Magic of Wind and Mist

  This time, his eyes loomed huge and gray. My head swam, and the room spun around in circles. I reached out and grabbed ahold of Isolfr, afraid I’d fall. And even Isolfr looked pale, his skin tinted greenish instead of silver.

  We shouldn’t have come here. We shouldn’t have spoken to this man, this Mr. Formenti. He was a spy for Lord Foxfollow. He was killing us—

  And then, abruptly, that swirling, sick sensation vanished. Mr. Formenti looked back down at the paper, blinked twice, and then looked back up at us.

  “It will be a moment,” he said. “Lord Llambric may not see the message right away.” He gestured to a pair of round-backed chairs upholstered in dark velvet. “Please, have a seat.” He said this with a slight sneer, as if he didn’t like treating us as guests.

  I didn’t move, not trusting anything Mr. Formenti did. Isolfr, however, stumbled over to the chair and collapsed. The green tint had disappeared from his skin, but he looked exhausted. Worried, too.

  Maybe I wasn’t alone in my anxiety after all.

  I joined him, trying to sit in the proper lady’s fashion, as I’d seen Bryn do a hundred times. Bryn. Sea and sky, I wondered if I’d ever see her again. She’d live out her whole life, marrying some wealthy suitor, raising children in a garden house in the capital, going to dances on pleasure boats during the summer’s long daylight. And the whole time I’d be wasting away in the Mists, turned to steam or light or the very essence of magic. Gone.

  Mr. Formenti glanced at his sheet of parchment.

  “Well,” he said, “it seems Lord Llambric does remember the gentleman. Isolfr Witherjoy, welcome to the Llambric Lands of the Mists. The lady, however—”

  My fear returned with a sharp stab, and I knew I was going to die.

  “The lady is named Hanna,” Isolfr said, “and she’s accompanying me. I’m sure Lord Llambric understands.”

  Mr. Formenti sighed. “You’re quite right in that respect, Mr. Witherjoy. His exact words were,” he peered down at his parchment again, frowning, “ ‘any friend of Isolfr’s is welcome at Llambric Manor.’ Very well.” Mr. Formenti folded his hands over his parchment, and for the first time, flushed with relief, I wondered how the magic worked that he was able to communicate with Lord Llambric through the paper. When he looked at us and the room spun—had he been capturing our image, sending it across the air of the Mists to Llambric Manor?

  I shivered at the thought.

  “I will arrange for transportation to take you to the manor,” Mr. Formenti continued. “Nothing elaborate, of course, not for—” He stopped himself. “It will be comfortable, however. You’ll leave tomorrow morning.”

  My head buzzed. I really didn’t want to stay in this city any longer than I had to. Not that traveling across the countryside in some sort of Mists mode of transportation was much better.

  “And what about tonight?” Isolfr said. He gestured at me. “She needs a place to eat and sleep.”

  I glared at him. He couldn’t pretend that he needed to eat and sleep too?

  Mr. Formenti wrinkled his nose. “Of course, yes. There’s an inn two streets over. They accept magic as currency.” He waved one hand at us. “I can sense the magic wafting off both of you, even if it isn’t Mists magic. It’ll be enough.”

  I didn’t like the sound of this. I didn’t like the idea of the Mists extracting my magic out of me, or of using it for some ill will. But Isolfr seemed to accept this answer, because he said, “Very well,” and stood up as if the transaction was finished.

  “It’s called the Three Anchors,” Mr. Formenti said. “I’ll send the cart there tomorrow morning.”

  “Thank you,” Isolfr said. “And thank Lord Llambric as well.” He nudged me with his foot.

  I sighed and stood up. “Yes,” I muttered, “give my thanks to Lord Llambric.”

  Mr. Formenti just snorted in disapproval. Isolfr and I glanced at each other. He seemed pleased with himself.

  “After you, Mr. Witherjoy,” I said.

  Isolfr’s eyes sparkled like he wanted to laugh, an urge I didn’t remotely understand. I couldn’t imagine being delighted in this place.

  He walked out of Mr. Formenti’s office, and I followed. Being outside in the cold, sea-soaked air was actually a relief; I hadn’t realized how stuffy the office had been, how it seemed to squeeze in on me and choke out my breath, until I was outside.

