Still Too Early on Thursday March 4, 1490
I opened my eyes into a snowy landscape. The outlines of the temple remained about us if I squinted hard enough, but wind howled around the ghostly columns and snow pounded against the pedestal. Frozen in their circle, the priests of Athena continued to stare fixedly at the lynx, with blood leaking from their eyes. Trembling, Ynez fought to counter the Ars Mentis Effect on them.
Overhead, an owl burst into existence and began flapping away frantically, but since Athena was Ghallim's avatar, she couldn't fly any significant distance from him. The lynx's eyes lit up and it coiled its muscles, preparing to spring after its prey.
"Stop draining your life force!" I screamed again, and sprinted forward to fling my arms around the lynx's neck. Ynez gasped but couldn't risk interrupting her ritual to stop me. Tel took a single step towards me, gave a delicate shudder, and transformed into a beautiful white fawn that formed the perfect counterpoint to the lynx. (A tiny corner of my mind thought that Cly would love the symbolism.) Shaking his head a few times, he backed away warily from the predator.
Burning yellow eyes glared at me but fortunately, Ashton didn't rip my face off. Instead, the lynx lifted its head and commanded Ghallim to join the hunt. "I look forward to teaching you, little one," it growled.
Ghallim nodded shortly and began to reel in Athena like a kite. Up in the sky, the owl screeched and beat its wings frantically, straining against his pull.
I could feel power building up all around and within Ashton, energy that I knew he didn't have. "Release me," he ordered, shaking his head and shoulders like an avalanche.
Stubbornly, I clung to his fur and held fast. "Only if you will survive this hunt. Tell me you'll survive, and I'll let you go!"
"No hunt is ever certain," he boomed, his voice echoing off the rocks. "But as long as I have one true believer, I will not die." Under my Ars Fati Effect, the inverse of his words at least rang true: If he did not have at least one true believer, he would certainly die.
"But you only have Ghallim right now. What if something happens to him? What is a true believer?" I persisted. "I believe in your existence. Does that count?"
"It is not enough merely to believe in my existence, little one. But I shall teach you too, in time. Now you must let me go!" At last I unwrapped my arms from his neck, and he sailed off the pedestal with one great leap.
Everything happened in a blur then. Ghallim had manifested the firmament and was shrinking it implacably to trap the owl; Ynez was frantically trying to burn a hole in the sky for Athena to escape through; the owl was flapping forward desperately, heedless of its collision course with the collapsing sky. Then, free from my embrace, the lynx's long, sinewy form flew through the air in one graceful arc, snatched the owl in his jaws, and bore her down to the snowy rocks. I hid my face and plugged my ears, but I could still hear the bird's shrieks and the cat's growls.
Finally the owl fell silent. I peeked through my fingers to see the lynx lift its head from the rocks, muzzle streaming with ethereal blood. It had obviously been rejuvenated by Athena's essence. My stomach lurched. Saving Ashton's life had been our goal all along, hadn't it? And we had sort of succeeded? But I still couldn't decide how I felt about the means, so I gave up.
"Is she — dead?" I asked in a small voice that the snow and wind almost carried away.
"Oh yes," Ynez said emphatically. (A little too emphatically? I was too rattled to read her tone.) "Very much so. She's dead. The deadest. She couldn't be deader."
The white fawn legged it over to me and shoved its head under my hand — for my comfort or Tel's, I couldn't tell. Maybe both. I scratched his ears as I would Timo's and felt a surge of longing for the orphanage and my old life. So much had changed in just a day. Neither Tel nor I was fully human, both of us had joined with a god in a ritual we chose to forget, Tel must be trying to process my revelation that his parents had always been alive (I did feel a little remorse for breaking the news that way), and I was trying to accept that Ynez was permanently my superior. I tried to picture obeying her orders the way I did Astera's, and balked at the image.
But then Ynez knelt by Tel's side and draped herself across his back, stroking his soft fur over and over. My vision of her wearing a Prima's insignia faded, and once again she was the little girl whom Avaris and Ghallim had carried to the orphanage, who grew up to become my roommate and sister. I couldn't find it in me to resent her.
And then the snowy landscape faded, and we found ourselves back in Athens, in the real world. All around us the priests collapsed limply to the floor, like puppets after a show, breathing shallowly. Ynez swallowed hard and continued to pet Tel over and over and over.
