The Gates of Sleep

“Oh, the rain, of course. She swore that in winter, this part of Devon got more rain than the whole of England put together, and I swear to you that it was bright and sunny a few miles back!” She took the umbrella from Marina, as a porter hauled her baggage out of the baggage car onto the platform behind them. “Not a cloud, not a sign of a cloud, until we topped a hill, and then—like a wall, it was, and just a wall of clouds, and most of them pouring rain!”

“That’s what you get for not believing Margherita when she tells you something,” Sebastian said, with laughter in his eyes. “You should know the Earth Masters by now! They don’t feel it necessary to exercise their imagination unless it’s in the service of art. When they tell you something, it’s unembroidered fact!”

“Oh, you tiresome thing, I told you that it was my own fault!” She shook her head, and little drops of rain flew from the ornaments on her bonnet as she laughed. “Come along with you, let’s get my things into whatever contraption you’ve commandeered to get me, and get ourselves home, before we all drown!”

“You’re a Water Master,” Sebastian teased, a grin creasing his face. “You can’t drown. Now me, if I don’t find myself drowning in this antagonistic Element, I’m probably going to perish of melancholy.”

But as the train pulled away from the station with a whistle and a great rush of steam and creaking of metal, he rounded up the stationmaster’s boys and got Elizabeth’s baggage fastened up behind and atop the coach. There was quite a bit of it; three trunks and some assorted boxes. But she was staying for weeks, after all, and given the weather, couldn’t count on regular washdays.

Oh, I wonder what she’s brought to wear. She’s a lady, and in society—what kind of gowns did she bring? Marina was torn between hoping that Elizabeth had brought all manner of fine things, and fear that she had, and that her wardrobe would be utterly unsuitable for Blackbird Cottage and a Devon winter.

The rain did not abate in the least, and Sebastian looked up at the sky before he climbed aboard the coachman’s box, his hat brim sending a stream down the back of his mackintosh. “I don’t suppose you’re prepared to do anything about this, are you?” he asked Elizabeth.

Elizabeth paused with one foot on the step. “In the first place, I’m a Water Master, not an Air Master; storms are not my venue, and I would need an Alliance with Air at the very least to clear this muck away permanently—or at least, for more than a day. In the second place, all I can do by myself—without interfering in a way that would shout to everyone with a Gift that a Magus Major was here—is to create just enough of a pause in the rain to give you time to get the horse turned toward Blackbird Cottage. Now if that’s what you want—or if you really think it’s prudent to let every Power in the county know that I’ve arrived—”

Sebastian heaved a theatrical sigh. “No, thank you, Elizabeth,” he said, and reached up, grabbing the rail at the side of the box, and climbing up onto his perch. Elizabeth closed the umbrella and handed it to Marina, then climbed inside. Marina followed her and laid the umbrella at her feet. It would end up there anyway.

“Good gad, he borrowed the parson’s rig, didn’t he?” Elizabeth exclaimed, as she settled herself on the hard wooden bench across from Marina. “I’d almost rather he’d brought the pony cart!”

The coach swayed into motion, and they both grabbed for handholds.

“Your lovely hat would have gotten ruined,” Marina protested weakly.

“Yes, and all the rest of my turnout as well,” Elizabeth agreed ruefully. “I fear I’ve cut rather too dashing a figure for this weather of yours. Well, no fear, my dear, I haven’t come laden like a professional beauty; this is about as fine a set of feathers as I’ve got with me. And there’s a certain relief in being among the savage Bohemians; you don’t feel required to attend church every Sunday, so if the weather’s foul, neither shall I! And at long last, I’ll be able to get through a day without changing my dress four or five times!”

