Magic Under Glass (11 page)

Hollin drew me just to the side of the doors. “That’s better. Much too crowded in the hall.”

“Yes.” Dancing partners whirled by us, their feet moving together, although some kept better time than others. I watched one clumsy pair near my age, both blushing.

Of course, I expected Hollin to ask me to dance. I didn’t know what to do when he merely stood there, brooding upon the couples sweeping by. “Do you like to dance?” I asked him.

“Not very much, not anymore.”

“Did you dance with Annalie?”

“Well, Anni, she was not the most coordinated of girls. Despite all her lessons, she was always, well, a rather terrible dancer.” He smiled faintly, and then it was gone. “Do you know the waltz, Nimira?”

“I do, yes.” Polly had taught me and Saraki both the social dances of Lorinar. I didn’t mention that. Dancing had been one of the evening amusements at Granden’s, with Eila taking the piano.

“One dance, I suppose . . .” He tilted his head toward the floor. “If you’d like to, that is.”

“Yes, all right.”

He led me onto the floor, and we took our positions. We had only a moment to get our hands and feet in the right place; the couples were whirling around the floor in a slow circle, and we had to fall in with them or collide. Before I knew it, I was in Hollin’s arms, slowly spinning. I took my skirt up with one hand after I nearly stumbled on the hem.

He cut a fine figure on the floor, and I could not help thinking what an attractive couple we must make. When I danced, I felt light. I could have closed my eyes and imagined another life, where I loved the arms that encircled me. I wanted to toss my burdens aside and never take them up again.

When I looked up, his face was distant and serious. He made a halfhearted smile before I lost him again. I wondered if he was thinking of Annalie. Or was he brooding over Karstor and fairy alliances? Or looking for Smollings? Too many possibilities, none of them good.

“You should smile more.” I spoke into his ear over the music. “It becomes you.”

His cheeks flushed, and his true smile came out. “Does it, now? I’ll try to remember. I do want to keep my Nimira happy, or else you might step on my toes.”

My Nimira!

I wanted to jerk back from his arms. Surely he didn’t think of me as his, just because of a few shared meals and conversations? He was a married man. Maybe Annalie was a bit mad, maybe he no longer loved her, but that didn’t make it right to woo me, especially if he was keeping the truth from me.

But Hollin also owned the clockwork body of Erris. If I rebuffed him and he sent me away, I’d have no chance of saving Erris. I kept dancing, kept smiling. It was a good thing I knew how to pretend.

The music ended, and we saw Smollings break away from a man he’d been speaking with near the doors and head our way. A merry polka was starting up, but Hollin led me off the floor. His smile had vanished.

“Good evening, Hollin. Nimira. Where exactly is your costume for the performance?” We stopped in one corner of the dance floor.

“I changed my mind,” Hollin said, quite firmly. I squeezed his hand.
Yes—hold your ground!
“I had already bought Nimira this dress.”

“You can dress her however you like; it won’t change what she is,” Smollings said. He shooed me with a thin hand. “Why don’t you go say hello to Lady Moseky, she rather enjoys . . . your kind. Hollin and I have some business to discuss, hey?”

Hollin released my hand, and for a moment he blazed at Smollings in dreadful silence.

“Oh, cool your temper,” Smollings said. “You’re just like your father. Come on.”

“Fine,” Hollin snapped. He stalked past Smollings to the door.

“Karstor is here,” I heard Smollings say, before they disappeared through the increasing throngs of ballroom spectators. I stepped aside, unsure where to go. I wanted to find Karstor, but I didn’t want Smollings to catch us speaking. He’d be distracted talking to Hollin now, but I had to be careful.

It was no easy task to find anyone in such a crowd. If a curtain caught fire we’d all die in the stampede. I skirted the edge of the ballroom, scanning the faces for Karstor’s, begging people’s pardon a dozen times as I nudged past them, heading for the double doors at the other end of the room.