"Zat would make a very good pelt," Ghallim said, mostly to himself, mostly in jest (I hoped).
Ynez gave him a look of pure horror and threw her arms protectively around Tel's neck. "No!"
Ghallim gave her a toothy, lynx-like grin. Perhaps it was a trick of the torchlight, but I could have sworn that I saw saliva glisten on pointed teeth. "Don't worry. Ze pelt will be nicer after ze fawn grows up."
"House Bonisagus is arriving," Ashton's deep god-voice suddenly boomed from the fawn. Tel shook his head as if shocked by his new vocal cords.
I'd completely forgotten about my message to Thoren. Trust the cavalry to show up now, when we neither needed nor wanted them. "Oh gods!" I cried. "We have to get out of here before they question us!"
Ynez rolled her eyes. "It's a little late for that," she reminded me in an I-told-you-so-but-you-never-listen-to-me-because-I'm-only-fourteen sort of voice. "They know you called them for help."
"Quick — we need a cover story."
Ghallim, pacing the length of the temple with a new aggressiveness in his step, suggested, "We could say zat we saw a vandal breaking into ze temple and came to investigate."
"Great. That's the story. Now let's get out of here!"
Tumbling over ourselves, we fled. Luckily for us, the Bonisagi were too busy swooping down on the unconscious priests to follow, and so we returned to the orphanage without being harassed. There we found Astera frozen in a Paradox backlash over an Ars Temporis ritual to reveal future catastrophes, and the mice arrayed around her like an honor guard.
"Ghallim." Gordon marched forward as if welcoming back a comrade-in-arms. "I would never have expected it of you." And he embraced Ghallim. "Thank you for saving Ashton."
"Don't thank me just yet," Ghallim told him. "Ashton eez still not doing well. I fear 'e will die eef we do nothing."
I looked at both of them helplessly. "Gordon," I appealed to him. "What can we do? How can we help?"
"I know what do," he replied calmly. He turned and nodded at Sy, who stepped forward and ceremoniously presented Ynez with a beautiful candle.
Ynez gasped at the sight. "That — that's a family heirloom. I thought we left it in Seville." She clasped it to her breast, tears springing into her eyes. "Where did you get it?"
Without a glimmer of teasing, Sy answered, "I got it from a merchant, in case I ever needed a favor. Please, Ynez, help Ashton."
Ynez hesitated for only one split second before she nodded. "Ghallim, I need to use the loom on you right now."
"The loom?" Ghallim eyed her warily, as a lynx might eye a wolf.
"But Astera specifically told you not to," Tel protested, still in that incongruous, deep god-voice.
"I need to use the loom at once," Ynez repeated firmly, holding Ghallim's gaze, "because you tore out your avatar, Ashton killed it, and now you're bound to Ashton. Who is dying. And if he dies, you won't ever do magic again."
"I never did any magic," Ghallim pointed out. "Eet was always Athena. Anyway, 'ow do you know all of zis?"
Ynez actually stamped her foot. "Because it's common sense!"
Ghallim's gaze turned inward, and he seemed to listen to a voice inside his head. Then he nodded. "Very well zen. Let us do zis loom ritual."
Tel gave a booming little yelp of surprise. We spun around to see Helen clambering onto his back to ride him. The fawn's legs buckled under her weight. "No, no, no, you'll hurt him!" Ynez hastily dragged her off again and tried to shoo her away.
"You're no fun," Helen pouted, but she gave Ynez a hug that transferred Quintessence to her anyway. "For Ashton."
That was my cue to shield everyone with Ars Essentiae again for the slog back to the loom chamber. Soon I'd be able to cast that particular ward in my sleep, I thought sourly. As Ynez lit dozens of candles all around the room, Ghallim handed her the knob he'd stolen earlier and pounced lightly into one of the circles. He hung there, relaxed and surveying our activities with an air of detachment. Ynez muttered something about how the knob no longer fit back on the loom and tossed it aside in a fit of pique.
"I need Tass," she said. "Someone find me Tass!"
Tumbling out of the chamber, I frantically searched all the nearby rooms until I came across an artifact storage room filled with ancient wooden cribs and pieces of toys that dated back four hundred years. That would have fascinated me another time — where had they come from and why had they been stashed away here? — but at the moment, what interested me more was that all of them were brimming with stored Quintessence from the Hearth. I gathered up an armful of cracked tops and one-legged soldiers and ran back into the loom chamber, where I shoved them at Ynez.
