Sparing me from further deception, the air split and a thunder of bookshelves fell, spewing their contents onto the tiled plaza. Merulo leaped to his feet, shrieking, his arms raised with the futility of spells he could not cast.
“Hold on, it looks worse than it is,” shouted the dragon, as she dropped through the gap in space and became an outrageously muscular woman once more.
“These are irreplaceable!” The sorcerer clutched at his hair.“You didn’t immobilize them before transport? It’s a simple spell!”
Hydna snorted. “You’re welcome for the help. And wait, I’ll sort this.” With a quick chant, the shelves creaked and righted themselves, the books rising on invisible strings to slot themselves away. Within moments, Merulo’s library had restored itself.
“I suppose they’re in the wrong order now.” Merulo limped toward his re-formed library. Even bereft of magic, his sharp figure and flowing robe made for an imposing sight. He plucked at the closest shelf, examining a book for damage, then ran his hand along the shelf, reading spines.
“Restoration to a past state.” Hydna crossed her arms triumphantly. “It’s a simple spell.”
“Hmm,” said Merulo. “Unnecessary dramatics. Objects that haven’t been disturbed to begin with don’t require restoration. But thank you, nonetheless.” His voice wobbled slightly, I noted with alarm.
I stood with a stretch. “Hey, I know it’s barely noon, but is there anywhere we can rest? Purely for my benefit.”
After thoroughly confirming the health of his books, Merulo allowed us to be led down the winding streets. Hydna motioned to passing structures like a tour guide, extrapolating their function and history with quips and guffaws. Though she did it solely for me, I found it hard to pay attention. As we passed one landmark, a statue of a trident-wielding man, a chill ran through me, and I clutched at Merulo’s sleeve like a child. Hydna looked back at us, frowning, but to my gratitude she didn’t pry.
“Here we are!” She halted before a sprawling building.“This was probably an inn. There are about twenty rooms with beds, and one giant kitchen. All cleared and clean, thanks to me!”
“Let us pray you make a better maid than Sir Cameron,” Merulo drawled, as his sister ushered us in.
“Oh?” Hydna leaned closer as I passed. “Did he make you wear a little outfit?”
“Uh . . . just my dress?” I said, then flushed. “I was a woman at the time, so the dress was—I mean—Merulo, wait up.” I broke into a trot, escaping Hydna’s laughter.
The sorcerer seemed to know which way to go, but he wavered uncertainly at the base of the staircase. Moving to his side, I wrapped an arm about his waist. He hesitated before accepting the help, leaning against me as we ascended.
“We’ll speak further after Sir Cameron has rested,” Merulo called back. “Be sure to have food and drink prepared.”
His sister hissed, reptilian, but departed without comment.
Even when we reached the top of the stairs, I didn’t stop supporting him. Having my musculature returned to me definitely had some benefits. The sorcerer muttered and gestured guidance, and I half carried him through an open door, not bothering to take in the strange materials or ancient decorations.
The waiting bed looked soft and, to Hydna’s credit, clean. Untouched by time—or perhaps simply restored to a past state.
Pulling away from me, Merulo staggered and fell bodily into the bed, not bothering to draw back the sheets. He curled atop the covers like a mangy cat.
The sorcerer had never slept in front of me before. I had speculated that he spelled himself to be continuously awake,to avoid interruptions to his studies, or that he rested in brief stints behind one of the castle’s many locked doors. Now, though, he could not avoid me. I’d learn whether he snored or mumbled, and whether, while dreaming, his legs kicked.
Filled with renewed glee at being alive, I threw myself onto the bed beside him, making his frail body bounce.
“What on Larnia do you think you’re doing?” Merulo sat up, a sneer at the ready.
“We’re sharing,” I told him firmly, pushing him back down.
“You can sleep on the floor like a dog,” Merulo said, but without true temper. He returned to his fetal position, and I shaped myself around his back, draping an arm over the jut of his ribs.
“You smell,” said the sorcerer, “like somebody who’s been dragged through a field, sweated through every inch of clothing, and bled all over himself.”
“Ah.” I shuffled closer. “Well, you smell nice.”
I felt the force of his snort through his ribcage. “I don’t smell of anything. BecauseI, and please understand the emphasis of that ‘I,’ bathe withfrequency.”
“No.” I huffed demonstratively, lifting a lock of his oily black hair. “You smell of magic. It’s sharp, like a spice. I used to not like it, but it’s grown on me.”
“Don’t expect me to feel the same about sweat and mud.” But he didn’t insist on me leaving. He shuffled into a more comfortable position, the rise and fall of his chest slowing as sleep began to take him.
I, however, remained sadly conscious. Something was gnawing at me.
