Cold Steel (Spiritwalker 3)

I picked up a plate, because the beef was whispering seductively to me.

“Catherine! I cannot allow you to partake of inferior comestibles.” His breathtaking obnoxiousness commanded the entire room. Even I disliked him a little, and that was saying something considering what we had shared in the night. “Is it possible your cook can bestir herself to deliver something edible?”

I hadn’t meant to, but I whispered, “Please, I’m so hungry.”

The next thing I knew a tear was trickling down my cheek. The effect of the tear on the patrician mages was remarkable. They reacted as if a large saber-toothed cat had leaped into their midst: Some froze, while others made ready to flee.

o;We will serve ourselves, as we prefer to dine alone.” Vai spun cold fire into lamps of fluid silver shaped like a lion, a crocodile, a stag, and a horse. This casual feat made the servants murmur as appreciatively as if he had done it to entertain them, and maybe he had. “Do not disturb us unless we call for you.”

Dusk was settling over the garden. People paced its confines, lighting stone cressets with cold fire. I shut the curtains. Yet I could not despair, for the food smelled delicious. I again set out the skull and placed a spoon with a bit of meat, fish, and parsnip by the white jaw, then steered Vai to the table.

“I’m not hungry,” he said, with the burning look of a proud man who is preoccupied by feeling he has allowed himself to be outmaneuvered by his enemies.

“Yes, yes, magic feeds you. So you told me before, although I’m sure I don’t understand what you mean by it. You will eat to keep up your strength.” I shoved him into a chair and whispered. “They’ve sent a messenger to Four Moons House.”

With my own plate piled rather higher than his, I savored a fine meal, and he did at length start eating. I demolished the remaining dishes and afterward, before I quite realized I was doing it, cleared the table and set everything in stacks on the side table as I had become accustomed to doing at Aunty Djeneba’s. Closing my eyes, I allowed my senses to range afield. The vast compound was deeply woven with threads of pulsing magic. By the sounds of boot-heels, I could track the guards patrolling the garden and passage.

I led him to bed and undressed him. Beneath the covers we snuggled close.

“We’re under guard,” I whispered in his ear.

“It will take at least a week for a courier at speed to reach Four Moons House and return,” he said, in a better mood now that he had eaten and had his arms around me. “Our difficulties are threefold. They know who we are, so our attempt to spy has already been thwarted. You must warn Bee and Rory they’re in danger. You and Bee must have time to speak to the headmaster before we leave Noviomagus, so it may be best to play along for a day or two before we break out. Also, this is a very comfortable bed, do you not agree?”

“A woman does not have to walk the dreams of dragons to foresee you plan to enjoy its comforts tonight.”

“So I do!” he remarked, as if surprised at my perspicacity. “I’m not sure you’re appreciative enough of your good fortune. As for tomorrow, I have a plan that plays to both our strengths.”

“I can’t wait to hear what you imagine those to be.”

“Nor will you wait. I am methodical and persistent. You are impulsive and unpredictable. Ouch! Not to mention wild and ungovernable.”

That was true enough, as he soon discovered.

It was a simple plan with room for precipitous change. In such a sprawling compound there were layers of propriety meant to separate the high from the low. The mage House had a lovely breakfast room where a select group of adults broke their fast. There Vai insisted we would go, although the steward asked us four times if we would not prefer a comfortable tray of food in our suite. As we walked through the corridors I could not help but notice they had taken down all the mirrors.

Vai wore the dash jacket of midnight blue with exploding flowers, which he had brought along in the satchel precisely to overawe the House residents. To my surprise it looked splendid, not at all ridiculous. As good as the man looked out of his clothing, he looked particularly fine when he was well dressed and with his beard and hair trimmed the way he liked. He had a way of moving meant to draw the eye. As we entered the dining parlor, shadowed by the steward, everyone looked up. Men and women sat at separate tables, and the women in particular watched as Vai paced the length of the side table with its platters of apple and yam pudding, various porridges of rice, corn, millet, or wheat, warm bread with butter, fried beancake, a haunch of moist beef, and a dozen other mouthwatering trifles. The coffee looked sweet and milky.

“Is this all?” he demanded. “I expected a repast fitting to a House of stature, but…”

I picked up a plate, because the beef was whispering seductively to me.

“Catherine! I cannot allow you to partake of inferior comestibles.” His breathtaking obnoxiousness commanded the entire room. Even I disliked him a little, and that was saying something considering what we had shared in the night. “Is it possible your cook can bestir herself to deliver something edible?”

I hadn’t meant to, but I whispered, “Please, I’m so hungry.”

The next thing I knew a tear was trickling down my cheek. The effect of the tear on the patrician mages was remarkable. They reacted as if a large saber-toothed cat had leaped into their midst: Some froze, while others made ready to flee.

“What is your desire, Magister?” asked the steward in the tone of a man who is never awed by the fits and starts of the powerful, because he is their equal.

“I desire a tour of Noviomagus,” Andevai said not as a request but as a demand. “What sights there are to see, if indeed there are any in such a town, for I recollect my lessons that once this was nothing more than a frontier outpost of the Roman Empire, now sadly fallen. Catherine! Put that down!”

I had taken advantage of his speech to creep over to the side table and fork a slice of beef onto my plate.

“Lord of All, Magister,” said one of the men, goaded into speech, “let the girl eat.”

My husband smiled in the most condescending way imaginable as he turned his dark gaze on the other man, who was not much older and had the look of a person gone a little soft from having lived in luxury all his days. “That is how revolution starts. You give them one scrap of beef out of pity and suddenly they wish to eat rich food that isn’t good for them and is likely spoiled besides.”

I could not help myself. Right in front of their astonished gazes, I wolfed down the slice of beef before he could take the plate away from me. His eyes flared. The chamber grew so cold so fast that my next exhalation made mist.