.

Ameliorene shrieked like a dissolving wraith and swiped backward with her knife, just nicking my temple, and then she fell over, taking both of us to the ground. I landed on top and got a good double handful of her hair, managing to pin her head to the floor.

That was how Damorin and Lastra found us when they charged through the door. Damorin pulled me off, and Lastra clapped a binding spell on the princess before she could say a word. “Where’s the emperor?” he demanded. Only then, as I looked around the study, did I realize that both Winterfast and the emperor were gone.

“Winterfast’s taken him. I don’t think they can have left the house yet.” I pointed at the other door of the study, which now stood open, and Lastra raced through it.

“Are you all right?” Damorin asked, brushing a hand across my cheek. I nearly wept for joy at the gentle touch, until I saw the blood on his fingers and realized he was only checking my injury.

“Fine,” I said shortly, pulling away, and he ran after Lastra.

I was still trying to figure out whether I should follow them or stay put and guard the prisoner, when Sean ran into the room.

“You’re late,” I told him.

“I had to secure the perimeter of the grounds,” he replied. “What’s happening?”

“Winterfast has the emperor. Lastra and Damorin are in pursuit.” A loud thumping erupted directly overhead, and I looked at the ceiling. “I think they got him.”

Sean looked at the bound princess and raised one eyebrow. Then he looked at the other bound figure and raised both eyebrows. Walking over, he nudged Jamin with his boot. “Well, brother, I can’t really say it’s good to see you again.”

Jamin glared up at him. “Take off this spell.”

“Oh no.” Sean seemed to be enjoying himself. “I don’t think so. For once, you are right where I want you.”

“You don’t understand. I helped save the emperor,” Jamin said.

“It’s true,” I affirmed.

Sean looked at me in disbelief, then shrugged and released Jamin. “But don’t think you’re going anywhere,” he warned.

Jamin shot him another poisonous glare, and made an elaborate show of brushing off his clothes.

There were footsteps in the passage outside, and then Lastra entered, escorting the emperor. Damorin came behind, with Winterfast securely shackled. The emperor looked very shaken, but when he saw me, he came over and took my hand. “My dear, I did you a very great wrong. I shall pardon you immediately, of course. But how was I to know that my own daughter …” He trailed off, his chins trembling.

“Your majesty, we should take you home immediately,” Lastra said, gently taking his sovereign’s arm and leading him out of the room.

Sean stepped over to the prostrate princess. “Shall I take care of this one? Apparently, my dear brother (he was loading on the sarcasm with a shovel) switched sides at the last minute, so we can’t arrest him.”

“Maera and I saved his majesty’s life,” Jamin said haughtily.

Damorin shot him a glance of what I can only describe as loathing, then nodded at Sean. “Get her up.”

Sean unfroze the princess and hauled her to her feet. She didn’t resist, only regarded each of us with her innocent blue eyes. If I hadn’t been fending off her knife ten minutes earlier, even I might have had trouble believing in her guilt.

She looked at me last and said, “So you’ve won after all. I hope you have a long and happy life with your lover.”

I was still staring at her, bewildered by her sudden display of good sportsmanship, when Jamin wrapped his arm around my shoulders and said, “She will.”

This adventure has had a lot of embarrassing moments, but that might have been the worst. Even though seducing him was the only plan I could think of to convince him to help me, I suddenly felt cheap, and far too humiliated to explain to him, right then and there in front of everybody, that I would rather spend the rest of my life softening camel hides with my teeth than marry him. So I covered my face with my hands and burst into tears.

The great advantage of hysterics is that nobody tries to ask you questions while you’re having them. I cried all the way to the Justicum and into the medical wing, where I tried to stop sobbing and explain that something was wrong with my magic. They said that they already knew, and put me to sleep.

When I awoke, it was morning, and Lastra was sitting by my bed. “Good morning, Magi,” he said, when he saw me looking at him.

“Good morning,” I said doubtfully. “Am I in trouble?”

“Not at all, Magi. I simply thought you were owed a few explanations.”

“Finally,” I sighed, rolling over as a medi-magi bustled in to check my pulse and give me a glass of orange juice.

When she was gone, Lastra cleared his throat and asked, “What would you like to know?”

I tried to pick out the most important of my myriad questions. “Is Foofri all right?”