I didn’t know where they’d lead, but I hardly cared. I needed air. I brushed past two men in a heated discussion, one of them gesturing with a closed lady’s fan, as if he’d forgotten he were holding it. The dancers were lost in their own worlds. A little boy and girl were hiding under a table, whispering to each other, passing a pastry back and forth.

I darted behind the doors, into a large room lit by just one dim lantern on the table and moonlight streaming in through the windows.

I wasn’t alone.

Erris and his pianoforte sat at one end, awaiting the crowds that would come after dinner to see him play. To see me sing.

I approached him like I might step into a tomb. It wasn’t right that he should be here, shut away with only a feeble light for company, unwound and silent, while just behind the doors was dancing and laughter. Erris liked dancing, I suspected. He must know a number of interesting fairy dances.

I wanted to wind him, but I didn’t have his key. It would be foolish, anyway. I touched his arm, and brushed the hair off his face. It flopped right back into place.

I should talk to Karstor, I must. But my reluctance ran deeper than my fear of Smollings. If Karstor couldn’t save Erris, I couldn’t bear to hear it. I didn’t want Erris to die.

Nim, you must do something. One way or another, you can’t leave him
trapped in an automaton. Everyone must die sooner or later, and he has no
life to speak of.

“Karstor’s here,” I said aloud, as if he could hear me. “I’m sorry I haven’t spoken to him yet, but I will. I haven’t had a chance.”

I looked at his hands, an automatic reaction by now. Of course, they remained still. A clock on the mantel ticked a slow time, the sound heavy over the sprightly music that floated through the doors.

I pressed my lips together.

Even if Erris couldn’t speak, a voice in my head readily spoke for him.
Nim, you know you must talk to Karstor. Hollin is occupied. It
may be your only chance.

“I will,” I repeated, as if it helped. I squeezed his cold hand, wishing I could feel the life inside him.

I cracked the door and peered out to the ballroom again. I scanned the walls, where people spoke in small groups, laughing and gesturing. Finally, I spotted Karstor halfway between the other entrance and myself, speaking to a woman, and then to her friend. One of them noticed me and pointed. Karstor caught my eye and nodded.

Startled, I ducked back inside the quiet room. Karstor was asking after me? I hoped Smollings didn’t catch wind of
that.

He opened the door. “Might I talk with you a moment?”

“Um . . . yes. Why?”

As soon as he shut the door behind him, his attention shifted to Erris. “The automaton.” He spoke softly. “I have never seen it. I was abroad when Garvin—”

My stomach clenched as he walked close.

“He’s beautiful.” Karstor ran his hand along the pianoforte. He had long hands, stained with ink around the writing fingers. “I suppose you have heard that he is haunted?”

“I’ve heard that.” I wondered how much Karstor knew, what Garvin might have told him. He was handling me carefully, I guessed. He didn’t know if he could trust me either.

“Do you believe it?” he continued.

If I was to tell him, it was now or never. I spoke in a rush. “He’s not haunted, sir. He’s alive. He told me to talk to you. But we don’t have much time. Smollings mustn’t see us. He suspects.”

Karstor drew close enough to touch me, something like panic on his gaunt face. His smell reminded me of anise—somewhere between baked goods and medicine. “So he
has
talked to you. And you know what—who—he is? Do you have his key?”

“I know he’s . . . a fairy prince. I’m afraid I don’t have his key. Not here.”

“What else has he said? Anything about Garvin?”

“Well, sir, he said he didn’t think fairy bandits murdered him.”

“Does he know who did?”

“No . . . he only suspected it was Garvin’s human rivals.”

“The automaton might have been the last person to talk to Garvin. I had hoped he knew something . . .” He scratched the side of his forehead, with the weariest of expressions.

“Do you know how to set him free? Erris—the automaton—he told me to ask you. Garvin had been trying to help him before he . . .”

Karstor stopped short, looking at Erris. “How to set him free? How do you mean, free?”

“I mean—” My fingers tugged at Annalie’s diamonds. “I mean, is there a way he can live again? He’s trapped. Garvin said you could help.”

