Did you all wait a long time? I'm a busy little girl, dontcha know. But Thank You for having patience with me! --hands out the Nice Big Chapter that is Chapter Six-- Enjoy!
-Phyllis (Hopper, if we get ta be friends)
DISCLAIMER: "Abhorsen", all names, places, and related indicia are the sole property of Garth Nix, whose work I hold in great admiration.
CHAPTER SIX: A Lesson in Free Magic
Kagael had barely turned around before Mihir had her by the hand and was pulling her down the hallway. The young man who had greeted them said something fast about seeing the captain before heading down a separate hallway. Kagael and Mihir went up a flight of stairs, then he bustled her down another hall. As she went along, moving too briskly to grasp her surroundings, a voice blared overhead. Kagael swallowed her alarm. She was sure the voice could be heard all over the craft.
"Wing Commander Gwidhe Venyeiya Ulseil report to the Captain in his quarters."
Then she was standing before a door to a room that was probably one of the passenger accommodations on the…what had Gwidhe called it? on the Lechuza. Mihir tried the door, and—when he found it unlocked—breathed an audible sigh of relief. He hurried her inside and shut it behind them. There was a fizzle as he let go the knob and the door disappeared into the gray wall. Kagael blinked, hopelessly befuddled.
"That's—ah," Mihir gestured at where the door had been, "a safety measure, you could say. Not all the crew is, erm, fully informed of the, er, circumstances, and…well, let's just say we're all in a hurry and—at the time—not ready to have you around." He stopped, a hand to his head. "Er, did that make sense?"
Truthfully, Kagael shook her head.
Mihir sighed. "It's really for your own safety. It's best if you don't talk to any of the crew." He sounded really sincere. "This is your room," he continued, his voice taking on a more cheerful tone. "You're probably not use to something as…limited as this, but it'll have to do until we get there, I suppose."
Kagael looked around. There was a narrow bed to the left of the room with a small bedside table. The only other piece of furniture was a chair with a thin cushion.
"The lavatory's through that door," Mihir pointed. "Just a toilet, I'm afraid. If you need a bath or something you'll have to go down the first level. There's about three bathrooms there, for the crew," he explained. "I suppose that'll have to be arranged…" He looked like the complications were giving him a headache. "I think the Captain has his own bathroom…Ohh, this is difficult." He stopped a moment, looking at such a loss that Kagael wished she could help him.
"I'm not in that bad of a hurry to get a bath," she hurried to reassure him. "You needn't worry so much…"
Mihir grinned with obvious relief. "Oh, that's alright then." He looked a little embarrassed. "Y'see, my older sister is one of those types whose really big on hygiene, not saying that you're…well, I just assumed…ahaha, but since you're fine then, that's good." He smiled. "Listen, why don't you talk to Gwidhe when he comes to check on you? He's the room right next to yours, anyway. I've got a room down in the crews' quarters."
Kagael tried not to let her disappointment show.
"I've got to go now," Mihir said. "Gwidhe'll bring supper soon," he added. He put his hand on the air where the doorknob was, hastily jerked back what now looked to be a section of the wall, and stepped out into the hallway. He gave her a quick wave and an encouraging smile before shutting the door.
Kagael stood looking at the wall for a moment, feeling tired and hopeless. Then she went over to the bed, kicked off her shoes, and lay down. She closed her eyes, wanting to rest. There were two things Kagael knew now, for sure, and she didn't like either of them—she was trapped in enemy territory, and the one person she'd started to trust had just left her alone.
.
Gwidhe was banging on his brother's cabin door before the magically magnified voice had finished its oration.
Without haste and with graceful deliberation, the Captain rose from his armchair at the desk and answered the door. "Gwidhe," he said, his voice neutral and a small smile on his lips, "That was fast." He stood aside and let Gwidhe enter.
The Captain's quarters were considerably larger than any of the other accommodations aboard the Lechuza Cruzada. It extended the full width of the ship, with a low ceiling swimming with marks of illumination. The walls were white, and the back wall had a row of three windows through which you could see the long clouds scudding past. The room was furnished with a bed, a sofa, and a desk, armchair, and a small painting that looked to be recent additions.