“Oh yes. She’s doing very well indeed. She’s back in the Outskirts, but I’ve no doubt she’ll be coming home very soon.”

I sighed in relief. “How did you manage to show up in the nick of time yesterday?”

“When you transported to your estate, Magi Ardaya sensed your magic use. He transported back to his lab, and when he found that you were gone, used the Suldan Stones to find you and the emperor.”

I frowned. “What do you mean he sensed my magic use?”

Lastra pulled on his beard, looking thoughtful. “I’m sure you’ve noticed certain fluctuations in your magical abilities.”

“Yes, it was like my magic kept draining away. And I was very dizzy. Winterfast said I’d lost my magic in the Pass.”

“Oh no,” Lastra said immediately. “You haven’t lost it. But it’s a bit tangled up. You see, when Ardaya hit you with the hibernation spell in the Pass, your magic ran along his like a conduit. Because your magics interacted with each other instead of with the environment, they weren’t lost, as would normally have been the case in the Pass. But they did become … tangled. And that’s why you kept feeling like you didn’t have any magic. Whenever Ardaya performed a spell, you lost your access to your shared power. The same thing was happening to him.”

“How do we untangle ourselves?” I asked.

“I very much doubt that you can. However, Ardaya thinks that he can manage a sort of division of power that will cancel out the flux, so that you won’t be afflicted with a constant loss of power. If you’re feeling strong enough this afternoon, we’ll try it. Any more questions?”

“No,” I murmured, feeling overwhelmed, then changed my mind. “Just one. What’s happened to Winterfast and the princess?”

Lastra looked grim. “Unofficially, Winterfast and Ameliorene have both been banished. Officially, Winterfast assassinated the princess, and was then banished.”

Despite Winterfast’s betrayal, I felt saddened by the news. He did try to convince the princess not to kill me, and I think he must have deliberately botched the assassination attempts. I wished I could have spoken to him, one last time.

“And Jamin?” I asked finally.

Lastra clucked disapprovingly. “The emperor has said that young Mr. Winterfast did help you in a rescue attempt. Therefore, all of his crimes have been pardoned. He will not, however, inherit his grandfather’s estate.”

I leaned back against my pillows, exhausted all over again. “He’s not really an evil man, you know. Just weak,” I murmured, and gave into sleep.

I woke up late that afternoon, feeling much better. Someone had brought some of my own clothes, so I got dressed and was discharged with a clean bill of health (other than my tangled up magic). I remembered what Lastra had said about Damorin having a way to divide us, so I slowly made my way to his office, hoping to find him there.

He was there, as I knew as soon as I got close. I could sense his presence at a distance, which was very odd and quite unsettling. I stood staring at the door for a long minute, trying to work up my courage.

I was going to tell him that I loved him. I couldn’t help hoping that there had been some sort of terrible miscommunication that night in the Pass, that he had somehow misread my intention. At any rate, the way my heart started pounding every time he appeared, I doubted I would be able to keep my feelings hidden for very long. And I remembered the ball, and the way he had kissed me, and the mask he had given me, and I believed that he couldn’t do those things and feel absolutely indifferent toward me.

Then I realized that if I could sense his presence inside the office, then he knew I’d been lurking outside his door, so I knocked and got a curt invitation to enter. Damorin was sitting behind his desk, so intent on a pile of paperwork that he couldn’t be bothered to look up until he’d finished the page he was on. “Cordelimaera, good,” he said then, throwing down his pen and standing. “Let’s get this over with.”

It wasn’t exactly an encouraging opening, but I’d made up my mind. “Wait,” I insisted. “There’s something I have to say to you first.”

He looked at me, and I looked back, hopeful despite everything. I took a deep breath. “I’m in love with—”

“I know,” he interrupted.

“You do?” I stammered.

“You made it obvious, didn’t you?”

“Well?” I breathed. And when he remained silent, I prompted, “What do you think about it?”

“What do you want me to say, Cordelimaera? That I’m happy?”

“You’re not happy,” I said miserably.

He sighed. “I don’t blame you. One can’t always control whom one falls in love with. But I thought better of you.”

I wanted to be angry with him. I wanted to scream insults or slap him or something. But the best I could do was try not to cry.

Turning his back to me, he walked to the hearth and stood before the fire. “About this matter of our combined forces.”