"More! I need more!"
How could I transport them faster? My glance fell on Tel. If not quite a pack mule, he was at least the right shape. "Ghallim! I need to borrow your cloak!" I called up to him.
He refocused his eyes, unfastened his cloak, and tossed it down to me. Catching it in my arms, I half dragged Tel back to the storage room and began bundling pieces of toys into the cloth. Once it was full, I knotted the corners, heaved it over Tel's back, and hustled him back to Ynez. A little bemused but good natured nonetheless, he obediently served as my beast of burden as we emptied out the artifact collection.
The toys began to disintegrate as Ynez ripped Tass out of them and hurled it into the loom. When it was glowing brightly and humming steadily, she started the ritual, drawing Ghallim's and Ashton's souls out of their body as warp and weft, and weaving them together. It went smoothly, much more smoothly than I had expected given Astera's dire warnings, though Ynez frowned and groused that she couldn't tell whether the two souls already matched well or if Ashton were erasing and rewriting Ghallim's personality.
Just as the constellations on the ceiling aligned and flared, we heard a terrible snap. The frame of the loom cracked; pulled beyond its ability to stretch, the fabric frayed and tore. Panicking, Ynez dashed forward to rescue the tapestry but got too close to the shuttles and was sucked up, up, up into the other circle. In a second, the threads of her soul shot out of her and lit up the ceiling, and she fell unconscious.
Ghallim tumbled out of the first circle, landing as gracefully as a cat on all fours.
"We have to get her out," Tel boomed at us, bounding around the loom in anxious circles.
Looking up at the patches of Ynez's soul, Ghallim-Ashton mused, "I don't know. Eet could be interesting to see what 'appens."
I did smack him then. "Just because you're a god doesn't mean you get to be a jerk," I snapped. "Boost me up."
Luckily Ashton chose not to take offense, and Ghallim knelt so I could climb onto his shoulders. Balancing precariously with his hands steadying my ankles, I managed to rip Ynez off the loom. Trailing threads of light tangled about her like a web before sinking back into her skin, but I had no idea what kind of damage they were doing. With Ghallim carrying Ynez, we fled the chamber as if the loom planned to devour all of our souls for a midnight snack.
The journey out through the magical flames was even worse than the terrible trek back from the apothecary. The heat felt like long, clawed fingers that scraped at my shield and pried at weak spots. Several times I thought I might lose control entirely and get us all incinerated, but at last we stumbled out of the caves and fell gasping to the ground. Tel twitched and transformed back into his human form. Ghallim clutched at his head and muttered something about hunting gods and liars. I simply lay for a long moment with my cheek pressed to the earth, inhaling the sweet scents of crushed grass and dirt.
At last I gathered my strength to turn onto my back and brush the soil off my face. Just then the first light of dawn poured through a crack in the clouds.
I was already late for my first lesson with Thoren.
After Tel had checked Ynez and proclaimed her alive but in too fragile a state for movement, and we'd propped her against a tree with Timo standing guard, I wearily returned to our room to pull on a clean dress, splash some icy water on my face to wake myself, and start the painful process of summoning a wind disk. I didn't have the energy for it, but still less did I have the strength to walk anywhere, much less to the top of the Acropolis. And somehow I didn't think Thoren would teleport here even if I told him that every movement I made felt like it was draining my life force. Given that we'd tangled with the two most powerful gangs in Athens just last night (could it be just last night?), I expended yet more energy I didn't have to cloak myself in invisibility and silence.
But in my exhaustion, I botched.
The wind disk was one of the Effects I used most often, on which I prided my skill and control — and I botched it.
The resulting backlash was a column of fire that roared out of the caves and scorched all four of us (thank goodness the mice weren't around!), and created a blast wave that propelled me halfway across the city to dump me like garbage on the edge of the Acropolis.
After a moment, I found I could breathe again. After another, I even managed to sit up and pick bits of gravel out of my palms, and look around to catch my bearings.