"Why'd you guys come down to get us?" Gwidhe asked, seating himself on the sofa without being asked to.
The Captain returned to his desk. "What, not happy to see me?" he asked in a warm but bored voice.
"Actually, I'm ecstatic, can't you tell?" Gwidhe replied in a parody of his brother's unruffledness. "I just want to know why we weren't received by the Citadel."
"Use your brain, Gwidhe. General Noegduch can hardly bring that thing this far into the Old Kingdom." He paused. "But let's not get off to a bad reunion, shall we? How's it been for you of late, brother?"
"Like hell," Gwidhe replied crisply. "I had to kill a Clayr, burn a town, and tote a spoiled brat halfway up the Kingdom. How's it been going for you, Sidhegureth?"
"Please don't talk to me like that," Sidhegureth said. "I feel bad for you, really. I wish none of this were happening at all." As if on sudden inspiration, he got up from his desk and went over to sit on the sofa next to his brother. Gwidhe had started playing with a little green figurine; he turned sharply as Sidhegureth sat down. "Is that a dog?" he asked of Gwidhe, his neutral voice now tinged with consideration.
"No, it's a cow," Gwidhe scoffed.
Sidhegureth didn't let the comment faze him. "You know, I was looking at Uncle's collection before I left. Do you remember how we used to—"
Gwidhe cut him off unceremoniously. "He's the Lord Prince, Captain Sidhegureth, and we're not children anymore." As if to emphasize the point, he shoved the statuette into his trouser pocket and began toying with a small Charter flame. "We're Ulseils."
"We're Venyeiyas, too," Sidhegureth reminded him, a little sadly.
Gwidhe smiled, and it held a glint of cruelty in it. "And like the old saying goes, the only Venyeiya that matters is the one that wears the crown. Ironic, isn't it? Semur's so dense he wouldn't notice if a dragon sat on him; the Lord Prince is moving a whole world beyond the Charter. Tell me which Venyeiya matters."
A thin line appeared twixt Sidhegureth's brow—the only indication of his distress. "Don't, Gwidhe. That's…blasphemous."
"Fine. What did you want me for?"
"I," Sidhegureth sighed, brushing back a pale blond lock from his face, "I'm returning this to you." He strode over behind his desk and picked up Gwidhe's sheathed rapier. He tossed it towards the couch; Gwidhe stood and caught it in midair. "I also just wanted to see you," Sidhegureth continued. "It's been such a long time."
"You're strange, you know that, brother?" Gwidhe tucked the rapier under his arm. "Thanks, but I'm hungry now, so I'll be heading down to get my supper." He strode over to the door.
"Bring some food to your guest," Sidhegureth reminded him, "She's the room next to yours—you'll see it."
Gwidhe turned, halfway out the door. "Oh yes. Thanks for reminding me." He shut the door behind him.
.
"Kagael!"
She moaned, turning over. Had she slept in…? Was that…Daniel…getting her…?
Kagael sat up abruptly as a hand grabbed her shoulder and pulled her up. It was Gwidhe. He had set a tray on her bedside table. It held her supper.
"Oh. Thank you," she said automatically.
He smiled. "Why, you're welcome."
Kagael flushed. Smiles were so becoming on the man. She swung her legs over the edge of the narrow bed and balanced the tray on her lap. There was a plain white bowl holding a steaming stew and some bread, warm and fresh. Kagael wiped her hands on the moist towel and picked up the bread.
Gwidhe seated himself on the chair. She looked at him.
"We can talk while you eat," he said simply.
"You want to talk to me?"
"Actually, no. But let's anyway."
A little confused, Kagael turned back to her meal. She dipped a chunk of the bread into the stew, then bit into it, trying not to look like she was in a hurry. But she was very hungry, if not so tired as before.
"First, I want to know if you can use Free Magic."
"No," Kagael replied, swallowing. "It's not allowed."
Gwidhe looked exasperated. "I didn't ask if you were allowed to, I asked if you could."