“It does … take some getting used to,” I managed to say.

“It is intolerable,” he said coldly. “Fortunately, I believe I have found a way to control the situation. Our condition is, so far as either Lastra or I can determine, impossible to undo, although believe me, my personal efforts on that head will be unceasing. But it is possible to provide some degree of separation. In fact, the matter is quite simple.” He turned back from the blaze, and his eyes seemed to draw burning tracks across my face. “If you’re feeling well enough, we can do it now.”

What could I say? “Yes, of course. What must I do?”

“Nothing, only your passive participation is necessary. The procedure is unpleasant but brief.”

He moved to stand in front of me, and I tried not to shudder as he framed my face in his hands, and forced my gaze to meet his own. He stared at me for an interminable second, and I felt as if those frozen gray eyes saw straight into everything I was, catalogued it, and labeled it as no account.

Damorin began to whisper, and the words of the charm fluttered about like dark birds. My own power began to stir, as the whispering continued until the air all around was filled with flitting shadows of sound. He fell silent, the charm wound itself to a brittle point, and he bent his head. For one wild moment I thought he would kiss me, dismissed the notion, and then his lips covered my own.

Even our aborted kiss in the Pass had been warm and vibrant, bringing an exhilarating sense of life.  But not this. For one moment I felt the warmth of his breath, and then I was falling through eons of darkness and ice. I was being extinguished.

And then it was over. I stood alone, trying to keep my balance on the dark precipice that ran along the edge of my consciousness. Beyond that edge was an emptiness whose vastness swallowed me. I supposed that Damorin was on the other side, if it had a side. I felt very, very cold.

At last I opened my eyes, and without looking at Damorin I walked toward the door. “Goodbye, Master,” I said, and left. I never wanted to see him again.

Everything is so awful. Foofri, please, please come home.

All my love,

Cordy

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

My Dear Foofri,

I write those words and feel like crying. I would give, quite literally, anything to be speaking to your face instead of writing a letter you will almost certainly never receive. But I have always believed that when one is about to slip over the brink of insanity, it is one’s duty to do all in one’s power to prevent the tragedy. So I here I sit, scribbling out recent events, by hand (a dictation spell being, due to location, out of the question, and my present hosts not having much use for pens, much less magical ones). Not that I should be complaining. Unpleasant as recent events have been, had everything gone as scheduled, I would be worse than dead. Instead I sit warm and fed, in the care of a troll whose nature can only be described as motherly, even if her pens do leak and the writing paper smells suspiciously of fish.

As I recall, my last missive left off as I was about to escape from my house and bolt for Fort Thunderhall. But my plan was utterly overturned right at the beginning, and not by Damorin, who was the only person I had bothered to specifically plan against. I’d just shipped off the muse with my letter and Sean’s, which arrived in the nick of time, when a very determined pounding sounded on the front door.

I considered sneaking out the back, but if the person knocking was in any way connected with my overanxious guardian, a non-response would just set of all the alarms, so I stomped downstairs. Happily (so I thought), I’d put on my pajamas (the ones you gave me) while waiting for the men to depart, just in case I had to put in another appearance. After all, who could possibly suspect me of escaping when I was wearing flannel decorated with talking sheep? The robe I’d thrown on top didn’t do much to stifle their persistent voices.

On my front doorstep stood a full escort of guards. Not Justicum guards. Royal guards.

“Captain, what is the meaning of this?” I demanded of their leader.

“Yeeees,” seconded one of the sheep. “You’re interrupting our beauty sleeeeep.”

The captain looked taken aback, but his training came to the forefront. “Magi Cordelimaera Demestheln?”

“Yes.”

“Aaaaand company,” said the sheep.

“It is my duty to inform you that you are under arrest—”

“Not again!” I interrupted. “Will nothing satisfy that man? Isn’t being locked up in my own house good enough protective custody?”

“Booossy,” agreed the sheep.

The captain was beginning to look a little shifty eyed from trying not to look around too obviously for the voices. “As I was saying, Magi, it is my duty to inform you that you are under arrest for high treason against the Imperial Realm, namely, conspiracy to the attempted assassination of his Majesty, the Emperor. It is also my duty to remove you without delay to the Royal Residence to be tried immediately before the Imperial Tribunal.”

