Modern Magick

Music and Misadventure: 19

'Erm. Sprites?' I said, groping at thin air. 'Anybody got a thing to write with?'

'A thing?' said Cadence in my ear, though without troubling to manifest.

'Pen, pencil, quill, tomato juice, fresh blood— ah! Perfect, thank you.' An exquisite pen of coiled silver leaves appeared in front of my nose, together with a miniature scroll. When I set pen to paper, a shimmering silvery ink poured forth. Never have my name and phone number looked more magnificent.

I handed the results to Tom. 'In case you feel more like being a dad than being a king.'

'It's possible,' he said, and tucked the paper into his trouser pocket. 'I couldn't have been less interested in being a king.' He stooped to give me the briefest peck on the cheek, and then he was gone.

I wandered back to Jay, feeling vaguely dissatisfied with this response. 'Does that mean he does or doesn't want to be my idol, role model and hero?'

'I don't wish to insult your father, but I think he's a tiny bit of a coward,' said Jay. 'It's my belief he'll square up to the idea, though, given a little time.'

I leaned my cheek in one hand, and toyed with a bit of fruit left on my plate (some unidentifiable thing resembling a peach crossed with a cherry). 'I'm not sure I want a coward for a hero.'

'You've courage enough for both of you. Cut him some slack.'

'Is your father a hero?'

'Every inch of him.' Jay said this with pride, but it was mixed with something wry and rueful. 'I'll introduce you sometime.'

I perked up at that. If Jay wanted to present me to his heroes, maybe I wasn't doing a bad job of being Ves after all.

Jay smirked at me, and added, 'I'd better make sure they put on a spread fit for a princess.'

'Don't call me that.'

'Why not? You're the descendant of a king and a queen.'

'My father was king in name only, and doesn't count. Anyway, it's not hereditary around here, however much Mum might have wished otherwise.'

'I wonder why she wanted that for you.'

'Mum was always good at that. Long periods of neglect, then some peculiar attack of remorse and she'd make some big gesture to make up for it.'

'This was a pretty big gesture.'

'Six years was a pretty long silence.'

He conceded the point with a nod. 'So what's next for us, if it isn't royalty and privilege?'

I went to chew a fingernail, and stopped myself in the nick of time. 'I want to contact the Court at Mandridore, see if there's news about Torvaston's book. Or that box of junk we picked up.'

'Junk?' Jay spluttered. 'The jewels on that scroll case alone could buy my parents' house.'

'I meant junk in the sense of random. A fork? A snuff box? What does it all mean?'

'Maybe nothing. I imagine even kings accumulate clutter.'

'Don't ruin my dreams.'

'Sorry.' He grinned. 'I'm sure it's the Enchanted Fork of Magick and Wonder.'

'Doubtless. And the Snuff Box of Mystery and Dreams.'

'With a naked lady on the lid.'

'It wasn't a— no, never mind.'

'Wise choice.'

After a couple of days of kicking our heels in the Queen's Halls, hobnobbing with the sprites (mostly me), and playing hauntingly beautiful music on every instrument we could lay our hands on (mostly Jay), we grew bored.

Actually, that was mostly me, too.

I announced that my mother clearly had no need of us, and set forth to bid her a firm goodbye.

I found her reclining in a state of near unconsciousness in her boudoir of pillows, attended by three hovering sprites. Her eyes opened when she saw me. 'Cordelia.'

'Mother. We're off.' I bent to kiss her cheek.

'Wait.' She sat up, wincing. 'The— the lyre. Where is it.'

'Lying on your throne. Do you mean to retrieve those pipes, by the by?'

'Nope. We don't need 'em. Nor the lyre either, for now. Take it.'

My feelings about that idea could only be expressed by my backing away, very quickly. 'No. I'm not touching it.'

'Get Jay to take it, then.'

'I don't think he wants to touch it either.'

She snorted. 'One of you will have to.'

'Have to?'

'I promised Milady.'

'A few things have changed since then.'

'A promise is a promise. Take it.'

'Milady wouldn't choose to divest the new Queen of the Yllanfalen of her sacred instrument—'

'Take it.' Mother was growing agitated, which in her case meant aggressive. 'I promised her. She made me promise.'

'Made you?' I echoed numbly. 'No one can make you do anything, Mother.'

'Except for Milady. Cordelia, the sole reason you were sent out here was to get that lyre. You won't be popular if you go back without it.'

'Why does she want it so badly?'

Mother wheezed, which I realised was meant to be a laugh. 'She told me all about her plans in exhaustive detail, naturally. After that, we had a pyjama party and braided each other's hair.'

'I see your point.'

'Mm.'

'I'm still not touching it.'

'Then I hope your man Jay's braver than you.'

'He's not my— I'm not a coward!'

Mother just looked at me.

'Fine, we'll take it. But what does the damned thing even do, besides install monarchs on that shiny throne down there?'

'I don't know, quite, but...' Mother lapsed into thought for a moment. 'It has an unusual line on the past, I think.'

'What does that mean?'

'I can sense bits and pieces of a location's past, to a certain degree. I told you that. When I had that lyre in my hands...' She was growing tired with the effort of talking, and fell silent for a moment. 'Whoosh,' she finished feebly, making a something-exploding gesture with her good hand.

If Mother was right about that, I began to get an inkling as to why Milady wanted to borrow it. 'It would make sense,' I suggested. 'It is an instrument of history and tradition.'

'Until lately.' Mother's eyes crinkled in a tired smile.

'Change comes to us all. But why aren't we borrowing you as well as the lyre, in that case? Your ability there isn't too common.'

'Milady probably has someone for that.'

Could be so. The Society employed quite a lot of people, and Milady made a point of collecting the rarer talents.

Mother's eyes closed again. I watched her for a little while, trying to convince myself that her pallor was fading. She looked terribly weak, and somehow... forlorn, adrift within that enormous bed by herself.

Her eyes snapped open. 'Weren't you going?'

'Right. Sorry. Bye, Mum.'