The Sinistriad
Atta-Nycol

CHAPTER 35

"Robby, turn and look at me."

"I thought you didn't want me to move?"

"Oh, go on and make your mother happy. Show me that charming face."

Rabastan obediently turned his head towards his mother, a smile plastered vaguely onto his face. He abruptly turned back as the miniature suit of armor he was levitating wobbled slightly, in the air.

"Can you PLEASE sit still? You stupid thing…" He bounced his wand in the air and the thing nodded clumsily at him. "I still can't figure out this simultaneous charm thing—it's so clumsy."

"You just need more practice," Magriette gently consoled. "Can I see your eyes, again?"

Rabastan turned his face obediently back towards his mother, trying to hold his wand steady as she sketched him. It was maddening to try and get any work done in a reasonable amount of time at all when she got that darned sketchbook of hers out!

After a few moments, Magriette nodded at her son with a broad smile, and he went back to playing with the small knight, trying to make it grow or shrink as it rose and fell, or saluted, or did a back flip. It rarely worked, but rare was the crash that indicated the thing had fallen to the floor. Usually, Rabastan was capable of catching it before it got that far.

Magriette shaded her sketch for a moment, deep brown against stark white. She loved sketching with colors. Reds and browns and yellows; summer colors. They warmed the paper. She smiled at the new image of her son starting to come together, and then turned back towards the window, where she always looked when she wanted to let her mind wander. Her forehead creased slightly, though. Rudy was outside, still, bent over a tree that seemed covered in thick spider-webbing. She watched as Rudy gathered the ends of it up in his hands, twisted it into a rope, and drew it over his shoulder, tromping through the snow. He'd never finish before dark—there were at least eight more trees to fell—and she was sure it would snow, soon. She didn't like him doing such dangerous jobs, anyway. What if one of the falling trunks crushed him.

Rudy stared up at the mammoth tree he was about to pull over. What was he clearing this land for? Guest house? Gazebo? He couldn't even remember. The only thing around which his frigid brains could focus on was this tree, this bundle of Knotting Twine, the strength with which he had to pull to haul it onto its side on the first try and spare his hands any further rope burn.

He rubbed his hands together, wincing. He'd been tying knots all day, hauling on rope to pull over trees, and his fingers and palms were raw with rope burn. He wished the cold would just numb them. The enchanted twine had a finicky way of shooting through his fingers and hands when it considered itself tugged, pulling out the intricate knots Rudy worked so hard to tie, and rubbing the skin off of his hands. He hated that it only responded to magical touch. Only the skin of a wizard could bring out the enchantment in the rope.

He picked up the ends of the twine again, closed his eyes and thought of Aurora and Circe and anyone else that would be awestruck by the feat he was about to attempt. He set his heels into the ground, adjusted his two-handed grip on the twine, and pulled with all his might.

The tree cracked, as the frozen sap within gave way to the strength with which Rudy pulled. Gunshots in the evening light.

"Number fifteen, you are number fifteen," Rudy said to himself, new sweat breaking out across his forehead, "I want you before the snow starts to fall." The thing was huge. It soared into the air, deep brown bark and snow-covered boughs of evergreen pine, majestic and menacing in its staying power. Rudy had tied five Weaving Knots around the thing, to make sure that the enchantment was strong enough. Knotting twine tripled the power with which he pulled on the tree, but its roots were deep and Rudy wasn't even sure fifteen men with five knots apiece would have been enough to get it over. His hands hurt, though, and so did his back, and he was anxious to be done. Tying another knot would have been another ten minutes.

His face flushed with the effort, and Rudy let a breath his between his teeth. "Come on, COME ON—" Snow fell out of it as the tree leaned slightly, but held fast in the ground. Rudy roared and pulled with everything he was worth.

"FUCK YOU, TREE—FALL—"

It leaned colossally, earth rising behind it as the roots started to wrench up through the frozen ground, demented skeletons rising out of the black earth. Rudy took a hesitant breath—and the rope shot through his hands as the tree righted itself.

Rudy swore silently and kicked out at the snow. All of the knots would have fallen when he let go of the rope. Another half hour's work and another layer of skin, gone.

He closed his eyes, letting his head hang back. There isn't any use fighting it, Rudy—use the energy for something else—bend over and pick up the twine and do it again, because you'll just have to do it later…

He opened his eyes and started searching for the rope among the snow. It always blended in. There—where the magic was steaming its way through snow and ice. Rudy carelessly shooed away the twinkling, laughing fairies that hovered in the fog above his rope. His brow creased as they rocketed away. They'd been hovering all day—he'd almost swallowed one as she zoomed for the mist from his breath—why did they run from him now?

Rudy reached down to pick up the rope and realized his mistake at once. Red snow. He'd shooed them away with blood; they wouldn't be back. Not those fairies, to this place, ever again. For some reason, the flight of the fairies put more of a damper on his spirit than anything else.

He glanced over his shoulder, eying the handsome manor house out of the corner of his eye. He could still use the knotting twine, if he could Knot it. The maneuvers were delicate, though—it was more like braiding or weaving—weaving a knot around a tree, like you weave a net. Wasn't that what they'd always taught them it was like? Knotting twine around weighted crates, fifteen boys all racing against each other, identical khaki shorts and perfectly pulled socks, ties and pressed collars.