As you can imagine, I was somewhat taken aback by his words. I dealt with the most intelligible of them first. “In the first place, as a member of the Imperial Council, I have the right to be tried before the Board of Masters. And in the second place, are you crazy?” Not, perhaps, the most tactful thing to say to one’s arresting officer, but he had just accused me of trying to kill the emperor.

“Noooot guilty,” chorused the sheep.

“You shut up,” I told them, no longer amused by their antics, and they subsided into sulky silence.

“All accused of high treason are answerable to the Tribunal,” the captain said woodenly, although I did not remember reading any such thing in my Council handbook. Admittedly, I’d skimmed through the boring parts. More to the point, there were a lot of guards on my front porch, and although, making the best use of my security system, I might have been able to escape them, I didn’t think I could outrun an entire army all the way to the Shazar Pass.

“I’m sure this is just a misunderstanding,” I said as brightly as I could, allowing them to snap on iron restraining bracelets that blocked my magic.

It was after midnight when we arrived at the Residence, and I was still trying to convince myself that it was all an outrageous mistake. Once everything was straightened out, abject apologies would be made, and I would be able to go back home. Maybe I would even have the pleasure of watching Damorin roll a few heads first. He was not going to be happy when he learned that I had been hauled out of protective custody.

The guards hustled me in through a back door I’d never seen before, and the passages they took all seemed to lead down. At last we arrived at a small audience chamber with two guards posted outside the door. The décor was very somber, but I didn’t spend much time analyzing the interior decorating. As soon as I got a look at the witness bench, my heart seemed to turn to stone.

Winterfast was resplendent in his Sixth Skillhouse regalia, and next to him perched his dirty lying rat of a grandson. Winterfast shook his head and looked sad when he met my gaze.

I’d been trying very hard to remain calm and rational up to that point, but when he rubbed his hypocrisy in my face, I lost my temper. “How could you?” I shouted, running forward. “Grandfather trusted you! I thought you were my friend! And you,” I practically spat, turning on Jamin, “pretending that you were falling in love with me! And all the time—”

That was when the guards got hold of me again, and I had just enough sense not to struggle.

The Imperial Tribunal is very small, consisting of the emperor and whoever else he chooses to appoint. In this case, he had appointed no one, although his private chief of security stood at hand to advise him. The empress was not there, but Ameliorene was, sitting next to her father and clinging to his hand.

The guards led me in front of the throne and pushed me to my knees.

“Magi Cordelimaera,” the emperor began in a very serious voice, “you are charged with willfully attempting to harm our person.”

“Your majesty, there has been a terrible mistake,” I pleaded. “These men,” I pointed at the witness bench, “are lying to you. They want the power of the Suldan Stones for themselves. That one isn’t even really Jamin Winterfast. His name is Benjamin Valerian, and he’s from the Outskirts.”

The lying rat flinched, and Winterfast had to speak quickly to cover it up. “Obviously, her use of the Stones has unsettled her mind. Please, don’t be too hard on the poor child.” If I hadn’t known better, I would have believed he really was concerned about me.

It was the security chief who asked the questions. “Magi Cordelimaera, do you deny that four days ago you removed the Suldan Stones from your vault?”

And I suddenly remembered that a tiny velvet bag hung around my neck. (The guards didn’t bother searching me. I suppose the sheep discouraged them.) “That is true,” I replied, hoping my sudden (new) attack of nerves didn’t show on my face.

“You removed the Stones without the knowledge or permission of the Masters?”

“Yes, but…”

“Please, Magi, just answer the question. You were then in the unsupervised possession of the Stones until approximately twenty hours after you had first removed them?”

“That is correct,” I said stiffly.

“Did you use the Stones while they were in your possession?”

“Yes,” I replied curtly. “And I later reported everything to the Board of Masters.”

My interrogator didn’t seem impressed. “Isn’t it true that you used the Stones to steal secret information about the protections surrounding the emperor to try and kill him?”

“No!” I burst out. “Why in Jalwa’s name would I want to kill the emperor?”

“We believe you are in the employ of certain factions in the Outskirts, who wish to regain power in the Realm by violent means.”

First I was an assassin. Now I was the leader of a rebellion? “Your majesty, please. This is insane!” I was begging now, really and truly frightened.