I was near the back, by the Sanctuary of Pandion, and this was the first time I'd seen the Acropolis so quiet. Bathed in the early morning light, the marble of the buildings glowed tenderly as I easily evaded the sleepy guard on duty and stumbled to the back of the Parthenon where I remembered Thoren's workshop was located. I tottered up to his door like a drunkard, feeling grateful that at least the invisibility Effect had worked and no one had seen my ignonimous arrival. With dull surprise I discovered that I was breathing in short gasps and my heart was racing, and I couldn't quite decide which I preferred: that Thoren have given up in disgust and proceeded to his next meeting so I didn't need to face him just yet, or that he be at his desk still, waiting impatiently (and angrily) for the student who had begged for his tutelage and failed to show up on time.
As it turned out, I didn't need to choose after all. As I crept noiselessly up to the door, before I could even raise my hand to tap on the wood, a hand clasped my upper arm and spun me around.
I found myself facing a predictably annoyed Thoren. "Marina," he hissed, "why in Odin's name are you wasting your strength on an invisibility shield? Did you really expect to be set upon by bandits in the stronghold of House Bonisagus?"
In my shock, I lost my hold on the Effect and it shattered spectacularly, whipping my head back with the force of its recoil. Thoren grabbed my other arm to steady me until the world settled again. "N-no," I muttered when I could speak without throwing up. "It's been a long night," I explained a little apologetically.
"I see. And exhaustion justifies the heedless use of vulgar magic? Is this more of the recklessness for which House Criamon is renowned?" His voice sounded as icy as Ashton's breath had been yesterday. But he kept it low, for which I was grateful. I had my pride, and I didn't want any other Bonisagi witnessing my current state. And my headache was killing me. Every sound seemed to impale my temple with thorns. Randomly I wondered what Thoren would say if I birthed a goddess from my skull.
"I suppose it's not your fault you've picked up the bad habits of your House, although I warn you — tardiness is unacceptable for one of my students. You've already wasted twenty minutes of my time this morning, not to mention however long it took to deal with the stunts you pulled last night." Releasing one of my arms, he shoved open the door and yanked me into his workroom, impatiently slamming the door and bolting it behind us. Crossing the room in quick strides, he flung himself into his chair and glared at me. "Have a seat." He stabbed a finger at the chair across the desk.
Too tired even to defend the dignity of House Criamon (or however Ynez phrased it), I obeyed and met his eyes with an effort.
"What happened last night?" he demanded. "House Bonisagus is not your personal cleanup crew."
What happened last night? Where should I even begin? What could I even say? I learned that all the orphans are part god, including me sort of — except that I asked to forget all of it so I had no idea?Astera's warning drifted across my mind in large illuminated capitals: "This secret will be disastrous to the House if it ever gets out. All of the orphans will be in danger." And officious over-protectiveness was my middle name.
This much I could tell Thoren: "We received reports of misuse of Ars Animae and, as senior members of House Criamon, felt it our duty to investigate." It wasn't strictly the truth, but it wasn't complete fabrication either. And anyway, he didn't practice Ars Mentis as far as I knew, so I thought I was safe. "And in fact, we discovered Vanessa bani Bjornaer in the act of selling monster leeches to the Reds for the corpses of Blues."
"I see." His tone gave nothing away.
"We were an Adepta Maior, two Adepti, and a priest of Athena. We were entirely capable of handling the situation." (Except for the part where Ynez and Ghallim had nearly died, Tel had flown off in eagle form to chase Vanessa and gotten savaged, and Ynez and I had called Irene in a complete panic, screeching at her and begging for help destroying aforementioned monster leeches because we were too injured to do it ourselves.)
"I see," Thoren repeated, still in that inscrutable voice. Even if he didn't practice Ars Mentis, his instincts were probably screaming that I was omitting quite a bit. (Or maybe he did, and his Effect was screaming about the omissions.) "And the temple of Athena? It appears that trouble followed you home."
Thank goodness we'd prepared a cover story for that little incident! "After we returned from the apothecary, we heard a loud crash from the temple and rushed to investigate. We found a vandal, and we could tell that Ars Manes was involved. As Adepta Maior Ynez had been grievously wounded, I felt it best to call for help." Did Thoren practice Ars Fati? I'd phrased everything carefully so no single statement was an outright lie, but he still didn't look convinced. "On behalf of House Criamon, I again thank House Bonisagus for your assistance."
