All the Paths of Shadow

“Yes, ma’am.” Tervis frowned at the mirror. “Did you see anything, ma’am?” he asked.

“Nothing at all,” she said. “And find me a pillow, will you?”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Tervis, and then he turned and darted away.

Mug opened a sleepy red eye. “What’s the matter?” he asked. “Locusts?”

“Nothing. Go to sleep,” said Meralda. Mug’s eye closed and drooped on its stalk.

Meralda shifted in her chair, put her chin on her hands, and watched the dark, still glass.

“Thaumaturge,” said a voice.

What, thought Meralda, is Tervis doing in my bedroom?

“You might want to wake up, ma’am,” said Tervis, from close beside her. “The captain and the other mages are heading this way.”

Meralda opened her eyes, a drawing of the Tower filling her vision, and realized she was face-down on her laboratory desk.

I’ve a face full of ink smudges, she thought, and then she rose.

Her back popped and twinged. Her right arm, which was beneath her face, was numb and stiff. Her stocking feet were blocks of ice from resting all night on cold stone. She rubbed her eyes with her left hand and shook her right arm and Mug began to chuckle.

“It’s a secret mage waking spell, lad,” he said to Tervis. “In a moment, she’ll stand on one leg and squawk like a bird.”

“Shut up, Mug,” said Meralda. She forced her eyes wide open, pushed back her hair, and sought out the mirror.

“Nothing ever changed, ma’am,” said Tervis. “Kervis and I kept a good watch.”

“Thank you,” said Meralda. Then, in mid-yawn, she recalled Tervis’ earlier warning that the captain and the mages were bound for the lab.

“What mages?” she asked. “All of them?”

“No, ma’am,” said Tervis. “Just Mage Fromarch and Mage Shingvere, as far as I know.”

Thank fate for that, thought Meralda. “I’ll be washing my face,” she said, motioning to the door of the lab’s tiny, dark water closet. “If they get here before I’m done, let them in, and warn them to be careful what they say around the glass.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Tervis. “By the way, ma’am, I sent for coffee and pancakes earlier, if you’ve a mind for breakfast.”

“Thank you, Tervis,” said Meralda. For the first time, she saw the smudges beneath Tervis’ eyes, and the wild stand of his short blond hair. He’s probably slept as little as me, even with a brother to spell his watches.

“You’ve done very well,” she said, and Tervis smiled.

Meralda heard footfalls in the hall, perhaps upon the stair. She turned for the water closet, then stopped and turned again. “I must have missed the last few reports from the park,” she said.

“Kervis took them while I slept, ma’am,” replied Tervis. “Same as the others last night. No lights, no sounds, nothing. He said he didn’t want to wake you to tell you that.”

No lights. Meralda frowned, recalling her fear that her latch might have affected an ancient structural spell and wondering whether the sudden cessation of luminous activity was perhaps proof of this.

“Is that a bad thing, ma’am?” asked Tervis.

Meralda shook her head and forced a smile. “Not at all,” she said. “Thank you.” Boots sounded again, nearer this time, and Meralda raced for the water closet door. “Tell them to wait,” she said, and she shut the door firmly behind her.

Chapter Ten

“Well, there she is,” said Shingvere, rising to his feet and wiping biscuit crumbs from his loose brown shirt front. “Fresh as a daisy, and twice as fair.”

Beside him, seated in one of the folding-chairs from which the Bellringers had kept watch, was Fromarch. He chewed, swallowed and wiped his lips. “Leave her alone,” he said, gruffly. “I’ve slept in that chair, too, and it doesn’t leave one well disposed toward chirpy early morning Eryan nonsense.”

The laboratory, windowless and lit only by her spark lamps, still seemed dark, as though night hung just beyond the walls. Indeed, Meralda realized the palace was oddly quiet, still gripped in a midnight hush despite the sunrise.

Coffee, thought Meralda. I smell coffee, and if those aging gluttons have left me the dregs I’ll turn them both into toads. She picked up her stride, boots making loud stamps on the cold stone floor.

She emerged from the ranks of shelves, and saw that Tervis was gone, as was Mug, and that the captain was nowhere in sight.

“Your guardsman took the houseplant outside for some sun,” said Fromarch. “And the captain received a message on the stair, and said he’d join us in a moment.”

“Aye, he has stomping to do, people to shout at,” said Shingvere. “Can’t have enough bellowing, you know.”

Meralda stepped around the glittering, moving levers of Phillitrep’s Engine, and smelled the plate of hot pancakes and sausages steaming on her desk. Beside it sat a silver pot of coffee, twin to the one resting on the floor by Shingvere’s right foot. And, Meralda noted with mild chagrin, a single red rose in a fluted crystal vase.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” she said, pulling back her chair, but not sitting, suddenly thankful for the absence of windows and bright morning sun. She’d done what she could with water, soap, and a tattered washing cloth, but she still felt as if she’d slept in a ditch.

The mages nodded. Shingvere sat, smiled, stabbed a sausage with his fork, and waved it toward Meralda. “Eat, before it gets cold,” he said. “We’ll talk after.”

Meralda sat. Her stomach grumbled, and she realized she’d missed supper, in all the excitement over the Tears.

She frowned and bit her lower lip. Missed supper, I did. Supper at the Hang’s table. Supper with Donchen.

“Lass, I thought you liked pancakes,” said Shingvere, his tone injured.

“Oh, I do,” said Meralda, quickly. “I just remembered something I forgot to do yesterday.”

“Anyone who got old Goboy’s glass to do as it was asked deserves a few omissions of memory,” said Fromarch. He stared hard at the mirror, which displayed the same dark room as before, and then shook his head and looked back at Meralda. “I gave up on that thing my first year.”

Meralda ate. A fine ambassador I am, she thought. First I stare at the Hang, then I give insult by not coming to dinner or sending word. She thought of Donchen seated by an empty chair, and her frown deepened. Blast it all, she groaned inwardly. And I can hardly explain my absence with the truth, either.

“You could have called us, you know,” said Fromarch. “We can watch the glass as well as anyone, and we’re not likely to burn down the palace trifling with the trinkets.”

Meralda swallowed a forkful of pancakes and reached for the syrup flask beside the coffee. “It was quite late,” she said. “But now that you’ve volunteered, I thank you.” She lifted her coffee cup, found that it still contained half a cup of yesterday’s brew, and, after an instant of hesitation, she poured it in the half-filled waste basket by her desk.

Shingvere guffawed. “You used to scold me for doing that,” he said.

“You hadn’t been up all night watching scrying glasses,” said Meralda, as she poured a fresh cup and savored the aroma. “Now then,” she said, after her first sip. “Aside from the free breakfast, what brings you gentlemen here this morning?”

The mages exchanged a brief glance Shingvere poked Fromarch in the ribs with his elbow, and Fromarch glared and hissed. “You tell her, you confounded hedge mage, even though she’s already figured it out.”