“We are sorry for you, child,” said the emperor. “But for the sake of our Realm, we must find you guilty.”

“Before you render the sentence, your majesty, I beg that you will remember her youth. She has made a mistake, and she may already be dying because of it.” I didn’t particularly want Winterfast begging on my behalf, but then, a part of me was glad anybody was asking for mercy.

“There is only one punishment for magical treason,” said the interrogator.

The emperor stood, still holding his daughter’s hand. “Magi Cordelimaera, you are hereby banished from the Realm and this world.”

People in sensational serials are forever getting banished, and it always seems to be accompanied by a clap of thunder. The words, as he spoke them, seemed overly familiar, and yet strange in their ordinariness. No clap of thunder for me.

They locked me in a windowless cell with thick walls, a thicker door and the warning that even the smallest attempt at magic would bring down a curse powerful enough to render banishment unnecessary. I sat and stared at the wall, not thinking or feeling, in a state of blessed numbness. It’s all a mistake, I kept thinking. Things will be all right in a moment. I knew I ought to be trying to figure out how to use the Stones as a bargaining chip, but all I could do was sit and stare. In retrospect, I’m rather ashamed of myself.

My reverie was interrupted by the sound of the locks being unfastened. Not already, I thought, starting to feel a flicker of panic. But it was Princess Ameliorene who entered the cell. “Leave us,” she demanded. “I wish to speak with she who would have murdered my father. She cannot hurt me know.” I guessed she carried a ward that would blow into the next world without help of banishment if I laid a little finger on her. The guards reluctantly retreated and shut the door.

Dramatic, I thought distantly, my gaze drifting back to the floor.

“Look at me.”

There was a tone in that command I had never heard before, coldly, emotionlessly imperious. My eyes swung up and I saw with an unpleasant shock that she was smiling. Not one of her practiced social smiles, or even one of gloating triumph, but an expression full of cruel calculation. At that moment I could hardly understand why I had ever thought her frivolous, and my mind broke loose from its numbed state and began to work furiously. I felt coolly detached but very alert, certain that the missing pieces of our mystery were at last about to fall into place.

“I have found,” Ameliorene said in the same even, frigid tone, “that my sense of vanity is not entirely assumed. The effort you have cost me will not be fully justified unless you know not only that you have lost, but who has defeated you.”

It was fascinating to discover that the criminal impulse to confession is not only a work of fiction. I examined her from beneath a raised eyebrow, then began to clap in deliberate mockery. “Bravo, Your Highness. May I congratulate you on this glorious conquest?”

Her nostrils flared but she maintained control of her voice. “Irritating to the last, in your own small way. Do you know, I almost wish you had presented more of a challenge. A formidable dragon to slay, rather than a pesky fly who survives by sheer luck.”

“Buzz, buzz,” I said, in the most bored tone I could muster. “Your assassination attempts really were very sloppy. A blind donkey could have escaped that chandelier.”

“Not mine,” she answered. “Winterfast’s. He was unexpectedly sentimental about you, and I had a hard time convincing him to do the job. His original plan was to adopt you, and thus control the Stones. Of course, I found that unacceptable.”

“Look,” I said, “is this about your tea gown that I ruined? Because frankly, it wasn’t that flattering.”

“Don’t pretend you don’t know what this is about.” She was definitely beginning to lose her temper. She wanted a broken prisoner. All she was getting was, in my own small way, a rude one.

“The Suldan Stones, yes, yes, I know.”

“No. Winterfast’s obsession with them was useful to draw him into my plan, but that is all.”

I gave a patient sigh, hiding my surprise. “What else could you possible gain by my removal?”

“An empire,” she told me.

I let the sarcasm ooze from my tone as I answered, “Oh of course, you want to take over the Realm. And it’s perfectly clear how getting rid of me means that you suddenly become empress. Although I suppose the next assassination on your father might not fail.”

She smiled, and I suddenly wondered whether she was quite sane. “You’re right. My father is a fool and easily dealt with, as easily as I dealt with Blivius.”

“That was you?” I asked, shocked out of my pretended indifference.

“Who else could have gotten close enough to that paranoid old fool to stick a knife in his back?” She sounded delighted with herself.

“I still don’t understand,” I said, regaining my psychological equilibrium. “You aren’t even in the succession. The emperor will choose an heir from among his male relatives.”