"I see," he repeated for a third time. He shook his head a little, closed his eyes briefly, then smiled a little ironically. Casually, as if we were discussing the sunrise, he added, "Very well. I suppose part of what attracts me to you is your intelligence and competence after all, and I can't very well complain if the course of your duties puts you in danger. But do try to be more careful."
Wait wait wait. Rewind the last few seconds. What had he just said? All of a sudden, the workspace, lit only by the early morning light falling through the windows, felt a lot less public than it had even moments before. But I didn't have much time to contemplate public versus private spaces, because he continued, "Marina, I'm not a teenager, and I'm not interested in playing games, so let me be direct with you. I find you attractive and intelligent, and I enjoyed your company yesterday afternoon."
I opened my mouth — to say what, I don't know.
"Let me finish. From your actions, I can infer that you feel the same way." I felt the sudden urge to say snarkily, "Yes, I also find myself attractive and intelligent," but for once I held my tongue. Thoren continued, "It would please me to — to continue to spend time with you. Beyond our lessons. If that is your wish as well?" And he looked at me inquiringly, the first sign of uncertainty I'd seen him display.
But would you want to, if you knew the truth? was the first thought that came to my mind. That I'm some bizarre, impotent mashup of a human-orphan and a god-orphan that has lost its way? "Thoren, can you scan me?" I blurted out. "Am I entirely human?" What am I?
Just the slightest bit taken aback at the non sequitur — or perhaps my use of his name without the honorific — he replied, "Ars Manes is no specialty of mine, but I assume you're referring to demonic possession, or whatever it is the Church obsesses over?" I stayed silent. It was an odd question, but there was nothing I could say without betraying my House. "Superstitions. We Norwegians waste no time on them."
When I remained silent and stricken — wanting desperately to pour out the truth, knowing that for the sake of everyone I loved I couldn't — he rose, moved around his desk, and pulled me to my feet. Glints of red danced in his blond hair as sunlight struck the top of his head. His hand slipped down my arm to find my hand, and I felt his fingers wrap around mine, although I didn't look down, couldn't look down. I was too busy searching his face, trying desperately to guess his thoughts. "Marina," he said somberly. "Don't fret your life away. I see nothing wrong with you, but if we discover that you really are possessed, we can deal with that."
Even if I'm a unnatural god-human thing? But I did believe him — if anyone could deal with that, it would be Thoren.
I still didn't trust myself to speak, so I nodded gravely and wove my fingers through his, giving his hand a squeeze.
He relaxed visibly. "Good. I thought — I hoped you might feel the same way as I. However, I should warn you that I am the Primus of House Bonisagus, and as such, my time is not entirely my own. I will not have time to promenade with you in the Agora, or call upon you and Astera for tea, or escort you to dances, or whatever it is young people in Athens do. I will do my best to make time for you, but I can't promise anything. If you can accept that, this may work. If not, then it is better that we not start at all."
His words sounded eminently reasonable to me. He was, after all, responsible for House Bonisagus and the Aegis and the safety of everyone in Athens. "I accept your terms," I said.
In the light from the window, I saw him smile a little, and felt a matching smile lift my lips. "Ah, Marina. Come." He dropped a gentle kiss on my forehead, drew me back to his chair, and pulled me tenderly into his lap. "I don't often have time to myself," he explained, swiftly removing my hairpins one after another and running his fingers through my hair as it tumbled down my back. "We should make the most of it."
Afterwards, we did have a brief lesson on Ars Vis, because, as Thoren pointed out, he owed me precisely five minutes of class time. And so, while I was pinning my hair back up, he showed me a detailed model of the Aegis laid out on a table by the window and spent exactly five minutes demonstrating how the interlocking Artes Vis, Essentiae, and Materiae Effects in the valves worked. (I saw him time the lesson by a clock on his desk.) If I'd hoped for a scale model that was a little more obviously Wondrous, with sparkly leylines and glowing Aegis stones, I was disappointed — as he'd so bluntly told me earlier, Thoren had no use for unnecessary magical Effects. His model was as plain and utilitarian as he himself was, with miniature Aegis stones carved from gray rocks and leylines formed from iron tubes. Still, it actually mimicked the current state of the Aegis, and if anything went wrong in the city, the appropriate part of the model would flash in a color corresponding to the nature of the crisis, as defined by a legend in one corner. I supposed that was marvellous enough.