  “Is this going to get us killed?” I asked Isolfr.

  He looked at me. His eyes weren’t sparkling anymore.

  “I don’t think so,” he said.

  It wasn’t the most reassuring of comments. Still, I didn’t have much choice, and together we walked down the narrow street to find the Three Anchors.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  I didn’t sleep well that night. The Three Anchors was nice enough—clean and warm against the cold, blustery winds outside—but all night I lay awake listening to the unfamiliar noises creeping through the walls. Sometimes they sounded like voices, sometimes they sounded like claws scrabbling against the wood. I tried to feel for magic, but whenever I did my head would buzz and my skin would prickle, and it frightened me enough that I decided I would rather not know. So I pulled the thick blankets tight around me and didn’t move; just stared straight up at the ceiling, which was fragmented by an odd, greenish light spilling in through the window.

  Isolfr stretched out on a mat on the floor and closed his eyes and didn’t move once all night. I wasn’t sure if he was sleeping, the way I needed to sleep, or if it was some spirit-trance. He’d done the same thing occasionally when we were onboard the Shira.

  Eventually, the greenish light faded and was replaced by the pale gray-white light of daytime. The sounds in the walls were replaced by more familiar noises—laughter, humming, the clatter of breakfast dishes. I sat up, throwing my blanket off to the side. When I put my feet on the floorboards, Isolfr sat straight up.

  “Is it morning?” he asked.

  “Apparently.” I nodded toward the window. Everything had a hazy quality to it, like my mind was trying to dream during the day since it couldn’t dream at night. I sighed.

  “The carriage should be waiting for us downstairs,” Isolfr said.

  I nodded and my stomach grumbled. “I hope breakfast is, too.”

  Isolfr smiled. “I’m sure Lord Llambric will have seen to all our supplies. He’s a good man.”

  “He’s not a man,” I murmured, “he’s from the Mists.” But even as I spoke, I knew I didn’t completely believe that. Gillean, he had been a good man. And Isolfr’s friend besides.

  “The Mists are dangerous,” Isolfr said, “which is why we need someone from the Mists to help us.”

  I didn’t say anything, just pulled on my stockings and boots. I took one last look around the room, at its sparse, clean furnishings, its curtains hanging over the window. They were woven out of green fabric, I realized. Maybe that accounted for the odd light last night.

  No, I didn’t think it did.

  We went downstairs. The dining room was crowded with Mists folk, their voices carrying over the clamor of dishes. I peered at their breakfasts as Isolfr and I walked past. Strips of fish, a sturdy, dark brown bread. Just like on the Shira, the food could have come from home.

  Isolfr went up to the innkeep. I lagged behind, my arms wrapped around my chest. If we didn’t have food in the carriage, as Isolfr had promised, I’d have to buy something here, trading my magic for a meal. I didn’t really want to do that. Last night Isolfr had paid for our room, and I had hung back and watched as the innkeep—the same one he was speaking to this morning—had laid his hand on Isolfr’s head and drawn up a thin, shimmering line of ice-colored light. The room had gone freezing for a few seconds. My breath turned to steam. And then the light had drawn up in the innkeep’s hand, and he had nodded and said, “Room fourteen.”

  “A traveling carriage is waiting for us,” he said, “courtesy of Julio Formenti.”

  The innkeep grunted. “It’s out there.” He
jerked his head toward the door. “Only one drawn by irri. Can’t miss it.”

  Isolfr nodded, but my chest clenched up. Irri?

  We threaded through the dining room together. The smell of breakfast made my mouth water, but I tried to push it aside. “What’s an irri?” I asked Isolfr in a low voice.

  “It’s not a thing. It’s a type of magic.”

  “Is it dangerous?”

  “Trystan is skilled in its practice.”

  “You don’t sound so sure.”

  He glanced over at me, and he didn’t look so sure either.

  “It’ll be fine,” he said.

  We pushed open the inn doors and stepped out onto the busy, bustling street. That sunless white light poured over us, and I squinted against it, my eyes hurting. I was too exhausted to be out in such brightness. Still, I was able to see well enough to notice that there wasn’t a carriage waiting in front of the inn.

