“Dorneng? Really? He could become the king’s new chief magician, if he wants to be. But not if he leaves the capital right now.”
“He says he is interested in the Faitoren,” Aruendiel said, shrugging.
“I am surprised,” said Hirizjahkinis, with an arch of her eyebrows. “He seemed to me tonight to be in zealous pursuit of the court position. That singing tree! I believe even Abele was embarrassed.”
Aruendiel’s mouth curled into an arid smile. “Do you expect anything better of such performances? Dorneng at least understands that he will learn more magic dealing with the Faitoren than conjuring singing trees at court. I have a mind to get Lukl to hire him. There should be a magician up there, keeping watch on Ilissa.”
“Lukl? Oh, yes, the one-eyed knight who lives next to Ilissa. What a terrible idea! His castle is even more isolated than yours. You would convince poor Dorneng to give up a chance at being chief royal magician to help a backwoods peer keep track of his sheep!”
“Dorneng asked to go with me. And he was Micher Samle’s apprentice; he had to live in a cave for ten years. Lukl’s castle could only be an improvement.”
Hirizjahkinis laughed and then gave Aruendiel an appraising look. “Well, if someone must keep an eye on Ilissa, better Dorneng than you or me. Especially you.”
“What do you mean?” His voice was suspicious.
“I mean that you enjoy hating her too much. She is not worth half the trouble you take over her.”
“You can say that after today?” he asked, incredulous. “After she kidnapped Bouragonr, bamboozled the king, and came within a fingernail of making Semr hers?”
“Well, we stopped her, Aruendiel! Let me be clear. You have good reason to hate her. But you should not let that hatred govern you. It will hollow you out; it will devour your heart.”
“My heart?” He gave a quick, contemptuous bark of laughter.
“Or whatever serves you for that purpose.” When he did not answer, she added, “Well, perhaps it is too late for you anyway. Look at you tonight, conjuring up poor Tulivie’s shade. Do you have nothing better to do than moon over a dead woman?”
“Tulivie? I was not mooning over her.”
“No? I saw the way you kept to the shadows, so modestly, so she could not see you clearly. You were afraid she would find you changed.”
“Well, she would have found me changed,” he said angrily. “Greatly changed. I tell you, Hiriz, I was not mooning after her, as you put it, but would it be such a bad match, for me to take up with a dead woman? Under the circumstances.”
Hirizjahkinis sighed and shook her head with a dramatic sweep, the way a parent might do when reprimanding a small child. “Ah, Aruendiel, be sensible. What can I say? Is it so hard to enjoy the life that you’ve been given?”
Aruendiel wheeled and looked away, toward the center of the hall, where the dancers were now swinging at one another with painted wooden swords. He noticed that the girl Nora was also watching the dancing, half- hidden behind a statue of the god Reob, and wondered irritably whether she had overheard anything of the conversation. She turned as though she sensed his eyes on her, and flushed slightly.
“How did you do that spell?” Nora asked him. “It was remarkable. It was—um—powerful.”
Heartbreaking, Nora meant, but she’d decided not to use that word, not after listening to Aruendiel just now. There was something terrible about Tulivie’s innocence, the innocence of the unknowing past; no wonder the magician sounded pained as he spoke to Hirizjahkinis.
As though the girl could possibly understand any kind of magic, Aruendiel thought—let alone a spell as complex as this. Nevertheless, he was pleased that she could at least recognize good magic when she saw it. “Thank you,” he said, more graciously than he usually spoke to her. “But I could not begin to explain it to you.”
She was not satisfied. “Would it work with any kind of painting, even a portrait that was not so realistic?”
Nora was thinking of Picasso, but was not sure how to explain, say,
Intrigued, Aruendiel tilted his head reflectively. He had not considered the question before. “Like the pictures they make in Tfara, where they like to show their emperor with wings and the claws of a lion? It should work, as long as the painting was done from life.”
“And their empress with six breasts, to show how fecund she is—decidedly, Aruendiel, you must take this spell to Tfara one day,” Hirizjahkinis interjected. “But I am wondering: When do you return to Semr, after you leave tomorrow?”
“Not until next year, if I can help it—and I can,” Aruendiel said, with feeling.
“So we’re leaving tomorrow?” Nora asked.
Aruendiel frowned suddenly. In planning the pursuit of Ilissa, he had not thought to account for the girl.
“No,” he said. “I can’t take any extra burdens with me.”
“So what will I do?” Nora asked.
He stalled. “If I follow Ilissa all the way to her domain, it will be easier to return to my own lands than to come back to Semr.”
“You mean, you would just leave me here?” the girl demanded, some fear in her voice.
“Don’t be so rude and unkind, Aruendiel,” Hirizjahkinis cut in. “Of course he is coming back to Semr,” she said to Nora. She smiled broadly, but her head was cocked at a watchful angle, as though daring the other magician to contradict her. “He will return to see me again and to report that Ilissa is safely bound to her own domain and that we can all go about our business. You can stay here at the palace, as my guest, until he returns. Does that not sound like a good idea, Aruendiel?”
“It is out of my way, coming back to Semr,” he objected.
“Now I am insulted. I have traveled thousands of miles from my own land to come to Semr, and you, my old friend, cannot make a slight detour, a day’s journey or less, to spend a little more time with me.”
Aruendiel glowered; Hirizjahkinis met his gaze with equanimity. “It is more than a day’s journey,” he said grudgingly. “But yes, I will stop at Semr on the way back.”
“Very good,” Hirizjahkinis said. “So, Mistress Nora, you can leave with him then. And meanwhile, you have a few days to enjoy yourself in Semr.”
“All right,” Aruendiel said. He added to Nora: “Although perhaps when the time comes, you won’t want to leave. You might find some other situation here in Semr. Did you not tell me that you could cook? Or maybe you will find another protector.”
Nora’s lips tightened slightly as she considered the implication of his last words, but she only nodded and said that she would see what came along.
As Aruendiel regarded her, though, he thought ruefully that both options were equally improbable. It was troubling to consider how out of place, how vulnerable the girl was. She was too plain, too poorly dressed to attract attention from the men of the court; the slashes on her cheek were healing well, but they had not vanished completely. And even though one might easily take her for a servant at first glance, in that unflattering dress, on a closer look there was something about the way she carried herself that made him doubt that anyone would give her a position.
She was bold when she should be silent and ill at ease when she should be assured, and she stared too intently into his face when she spoke to him, the way a good servant would never dream of doing. Was she happy? he wondered suddenly. A strange question. Sometimes she brightened—as she had just now, asking about the spell—and you could see a warm and lively wit in her face that almost made you forget about her scars. More often she looked discontented, a little bewildered. She did not seem to appreciate completely the kindness he had shown in taking her in.
And something in her manner a few minutes ago had made him uncomfortable, as though she were trying to be kind to
He was glad to take his leave of both women.