"I…" Kagael had never thought about it before. Her Charter Mark showed that she was capable of Charter magic, yet Free Magic sorcerers had no specific distinguishing mark. How was someone to know that they were born with the capability? "I don't know."
He looked at her incredulously. "Necromancy is Free Magic! Aren't you the Abhorsen-in-waiting?"
"No. I'm the Remembrancer-in-waiting. Mother said I didn't have the aptitude for necromancy."
Gwidhe looked at her, his eyes so intense that her face got warm again. "You're not?! Oh, damn."
Kagael swallowed her mouthful of stew. "What do you mean by that?"
"I have to teach you Free Magic, because you have the ability to wield it."
"Teach me?" Kagael couldn't believe what she was hearing. "But I can't learn it, I just told you!"
"And I just told you that you could," Gwidhe countered.
Bemused, Kagael returned to her meal. "Why do I need to anyway? I don't want to learn," she let him know firmly, scraping up the last of the stew and tilting the bowl back to catch it in her mouth.
She choked. Charter…!
"Now you will," Gwidhe said grimly.
---
It was pouring, raining like there was no tomorrow. Sameth cursed, shivered, and sneezed as he stepped into the first inn he came upon in Qyrre. It was well past ten o'clock at night and the room had a number of people sitting around, drinking, talking. It was also considerably warmer here, with the lanterns burning and a welcome fire to the side of the room. Sameth took off his sopping cloak and hung it on a peg by the door, away from the other guests' dry ones. He then pulled a chair from an empty table and moved it by the fire.
Sameth had stayed at the Abhorsen's House after his visit. When young Kagael still did not turn up at the end of the day, a fretting Nicholas had declared that he was setting out to look for her at first light. Sameth had volunteered, and promised to bring her back soon. "It shouldn't be a problem, Nick," he had told him reassuringly. "I'll bet Kagy's just down the river brooding somewhere."
The first place Sam checked had been Roble's Town. Kagael hadn't been there, so he'd taken a boat down to Qyrre. Not far from the docks, under some sheltering trees, he'd spotted the small boat she'd obviously taken tied firmly to a stump. So she's at Qyrre, Sam had thought triumphantly. It'd begun raining shortly after he entered town, so he had to find a place to wait it out. Might as well check the inn while he was at it.
The innkeeper looked up sourly at the man before the fire, mostly at the growing puddle of rainwater forming at his feet. He turned around, calling loudly for a maid to mop it up.
Sameth got up and moved aside as a maid with a mop scurried over. He apologized, then made his way over to the innkeeper.
The innkeeper was an annoyed-looking man with a pathetic excuse for a mustache. "Seven coppers an' a silver piece a night, sir, includin' a meal," he said by way of greeting.
"No, I'm not staying." Sameth swallowed the urge to say "Good evening to you, too" and asked, "Has a young lady with long black hair wearing blue come in any time during the last two or three days?"
"Young lady? Wearin' blue?" the innkeeper repeated dubiously.
"Yes," Sam told him. "She's sixteen, average height. Name of Kagael."
"Mm, no. Dun ever recall havin' such a guest. Sorry." Then before Sameth could say anything, the man continued: "You eatin' here, sir? T'night's special includes dace fresh caught from th' river, veggible stew, an' soft white rolls. Only twenny coppers if y' order it with a large beer."
Sam was hungry, and he had money to spare, but twenty coppers was a rip off and Sam did not like being ripped off. "I'll take the usual," he let the man know, "and a regular beer will be fine."
"That'll be twelve coppers, then," a disgruntled innkeeper replied. Obviously the special hadn't been selling well.
Sam paid the twelve coppers and went to find himself a seat. He plopped down (still rather damp) on a none-too-comfortable wooden chair as a maid bustled over with a mug. He thanked her and she bobbed a curtsy before scurrying back to the kitchen.
Sameth listened to the conversation around him as he waited for his food. Service around here sure was slow. He wondered if half the people here (there really weren't that many) had only come in to get out of the rain. A squat lady sitting at the table to his right was complaining to a well-dressed man who kept twirling his glossy mustache about "Eduard's blasted chickens" and going on so loudly about it that Sam couldn't quite hear anything else.
