Mage Heart. Jane Routley
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and Kitten grinned at each other. I could sense their relief.
"Caught you with your pants down, did we? Or are you just showing off your muscles?"
Simonetti snorted. "Well, you're hardly battle ready either ... MADAME."
"What happened?" asked Genny. Her face was serious. "How'd you break the mirror?" Now was the time of reckoning, the time for a convincing lie.
"I ... was trying to move it," I said limply. I felt myself blushing.
Fortunately Simonetti took the blush as embarrassment.
"Well By the Seven, I'd blush too if I'd scared the life out of everybody .... Hey," he said, blinking in the magelight, "can we have some normal light in here instead of this bloody flare? It's beginning to hurt my eyes."
Genny put her finger to the candlewick and lit it. It was a nice trick. I'd never thought to do it like that. But she looked at me as if something was wrong. I didn't think she believed me about the mirror.
I put out the magelight.
"Why don't you go back to bed? I'll finish up here," said Kitten.
The other two went; Simonetti muttering, Genny with a single worried glance.
"We must get one of the servants up here to clean this up. You can't spend the night with glass on the floor."
Kitten reached for the bell rope and pulled it before I could protest.
"No," I said, "I can clean it up. Really." I blew a spell through it and the glass rose in a whirling, tinkling mass which carried itself to the corner and settled in a neat heap.
"Well Well. Look at you. You know, it never occurred to me that you could use magic for such a small thing." She ran her foot over the carpet. "Yes, that's got it all I think. What a great way of cleaning house." She smiled at me.
But suddenly I wasn't in the mood for pleasantries. Suddenly my knees were turning to water. What had I done? I sat down at my worktable and put my face in my hands.
"Dion?"
"Yes. I'll be right. Just the crash made me jump."
Silence for a moment and then, "Are these mirrors special, or will any old one do?"
"What?" "We can get you a new looking glass." An open window for the demon to enter ... I couldn't help shuddering.
"No, thanks."
She came up behind me and touched me on the shoulder. I felt myself flinch. She took the hand away. Her voice wasn't particularly offended.
"You've had quite a shock, haven't you?"
"I'm all right," I said, rubbing my face and hoping she didn't see how my hands were shaking.
"What really happened with that mirror? Did you ... er... see something.
"I was moving it," I said.
"I see."
Silence.
"There's Maria," she said. "I'll be back in a minute."
I wished she would go away. I was uncomfortable with her here. On the other hand, I didn't really want to be alone just now.
When she came back into the room again, I looked at her through my hands. She reposed gracefully in a chair, one delicate hand hanging loosely over the end of the armrest. She looked incredibly fragile and feminine sitting there, as if she'd never handled anything as brutal as a sword.
I wondered if I had imagined it. It seemed to have disappeared.
"You had a sword," I said.
"When I heard the crash, I thought someone was trying to get at you. I came up to help you." There was a pause. "I do know how to use it," she said.
I must have looked disbelieving, for she laughed and said, "Ah. You're making assumptions. People shouldn't make assumptions, you know."
"What have you done with it?"
"I gave it to Maria to put away. A proper sword's follower is supposed to take care of her own weapons, but ... Well, to hell with tradition. I was taught swordplay by one of those who tried to get you last night. A Soprian assassin. They're very practical people. They believe that they can best protect those they love by teaching them to protect themselves, so they have a whole method of swordplay for women and another for children. It has been very useful one way or another."
I was silent, not knowing how to respond or what to say. It was so hard to believe any of this. Was she really telling the truth?
"You see, you are safe here. There are always men on guard, and on the off chance that someone does manage to get in, Simonetti and I are well able to protect you. Though I'm not sure you need us. You did a good job on that fellow in your room last night all by yourself."
It brought back bad memories, bad feelings.
"I didn't mean to kill him," I whispered.
"I'm sorry," she said. "It is a horrible feeling. But you were defending your life."
"Yes." It seemed a little better in that light. There was a knock at the door. Kitten took a tray from the woman outside.
"That will be all, Maria. Go to bed now."
I listened as she poured out the hot liquid. There was a homely clatter of cups and the delicate ring of spoons on china.
"Here," she said, "get this into you. You'll feel much better." I took a sip. There was something odd about the flavor.
"What's in this?" I asked.
"Brandy," she said. "I thought it would relax ... Oh dear, perhaps you don't drink."
"I don't mind," I said, not wanting to appear unsophisticated. It wasn't actually too bad. It felt nice and warming.
"Does everyone at court need to protect themselves?"
"Not everyone, no. But courts are dangerous places, and my position as ruler's favorite ... that's especially dangerous. An aristocrat has patrons and family for protection. Someone like me though, without family, a foreigner ... I'm like a goat in a tiger cage. I don't belong, and a number of people have found me inconvenient. Everyone wants my position, you see."
We sipped our chocolate in silence. I scoured my mind for something to say. There were a lot of questions I wanted to ask her. The main one, of course, was how she could live her kind of life? Was it possible she loved the Duke? But there were other questions. Some of them were just standard for undertaking protection. Some of them I should have asked that first night at the Ducal Palace, but I hadn't wanted the contact with her. I knew I should know more about this supposed opponent of mine, Norval the necromancer. He still seemed a shadow, a mere hypothesis. Michael would have found my behavior unprofessional, but then he would have found it difficult to take Madame Avignon seriously, too. And he would have been disgusted (but probably unsurprised) by the curiosity I was beginning to feel toward this woman who sat delicately sipping hot chocolate out of a bone china cup and claiming to have been trained in the art of swordplay. There is too much you don't know, I reminded myself. Stop making assumptions.
I tried a question. "Why is he so interested in you?"
She looked surprised. "Who? The Duke?"
"No Norval Mages don't usually bother themselves with women."
She laughed. "A mage is a man like any other. Except you, of course"
I must have frowned at this glib reply, for she went on more politely, ''Western mages are more venal than you Easterners. I'm always surprised at the high emphasis placed on asceticism here on the Peninsula. In my country, the greatest mages take part in political affairs and live like princes, with huge estates and many slaves. Anyway Norval wasn't a necromancer when I first knew him. He was just a well-bred gentleman of the court. He was my first ... protector. It was from him that I learned many of the arts of the courtesan. I'm afraid he came to think he owned me. Such people