“Is that what Garvin told him?” He shook his head. “Garvin was ever the optimist. I told him I can’t make life from clockwork. I can only raise the dead. But I’d need a body, his body—and the council’s permission.”

Nim, you expected this. You expected this. Don’t you dare cry. He will
not see you cry, some stranger who is no help at all . . .

I blinked rapidly, fighting off the tears. “But what was his purpose, then? Garvin wasn’t going to help restore him to the throne?”

“Well . . . this is something we were trying to figure out, before Garvin’s . . . death. He certainly is not without uses. There are some in the fairy realm who would like to have him back, others who would not. We could bargain, or offer him as a gift of goodwill . . .”

“Offer him as a
gift
? And then what?” Now the tears crept into my voice, and I was in peril of losing my control entirely. “Can
they
save him?”

“I—I don’t know. Only the Lady could grant—perhaps—”

I lifted my head.

Perhaps there was a chance, then. “The Lady? Who is that?”

“She goes by many names. The Queen of the Longest Night. The Queen of the Dead. Those of us who commune with the other side have felt her touch, and she is not unkind, but . . . it is dangerous to attempt such magic. Opening the gates of the dead as wide as that would invite many evil spirits in. Very dangerous. And illegal, without the council’s permission.”

“You said you’d need a body. Does he have . . . a body somewhere?” I couldn’t believe I would actually suggest this. Undeath, that great taboo, for Erris. He could not have meant
that
when he asked for life, so why did I ask?

Against all sense, I still wanted to know what Karstor could do. I heard tales of undead men who could not be distinguished from living ones. They had always made me shiver, but now I wondered—if I could grant Erris just a day, a week, a month—only to have a proper good-bye, I told myself . . . I did not dream of having any more than that.

Karstor smiled without humor. “It has been too long. Nearly thirty years. I think his body, if it could even be found, would be rather past the point of help.”

“I know,” I said quickly. My heart thumped too fast, as if reminding me of my own life. “No more. I understand.” I should not even speak of these things.

Outside, I realized the last waltz had ended and nothing had replaced it. “Oh, the music stopped. Why did the music stop?”

“It must be time for dinner.”

The door burst open, and I whirled with fear. A girl’s face poked in. “Oh! Sorry to scare you!” she said. “I’m looking for my brother!” The door shut again, leaving me with knees like pudding.

“If you go out to the ballroom, I’ll go out the other door and slip in from the main hall,” Karstor said.

As I left, I saw him put his hand on Erris’s arm, with all the gentleness Smollings had lacked.

17

I fell in with a crowd leaving the ballroom. My eyes felt swollen with tears waiting to be shed, but when I caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror, all was well upon my face, if not in my heart. The servants were pulling out chairs to convert the room into a dining hall large enough for the many guests. I found Hollin past the main hall, sulking in the little cave of bookshelves tucked under the stairwell.

“How did it go with Mr. Smollings?” I asked.

“Fine,” Hollin said. “I suppose we won’t know what becomes of his plan until we see how Karstor reacts to the automaton.”

Oh, no. I realized that, among all my other concerns, I had forgotten to warn Karstor not to react to Erris’s appearance and certainly not to confirm that he was the prince. Did I dare speak to him again? My eyes darted beyond Hollin before I could think better of it.

“Nimira . . .” He sounded ragged. He reached for the tips of my fingers. “Smollings thinks I ought to send you away. He asked me why I hired you in the first place. I thought I wanted a singer, but maybe it’s—maybe it’s company I wanted, all along.”

His dark eyes were so intense, just like that first time, across the room from the stage. How long had it been? I counted the days. Not yet three weeks. It felt like an eternity.

“It is . . . ? Well—” I could ask,
You don’t want me to sing, then?
I feared the response.

Hollin let go of my hand. He peered out from the bookshelf like he had heard someone, but no one came. He turned back to me, his eyes traveling to my neck, and I realized I had been fidgeting with Annalie’s diamonds again.

“We won’t talk about this now,” he said. He held out his arm. “Come on.”

