From a High Tower (24 page)

“Antonia in Naples?” Fox prompted. “Isabella and Elizabetta in Florence? Those three sisters in Vicenza? Flor—”

“Hey!” Cody interrupted. “I didn' ask for none of that! An' I never oncet wrote back to 'em, or invited 'em t' the' camp or—anythin'! Ast Kellermann! He'll tell ya!”

Giselle looked askance at Fox. Fox chuckled. “Young ladies who came to every performance, sent presents and notes to the Captain, and threw flowers at him and his horse from the audience.”

“Ah.” Giselle glanced over at Rosamund, who shrugged. “If they have been without a victim for a very long time, I suspect any excuse would do,” she admitted. She offered her hand to Cody; Fox did the same on the other side. Both hauled him to his feet.

“But . . . all right, how in Hades did man-hatin' ghosts end up in a
convent?”
Cody asked in bewilderment. “I thought nuns was supposed t' be all holy an forgivin'!”

“It was a convent of the Sisters of Mary Magdalene,” Rosamund replied. “Let's go to my
vardo.
You need food and something to drink, and I can explain better when I am sitting down.”

Once at the
vardos,
they all sat down next to the nearest firepit. The warmth of the coals was very welcome after nearly freezing in the graveyard. Rosamund supplied Cody with a splash of brandy in a small glass and some buttered bread, and Giselle brought him water in a pitcher. He drank about half of it, then poured the rest over his head.

“The Sisters of the Magdalene are rather less a convent of nuns and rather more a set of jailors,” Rosamund said dryly. “I am not one to disparage the clergy . . . but their order is a cruel one. Girls who have had children out of wedlock, or who have dared to love the ‘wrong' young man, or sometimes even those who have done nothing at all but perform actions their parents deem ‘disobedient,' are sent to them. They are
not
taken as novices, they are
not
permitted to become part of the sisterhood. Instead, they are held as prisoners, forced to labor from dawn to dusk, and presumably repent of their ways, for the rest of their lives, kept out of the sight of everyone but their captors.”

Fox uttered some words in Pawnee that did not bear translating. Cody stared at her.

“As you might assume, the lives of some of these young women are not very long,” Rosamund continued. “Their children,
if
they live, are sent away. If they do not, they are discarded like so much refuse. This is so that their mothers do not have the temptation of a grave to mourn over, as they are supposed to be fixing all of their attention on their own sins. And at any rate, according to the Magdalenes, an unbaptized child is one destined for hell, so why give it a grave?” She looked over in the direction of the ruins. “You most likely encountered some of the ones who did not survive the births of their children. And as you can imagine, they have a great deal to blame men for.”

Cody appeared speechless. Fox crossed his arms over his chest, his face stormy.

“I think,” the Pawnee said, finally, “That it is a very good thing this place is in ruins. Or I would be tempted to take scalps.”

“I would be tempted to let you,” Rosamund agreed. “But by the look of things, whatever happened to end this place was over two hundred years ago, perhaps even more than that. Whatever punishment was due to those who kept the Magdalenes in such misery has long since been meted out.” She paused. “And we cannot have a place of such danger where anyone can wander into it. I shall send a report to the Brotherhood when we reach Reichenbach. They will come here and lay the spirits to rest.”

“Speakin' of . . . I need some rest of my own, only not so permanent,” Cody said. “Only—am I like to get called out there again?”

“Not tonight, and we'll be gone in the morning,” Rosamund assured him. “It has been a long night for all of us,” she added, giving a pointed glance to Fox, who took her meaning—and Cody's elbow—and led him off.

“I should reward my ‘army' . . .” Giselle said, looking back in the direction of the graveyard. But there was no sign of her Elementals, and the night was silent once more.

But Rosamund shook her head, and motioned with her hand, suggesting that they both go to their wagons. “As you diminished those spirits, the Elementals took in their energy,” she said, as Giselle followed her. “Which in turn, was life-energy they stole from the Captain. They have been well rewarded, and by the same person they rescued, which is why they are not here begging from you.”

“Just as well. I think that all I could manage right now would be poor fare for them.” Giselle mounted the steps into her
vardo
and paused. “What was in the coach gun? It was momentarily effective.”

“Blessed salt. It disperses spirits, at least temporarily. I had brought my crossbows because their wooden arrows are good against
vampir,
and I was not sure which we would encounter until I heard the music.” Rosamund reached for the door of her
vardo
to close it. “Good night to you, Giselle. You did very well in your first engagement.”

Giselle retreated into her own
vardo,
shutting and latching the door securely. Once again, she thought that she would likely not be able to sleep at all, but once again, she was mistaken. The next thing she knew, the sun was streaming in through the window above her bed, and the camp was awake.

And only then did it occur to her to wonder why Rosamund might have expected
vampir
in the ruins of a convent. . . .

The engagement at Reichenbach was a resounding success. When she wasn't performing, practicing, or trying to master the card-splitting shot, Giselle studied the book that Rosamund had given her.

And at night, when it was too hard to study the tiny words on the densely packed pages, Giselle would pepper Rosamund with questions about the creatures she had encountered. Fox would often join them, listening without saying very much, and about half the time Cody would join the impromptu sessions as well.

“One thing I cain't figger,” he said on the fifth evening of their two-week-long engagement, as they relaxed in the outer “room” of his tent. There was cider instead of the usual beer, which was always refreshing on a warm night, and the Captain's clever canvas chairs were remarkably comfortable. “Why is't that y'all cain't allus tell when a critter is gonna be good or bad? I ain't never run inta that back in America.”

