A Life Less Ordinary (29 page)

“That one hasn’t been made for years,” Fiona commented. I looked up in surprise, before remembering that Fiona had been around for far longer than I had, or even Master Revels. “You just cannot get virgins for love or money these days and only a virgin woman can ride a unicorn, or convince the poor beast to give up its horn. I believe that there are reports that several hundred unicorns were taken into the Sisterhood’s pocket dimension and allowed to roam free there, but I don’t know for sure.”

Sparks, I decided, would have liked the recipe, but not if she couldn’t find the ingredients. I started to read onwards, shaking my head at some of the recipes, including one that claimed to grant anyone who drank it remarkable endurance in the bedchamber. The writer of the book seemed incapable of discussing sexual matters openly and used so many euphemisms for having sex that I had to read it twice to be sure of what it was saying. The ingredients were remarkably common, so I guessed that it was actually a potion that was common knowledge. Magicians might have been devoted to power more than sex – or at least most of the older magicians I’d met were – but they would definitely have liked the potion. I made a note of it anyway and read onwards. There was a potion that promised dreamless sleep, a potion that promised a form of telepathy and a whole series of love potions. I found myself studying them with interest, remembering when I was a young girl and some of the older boys just wouldn’t
look
at me. I would have sold my soul for a love potion.

Reading onwards, it struck me that many people had done exactly that. The basic love potions were comparatively harmless – they created a feeling of love and affection in the victim – but some of the stronger ones were dangerous. The victim could become fixated on the object of their desire, to the point where they would do absolutely anything for the person who had slipped them the love potion. If the mild potions were a harmless prank – well, I wouldn’t have been laughing even though most of the magical world would probably have gotten the giggles – the stronger potions were just on the far side of rape.

“I hope you’re not thinking of trying to produce one,” Fiona said as she fluttered down to see what I was looking at. “Far too many young witches and wizards have ended up in hot water by producing love potions and then giving them to the wrong people. Do you want to know how they were punished? They were given a very strong form of love potion and bound to their former victims.”

I snorted. “I didn’t want to know that,” I said. It struck me as odd that anyone in the magical world would ever consider the concept of crime and punishment. Most of them seemed to accept that the strongest were in charge, at least until they were displaced by someone under them. “I wouldn’t dream of giving someone a love potion.”

Fiona landed on the table and looked up at me. “That’s what they all say,” she said, darkly. “The people who wander into the magical world discover its temptations and then they start thinking that magic can solve all of their problems. They are of course wrong, as they discover when karma starts catching up with them or someone bigger and nastier than they are destroys them. Magic is a living force and it isn’t safe to trifle with it.”

“Yes,” I agreed, remembering the elves and the stories I’d heard about the Great Powers. “I won’t tinker with love potions. I promise.”

Fiona gave a dragonish shrug. “If you never learn anything else from anyone,” she said, “learn that you should never make promises in the magical world. Breaking them can have...unpleasant consequences.”

I flushed. “It was a figure of speech,” I protested, although I knew that that wouldn’t matter. In the magical world, ignorance was no excuse. After chatting to some of the others who had entered the magical world, I had realised that I was definitely one of the luckier ones. There were people who found themselves enslaved, trapped into agreements they hadn’t realised were binding, or worse. “I wouldn’t do it anyway.”

“I should hope not,” Fiona countered. “Love spells can be very dangerous.”

I stopped for lunch and ate sandwiches and crisps, and then went outside for a long walk. The fresh air helped clear my head, allowing me to think clearly again for a few hours. The remains of the Rationalist building were being explored by a dozen Rationalist magicians and their apprentices, including Linux. I caught sight of him and he waved. A moment later, I waved back. It didn’t look as if anything could be saved from the wreckage, but they might have been lucky. The fire demon might have merely broken the connections between the pocket dimension and the magical world.