His meal arrived on a chipped plate. Sam had doubts about how well they'd washed it. This really wasn't worth twelve coppers. He picked up his fork and ate one of the few thin slices of gravy-drenched beef on his plate. It was far too salty. He took a drink of beer and moved onto the potatoes.
The complaining lady said something about needing to use the restroom and got up, crossing the room.
"…this rain's gonna let up. Say, Ara, you heard about the kidnapping earlier this week?"
Sam sat bolt upright. Had he heard right? Did the man two tables to the left just say 'kidnapping'?
"Kidnapping?" repeated the man's companion.
Sameth was really listening now, a speared potato poised before his lips.
"Yeah," the man said. "The girl with blue eyes,"
"Uh-huh,"
Blue eyes, Sam thought. Kagael has blue eyes!
"She woke up," the man finished, and broke out laughing. His companion paused a moment, then started laughing as well. "The kid napping, eh? That was the stupidest joke I've heard since that one 'bout the dead oak!"
Feeling thoroughly idiotic, Sam resumed eating the grainy potato.
---
Kagael's eyes flew open again, frustration evident in her dark blue irises.
"Shut your eyes, we're not getting anywhere," Gwidhe growled, an agitated Free Magic flame bobbing in his palm.
Kagael did.
"Reach around the Charter," Gwidhe started again in that jaded voice for what seemed to be the hundredth time, "Swim through the annoying little golden colors."
Kagael's forehead furrowed as she tried.
"Grab the light," Gwidhe's voice came faster. "Surrender and let it consume you. Until you burn it and it burns you and you can breathe its scent through your nostrils, now—"
"I can't!" Kagael said, shaking her head. "There's nothing there."
"All right, stop it." Even Gwidhe was sounding resigned.
"There's nothing beyond the Charter," she repeated.
"Yes there is. Don't be stupid."
"Perhaps if you got rid of the shield—"
"I'm telling you again, the shield hasn't to do with a damn thing. You don't need the Charter to reach the Free. The Charter itself is an intruder; you need to get around it." He got up from the chair, paced across the room and back; he'd done that several times already since they'd started.
"I'm tired," Kagael said. She didn't want to sound weak, but she was.
Gwidhe heaved a heavy sigh. "Right. Then there's something else we need to get to."
"What?"
Gwidhe pulled open the door and looked up and down the hallway before stepping out. He motioned for her to follow. After she was out in the hall he shut the door behind them.
"You'll need a change of clothes," he was telling her. "Can't have you seen in that Abhorsen's surcoat."
"And a bath," she prompted without thinking.
She imagined Gwidhe rolled his eyes.
They headed down the direction opposite from the stairs. Gwidhe walked into a room and reappeared with a bundle of cloth. He was muttering, probably complaining about being put in charge of her.
She followed him down the stairs. They turned right. There was a door, shut, then a few feet after it was an opening to a small chamber on the other side of which was a door.
Gwidhe tossed the bundle at Kagael and waved her towards the room. "There's your bath. Make sure you put up the occupied label. There's a sending in there if you need any help. Be quick about it, and go straight back to your room when you're done. No wandering."
Kagael nodded, stepping inside. Gwidhe disappeared down the hall. She shifted the clothes in her arms and opened the door to the bath chamber. Setting her clothes down on a countertop-like protrusion from the wall, she picked up the occupied label and, reaching out, hung it from the doorknob before shutting and locking the door.
There was a nondescript white tub in the center of the room, a stack of towels within arm's reach of the rim. On the other wall was a full-length mirror. A sending stood unmoving beside it, but when Kagael removed her rather grimy clothes, leaving them on the tiled floor, the sending came forward and picked them up, tossing them into what was probably a laundry hamper.
Kagael climbed into the tub. The water was barely warm, but not uncomfortable. The sending gave her a sponge and soap. Kagael accepted them.
