Nora looked over at the magicians in question, a few dozen paces away. Hirizjahkinis had her back turned. Aruendiel’s head was visible above the crowd; he was looking down, listening to something the double-chinned man was saying. “Help!” Nora screamed as loud as she could. “Ilissa’s here!” Nothing emerged from her mouth except a silent rush of air.
Ilissa gave a short laugh that sounded nastier than anything that Nora had ever heard her utter. This could be the crack in the crystal, the tip-off that she’d been waiting for, but it was a little late. Nora took another step.
“Wouldn’t you like to come home with me, darling?” Ilissa held out her hands. “Where we love you so much.”
No, you don’t, Nora thought swiftly, although part of her only wanted to run straight into Ilissa’s arms. Again, she concentrated on staying exactly where she was. The desire to move her foot forward was like an overpowering itch. Five seconds, she could hold back for five seconds. She counted them off. Another five seconds. That was a little worse, but she could stand it. Another five. The desire to move forward was agonizing.
A shade of exquisite disappointment passed over Ilissa’s face, and Nora winced inwardly. It was very wrong, she knew, to make Ilissa unhappy—Ilissa, the only person who loved her. And what Ilissa said was so true. Nora was lonely, worse than lonely—she was terrified, lost, worn out from making her way in a world of strangers, from being at the unpredictable mercy of magicians.
Tears filled Nora’s eyes. But she did not move.
“They don’t care about you, those magicians. What do you matter to them?” Ilissa’s voice seemed to be coming from within Nora’s own heart. “No one here understands you. This is not your world. You mean nothing here.”
Ilissa was false to the bottom, Nora could smell it, and yet there was no resisting the truth of her words. Nora uttered a silent whimper. If she kept standing here, trying to resist Ilissa, she would collapse and lose control of her own body—go sprawling on the floor, helpless as an infant. And even then, perhaps, the magicians over there, absorbed in their conversations, would notice nothing.
She tore her eyes from Ilissa’s face and looked frantically around again. Only the round eyes of the clay lion met hers.
All at once, a new emotion rose within her, a calm, spreading exhilaration. Surprised by joy, Nora thought. There was no reason for her to feel this way. Was it part of Ilissa’s honeyed enchantment? Why did she suddenly feel so powerful, when she had no power? Then the fear seized her again, roughly.
In the corner of her eye, off to the right, there was a blur of movement. An animal leaping. Something shattered, explosively. The noise splashed against her ears like cold water.
“If what you’re saying is true, Lord Aruendiel,” the minister said, “we’ll have to—” He broke off at the sound of the crash. The murmur of voices halted.
Aruendiel looked up. Broken crockery was sprayed across the floor at the far end of the gallery.
The minister clucked, turning back to Aruendiel. “The servant girl knocked something off the mantelpiece.”
“Wasn’t that one of the Deriguisian figurines?” said someone disapprovingly. “They’re irreplaceable.”
Aruendiel saw that the girl Nora was standing near the smashed figurine. Her head half turned, and her eyes met his. Her mouth worked silently. There was a heavy, glazed look on her face that was unusual for her.
“Excuse me,” he said to the minister, pushing his way through the group. Nora took a step into the next room, disappearing from view.
She was giving in now because she was too exhausted to do otherwise. The sound of the smashing statuette—poor lion, she felt oddly responsible—had startled both her and Ilissa, had given her a brief respite. But now she was completely out of strength. Weary of desires and dreams and powers, of everything but sleep. Ilissa came toward her, smiling graciously now that she’d won.
Awkward, hurrying footsteps sounded on the marble floor, and Nora sensed rather than saw a dark figure looming at her back. “Ah,” said Aruendiel’s voice, in a tone that indicated he was neither surprised nor pleased to see Ilissa. He clamped his hand onto Nora’s shoulder. She felt a jolt, a backlash surge through her body, trying to repel his grip. His hand only tightened.
“Let her go, Aruendiel,” Ilissa said warningly.
“After you do.”
Ilissa did not answer. Her eyes moved back and forth, studying him closely.
A smaller figure came up behind Nora on the other side. “Well, if there must be a fight, I don’t want to be left out,” Hirizjahkinis said.
With an almost imperceptible shrug, Ilissa stepped back. “Very well then, Aruendiel,” she said, flashing a radiant smile. “You take her, the poor child. But it’s sad, really. Is she the best you can do, these days?”
Aruendiel said nothing as Ilissa turned on her heel and strode down the other hall toward the bronze door. Only when it had closed behind her did he let go of Nora’s shoulder. She turned to look up at him.
The girl was pale and drained, he saw, but the dull, preoccupied look in her eyes was gone. “All right now?” he inquired brusquely.
“Thank you,” Nora started to say, but no sound would come out of her mouth. She tried again with no better results. “My voice is gone,” she mouthed, gesturing toward her throat.
“A silencing spell, eh?” Aruendiel said. He yanked Nora’s jaw up and glanced quickly into her nostrils, then into one of her ears. He had done something similar, Nora remembered now, the first time she had met him. Then, frowning, he looked over at the mass of broken crockery.
“What happened here?”
Nora made a hesitant gesture to indicate something jumping. She was almost positive that she had seen the lion leap off the mantelpiece.
Aruendiel smiled sardonically. “You like to break things, don’t you?” he said. “Hirizjahkinis, can you get this silencing spell off Mistress Nora? I want to make sure Ilissa has really made her departure.”
A faint look of surprise crossed Hirizjahkinis’s face. “Certainly. But are you sure? Would you like me to —?”
“No,” he said abruptly. “Don’t worry. I won’t engage her. I’ll be back tonight.” He turned before she could say anything else and walked quickly through the archway.
Some time later, Nora sat facing Hirizjahkinis in the small salon to which Hirizjahkinis had ushered her. Nora had consumed some cold roast chicken and a glass of rather sweet white wine, and was feeling more like herself again, although her voice was still gone. It was tempting to think that hunger alone—low blood sugar— might have made her succumb to Ilissa. Nora kept replaying the scene in her mind, thinking of what she should have said to Ilissa, the defiance she would have offered with just an instant’s more preparation. But she could not shake the memory of those unwilling, inevitable steps that had carried her toward Ilissa’s summons.
“I hope he’s back soon,” muttered Hirizjahkinis, placing her hands lightly on either side of Nora’s neck. “If only because he may be the only one who can take off this silencing spell. He knows a dozen times more about Faitoren magic than I do.”
She was talking about Aruendiel; Nora raised her eyebrows in an interrogative way.
“Oh, yes, he has made a deep study of it. It is to keep an eye on Ilissa. Me, I never even think about her anymore, except when I come to this wretched north country. Of course, Aruendiel has strong reasons to, I suppose.”
Hirizjahkinis must have caught another flicker of interest in Nora’s eyes, because she smiled and gave her a shrewd look. “You must tell me more about yourself, Mistress Nora, while I try to remove this spell. So you come from another world?” Nora nodded, as Hirizjahkinis gently palpated her neck. “And you fell into the hands of Ilissa and her horrible son.” Hirizjahkinis touched the scars on Nora’s cheek. “Then you escaped from the Faitoren. Aruendiel helped you?” Nora nodded again. “And you have been staying at his castle ever since? Does he still have that housekeeper with red hair? I think she was very shocked the first time she saw me; she had never seen