“Oh that’s right.” She looked at me in mock astonishment. “How could I not remember that I’ve been raised as a mere pawn, to be traded to some foreign king for the strongest treaty. How could the silly little princess be empress? Unless, of course, the emperor dies before he can choose an heir, and she had someone by her side that the Council trusted absolutely.”

“Damorin,” I breathed.

“Yes. They made him a Master before he was thirty. They will love making him emperor.” She laughed a little to herself.

“You’ll find you’re sadly mistaken, if you think you can manipulate the Master into being your puppet on the throne.”

“Puppet? Don’t be so naïve, child. Did you think this was only about power?” She leaned forward, as though sharing a great secret. “No woman who has ever been in his arms can view Damorin Ardaya as a puppet.”

And without warning my shield of emotional detachment disintegrated. I clenched my hands around the seat of my chair, trying to hold myself in place.

Ameliorene must have seen that she had at last gotten to me, and she continued talking in a soft, almost nostalgic tone of voice. “He understands, you see, that I’m not everything I appear to be. He was coming along so nicely until you came and made him feel sorry for you. Poor little orphaned magi. You’ve become quite the pet project. Your youthful corruption will be such a disappointment, but I will enjoy consoling him.”

“Get out!” I hissed, shaking with the effort of not diving for her mewling throat. “Get out before I bring the walls down around both of us.”

She was laughing again, triumphantly. “Goodbye, Cordelimaera. We won’t be meeting again.”

She exited and I somehow resisted the impulse to hurl the chair after her. Instead I paced furiously around the cell, feeling nastier by the second. So she was the one responsible for the theft, the lies, the brushes with death. She had taken it into her pretty head to run the empire, and I was the one who got to pick up the bill. All because pernicious fate had chosen assign me to Damorin Ardaya’s list of pet projects.

Where was he anyway? After all the fuss of the past few days, the guards, the warnings, the wards, the protective custody, he was conspicuously absent when the real trouble started. And Sean! Where was he when the Imperial guards were arresting me in my own home? Not to mention your father, the magnificent Underground spy, who decided that telling me nothing was the best way to keep me safe. Where had that landed me? Banished, that’s where!

“Curse and plague the Imperial Underground,” I growled, taking another furious turn, and stopping to glare at an inoffensive corner of the ceiling. “And let’s not forget the oh-so-solicitous Board of Masters who track your every move until you really need them.” I jabbed an accusing finger at the stone, “And then where are they?”

“Right here,” came the smooth reply.

I spun around so fast I lost my balance and fell against the wall. Less than five feet behind me stood Damorin. I had grown so used to identifying him by the shimmering blue robes that for a second I failed to recognize him, and then my anger dissolved into an illogical burst of happiness.

I started to speak his name but he stepped forward and placed a cautionary finger across my lips. “Not here,” he said quietly, and I nodded understanding. He dropped his hand only to pull me into the circle of his arms, and the whispered words of a transport spell immediately built around us.

My happiness evaporated as abruptly as it had come, superceded by icy terror. I thrust myself away, stumbling halfway across the cell. Tangled words spilled in a panic from my lips. “No, too dangerous, I won’t…”

One hand clapped hard over my mouth while the other secured my arms against my sides. The incantation built, more rapidly this time, to its peak and then the walls were dissolving around us. As the last of the stone faded it was illuminated by a dazzling blue flash and I felt the edges of explosion, but they disappeared almost before they registered as the world came back into view.

He released me and I backed away, taking no notice of the lush scenery. “Are you crazy?” I didn’t even attempt to control the fear in my voice. “I’m a condemned traitor! You’ll be one too if they discover you’ve done this!”

“Did you attempt to assassinate the emperor?”

“Of course not!”

“Then I’m not worried,” he said coolly.

“Don’t you understand? The emperor found me guilty so it doesn’t matter whether or not I really am! They won’t just expel you from the Board, she’ll try to kill you!”

His asked sharply, “Ameliorene?”

“You knew?” I asked, stunned.

“I made some interesting discoveries last night.” He broke off and glanced around. “And we need to leave. Come on,” he commanded, extending his hand.

“No,” I said flatly. “I’m not going anywhere with you. If you transport back now, you have a chance of escaping detection.”