She handed the soap back, having finished using it, and began scrubbing herself. Kagael gave a little squeak of surprise as the sending began soaping her hair, then relaxed. It wasn't assertive like the senile bath sending at home—it just tried to help. Kagael washed off her body and watched soapsuds bob across the surface of the water as the sending worked up a lather. Then it moved back, its job done. Kagael duck under the water to wash the soap out of her.
The sending changed the water once, and Kagael rinsed herself out one more time before climbing out. The floor was rather cold when wet and she shivered. She took a towel off the top of the pile and dried herself and her hair as quickly as possible all the while moving towards the clean clothes.
There was a long-sleeved, lace-up white shirt, which she donned first. There were also a pair of loose trousers of a deep color that neared tan, and a long, fold-over tunic of dark mahogany-red. They fit Kagael relatively well. The shirt was a bit long, but it was alright once she tucked it into her pants, which were comfortable and soft against her legs. The sleeves were still a bit long, but it didn't matter. The tunic was a good fit, if a bit loose, but she hardly noticed after she belted it with a length of white cord.
Standing in front of the mirror, Kagael tried to work out the tangles in her hair to little avail, until the sending got a clue and produced a comb. It was still quite a feat, nonetheless.
Finally, she opened the door, returned the occupied sign, and left the chamber. She proceeded down the hall.
"Excuse me, I haven't seen you here before…?" A male voice spoke from behind her. This isn't suppose to happen, Kagael thought, rather worried. She did not answer and kept walking towards the stairs.
The man overtook Kagael and turned to face her. He had sandy hair a bit longer than Gwidhe's and a Charter Mark on his forehead. "I was talking to you," he said. "Did Gwidhe bring you with him?"
Kagael didn't like the way he was looking at her, and really wanted to tell him he was rude, but chose not to speak, remembering Mihir's warning.
Then the young man grabbed her arm. It wasn't a hard grip but it startled her. "Can you hear me?" he asked her, something like curiosity in his voice. "You came with Gwidhe, right? Where're you staying?"
Kagael looked away from him. "Excuse me," she said, pushing past him. She felt him touch her hair and shuddered, picking up her pace. He did not follow her and she hurried up the stairs. She walked down the hall, past Gwidhe's room and felt along the wall for her own. She pulled the door open and walked in, shutting and locking it behind her.
.
Kagael found it hard to sleep. She had doused all the Charter marks of illumination and was now simply lying on her back, staring into the darkness. She wished she had the Charter again, so that she could at least dry her damp hair. After a while, finding nothing better to do, she decided to look for the Free Magic again.
Closing her eyes, she reached towards the place where she found the gold light. It was the same gold light she used to amuse herself, but now she couldn't draw it out with Gwidhe's shield in place. 'Swimming' through it with her mind, she reached…blackness. Gwidhe said there would be light, but she couldn't find any. I don't have the aptitude, she thought.
Still unable to sleep, Kagael decided to just keep trying. Reach, swerve, swim…grab…Nothing. Reach, swerve, swim, grab, grab…Nothing. Reach, swerve, swim, surface—! Kagael stiffened. There was a heat under her skin, no, deeper. Nearly panicking, she tried to push it away and it faded back to the Nothingness that was failure. What had she done wrong? Right…she had to let it burn her. Kagael winced and tried again, faster.
Around the Charter, through the gold. Surface. Surrender. The heat filled her—have to be fast; this hurts—she reached out for it angrily and the burning turned against it. Then a metallic scent filled her nostrils…
Here was Magic. Wild, roiling, burning white hot in her hands. Free, yet full of anticipation to be formed. Like metal, yet liquid.
An awareness told Kagael someone was there—not in her mind, but in the vicinity of her physical manifestation. Her eyes flew open.
The door to her room was open and a shaft of light fell through her room from the hallway. The young man who had accosted her in the hallway was in her room, the Charter Mark on his forehead flared. He came over.
Kagael swallowed her alarm. She rolled over and got to her feet.
.