An unpleasant thought occurred to Thoren even as he finished explaining the runes he'd used for the Ars Vis component (which actually took a little longer than we'd expected because either House Criamon — according to him — or House Bonisagus — according to me — used a bizarre Enochian variant and we had to work out a proper translation). But I saw his forehead furrow in a familiar way, and I braced myself for another outburst.
"What were you doing with the Hearth last night?" he demanded. "You practically drained it. Do you know the level of stress that put on the Aegis? It nearly collapsed!"
I couldn't meet his eyes. "Umm," I hedged, looking everywhere in the room but at him. That clock on his desk had a Scandinavian air to it, with a plaited design around the borders and stylized figures depicting scenes from Norse mythology. Could one of the mice be a god from the Norse pantheon? Sy as Loki was a terrifying thought. But no, the orphans were all forgotten gods, and at least some of the Scandinavians still worshipped their old gods….
"Well?" Thoren snapped when he judged I'd been silent too long. "Weren't you the one who lectured me on the need for failsafes? What could possibly have been more important than the safety of everyone in this city? What was House Criamon doing last night?"
A fair question — but one I could not answer. It wasn't my secret to tell. And I couldn't risk endangering the children. "I'm sorry," I whispered, peeking at his face. "Really I am, Thoren."
He threw out his arms in frustration. "You don't need to apologize! Just tell me what your House was doing to nearly drain the Hearth! Do you have any idea how much power it takes to drain it?"
I dropped my eyes to the Aegis model and traced one of the stones with a fingertip. "I'm sorry," I repeated miserably. "I can't tell you. It's a House secret." Where was Ynez when I needed her? If she were my Secunda, the least she could do was represent us when other Houses objected to our practices!
At least Thoren accepted that each House had private business — or that he'd get no information out of me. He exhaled a gale of a sigh and said more calmly, "Fortunately, you have certain — charms that make up for your Criamoni recklessness. But next time, warn me before you nearly take down the Aegis and bare the city to the Plague, all right?"
I flushed (trust him to be so open about our relationship!) and nodded obediently, although I was thinking to myself that things just sort of happened at the orphanage — especially lately — and I had no idea whether I'd have any advance warning. The Bonisagi really needed to learn flexibility and resilience.
Speaking of flexibility, Thoren checked his clock again and shook his head. "I need to go — you've made me seven minutes late to my next meeting already. Be here in two days, at the crack of dawn. Maybe we'll have the full half hour this time." He gave me another glare, but this time it was mostly in jest.
I couldn't resist teasing him a little. "I thought class was precisely twenty-five minutes," I reminded him, doing my best to look coquettish.
I succeeded — or maybe failed comically — because he did laugh then and give me a quick hug and parting kiss. "I think we can extend your lessons by five minutes." And, draping an arm around my shoulders, he ushered me out into the sunshine.
Leona, one of the (two) last people I wanted to see, stopped me as I left the Parthenon. I'd been skirting around the far side of the Acropolis from Hadrian's Library, but she must have set spies on the workroom. "Ah, Marina, just the person I was looking for!" she exclaimed brightly. "Tell, me, what do you think of De Historia Artium Magicarum? Have you finished reading it yet?"
After the night I'd had, it took a moment to remember what De Historia Artium Magicarum even was. Cly, the bonfire, Sy…where had Sy hidden the books anyway? Trying not to look too guilty, I hedged, "Well, I haven't had too much time to read lately…."
Fortunately, she interpreted my expression as remorse at not having returned the books yet. "Oh, that's fine, I understand. You and your friends had quite the excitement last night, didn't you? I was shocked when Irene told me about the gangs." She shuddered a little. "Ugh, I don't know why Avaris doesn't order the city watch to control them better. But anyway, do take good care of the books — Irene will have my hide if anything happens to them."
It was my turn to shudder. So, when Leona found out about Cly and the bonfire and flayed me alive, would Irene accept the sacrifice of my skin only, or would she demand Leona's as well for full propitiation?
While she chattered, Leona had been steering me towards her own office on the opposite side of the Parthenon from Thoren's. She gestured me in before her and shut the door firmly, all levity evaporating as she turned to face me. "Sit," she said sternly, looking like a mother ready to tongue-lash her wayward offspring. With a start, I remembered that although she generally treated me as an equal, she was old enough to be my mother.