“I’m afraid not. There aren’t many people who can break a prisoner out of an imperial holding cell. In fact, I had to have Valerian’s help. The moment they see the damage, they’ll guess who did it. Which is why we need to go right now. Lastra will buy us what time he can, but it won’t be much.”

“Lastra?” I asked, momentarily distract, and then, “Where are we going?”

“Where all the Outlaws go.”

“The Shazar Pass,” I realized, and followed him down the path, taking in the vibrant landscape you had described in your letters. How ironic that the place I had planned to go to escape Damorin was the very location he took me to. Within a very few paces we began to climb, a slope that was gentle at first but which grew increasingly steep.

A few minutes later, as I was beginning to pant, a queer smoky scent came to my nostrils. “Master,” I gasped, “do you smell that?”

He glanced over at me, then halted mid stride. “Cora, how magic are your clothes?”

The smoke was coming from me. As I pulled open the front of my robe, the sheep, until now obediently silent, bleated frantically. “Fiiiiire! Waaaaater! Baaaaaarbecuuuuuue!”

Damorin shoved me toward a bolder that very luckily sat next to the path. “Go behind there and take them off.”

“But—” I tried to protest.

“Cora, you’re on fire!”

He had a point. I retreated behind the rock and scrambled out of the pajamas, and watched in fascination and a little horror as the sheep went up in sickly purple flames. Jalwa be thanked, my robe and my underwear showed no signs of combustibility. Neither did the Stones when I peeked into their pouch. Tying my sash firmly, I ventured back out around the rock. “You’re not going to go up in smoke, too, are you?” I asked, eyeing Damorin’s apparel. He looked positively rustic in denim pants and a rough cotton shirt, but I must admit the look suited him. A lot. Now that I had a moment to actually stop and look at him, I had to remind myself not to gawk. “You aren’t going to go up in flames too, are you?” I asked, to fill up the suddenly awkward silence.

“No,” he answered, beginning to hike again. “Thenzarian peasant clothing was in fashion this spring.”

“Ah yes, authentically woven by Thenzarian peasant children in sweat shops,” I said, a little self-righteously, since I had boycotted that particular trend.

“I only shop Fair Trade, of course.”

I rolled my eyes and kept walking. A few hours later it was more like limping, with a stagger or two thrown in for good measure. My light house shoes were not meant for hiking through the Shazar Pass. “How much farther?” I asked, trying not to sound whiny.

He took my hand to help me over a steep spot, and then kept it since, actually, everything at this point was a steep spot. “I’m not certain. Valerian gave me clear landmarks, but he was a bit vague about the actual distance.”

I wanted to ask what the landmarks led to, but I couldn’t spare the breath.

The final rim of the sun had just disappeared behind the mountains when Damorin announced us to be at our destination. We stood at the top of a rocky outcrop, rimmed with large boulders on three sides and a sheer drop into a valley on the fourth. Walking to a breadbox sized white stone near the cliff edge, Damorin dropped to one knee and traced a circle around it, muttering softly. Then he clapped three times and the stone erupted in blue flame.

“How did you do that?” I demanded.

“It’s not human magic. According to Valerian it will attract some friends of his.”

“Marvelous. How soon will they be here?”

“I have no idea.” He walked to the edge and stared down into the valley.

I wrapped my arms around myself and shivered. The twilight brought a chill to the air that would only deepen with the darkness, and my robe was not exactly made to withstand mountain nights. I sank down beside the signal flare, sadly heatless, and hugged my knees against my chest.

As I stared at the flickering blue, I thought about how very close I had come to the end of life as I knew it. If Damorin hadn’t rescued me, I would be beginning my first night in exile, banished forever from the Realm and all I loved. It was still a possibility. I wondered bleakly if Ameliorene was crazy, and what height of revenge she would be driven to by what she would surely see as the ultimate betrayal on Damorin’s part.

A skittering pebble heralded his approach. Looking up at his tall shadow I said quietly, “I am so sorry.”

“For what?”

“Ruining your life. Ameliorene is going to kill us both.”

He actually laughed, but then, he hadn’t seen her crazy eyes when she’d told me she would make him emperor. “The truth is going to come out, and once it does, there won’t be any question over reinstating either of us to the council,” he said firmly. “If we’re ever officially removed in the first place.”