Gwidhe yanked his shirt on, grabbed his sword from nightstand, and was out of his room in the space of a couple of breaths. The door to Kagael's room was open and he heard a voice cry out inside, not hers, but damn it all anyway. Gwidhe charged in.
.
Kagael still had the burning light of Free Magic inside her and she hurled it away from herself and at the man. He didn't quite dodge it and his face registered shock before his hands flew to his eyes as he cried out in pain, stumbling. Then he straightened, blinking as though he saw spots and spat out several marks that locked Kagael in place where she stood.
At that very moment Charter light flooded the room and Gwidhe entered, scabbarded sword in hand. Before the man could react Gwidhe had crossed the room and rammed the pommel of his sword onto the nerve center below the man's sternum in one swift movement. The man doubled over, retching.
Gwidhe turned to Kagael, lifting the marks. She stumbled forward. "Into my room," Gwidhe snapped at her, gesturing with his sword. Kagael hurried past him, out of her room, and obeyed.
.
Gwidhe's room was rather larger than hers and had more things in it. Kagael registered this, plopping herself down on the edge of a simple lounge seat. She could hear Gwidhe's voice in the next room, angry but not loud, mostly calling the other man (Daven, apparently) bastard and pervert and a variety of other things that Kagael had never said to anyone in her life.
Kagael started slightly as the man staggered down the hallway, past Gwidhe's door. Daven threw a glance at her; she looked away. Then Gwidhe came in, carrying her pillow and blanket.
Kagael looked up at him as he propped his sword back up against his nightstand. She ran a nervous hand through her now-dry hair. Gwidhe tossed her things over to her and she caught them. Gwidhe shut his door and locked it, then went over to sit on the edge of his bed.
He looked her in the eye. "Kagael, I smelled Free Magic in your room. That was you, wasn't it?"
Kagael nodded.
Gwidhe grinned. "I must say, I'm rather proud of you. Perhaps you're not that much of an idiot after all." Kagael blushed furiously. "From this point on, everything should go much more smoothly."
"Thanks," Kagael muttered. Seeking someplace else to rest her eyes on other than his smiling face, the greenstone carving of a dog on his nightstand caught her gaze. She stared, and he noticed.
"What is it?"
"My…mother had a statuette just like that. It…" Kagael wondered if she should tell him. "It changed into a dog. She's been missing it—"
"I've had it since I was small," Gwidhe said. His voice held a little distress.
"Mm," Kagael said, "I'm not saying it's the same one. They just…look a lot alike. I'm probably just tired."
"You can go ahead and make yourself comfortable up there," Gwidhe gestured to the shelf-like storage area in the wall a little higher than his bed; it was roomy enough for a person to sleep in and didn't look that uncomfortable. "You probably don't want to sleep in the same room as that idiot Daven's mess."
Kagael nodded, walking over. She tossed her things up there and hoisted herself up. She arranged the pillow and smoothed the blanket just as Gwidhe doused the lights. She heard the rustle of sheets as he got into bed. She mulled over it a minute, then decided she had no reason not to say it, so she did.
"Good night."
Silence.
Not that she expected an answer, she added as a gruff afterthought.
O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O
Author's Note: In case you haven't noticed, 'Venyeiya' is the surname of the Orkairen royal family and Gwidhe and his bro are the children of Princess Yukiel and Hedge Ulseil. I've always pictured Hedge as blond, and Yukiel as having silvery hair. Hope that helps. I made Gwidhe kinda mean in the beginning of the chapter, so I had to make up for it in the end.
Now I would greatly appreciate it if you could tell me very briefly in your review who your favorite character(s) is thus far and why. I think Gwidhe has one fan, at least…--looks around worriedly--…Personally, I'm a Sidhegureth-fan, really, I am.
For those who reviewed at the note I had posted here earlier, simply log out, then post your review as anonymous; I'll know it's you!
Next: Kagael will meet the wonderful Cap'n Sidhegureth (blushes for her in anticipation). Lucky gal. The Lechuza Cruzada will reach the Citadel in the Glaciers. Why there, have you wondered? What awaits them there? A Promise of Action, which I Can write…just you wait…