  “It’s not here,” I said.

  “Of course it is.” Isolfr frowned. “It’s just not here. They must have taken it behind the inn, over to the stables.”

  “Why didn’t the innkeep say that?”

  But Isolfr just veered off down the sidewalk, following the path around the side of the inn. The path was narrow and darkened by the surrounding buildings, and I was grateful for the rest it gave my eyes.

  “How could the carriage even get back here?” I said. “There’s not another path, is there?”

  Isolfr glanced over his shoulder at me. “We’re in the Mists,” he said.

  His answer made me shiver. I thought about the long beam of light that the innkeep had extracted from his forehead.

  The path ended abruptly, bumping up against a big stone-and-wood building that smelled of animals and dried grass. Isolfr pulled open the side door and stepped in. I followed him even though I didn’t want to. My heart was racing, and I was hungry and tired and I didn’t know what animals we would find waiting for us, but I doubted they would be any I was familiar with.

  The inside of the stable was dark and hazy. A few beams of sunlight, bright against the dark, pushed their way through the cracks in the walls, illuminating the stable in dappled patches. I saw a round, orange eye, a swish of a tail, the complicated straps and buckles of a carriage harness. I stayed close to the wall, twisting my coat up in one hand, trying to calm my anxiety. Isolfr strode across the scattered dirt and grass of the stable floor. At one point, he stepped too close to one of the creatures in the pens and it reared back, a flash of silver in the shadows, and let out a loud shrieking-snort that didn’t sound like any animal I’d ever heard. I slammed against the wall and Isolfr crouched down, one hand up like a shield. But nothing happened. He looked over at me sheepishly.

  “It’s fine,” he said. “Come on, I see our carriage.” He gestured to a dark corner of the stable.

  “I don’t see anything,” I hissed back, trying to whisper. “Isn’t there a lantern in here? Can’t you cast a light spell?”

  Isolfr sighed. “Not with the moon horses stabled here.” He nodded at the silvery flash that had reared up when he came too close. “But you can see better when you’re closer, I promise. Besides, we don’t want to stay any longer in the city than we have to.”

  He spoke that last part lightly, but a cold chill rippled down my spine. He was right. There was too much of a chance that Lord Foxfollow’s spies would see us. Maybe they already had.

  I took a deep breath and moved forward, trying to keep myself as contained as possible. It worked, because when I passed the moon horse’s pen, it only exhaled a puff of air, nothing more. Isolfr smiled at me in the darkness, and then together we picked our way through the straw to the carriage waiting in the corner. All I could see of it was a misshapen dark lump.

  “How does the irri work?” I moved closer to the carriage. It wasn’t very big.

  “It’s part of the design,” Isolfr said. “Built into the walls. You’ll see.”

  I looked at Isolfr and then I looked at the carriage, doubtful.

  “We can’t walk,” Isolfr said. “The carriage will give us protection against—you know.”

  I shivered, although I knew he was right. “Fine,” I said. “But you can get in first.”

  “Very well.” Isolfr walked up to the carriage and pulled open the door. A creamy light issued from inside, casting Isolfr’s face in long, eerie shadows. He looked back over at me, grinning. “Oh, you’re going to like this.”

  “Don’t make fun of me.”

  “I’m not.” He climbed in, then stuck his head out and gestured for me to join him. “Come on! I promise you, we’ll be safer in here than we’ve been since we arrived.”

  I took a deep breath. Isolfr smiled at me from the carriage door, his skin bathed in that strange light. I trusted him. I also knew this was the only way I was going to get back home.

  I crawled through the carriage’s open door—

  And into an opulent, spacious lounging room, much, much bigger than the carriage was.

  “Sea and sky,” I whispered.

  “Trystan’s quite handy with Mists magic,” Isolfr said, pulling the door shut. It made a loud clicking noise as it latched. I jumped. Because I could jump—the interior of the carriage was big enough for me to stand. I could have reached up on my tiptoes and not even been able to touch the ceiling. The floor was layered with thick tapestried rugs and large silk pillows. One wall—because this carriage had walls—was lined with shelves full of jars and stacks of fabric.