Little magic for Little wizards. How happy they'd been to be allowed string if not a wand! All their knots were flawless, and all their fathers proud. What well-trained, well-bred, well behaved wizards they would all grow up to be.

"Ridiculous," Rudy said to himself, remembering the firelight and the way he just knew this was going to put a smile on his father's face. How stupid he'd felt for not knowing Tommy Avery was supposed to win, how angry such a stupid trophy had made his father. Rudy had burned the thing himself.

His hands throbbed with the burn and the cold. Could he go back inside? His father would be furious if Rudy scarred up his hands, wouldn't he? Something about how it made him look like a cripple? But he'd be furious if Rudy went back inside without finishing the task he was set to do… disrespectful! Lazy! "Suck it up."

"RUDY?" He sprang into the air, startled out of his skin to hear his mother's voice calling across the grounds, out the high window. "RUDY COME UP HERE—"

Rudy closed his eyes. "NO, I HAVE TO FINISH THIS!"

"RUDY!"

"DAD SAID—"

"NOW, RODOLPHUS!"

Rudy sighed, and obediently began to trek back inside. There wasn't any way around it now. He hoped he got caught quitting before he even made it up the stairs. Rostandus was always accusing his wife of "encouraging" Rudy—"enabling" Rudy— how he played on her sentiments to get what he wanted, she was so stupid. Couldn't she see it?

If he lays a hand on her…

Rudy snapped the door shut, but the enchanted house neither rattled nor permitted the slamming of the door. He stomped the snow off of his boots well beyond the door—would Dizzy be the only one that noticed?

Stomp, stomp, stomp, up the stairs. Come and get me—

Not quick enough. Maybe Rudy wasn't being loud enough. Out of steps, now, anyway. If it would come, it was coming.

Rudy pressed the knob to the drawing room door with his elbow and stepped in, his pants and his boots still dripping, slightly. There was Rabastan, with his little model knight in full armor, catching it as it fell through the air. And his mother, wrapped in the white dressing gown with the red embroidery. Red on snow. He could hardly look at his mother. Why was in here? Why was he letting her do this? Didn't she know how much trouble they'd be in? Rudy opened his mouth, closed it again, and turned back towards the door.

"Show me your hands," she said gently, setting aside her sketchbook and gliding across the floor towards her son. She was always so graceful. Rudy turned back around and looked at the floor, proffering his raw and bleeding palms out to her. Her fingers were so warm under his frozen ones, so dainty and white and small, and his blood looked foreign to them.

"It wouldn't hurt you to tie a couple of more knots, rather than do this to your hands every time, Rudy."

"I was cold," he said, and then looked away, ashamed of it. It seemed so trivial, now, to refuse to tie a couple of knots because he was cold. Cold. How dumb could he be?

The fire was already bringing feeling back into places he'd long since forgotten about as numb, and it made the excuse seem even more hollow.

"Take off that giant coat, Rudy, I can hardly see how you stand it being so bundled up in this warm room!"

"Mom, really, I should get back to—"

His mother cut him off. "Coat. Dizzy—bring me some dittany and murtlap and some old bandages, will you?"

Rudy removed his coat, draping it down on the floor near the fire. If he got out of here without getting caught, it would stay warm for ages when he went back outside to finish the few trees he had left to pull over.

Rudy glanced up as Rabastan dropped the knight he was playing with. He stared at it for a moment, his back to Rudy, and then the thing was back in the air. Rabastan didn't turn around or say a word.

Magriette drew her wand, trying to think of any spell that might help her son before she resorted to the potions. She'd never been much of a healer; although she'd picked a few things up as a mother… she could warm his fingers, at least. That much magic wasn't beyond her, was it?

"Let's get you warmed up, she said, and pointed her wand down at Rudy's hands.

The doors to the study banged open, both of them slamming against the walls with loud cracks. Rabastan's knight fell to the floor again with a crash—Rudy looked up just in time to see the back of his father's hand as it made contact with his face, snapping his neck hard to the side. He looked back towards his father—livid eyes, and his wand growing in his hand, swelling into that fucking broom handle…

His father drove it end-first into his gut and Rudy hunched over in pain, his arms wrapped around his middle. It always hurt worse end-on. His father grabbed him by the hair, dragged him a few steps backward, and threw him to the floor. Rudy drew his knees up underneath him. "I ought to break both of your goddamn legs!" Rostandus bellowed, and drove his heel into Rudy's side.

Rudy grunted in pain, his arms flying around his middle to protect the newly blossoming pains, his hands leaving dark patches on his brown shirt. He didn't move.

125 x 521 = 65125…

"HE is supposed to be outside—how dare you defy me—"

"I wasn't—"

Rudy heard it. He was already forcing himself to his feet, he had his eyes locked, he could see her… did she always have to be so surprised? She was always so surprised! She should have learned by now, hadn't he slapped her enough times that she could figure out that it was going to happen again?