Marina laughed. She had forgotten how outspoken Elizabeth was, and—to be honest—how very pretty. She could easily be a professional beauty, one of those gently-born, well-connected or marginally talented ladies whose extraordinary good looks bought them entree into the highest circles. The PBs (as they were called) had their portraits painted, sketched, and photographed, figured in nearly every issue of the London papers, and were invited to all important social functions merely as ornaments to it. And even to Marina’s critical eyes, educated by all of her exposure to art and artists as well as the press, Elizabeth Hastings, had she chosen to exert herself, could have had a place in that exalted circle. She must be nearing forty, and yet she didn’t look it. Her soft cheeks had the glow that Marina saw on her own in the mirror of a morning; her green-green eyes had just the merest hint of a crow’s- foot at the corners. That firm, rounded chin hadn’t the least sign of a developing jowl; the dark blonde hair was, perhaps, touched a trifle with silver, but the silver tended to blend in so well that it really didn’t show. And in any case, as Marina well knew, there were rinses to change the silver back to gold.

“Remarkably well-preserved for such a tottering relic, aren’t I?” Elizabeth asked, the humor in her voice actually managing to get past the gasps caused by the jouncing of the coach.

Was I thinking loudly again? A rush of blood went to Marina’s cheeks. “Oh— bother!” she exclaimed, as she felt tears of chagrin burn her eyes for a moment. “Lady Hastings, I apologize for—for being so—”

But Elizabeth freed a hand long enough to pat her knee comfortingly. “Please, dear, you are a Water child, and a powerful one—anyone of the same Element would have picked up the train of your thoughts no matter how much energy you put into those basic shields Thomas taught you.”

Marina shook her head. “But I wasn’t really trying hard enough—”

“Perhaps, but he hasn’t taught you how to make those shields effortless and unconscious; well, I can’t fault him for that. It isn’t as if Earth Masters are often called on to work combative magics.”

“What has that to do with my being rude?” Marina asked, the flush fading from her cheeks.

“That is what you will learn for yourself. And it’s Elizabeth, my dear. Or Aunt Elizabeth, if you prefer. I am one of your godparents, after all.” Elizabeth smiled into Marina’s astonished eyes. “You didn’t know? I should have thought someone would have told you.”

“No, Aunt Elizabeth,” Marina said, faintly. “But—”

Elizabeth chose to change the subject, bending forward to peer out one of the dripping windows. “I will be very glad when we’re all safely in Margherita’s kitchen, dry, and with a hot cup of tea in front of us.” The coach hit a deep rut, and they both flew into the air and landed hard on their seats. “Good heavens! When was this coach last sprung? For Victoria’s coronation?”

“Probably,” Marina said, torn between laughing and wanting to swear at her bruises. “The parson hasn’t much to spare, what with having all those children; his hired man fixes and drives this rig along with all his other duties—”

“Well, I hope that the parsonage ladies are considerably more—” the coach gave another lurch “—more upholstered than we are.”

Marina’s laugh was bitten off by another bump, but it was very clear to her that she and “Aunt” Elizabeth were going to get on well together. Heretofore, Elizabeth Hastings had been something of an unknown quantity; like the artists that arrived and left at unpredictable intervals, she was the friend of Marina’s guardians, and hadn’t spent much time in Marina’s company.

Oh, Marina had certainly had some interaction with Elizabeth in the past, but there had been that distance of “adult” and “child” between them.

Between that last visit and this, that relationship had changed. For the first time Elizabeth Hastings was treating her as an adult in her own right, and Marina was discovering that she liked the older woman. Certainly Elizabeth was making it very easy to become a friend; inviting friendship, welcoming trust and offering it.

Without knowing she’d been worried about that, Marina felt a knot of tension dissolve inside her. So, as well as they could amid the bouncing of the coach, they began to learn about each other. Before very long, it almost seemed as if she had known Elizabeth Hastings all her life.

Sebastian brought the coach as close to the door as he could, and a herd of flapping creatures enveloped in mackintoshes and rain capes converged on it as soon as it stopped moving—Uncle Thomas, Sarah, and Jenny, with Aunt Margherita bringing up the rear. Elizabeth was ushered straight into the kitchen by Margherita; Marina stayed outside with her uncles and the servants just long enough to be loaded with a couple of bandboxes before being shooed inside herself.