  “Are those new clothes?” I walked over to the shelf and pulled off one of the pieces of fabric. It unfurled into a suit jacket of the sort that Mr. Formenti had been wearing. I turned around to face Isolfr. “Is this all for us?”

  “I imagine it is.” Isolfr was smiling, his whole face lit up in a way it hadn’t been since we arrived.

  I turned back to the shelves, marveling at them in wonder. I selected another piece of fabric, this one a rich, mossy green. It unfolded into a thick brocaded gown, the fabric luxuriant against my bare skin.

  “I can’t believe this,” I said. “I can’t—” I turned around to face Isolfr. “Are you sure this isn’t a trick?”

  “I’m sure.” Isolfr laughed. “I’d think it was a trick if the carriage wasn’t like this.” He clapped his hands together. “Of course, now we need to get her moving.”

  “How do we do that?” I set the dress down carefully on a stack of pillows.

  “It’s easy. You just have to feed the irri.”

  “How do you know all this?” I watched as Isolfr walked over to the shelves and pulled down a tall, narrow jar. It glowed when he touched it, a pulsing that reminded me of a heartbeat.

  “I told you, Trystan and I were friends. And this design is his own, so he explained how it works.” Isolfr made his way through the pillows to a lever on the far wall. He pulled it down, and a window opened, revealing a gaping, empty darkness. Fear crawled up my skin. It was like looking into the end of the world.

  Isolfr tilted the jar against his palm. A few gray flakes fluttered out, and he tossed them into the window. Then he pulled the lever to close it again, and the wall smoothed over.

  “That’s it?” I said.

  Isolfr nodded. “The irri knows where to go.”

  “And we can trust it?”

  “Yes,” Isolfr said, his voice firm. “It’s one of the only things we can trust in this world. One of the only things that hasn’t been tainted by Lord Foxfollow.”

  A shuddering, creaking groan rippled through the room. Everything brightened, bathing us in a warm, lemony light that reminded me of the sun. The carriage lurched. I lost my balance and tumbled headfirst into the pillows.

  “It must take a little getting used to,” Isolfr said. He sounded unsure of himself.

  The carriage lurched again, and I realized we were moving. All the jars on the shelves rattled and shook, although none of them seemed in danger of falling.

  “How do we know where we are?” I sa
id, looking around from my place on the pillows. With the lights up the room was even more extravagant. Everything sparkled like moonlight on the sea. Isolfr looked as he had the first time I ever saw him, drifting in the water like a ghost. Too beautiful to be human.

  “Hmm,” he said, putting his hands on his hips. “There should be a hatch somewhere for lookout purposes.” He gazed around the room, squinting up at the ceiling. “Ah, there it is!”

  I looked to where he pointed. A small, round doorway was set in the middle of the ceiling.

  “How exactly are we supposed to get up there?”

  “Tell the carriage what you’d like.”

  I looked at him. We trundled along. Through the walls of the room, I could hear the chatter of the city, voices shouting and laughing. I’d wanted to be a witch all my life, and I was familiar with magic. But I’d never seen magic like this. Not in our world.

  “Now you’re making fun of me,” I said.

  “No! Here, I’ll show you.” He held out his hands awkwardly and said, “Carriage! We’d like to look outside.”

  Nothing happened.

  But then I noticed a lightness in my body, as if I were underwater. The lights in the room dimmed. My feet lifted up off the floor.

  “Sea and sky!” I shouted. “What’s happening?”

  Isolfr laughed. He floated a few finger widths above the floor too, but it didn’t seem to concern him at all. He pushed his arms out as if swimming and propelled himself upward, toward the round door in the ceiling. I did the same, tentative, afraid that the magic would fail and I would drop to the ground. I doubted those pillows would do much to break my fall.

  “What’s doing this?” I called out to Isolfr.

  “The irri,” he said. “It controls everything. It had to take a little energy from the lights to lift us up, but that’s okay. Everything’s perfectly in balance. Trystan saw to it.”

  He was too enamored with Trystan. I just hoped Trystan would actually be able to help us.

  Isolfr undid the latch and pushed the door open. A patch of pale blue sky appeared, and he pushed himself up and out of the carriage, then leaned back down, holding out one hand. “Here, let me help you.”