Sparks had told me that she worked in a health food shop on North Bridge and so I walked there, enjoying the chance to forget about the magical world. The health food shop itself was remarkably expensive, although it seemed to be very popular nonetheless. The woman at the counter gave me a very unpleasant look when I walked in – she reminded me of one of the women who had bought Mr Pygmalion’s statues – but didn’t argue when I asked if I could borrow Sparks for a few minutes. Sparks looked reluctant as she followed me outside, at least until we were out of the old crone’s sight. She started to giggle and, after a moment, I joined her.

“She’s going to be wondering what kind of connection we have now,” Sparks said. She winked at me as I stared at her in puzzlement. “Your master is one of the most important men in the magical world. She may start wondering if she should pay me more.”

“I hope she does,” I said, sincerely. I passed her a sheet of paper and allowed her to read the list of potion names, although I’d held back the ingredients. I’d see which one she wanted first. “Which one would you like?”

Sparks considered the list for a long moment. “The painkiller one is probably one of the ones we have already,” she said, finally. “Even if it isn’t, there isn’t any market for new painkiller potions, not when the old ones work more than well enough. I rather like the thought of the dreaming potion” – she smiled; the potion, drunk before sleep, guaranteed a lucid dream – “but I’d have to test it to be sure that we didn’t already know it.”

She ran down the remainder of the list. “There’s nothing world-shaking here,” she said, reluctantly. “Didn’t you see anything really odd?”

I shrugged. I wasn’t about to discuss love potions with her or anyone else. “Those are the most exotic I could find,” I said. “Which one would you like?”

“The dreaming one, I guess,” Sparks said. She leaned back and shook her head as I produced the recipe from my handbag and passed it over to her. “I sometimes wish that the old crone would drop dead and leave me to run the business on my own. She treats me like a slave.”

“You don’t have to tolerate it,” I said, puzzled. “Why don’t you just leave her?”

“The agreement I made with her doesn’t allow it,” Sparks said, bitterly. “I have to remain working for her until she releases me or until I can buy myself out. Producing and selling an unknown potion...it should work, if I am careful.”

“Good luck,” I said, sincerely.

I watched her go inside and then stood up myself, heading back home. A shadow fell over the land and I looked up to see a pair of dragons heading towards the market, leaving me to wonder if one of them was Fiona. There was no way to know. I heard some of the mundane people around me talking about rain coming, utterly unaware that two fantastic creatures had just passed over them. I shook my head. I’d spent months in the magical world and had been through so much, some deserved and some not, yet I would never consider going back. I belonged in there now.

Fiona greeted me at the door as I came in and passed me a note. It was from Cardonel, inviting me to dinner with him in a couple of days. I sent a reply to say that I accepted and then went back to my studies. There were relatively few books on the Thirteen – and how their workers related to them – but reading between the lines I found a surprising amount of data that confirmed Cardonel’s words. The Thirteen acted more like a cartel, co-opting or locking out the newcomers, than I had realised. It made me wonder, as I finally headed off for dinner and bed, which side I should be on.

***

The four days passed slowly. Fiona watched as I worked my way through a series of magical problems, learning how to cast spells that were rarely used unless the shit had already hit the fan. I’d been warned not to try to actually cast them myself unless I was in grave danger or under supervision, but at least I knew – in theory – how to use them. I wouldn’t know for sure until I actually tried and by then it might be too late. There were some magical spells I couldn’t perform at all, something that wasn’t exactly uncommon in the magical world. Some people just couldn’t pick up certain spells.

I met Cardonel for a dinner date at a fancy eatery in the mundane world, danced for hours with him and then allowed him to take me back to his apartment and make love to me. This time, he stayed away from politics and chatted about nothing, making it a far more agreeable date for me. He even offered to come help me study, but I’d taken Fiona’s warnings seriously and chosen not to invite anyone home. Cardonel shrugged, yet he clearly understood. Even though he was a half-elf, he had a kind of freedom denied to most humans and non-humans in the magical world.