I wished I had said something more, only I didn’t know quite what it would have been.

We dined on tiny stuffed birds; I ate just enough to stave off hunger. I tried to listen to conversation about people I didn’t know, plays I’d never seen, and places I’d never been to, but my inner voice was loudest.

What is he implying?

Don’t be so shocked, Nim. He’s hinted at affection for you from the
start.

But he has a wife whom he allows to be locked up. And you don’t love
him. What could you say?

What will become of you and Erris alike if you reject his advances?

Maybe you should just tell Hollin that Erris is alive.

Oh, so he can turn right around and tell Smollings?

Hollin didn’t speak much at dinner either. Sometimes he glanced at me, too quick for me to look back. Karstor sat at the other end of the table, and I sorely wished I could send him a psychic message, for I saw no way to send him a verbal one.

The dessert course came around. “After this, we’ll adjourn to the drawing room, and you will perform,” Hollin told me. “Are you ready?”

“Of course.” I spoke with confidence, but I wished I could bow out and curl up in the library at Vestenveld, without anyone looking at me.

The servants had brought a number of chairs and sofas into the drawing room, all facing the pianoforte. Hollin and I waited in the corner, behind the instrument, while the party settled themselves. I witnessed social maneuverings in action; the dandies sat together in the back, the eccentric ladies took chairs near the front, Smollings leaned against the back wall with an amused smile. Karstor stood alone, arms crossed, one shoulder propped against a window frame. Both men seemed to hold themselves apart from the rest of the crowd, but only in Karstor did I see loneliness in the dark, tired eyes. I wondered if he also suspected that Smollings might have murdered Garvin.

Hollin conferred with Lady Moseky, then nodded to me. He took Erris’s key from his pocket while I moved in front of the pianoforte.

I heard the key grind.

This was wrong, I thought. Dozens upon dozens of faces gazed on Erris as if he were a toy. Only I knew he had to bury his humanity away. He had no control over the songs he would play. He could never even truly see his audience, for his eyes must always give only the same brief glance in the same directions, every time.

He might never live, never speak with a voice. This very well might be all the world could ever give him. All I could give him.

No, I couldn’t think of all this now. I must listen for my cue.

I heard the clockwork mechanism clicking along, but no music. Hollin tapped the piano bench with his toe. “This is strange. He isn’t playing.”

I turned to see Erris still in the same stiff pose. His hands were vibrating a little, nothing more.

Hollin lifted Erris’s coat and parted his shirt, where the metallic drum turned slowly around. “My apologies, ladies and gentlemen, just a moment.”

To my horror, Karstor stepped forward. “Something must have broken.”

“Dr. Greinfern, I wasn’t aware you knew anything about automatons,” Smollings said, sounding a little sarcastic.

“I have a little experience. My great-uncle was a clockmaker, and in my youth I used to help him build clockwork toys, which he sold in his shop also.”

“Well,” Smollings said, “see if you can get it to work and we’ll proceed.” He stepped back and let Karstor have a look, flashing a grin at Hollin.

Was Erris refusing to play? I had not told Erris about Smollings’s plan, yet the fact that the drum still turned implied to me that this was no mechanical failure.

After a moment, the crowd lost interest in a lanky necromancer peering into a cabinet and started talking and rearranging themselves. More than a few slipped out the door.

“My apologies, ladies and gentlemen,” Hollin said after a while. “Tonight’s performance is cancelled. Perhaps next time.”

Smollings conferred with Hollin in a low voice.

Karstor tilted his head, poked things with a finger, and made an occasional concerned “Hmmm.” Finally he straightened and delivered his consensus. “I’d have to take him back to my house for repairs. It won’t take but a day.”

“No,” Smollings said.

“No?” Karstor repeated. “Mr. Parry? What do you say? It is your automaton, is it not?”

“I’m afraid . . . my answer is the same.” Hollin spoke reluctantly. “I’ll let you know if I change my mind.”

“Hollin won’t be keeping the automaton long anyway,” Smollings said.