"I SAW YOU HANDING HIM YOUR WAND—"

"I didn't—"

"YOU HOLD YOUR TONGUE WHILE I'M SPEAKING, WOMAN!" Rostandus had his hand around her throat, pinning her panicked face up against the wall, holding her at arm's length as though he was aiming with his other fist already.

"SHE WAS TRYING TO FIX MY HANDS!" Rudy bellowed, and even Rabastan finally looked up. He held them up to his father, showing him the raw, bleeding flesh. "WHICH ONLY HAVE TO BE FIXED BECAUSE YOU ARE TOO STUPID TO COUNT—THERE ARE THIRTY FIVE TREES IN THAT STUPID YARD—DO YOU REALLY THINK ONE MAN CAN PULL THEM ALL DOWN WITH KNOTTING TWINE IN A DAY?"

Rostandus whipped his wand through the air and Rudy felt his voice leave him. His father shook with rage as he strode towards his son. "I'll teach you better than to speak to me that way—"

Rudy raised defiant eyebrows at his father, his upper lip curled into a sneer.

"I WILL BE SHOWN RESPECT IN MY OWN HOUSE!"

White lights popped in front of Rudy's eyes as Rostandus swung at his head. He fell over, the floor tilting dangerously.

"Get up, boy—you get up and grab a shelf—" Rostandus pointed his wand at Rabastan threateningly. "This is what happens when I am not shown the proper respect in MY OWN HOUSE!" Rostandus swung his club again, catching Rudy across the chest as he stood up from the floor. Rudy lurched, and fell again. His father dragged him up by the hair.

"I said grab a shelf," he said quietly, and Rudy's hands automatically reached out in front of him for something to hold onto.

237 x 732 = 173484…

Rudy fell after only a few blows, wrapping his arms over his head as his father continued to vent his spleen on Rudy's back and shoulders, raising the stick high, and slamming it into Rudy's shaking, twitching form. Rudy made no sound of complaint or pain, although his jaw clenched and his face convulsed with every blow. He had no voice. Only the sound of his father's wheezing breath, only the sound of wood on flesh. And the crackling fire.

"Get up," came the quiet order, and Rudy's hand shot up immediately to show that he'd heard, grabbing onto a bookshelf and trying to pull his aching body up off the floor, when all he wanted to do was just have a few moments to breathe…

"Apologize to me for your blatant lack of breeding and rudeness."

"I'm sorry," Rudy mouthed. Rostandus swung the club through the air again and Rudy winced away from the impending blow—but he felt his throat relax, and nothing more.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice cracking.

"You have got to be the most thickheaded wretched ever to grace this earth. I will be addressed as Sir in my own home—how many times do I have to tell you?"

"I'm sorry, sir."

"I expect that yard to be cleared out by the end of tomorrow. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir."

Rostandus' hand whipped out and grabbed Rudy's collar. "And if I catch you trying to trick your mother out of her wand again, I will make you wish you'd never been born."

Rudy swallowed, nothing left in him for arguing. "Yes, sir."

Rostandus pointed a calm finger at Rudy, looking over at Rabastan. "Don't you ever let me catch you acting like this imbecile," he warned, and then sneered at Rudy again.

"Don't know what I have to do…" he muttered, and the door to the drawing room shut with a snap.

Rudy stood still, hollowed out, his mind still flicking back and forth between multiplication and real thought, his eyes unseeing and unfocused.

Magriette removed her hand from over her mouth, but didn't open her eyes. "You should probably retire, Rudy."

Rudy nodded vaguely.

"I'll have Dizzy bring you something to eat."

He nodded again.

Magriette opened her eyes, staring directly at her son, so pale and flat and silent.

"Kiss your mother goodnight, before you go?"

Rudy nodded again, and then turned to look at her. She smiled slightly, tears threatening. He couldn't ever hide anything when he looked at her. His eyes were so expressive.

She beckoned, and Rudy stumbled over to her, his gait awkward. He bent his head towards her, but did not peck her on the cheek; instead he wrapped her in his arms and relaxed there, a moment. Magriette couldn't bring herself to pull away for a few moments. She convulsed with a single sob, and Rudy let her go.

"I'm okay," he said. "I'm sorry."

"Goodnight, Rudy," his mother dismissed, and Rudy numbly made his way towards the double doors of the drawing room, pulling them shut with a click.

The fire hissed and spat, throwing shadows across the room that looked like echoes of the past minutes.

"Mother?"

Magriette burst into tears.

Rabastan awkwardly watched for a few moments, and then he, too, turned to embrace his mother. She obliged him for a short moment, and then pulled away, wiping at her face.

"He'll be all right—"

Magriette smiled. "I'll have Dizzy bring your dinner up," she said, meeting his eyes with determination. "Go on up to bed. I think I will soon, too."

Rabastan nodded. She wouldn't go to bed. She'd go to Rudy, and lay bandages across his back, and heal up his hands, after she'd cried herself out. She'd let the silly shock wear off, and then finally do something productive. She should just do it now.

"You're such a good boy," she said, patting his shoulder.

"I love you," he said. "Good night, mom."

"I love you too," she choked, and Rabastan left her to her silly crying.