Fiona seemed worried about something when I returned home, although she said nothing to me and concentrated on supervising my practice in the various disciplines. I slept and spent most of the fourth day on my studies, learning more about vampires and just how dangerous they could be. Master Revels had been quite correct, I decided, to insist on destroying the new vampire as quickly as possible. It – I couldn’t bring myself to think of it as female – would only have grown more dangerous if we’d risked leaving it alone. The day passed slowly without a sign of Master Revels. I went to bed convinced that he would return home and I would see him in the morning. He had always been punctual before.

When I arose, he still had not returned. Fiona and I were alone.

Chapter Twenty-Six

“So,” I said, to Fiona. “What do we do?”

The tiny dragon looked nervous, if dragons could be said to look nervous. It was another reminder that there was a great deal I didn’t understand about the relationship between her and Master Revels – between her and the person who held his post. Fiona had clearly been around for much longer than any single human, even the ones who used magic to prolong their lives to unnatural lengths. It made me wonder what could make her nervous. As best as I could tell, dragons were almost indestructible, even by magic.

“The master said that if there was a time when he didn’t return home, the Thirteen would have to be alerted,” Fiona said, reluctantly. She didn’t sound happy about it, although I couldn’t understand why. The Thirteen would surely help their lost servant. “He issued those orders before you joined him and issued no others since.”

“Oh,” I said. I understood – he clearly didn’t consider me ready to succeed him yet – but it was still galling. “How long should we wait before we start calling the Thirteen and asking for help.”

“Oh, you cannot
call
them,” Fiona said, evading the question. “You have to visit them and ask for assistance. And even then they might refuse. I don’t know where Master Revels was going when he left or who we might ask to find out.”

I scowled. I was certain, somehow, that Master Revels had run into trouble. He would have called to let us know if he was going to be delayed, or simply returned home for a night’s sleep and a chat before heading back out again. It was possible that he had a girlfriend somewhere in the magical world – just because he’d shown no sign of interest in me didn’t mean that he had no sexual urges; hell, for all I knew he was a homosexual – and was staying with her, yet surely he would have said
something
. Logic suggested that I shouldn’t panic just yet, but the cold feeling running down the base of my spine suggested otherwise. Even in the mundane world, woman’s intuition was nothing to laugh at. It was a very subtle form of magic.

Fiona fluttered over to me and landed on my shoulder, offering what comfort she could. “I understand how you’re feeling,” she said. “Wait until lunchtime. If nothing happens by then, we’ll go speak to the Thirteen in person and ask for their advice.”

I frowned. “Don’t you think that they will want to give me orders?”

“Perhaps,” Fiona said, with a dragonish shrug. “On the other hand, you haven’t actually sworn loyalty or obedience to them, so they have no actual right to give you orders. Not that that would actually stop anyone if they thought they could get away with it.”

The three hours until lunchtime passed slowly, too slowly. I tried to concentrate on reading various magical texts – including the instructions for creating a pocket dimension large enough for a palace within a tiny room – but my mind refused to focus. I just
knew
that Master Revels was in trouble and that I had to save him, which would have been fine if I had any idea where to start looking. I had no idea where he had gone and, when I tried to go into his study to find a note he might have left for me, I discovered that it was locked and sealed with powerful security spells. They
growled
at me when I tested them lightly and I decided not to try risking a break-in. Ending up as a toad, or statue, or even dead would be no help to Master Revels, would it? I asked Fiona if she knew how to enter the room, but she shook her head. Most magicians liked to keep their secrets. I had never been in the room without him.

I had soup and bread for lunch – I couldn’t eat anything else – and checked for a message from Master Revels. There was nothing; the silence was almost deafening. I beckoned to Fiona, who fluttered down from where she had been having a nap. I envied her the ability to sleep even when worried, but perhaps she wasn’t too worried. Dragons lived so long that our lives were little more than eye-blinks to them. Fiona couldn’t bring herself to care too much about a man she knew was a mayfly compared to her. It would be dangerous for her mental health.

“Come on,” I said. “We’re off to see the Thirteen.”