She drew a rune in the ripples, and vanished.
The girl fled to another country and another, scrubbed the blood from her clothes like Opal had taught her, slept beneath laurel oaks, stole apricots and bread, and leaped ever on, jumping hither and thither across the continent. She rested for mere moments beforepulling herself up and casting again. Weeks passed. She kept on and on until at last she collapsed, once again in her home country, beside a train station in a town called Gent. She raised her hand to cast another rune, but the magic did not come. Someone tossed her a coin and she pulled herself up to the ticket booth.One please. Yes, that’s where I’m going.
The girl fell into a seat and laid her head against the window. The train pulled out of the station, and the glass thrummed, and soon the fields gave way to olive trees and groves of apples. She was in a compartment by herself. She wore clothes stolen from the seat of a sleeping woman with a white terrier. The girl took her old clothes, still stained of blood, and let them fly like uncaged birds, one by one, out of the window. She slept most of the journey, her head throbbing, her neck aching, and woke when a gentle hand tapped at her knee. A spirit sat across from her.
We’ve arrived,he said in a melodic voice,in Alliaster.
He was a rust-coloured fellow with small arms and thick eyebrows that pleasantly framed his simple face. His mouth was turned up in a smile. The girl nodded. She made to stand, but gravity and malnutrition struck her back down.
Not to pry,said the spirit,but you seem like you could use some assistance. May I walk you onto the platform? Would you like some food?
She let the spirit take her hand.
My name,he said,is Belchamber.
CHAPTERTWENTY-SIX
Theodora told the story while staring out of the window. She did not cry as Dot would have. Instead, she recounted it as if it were the narrative of a radio play. By the end, her voice was hoarse, and she picked up the bowl of noodles and drank down the broth.
‘The young man,’ said Dot, ‘the one Opal abandoned you for?’
Theodora gave a sad smile and, as if that very question had summoned him, there came a fierce shout from below.
‘What’s that smell coming from the attic? Do you have dumplings up there?’
‘You must be imagining things, Lio!’ Theodora stuffed the largest dumpling into her mouth. She met Dot’s eyes. Dot snorted and the witch chewed and swallowed. ‘I know I act like a petulant child with him, but I gave him the safety of my wards, didn’t I? I plucked him from the river and let him live in my house and I didn’t throw him out, even though I wanted to. I saved him from Cate, that night. Does that count for nothing?’
‘Sometimes,’ said Dot, chewing on her nails, ‘blame is easier than guilt.’
‘And yet,’ said Theodora, ‘dear Liutprand doesn’t seem to blame me, does he? Love of his life stabbed by her own mother because of myspite, and where is his hatred? He’s a better person than me, and I bloody well detest him for it.’
The witch stared sombrely at the wardrobe across the room. Around and above her, the arched window rose like a cage and Theodora, with her long arms wrapped around her legs, fingers ever fidgeting, seemed to Dot a clipped bird, tethered beyond her reach. Gently, Dot asked, ‘Are you truly in debt?’
‘Yes.’
‘To Salamander?’
‘Yes.’
‘How much?’
Theodora did not meet her eye.
‘First it was only a little,’ said the witch, rubbing her forehead. ‘I needed capital to buy the tea shop. Understand, Dorothy, I left that forest with nothing. Not even that terrible bread knife. Salamander was a big fish here. Belchamber told me all about him and I knew he was interested in strange magic. There aren’t that many covens, you know, fewer still who teach the use of blood magic. Acanthi are quite bizarre, really.’
Dot sat by the window, still holding her now-empty noodle bowl. She set it down at last on the floor beside her.
‘I am digressing,’ said Theodora with a sigh. ‘I was desperate and so I sought Salamander out and then he asked me what I had planned. I, in my arrogance, was honest. I told him I wanted to open a shop and sell packet spells. He offered me silver in exchange for a cut of the profit on my tea shop and a promise to pay it back. I read the contract five or six times. Belchamber was against me signing it.’ At this, Theodora glanced at the spirit unconscious in his little bed. ‘I didn’t listen to him. I bought the building, but then the floorboards needed to be replaced, but it was expensive so I asked for more silver, and then I asked for more and more and with each altered contract, the terms were worse and the debts were harder to pay back, and Salamander went on, raising his cut of the profit, so I took on more jobs, and I became Justine and Edytheand years went by and I expanded and expanded, and each time I signed the contract again, I read it with less and less care until . . .’
Theodora weakly raised one hand and clicked. A bound stack of parchment wriggled its way free from a mess of papers beside the door. It shot toward Dot, who awkwardly caught it.
‘This is my copy,’ said the witch. ‘Bottom of the thirteenth page.’
Should the debtor default in repayment of the whole (or any part of the) debt by the first day of the third month of autumn in the twenty-ninth year of King EllardeCustre IV, the debtor irrevocably consents to the seizure and/or liquidation of all personal and professional assets including but not limited to silver, staff, clientele, property and proclivity. In such case, the debtor will accept the placement upon them of a permanent conduence charm.
‘A conduence charm,’ said Dot, dread rolling in. She recalled the King’s words in the menagerie.
‘Salamander’s invention,’ said Theodora. ‘So that even in his daemoted form, he can steal the magic of others. The United Allies think that Salamander’s reformed and – better yet! – that he is ever so grateful for his lesson. So grateful, in fact, that he passes on the profits of his enterprise to the Allies’ citizens in Kremora, in Beleust and Arranfol.’