“And if we’re still alive.”

“We’re hard people to kill.” Despite his reassuring tone, I shivered and he reached over to touch my hand, frowning. “You’re freezing.” He stood, then reached down to pull me up too. “Let’s walk.”

I willingly traded the illusory warmth of the signal fire for that of his arm around my shoulders. The stars were out, but no moon, and it was nearly impossible to see anything beyond the cold glow of our own circle. Down below winked tiny flashes of light. Fireflies, I suppose, or whatever cousin of fireflies can survive in the Pass.

“Cora, how did you know the princess was responsible?” His voice drew my attention back from the winking lights.

“She came to my cell, fifteen minutes before you did. She said that she was the who had framed me.”

“What else?” he asked gently.

“She said Winterfast was the one who made the assassination attempts on me.” His arm tightened. “But she stabbed Blivius.”

“Jalwa’s ghost,” he breathed, as stunned as I had been. “Why?”

“She wants to be empress. She’s going to kill her father.”

He stood silent for a long time, and then he said in an odd tone, “And I thought I knew her.”

“I’m sorry,” I offered in a small voice, wondering just how upset he was.

But he sounded more puzzled than betrayed as he said, “It doesn’t make sense. Why does she have to banish you to assassinate her father? And why does she think they’ll give her the crown, anyway?”

“Because of you,” I told him.

He looked at me uncomprehendingly, and I felt myself flushing, no longer cold. “She thinks if she marries you, they’ll make you emperor. And she wanted to get rid of me because she thought that I was, well, distracting you.”

“She wanted you killed because of me,” he repeated, and then he put both arms around me and held me tightly. “I’ve been trying to protect you, and I’ve only been putting you in more danger.”

He might have said something else, but I had stopped listening. Waves of warmth washed over me, driving away thoughts of traitors and empires and freezing magicless wastelands, and everything but the realization that the top of my head fit perfectly beneath his chin. I closed my eyes and faced the fact that the reason I had been so shaken by Ameliorene, why I had been so frightened when he risked his life to transport me out of that cell, and why I was at this moment feeling so idiotically happy was that I was helplessly in love with Damorin Ardaya.

You no doubt saw this coming, dearest, but I was blindsided. And stuck in the middle of nowhere, with nothing, waiting for who-knew-what to come out of the darkness, was hardly ideal timing for this particular self revelation. Particularly since it rendered me incapable of thinking anything but how heavenly my present position was.

“If we’re not interrupting anything,” came a gruff voice, followed by a great deal of snickering.

I pulled back immediately, glad the night hid my blush, and squinted at the squat shapes, almost indistinguishable from the boulders in the blue light. Trolls. I should have guessed. Sean’s friends had arrived.

They may be rude, crude, and dead ugly, but I will say this for Trolls: they know how to live well. After Damorin explained our situation, the trio (I believe the same ones you ran into, Arturo, Vincenzo, and Pilukio by name) led us along a twisted path chipped out of the Cliffside, and which, if I am not mistaken, led exactly where it did not appear to. I have never studied troll magic, but it must be fascinating. At any rate, we eventually arrived at the concealed entrance of a cave. A series of caves, I should say. The trio’s lair was a large set of underground chambers, interconnected and sumptuously, if garrishly, furnished.

As we entered, yet another troll came bustling out to meet us. This was Lucenza, and a kinder creature I never hope to meet. She took one look at my exhausted self and took me under her wing. I was wrapped in blanket, and fed a most nourishing cup of tea while Damorin held conference with her brothers. I wanted to hear what was going on, but the warmth and the softness of the cushions were too much for my exhausted body, and I fell asleep before my cup was quite empty.

When I woke up this morning, Lucenza and I were alone in the caves, Damorin having departed on a scouting trip with our guides of last night. I’ve spent the morning trying to avoid both being fed to death and thinking about Damorin. Neither attempt has been very successful. Did you know that there are twenty-seven distinct forms of Munches? And the fact that someone isn’t present is absolutely no help in thinking sensibly about him.

Lucenza is out of the room, and Muse has just appeared. He has your letter, but refuses to stop long enough to let me read it. He seems very nervous, and I wonder if he has some sort of unpleasant history with trolls.

He insists on leaving now, so with all my love,
Cordy

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.