Cold Steel

“Of course you would recognize such a stratagem, since you possess the same sort of devious mind,” said Bee. “For example, now we are thrown together as kinsfolk, allow me to commend you on your strikingly cunning ploy to elevate Andevai as your heir and thus bind him more tightly to the mage House. Considering everything I was told you said about him before, I would never have guessed you would do that.”

He brushed a finger along the unscarred side of his chin as if deciding whether to dignify her barbed teasing with a reply. “It was no ploy. The young man is the most rare and potent cold mage of his generation in Four Moons House and possibly in all of Europa, although I must request you never repeat to him that I said so.”

“Have no fear,” Bee reassured him. “I, too, would prefer to avoid any chance his already bloated conceit might yet expand, difficult as it is to imagine it could get any vaster.”

The mansa’s smile flashed so unexpectedly that for an instant I wondered if a different person had fallen into the coach with us. “The confluence of such powerful cold magic with the sort of unusually good looks that bring so much consequential attention to his person has certainly fed a temperament already prone to vanity and pride.”

Bee patted my hand, trying to get me to smile. “You see, Cat, this is where Andevai gets his pedantic way of speaking.”

I sighed.

The mansa glanced from her to me and back to her. “Yet for all his faults, he displays a profound sense of responsibility, as well as a willingness to labor tirelessly for the benefit of the House. He has also the intelligence and discipline to look beyond his own desires to what may be best for the House. I am not blind. The world is changing, even if I cannot approve. Sadly, there are many who no longer seek my approval.”

Bee offered him her most refulgent smile, an expression of considerable genius which she had worked for hours in front of a mirror to perfect. “As long as you respect and support my beloved cousin, and don’t make her husband too miserable, I shall approve of you, Your Excellency.”

He had the grace to laugh. “There is a great deal I thought I knew that I now discover I had not the least understanding of.” He reached for the shutter on the door that opened into the spirit world. “Why this is never opened, for instance.”

“Don’t touch that!” Bee and I said at the same time.

Startled, he withdrew his hand. “What secret lies behind this closed door? For some years Four Moons House employed this very coachman and footman as servants. Then they vanished with you, Catherine, only to reappear again at your call.”

A razor-toothed imp of mischief sank its fangs into my tongue. “The Master of the Wild Hunt has been spying on the mage Houses all along, seeking the most powerful among you to kill each year.”

“Do you mean to explain to me how you know all this, Catherine? That Beatrice walks the dreams of dragons I know. Andevai has explained how troll mazes protect against the Wild Hunt. But I am still puzzled by what exactly you are, a secret my heir has not seen fit to share with me.”

I no longer saw a reason to hide the truth. “What would you say if I told you my mother was a human woman and my sire the Master of the Wild Hunt?”

He sat back with a chuckle. “No wonder the boy can scarcely contain his vainglory when he speaks of you. I must say, Catherine, that gives me considerable relief, for it has been a goad on my pride that you escaped me three times.”

I did not know what to say to that. I had not even shocked him!

We rocked along, wheels rumbling a steady rhythm. Bee made me eat cooked chicken and rolls and cheese. For half the night we rolled through forest, and eventually I slept, head resting on Bee’s shoulder. I woke at dawn to the sight of Bee paging through her sketchbook under the thin light of a cloudy day. Both Rory and the mansa dozed, Rory with his hands curled up by his face and the mansa bolt upright, his big frame filling half the opposite bench and pressing Rory’s slighter figure into the corner.

“Have you found anything new?” I asked, as if I could pull hope from her dreams.

“No.” She handed the book to me. “For the last month, all I have dreamed of is fire, and I couldn’t bear to draw all those flames for I swear to you I heard screams in them.” She pinched a length of skirt between her finger and thumb. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you.”

Yet for all that I stared at every sketch, I could discern nothing to tell me how to save Vai. What if he and I weren’t meant to meet ever again?

Mid-morning on the following day we stopped at a burned-out staging post to allow the coachman to tend his coach and horses. The mansa studied the coachman as the man watered the horses from a bucket whose lip never touched stream or well.