Mage Heart. Jane Routley
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lengths."
I still felt numb. Soprian assassins were famed for their skill and deadliness. And price. They were creatures of legend, not reality.
"I was dreaming about the witch manacle when I woke," I said. "I was frightened ... The rest just followed. I didn't mean ..."
The Dean looked sympathetically at me. "My dear, I do believe that you might be safer living in Madame Avignon's house."
I nodded. At that moment Madame Avignon, with her big gold cane and her queenly bearing, seemed to offer the only safety. I was filled with a desire to get away from the college, from the scene of last night's terror.
Master John did not agree.
"Enough of this!" he shouted, banging his fist on the table. "You're allowing yourselves to be manipulated by fear. It would not be impossible to guard the child here. Surely that is better than ..." "Master John," said Madame Avignon, "it would be far simpler for her to live in my house, which is already well guarded by Captain Simonetti and my other bodyguards."
"Dion can defend herself. She has already shown that."
"Of course she can. But she is not a soldier. She is not used to being constantly vigilant. And how can you place her in a position where she might have to kill and kill again? Isn't killing against all the precepts of magery?"
I felt almost grateful to her. It was as if she read my mind. I knew I could never feel safe in my room, or even in this college, again.
"You think of Dion as nothing more than a mage. You forget she is an innocent young girl. How can we expose her to the lifestyle of a, a ..."
The Dean placed a warning hand on his arm.
"... woman like yourself?" he ended lamely.
"Whore is what you no doubt meant to say," said Kitten silkily. "Let us leave this uplifting discussion of my past for a moment and consider the present. As the Duke's mistress, I can assure you, my activities must always be above reproach. I live quietly with a woman companion. I can promise you that Mademoiselle Dion would witness nothing in my house that she would not see here. But it is Mademoiselle Dion's decision to make. As you say, she is an innocent young girl. You seem to want to make her into an assassin. Perhaps we should ask her what she wants to do."
She turned to me. "Mademoiselle, which do you prefer? Master John's plan or mine?"
All I wanted now was escape. "Your plan, Madame," I said. I expected her to look triumphant. She merely looked enormously relieved.
"Dion!" cried Master John. "How can you? My lord, you cannot allow this."
"Master John," said Madame Avignon, "you are making a complicated matter out of something very simple. All I wish to do is survive. And to do that I must make sure that Mademoiselle Dion survives." She stood up and pulled on her gloves. "Good day, gentlemen. I will send a carriage for Mademoiselle Dion this evening."
"Very good," said the Dean. He stayed Master John's with his hand.
She swept out, followed by Captain Simonetti.
The Dean sat down and mopped his face.
"My lord ..."
"Hush, John. Dion, go and pack. And take one of the guards with you."
Later, as I watched the passing houses from the window of Madame Avignon's carriage, I felt a terrible fear. Had I indeed ruined my reputation and my life? Despite what Madame Avignon had said, I felt sure I would have to be constantly vigilant to prevent myself from being drawn into distasteful situations.
Master John had been angry and disappointed at me. Only the Dean came down to the college steps to say good-bye to me. It was all I could do as the carriage pulled up not to cling to him and beg him to let me stay. I had never before been away from the college on my own. But his firm assumption that I was going was more persuasive than words.
"Dion," he said, "I feel that you are doing the best thing for us all. Try to remember ... Many things are forgiven one whom a ruler favors. If you can keep the Duke's patronage, you will have no need to worry about your future."
He helped me firmly into the carriage. I felt cast adrift. He must be glad to be rid of such a misfit, such a nuisance.
Yet just before the carriage drew away he stuck his head in the window.
"I promised Michael I would protect you from ... moral corruption. If you have any of that kind of difficulty, send me a message, and I will bring you back to the college."
I was comforted. My resolve firmed. It was time I grew up and went out on my own. I would learn to deal with and transcend my environment. Only the terrible knowledge that I had killed someone haunted me. Even after knowing this for a whole day, I still felt nothing more than a vague dismay. I wondered if there was something wrong with me. But I knew I did not ever want to have to hear that sickening crack of bones again.
Chapter 3
A courtesan living quietly with a woman companion. How did that look? I imagined a florid mansion, full of red velvet and silk and huge gilt mirrors, cacophonous with the secretive sounds of lovemaking; grunts and groans. And creaking bedsprings. A dirty place, full of the close, fishy smell of women's private parts and the servants an ugly, grubby pack of individuals. Millie, our housekeeper back in Moria, used to be full of stories about the scandalous lifestyles of fallen women. Though, come to think of it, she'd been a bit short on details.
In fact, from the outside, Madame Avignon's house looked quite innocent. In a respectable part of town, across from the park, a quiet area full of big leafy trees, it was a graceful white house, quite plain on the outside except for black wrought-iron lace, sticking up like a crown around its grey slate roof. How appropriate for a Ducal mistress I thought.
The house was protected by a heavy stone wall topped with black iron spikes, but the green shutters on the big windows gave it a pleasant, homey appearance, and there were pots of early daffodils on the front steps.
The door was answered by an immaculately dressed butler. There was nothing smarmy or knowing about his manner or that of the neat woman who met me in the front hall and proclaimed herself to be Madame Donati, the housekeeper. They seemed ... nice. Clean.
The housekeeper explained the security arrangements, showed me how to open outside windows without setting off the warding spells placed on them, and even introduced me to the two guards who were patrolling the ground floor. I had to admit it put my mind to rest. Maybe I had done the right thing. Even I could see how much easier this house would be to guard than the college, which was a huge building with many doors.
There was not even a single scrap of red silk inside that house; at least not in the rooms I was shown. Instead it was full of softly polished wood, warm fabrics, bowls of hothouse fruit and roses and the scent of lemon. Carpets from the West lay like warm, jeweled mosaics on the shining floor. Some dark red velvet was used to upholster a graceful set of gilt chairs in the drawing room. But they did not seem the right shape for the receiving of lovers. Everything was so beautiful, so delicate and comfortable, so unbelievably clean; untainted by the woman who lived here. It looked like the house of a wealthy aristocrat. I picked an apple out of a bowl, expecting it to be rotten on the inside or to have a bite taken out of it, but it was perfect, glowing red, smelling deliciously of sweet apple.
Sin, I reflected, was subtler than I had thought.
Later the housekeeper took me to my room - an attic room with a sloping ceiling, much bigger than my room back at the college. My things, a bag of clothes and case of books, which had overcrowded my college room made a dusty little pile on the blue rug. Standing in one corner, almost like a symbol of maturity, was the large Gallian magic mirror that I had inherited from Michael, and which had been lying in storage since his death.
There was a wide bed covered in a soft, pink quilt, a worktable by the window, even two comfortable chairs. And a little blue-and-white-tiled stove in the corner made the room so warm. I remembered how clammy the rooms at the college had been, especially in winter, and how they