“And why is this?” Karstor asked.

“Because I’m going to destroy it.” Smollings gave Karstor a moment to look properly aghast before continuing, “Unless I am persuaded otherwise.”

“What are you saying?”

“There is an upcoming council vote on which I’d appreciate your support.” Smollings smiled at the appalled expression unfolding on Karstor’s face. “If this automaton is what I think it is, I suspect you’ll be happy to oblige. We wouldn’t want anyone to know what Garvin was up to behind the council’s back, would we?”

Karstor took a sharp breath, nostrils flaring. “Soleran, I would rather die than let you blackmail my votes. And if you dare try and kill
me
, my ghost will have nothing better to do than follow you to the ends of the earth.”

“Poor man,” Smollings said. “A dull life, even in death.”

Karstor stared at Smollings for a long moment. His lips, his eyes, his hands were all remarkably cool and still, and this lack of reaction somehow conveyed the great sense of power within him. I would have trembled under such a look, but Smollings sniffed and looked away.

Karstor turned sharply on his heel and stalked from the room.

Smollings murmured, “Well, I’d say that did the trick. The next step, I suppose, is getting this thing to talk. Just leave it alone, and I’ll come up to Vestenveld next week. Maybe we could use the girl.” He looked at me. “She talks to it, Parry.”

“She most certainly does not!” Hollin rushed to my defense so quickly I almost felt guilty. “She would have told me.”

“I heard her,” Smollings said. “I’d keep a close eye on her if I were you.”

“I was talking to myself, really,” I said, allowing a quaver in my voice that was hardly forced, but that I hoped Hollin would take for loneliness. I thought he would understand loneliness. “The automaton is just there. I like to pretend he can hear me. I don’t have many people to talk to.”

“You can . . . always talk to me,” Hollin said.

Smollings snorted. “Do you really believe her, Hollin? Trousers are good liars.” He dropped the “girl,” as Lorinarians did when they insulted women of my race in general.

I was hardly surprised to hear the slur from him, but this did nothing to soften the word.

“Nimira is no liar.” Hollin’s voice rose. “And you are wearing my patience!”

“Can you really afford to lose patience with me?” Smollings said. He started to leave, stopped and sighed. “I told your father I’d be like a father to you, but I don’t think he’d know what to do with you either, right about now.”

When Smollings left, Hollin and I stood alone in the room. The other guests had all gone in search of better entertainments. Hollin frowned at the floor. Oftentimes, he seemed much older than his years, but just now he seemed a mere boy, unsure how to rebel.

“You don’t like him any better than I do,” I said finally. “Why do you let him control you? I know you said he’d help advance your career, but would you even want a career under his thumb?” I touched the arm of his jacket, just the barest brush with the tips of my fingers. “Hollin, can’t you tell me? I fear your secrets. I know you have them.” I touched the diamonds again. Her name was so close to my lips.

“I should like to forget my secrets myself,” he said. “If secrets could burn, I’d be the first to light the match.” He licked his lips. “Nimira, I told you I need Smollings’s influence to join the Sorcerer’s Council someday, but in truth, that isn’t the biggest reason. When—my wife was dying—I tried to use forbidden magic to save her. Smollings—he knows. I could face banishment from the sorcerer’s ranks or worse if the council found out.”

“So he’s blackmailing you?” I asked. “He’s rather fond of that tactic, isn’t he?”

“I could lose everything. Home and reputation alike.”

“But do you really want to help him stir conflict with the fairies? I don’t think your heart is in it. Are you happy?”

“Happy . . .” He shook his head. “I haven’t been happy since the day I tried to save Annalie’s life.”

I wondered why he didn’t just tell me Annalie was alive. What did he hope to gain now, keeping me in the dark? Or was it all part of the hold Smollings had on him?

“What sort of life is Smollings leading you to?”

“He hopes to put me on the council . . . as his pawn. Save my reputation, sell my soul, I suppose.”

“Is that the best choice you have?”

“I’m beginning to wonder,” he said. “Something must be done.”