He turned the handle, pushed open the door, and a wash of warm, marbled light spilled out into the darkness, casting them all in a delicate glow. Cyrus stood aside to let Alizeh pass before him, and as she stepped across the threshold her breath caught with wonder.
They’d entered a room with soaring ceilings supported by heavy wooden beams, the scent of earth and perfume filling her nose. Nature had pushed inside, climbing vines sprawling from cracks in stone corners and creeping toward the floor, which was covered by a massive, richly colored rug that was threadbare in places, singed in others. A roaring fire blazed in a hearth so large she might stand in it, and Alizeh startled at a suddenpopof a log, darting aside in time to keep her skirts from catching a stray ember. The air was thick as she moved deeper into the space, as if she were wading through thinned water. It wasn’t unpleasant, only disorienting, and once she’d fought back a shiver of unease, she relaxed into the sensation. Curious, she pressed a finger to the air and felt a thrill of resistance, so soft it recalled the plump cheeks of small children. Alizeh looked around in a daze, possessed by a peculiar feeling that if she let herself fall, she might float.
The walls were lined with mismatched cabinets and wooden shelves heavy with dusty books; tapered candles; an assortment of earthenware; and dozens of sealed jars in various sizes, whose bright and unfamiliar contents brought to mind the storeroom of an apothecary.
Hazan pulled down one such jar from the shelf, turning it over in his hands as he said,quietly, “I haven’t seen silver ash in years.” He looked up at Cyrus. “What is this place? Is it all yours?”
Cyrus only averted his eyes and said, “I’ll be ready in a minute.”
He allowed them to explore the cottage without further comment, though Alizeh watched him carefully. His eyes were unreadable as he crossed the room to a closed cabinet, pressed his hand against the wood, and stepped back as a series of locks audibly unlatched. The door swung open with a whine, and he quickly withdrew something from its interior, pocketed the item, and closed the compartment. He pressed his hand once more over the wood, resealing the door.
Alizeh watched in awe as he did this, for she realized then, as she turned her eyes again to the room, that she continued to underestimate him. She thought she’d already given Cyrus more credit than he’d rightfully earned, but she saw now that she hadn’t even grasped the full depth of his person. Indeed the more she learned about Cyrus the less she understood him; he was like a destination in the distance that grew farther away as she approached.
Certainly no ordinary person knew magic like this.
“Wow,” whispered Huda, who stood before a massive worktable that spanned the length of the room. Upon its weathered counter were sundry tools and objects, among them a cracked mortar and pestle, a stack of moth-eaten books, a sheaf of crumbling papers, and desiccated wells of ink. Alizeh drew closer to the table and blew away a layer of dust from a rack of glass vials, the glittering, jewel-toned liquids sloshing eagerly inside their containers.
“Ha,” said Kamran, who’d plucked a book of nursery rhymes from a shelf. He turned the aged, leather volume over in his hands with a reluctant smile. “My father used to read me these stories.”
“Really?” Huda went to him as he opened it, standing on tiptoe to peer over his shoulder. “But Kamran, these pictures are terrifying.”
“That’s why he liked them,” he said, laughing as he turned a page.
Huda glimpsed the next image and gasped, drawing away from him as she crossed her arms. “I would never read such horrifying books to my children.”
Kamran snapped the book shut with a scowl, turning to face her. “Are you criticizing my dead father?”
“I suppose I am.”
“And am I to tolerate your impertinence, as if I have any interest in how you might raise your hypothetical children – the acquisition of which, I should note, would first require you to convince a man to part with his mind long enough to spend his days in your infuriating company –”
“Infuriating? You thinkI’minfuriating? Meanwhile you’ve never so much as unplugged your aristocratic ears long enough to hear the opinions of others, much less the odious sound of your own voice –”
“Would you two please shut up,” said Hazan lazily, plucking another jar off the shelf. He smoothed out the peeling label, squinting at the writing. “This is hardly the time or the place.”
Huda and Kamran shared a dark look before stalking off in opposite directions, the tension between them so fascinating, Alizeh was briefly distracted from the weight in her chest.
She was experiencing a rising apprehension as the minutes ticked on, knowing she should ask about the task ahead of them even as she preferred to wander this mysterious space. Cyrus might not choose to admit it, but it was clear enough to her that all these magical implements and ingredients had once belonged to him – still belonged to him, in fact – even as it was evident that the cottage had been abandoned. Something had kept him from coming back.
More mysteries.
Still, it was a rare opportunity to peer inside a magical keep such as this, for she didn’t know whether she’d have such an opportunity again. There was so much here in this one room she’d need weeks to go through it all, and everything she looked upon inspired so many questions she hardly knew where to start.
Most astonishing, of course, were the crystals.
They were everywhere – sorted by size and color and formation – some heaped in cracked bowls like so much rock candy, others displayed under bell jars with care. One prodigious cluster of blue crystal sat directly on the floor, so vast were its dimensions, and Alizeh moved toward the specimen, reaching out gingerly to trace its edges.
“It’s empty,” said a voice just behind her.
Alizeh turned with a start to discover Cyrus reaching past her; he snapped off a brittle piece of rock, which he held up to the light.“These are very old.”
“What do you mean it’sempty?”
“Its magic has already been extracted. This is but a husk now.” He offered her the hollow bit of crystal, and as she took it from him, her fingers grazed his, this brief contact sending a thrill through her body. She thought she imagined the quiet breath he took then, the way he closed his fist and pocketed his hands.
“Good God, how on earth did you source so much powdered heart?” said Hazan suddenly, turning to search the room for Cyrus. He was holding a glass jar full of something that looked like scarlet sand. “This is illegal in Ardunia.”
Cyrus only stared at him in response, then flicked his wrist as if shooing a fly, and the contents of the room disappeared. The fire in the hearth still blazing, they now stood in an empty cottage, not a stick of furniture in sight. Everything – all the magical impedimenta – was gone.