“And how many Elemental creatures have you run into until now?” Rosamund asked, passing around some pastries she had picked up at a bakery in the town that morning. Kellermann was exceedingly pleased with Rosamund, who had contacts that got her the best quality supplies at the best price here in Reichenbach. Even the quality of the food in the mess tent had improved.

Light came from a couple of lamps hanging from the top of the tent. Cody scratched his head, his brows creasing. “Well,” he admitted. “Not many. Seems like most of 'em are either Injun spirit critters, and don't have no truck with a white man, or they're jest—” he gestured with his hands. “Big. Way, way bigger'n I'd wanta wrangle, even iffen I could, which I cain't.”

“And you are likely to see or encounter only Fire creatures, and only those that wish you to see them,” Rosamund pointed out, as Giselle bit into a slice of
apfelkuchen
. “In a country where the population is sparse, and there are many opportunities to avoid men, and in which Elemental Magicians are few on the ground. Whereas here . . . well, we have thousands of years of history. Generation after generation of Elemental Magicians, from the earliest who were little more than shamans, to now. We have a dense population, and a great deal of human meddling with magic, for good or ill. We also have the remains of old gods, and the spirits that the pagans worshipped. It is a wonder that you went as long as you did here on this continent
without
encountering Elementals.”

“All right,” Cody said after a moment. “But y'all didn't answer my question. How do y'all tell what's good an what ain't?”

“Ah. Sometimes they could be either. That's because, of themselves, many Elementals are neither good nor evil. They just
are.
And left to themselves, they are indifferent to humans. But Elemental Magicians and Masters can and do command them, and those Magicians and Masters have put those they command to tasks both good and evil. As the tree is bent, so it grows,” Rosamund concluded. “An evil Master will make evil out of any neutral Elemental he can coerce.”

“And there are evil Elementals, too, of course,” Giselle pointed out, dusting the crumbs from her fingers. “Things that naturally just like to do harm, because they get some benefit from fear or killing. Things like, oh the
Eiswurm,
or the
Nekke,
or . . . well, lots of things. Rosamund gave me a book.”

Cody's eyebrows rose, and he looked at her with a certain amount of accusation. “There's a book? We're trottin' through the middle of this crazy territory, an' there's a
book,
an' y'all didn't give me a copy?”

“I only had one copy,” Rosamund replied, evenly. “And it's a book that is
supposed
to be only in the hands of the Brotherhood.” She heaved an enormous sigh. “But I knew at some point you were going to find out about it, and I
knew
you were going to want one, so I took the precaution of getting some supplies yesterday in the town. I'll make you a copy, and me a spare. It's never a good thing, really, to have only one copy of something important.”

“Right, an' that'll take
how—”
He stopped at the amused expression on Rosamund's face, and shook his head. “I ain't never gonna get over how easy a Master kin jest do stuff—y'all are gonna make them copies with magic, ain't ya?”

Rosamund smirked. Giselle giggled a little, but she also felt a little sorry for Cody Lee. Ever since Rosamund joined them, she'd been . . . not exactly acting
superior,
but never allowing him to forget which of them was the Master.

“Yes, I am. It is much faster than copying by hand, and unlike
most
such things, doing the copying by magic is also less effort than doing so by hand.” Rosamund spread her hands wide. “As you probably know, most times, it is far easier to just
do
something than it is to do it with magic.”

“But—the book—” Cody persisted.

“This book is something that the Brotherhood has been making and sharing for hundreds of years,” Rosamund said, “And it's supposed to be only in the hands of a member of the Brotherhood because if the general public ever saw it . . . well, things could go badly.”

“I don't follow.” Cody frowned. “I mean, it ain't likely anybody's gonna ask about magic, but—”

“It was not that long ago that the Brotherhood had to remain secret in order to keep from being burned as witches,” Rosamund pointed out. “Weren't they still hanging witches in
your
country two hundred years ago?”

“Huh.” Cody scratched his head again.

“And these days, while that isn't a problem anymore, we prefer not to frighten the folk we are supposed to be protecting.” She sucked on her lower lip, thoughtfully. “When you see the book, you will understand. And of course it is always possible that one day we will have to keep this book out of the hands of ordinary folk because anyone who reads it will think we are mad and try to lock us up. That is a problem that Elemental Magicians in the great cities have now.”

Cody's cheek twitched a little. “Uh, ayah. I might could've run into that little problem myself, a time or two back home.”

“I'll get the book,” Giselle offered. “You're going to need it back to copy it anyway.” It wasn't far to the
vardos,
and she knew where to put her hands on it in the dark. It was a very lovely night, warm and balmy, and the camp had settled into the cheerful sounds of people just about ready to look for their beds. She took her time sauntering back, in part because she hoped that the Captain's temper would have cooled by the time she returned.

By the time she came back with the book in her hands, Cody's feelings indeed seemed to have been soothed. She started to hand the book to Rosamund, but the Hunt Master shook her head. “Let him see it first,” she said. “He deserves it, after his interaction with the
Vilis.”

“Actually, let me find their page!” Giselle replied. “I was just looking at it.”

She had left a stem of grass to mark the place, intending to ask Rosamund about them once there was time. She'd also left a stem of grass marking the
vampir,
but that was much earlier in the book. “Here,” she said, finding the page and opening it, before handing the book over to Captain Cody.