I sat.
Smoothing her skirts and taking a seat directly in front of me, Leona asked in a no-nonsense tone (which I recognized because I often used it on Sy), "What's going on between you and Thoren?"
Expecting an inquisition on the state of the books, I was taken entirely off guard. "I, er, um," I stuttered, blushing furiously. "He's just teaching me Ars Vis."
"And Astera can't?" It was the same question Ynez had asked me yesterday. I really needed to prepare a better response.
I said a little weakly, "Well, she's really busy…. Ashton — one of the children — he hasn't been doing well and she's always with him…." It was a feeble excuse and she knew it. If I'd been interested in Ars Vis, Astera could have begun teaching me long ago, and if I were really interested now, I could just as well delay my lessons until after a sick child recovered.
Eyeing my hair and then my necklace pointedly, Leona told me, "That's not what it looks like to me." When I began to protest, she forestalled me by raising one hand. "Spare me your lies. I know teenage girls, and for all that you're an Adepta at an extraordinarily young age, you are still — from an emotional standpoint — an immature child."
Well, that was harsh! Who ran the orphanage when Astera was busy? Who took care of all the other children?
Who was — sort of, maybe — part god?
But she wasn't finished. "I don't know what Astera is thinking. I don't know what Thoren is thinking. Has no one taught you about the proper way for a man to court a respectable young woman?"
I thought for a moment. Certainly I'd heard of the rules — chaperons at all times and such — but I'd never thought of them as applying to me. I was used to running around the orphanage — and lately all of Athens — whenever I wanted, with whomever I wanted. Why should it matter all of a sudden whether I observed all the social niceties? Especially if I weren't entirely human anyway? But I couldn't say that.
Leona leaned forward. "Look, Marina, I know you don't want to hear any of this. But a young woman's reputation, once lost, is gone forever. Do you really want to be the one all the respectable women gossip about? Do you want to be the one they call a whore and refuse to admit into their homes, and forbid their husbands and sons to see? Do you want to be the one no decent man will marry? Do you want to be the one the rakes proposition, because they expect you to say yes?"
"But it's unfair!" I cried. "It's the fifteenth century! Why do people even care about these silly, antiquated rules anymore? Tel gets to spend the night with Verrus whenever he wants, and no one even bats an eye!"
And then I stopped and flushed deep red, realizing what I had just said.
To her credit, Leona did nothing more than give me a knowing look. "I know it's unfair," she said evenly. "The world has always been unfair to women, and it's not about to change overnight. The question you have to ask yourself is whether you have what it takes to flaunt all the conventions, to defy all of society and hold your head high when people call you — and treat you like — trash, a porna, a common prostitute. Do you? Because I've known some of the hetairai, the great courtesans, and I don't think you do."
I sat quietly, stunned, unable to frame a single coherent sentence. I really, truly had not thought that far ahead. Despite Ynez badgering me about proper chaperonage — to which I'd replied tartly that half of House Bonisagus wandered in and out of Thoren's workshop so, yes, we couldn't be better chaperoned — I hadn't considered the ramifications of what Thoren and I were doing, and where this whatever-it-was was going. What were Thoren's intentions? For that matter, what were mine? What did I want? Besides to be anywhere else than here, in Leona's office, having this conversation?
With a surge of passion, I wanted my old life back. I wanted Timo to lick me awake each morning. I wanted to savor the early-morning quiet of the yard because I knew that once the children woke, it would be just one thing after another and I wouldn't have a spare minute to myself. Except that wasn't true and had never been true, whether I remembered or not, since the mice weren't really children; since they were far older and far more powerful than I could guess; since they'd just been humoring me the whole time as I herded them to class, supervised their homework, summoned them to dinner, patched their clothing, and inspected them after their baths. I couldn't help but feel a little resentful, and a little wistful, as if I'd lost a treasure that I hadn't even known I'd possessed.
Leona couldn't read my mind, but she softened somewhat at my consternation. "I'm not trying to be harsh," she said. "Well, maybe a little, so you'll take it seriously. But Astera obviously hasn't warned you about any of these pitfalls, and no one else will." She gave my hand a brisk pat. "There, now, I'm not telling you how to live your life. Just be a good girl and think about what I said."
Mumbling a promise that I would, I fled her workroom, chastened and wanting nothing more than to vanish.
