Marie

Month 12, Day 8, 5:30 AM

Over an hour later, the the suite’s sitting room felt very nearly cheery, with the lamps lit and a real wood fire in a small stone hearth. Marie found herself sitting next to Poe on a small couch near the fire. Poe set her at ease, offering her any of several seating arrangements, but Marie felt best sitting next to him. He was close enough to touch, but she noticed that he’d returned to keeping a distance between them, even if it was only a handspan.

He’d had some time to wash up, but although his coat was pristine blue with the koi bright and shimmering, his bright suit clothes underneath had stains and dirt across his chest and knees. Marie felt odd to see Poe anything less than perfectly dressed.

There was a small pot of a bitter hot tea from the night kitchen, and two stoneware mugs. They had sipped and chatted for a couple of hours. She’d had a second wash to clean off the tears, and he’d explained what happened, then she explained how she ended up trapped, and how she escaped. Poe nodded along.

Eventually, they got to the question that felt like it was the most important: what happened to Millie Parker?

“So, do you think the Red Guard eventually came?”

“I suspect so.”

“Is Millie … did they kill her?”

“Millie Parker is gone.” Frank said gently. “All that’s left is an aberrant. Even if the Red Guard didn’t destroy the aberrant, she is dead.”

“What about everyone else?”

“The effect probably wore off. It was not a terribly strong compulsion. The Red Guard will take everyone in for observation and questioning, and then … well, they tend to modify everyone’s memories to make them forget the details.”

“Oh. Isn’t that illegal?”

“Not when the Red Guard does it.”

“That seems …”

“Hypocritical? Manipulative? Dictatorial? Oppressive?”

“Yes.”

“Tough. The Red Guard does what it likes, and sorcerers accept it because the alternative is worse: either ban magic entirely, or suffer uncontrolled break events.” Frank sounded both matter-of-fact, and a little bitter. “At least they are not political in the ordinary sense. They aren’t trying to run things. They probably won’t even arrest any Morrows.”

“I guess.” Marie replied reluctantly. “Can’t they bring her back? If the Aberrant wasn’t destroyed that is?”

“No. I once considered the Red Guard as a potential career path; who wouldn’t want to protect the world? As a teenager, I read everything I could find about aberrants. There are entire books on the dumb mistakes sorcerers have made that turned themselves into aberrants. But, now that I am older, I suspect that the Red Guard controls much of the information. One fact, however, seems clear from most writers: once an aberrant has been born, the sorcerer is gone.”

This made Marie consider her encounter with Mille in a new light.

“Why didn’t the aberrant effect me?”

“There are several possible reasons. Mille Parker wasn’t a very strong sorcerer, so her break event was not as powerful. Or,” Frank glanced toward Marie’s chest, “it could be that illegal blood magic tattoo you have over your heart.”

“Um. Yeah.”

“I won’t ask to see it again. But, I will ask, where did you get it, and why?”

Marie felt a tightness in her throat. Her Mama had told her to never reveal the tattoo. When bathing publicly, she covered it with an alchemically applied bandage. But the tightness was also literal constriction. She considered her response carefully.

“When I was six, I swore an oath not to talk about it unless with its creator, a healer, or Lord Morrow.” Marie finally replied.

“And an underage blood oath. Or, a curse? … This gets better and better.”

“Please. Don’t. I was … ” Marie pushed as hard as she dared against the compulsion, but her heart began racing, and she couldn’t say anything more. She couldn’t talk about the bargain at all.

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“That’s going to be a problem to solve.”

“It’s nothing!” Marie protested.

“I think you know better than that.” Poe’s mismatched eyes felt like they saw straight through her.

Marie felt the tears coming back. What would Poe do about the magic? She felt like, if she could just be reassured that she hadn’t lost her place, she’d not be the sickly little girl her whole life.

She tentatively reached her hand to touch him, but then she realized, even though he did not move, Poe flinched. He was still reluctant to touch her; even her hand. Instead of asking, she drew her hand back into her lap, and she looked down at it.

It didn’t seem right that all the pain and scrapes were gone, without even a scar. All those bad things were wiped entirely away. But it happened, and she’d worked so hard, then for it to fall apart because of something that wasn’t her fault at all?

“Poe. You won’t stop teaching me, will you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I’ll keep teaching you. You’re a natural talent, and you saved me. I just hope you’re not too angry at me for not getting to you in the cellar.” Poe had changed the subject subtly; Marie appreciated the effort. She looked up at is mismatched eyes.

“I was, but you did save me when it counted.”

“Then we save each other.” Poe smiled and shrugged.

“Uh. Let’s not get carried away.”

Poe laughed, and Marie found herself smiling.

Marie then wondered, ‘How much will this cost? Poe seems rich, but how rich exactly? Could he afford the healing and the room? Surely he could, but Marie was close to death. The Stags would make them pay, or at least, if they were anything like the Morrows, they would try to make Poe pay as much as they could. Better yet, they’d try to get him in debt.’

“Is this going to be expensive?” She asked aloud.

“Probably. But, I have something they want, and I’m feeling generous toward their organization.”

Marie wondered what Poe planned to barter, then she wondered about what was next. She must have worried him when she’d been captured.

“I’m so sorry, Poe. I didn’t meant to …”

“You may have made a mistake, but it was made form concern for your friend; how could I possibly criticize that? We both could have been better prepared, and next time, we will be.”

Marie nodded.

“So, let’s get some more sleep?” Poe asked hopefully. Marie could admit that he did look a little tired. But she had been awake for over an hour, and its would be entirely wrong to sleep when the sun would be up in just a short while.

“But, I’m not sleepy! The day has just started.”

“Well, seeing as how we nearly died, how about food?”

“And a soaking bath?”

Frank nodded. “But, we’ll need to get clothes, and settle up here. Let’s see what we can do.”

Technically, their requests still came early in the day. The kitchens had only just started serving a breakfast of oat gruel with savory meat bits to rooming guests for no additional charge. Poe managed, however, to discover the Stag’s kitchens would make a poached egg with butter and salt on rice if he paid extra.

Marie was not nearly so picky. She ordered breakfast from the room service, and she asked about a replacement dress. After being directed to the concierge service, she eventually found that the Stag would send out for a new dress if she liked, but it sounded like it would cost an handful of gold. For that much money she could have bought fabric, thread, and tools enough to sew five dresses.

“Just have them charge it to the room.” Poe suggested. “I’ll cover it when I discuss payment with the Stags.”

“It’s too much.” Marie responded.

“Don’t worry. We won’t be paying with money.”

The dress did arrive promptly, and it had been fitted to her measurements perfectly.

It arrived with a smartly dress concierge. Marie opened the dress’s box, pulled away the paper, and revealed it with flourish. She saw it, and wrinkled her brow. Withdrawing it, if anything, made it worse. The dress was pale lemon color with white lace trim, puffy sleeves, and a layered skirt made of white and yellow fabrics.

Marie instantly hated it.

“That dress isn’t your preferred style, is it?” Poe observed. “We can do better. Wear it for now, and we’ll get you a proper black dress later.”

After changing into the dress in the washroom and reviewing the outfit in the mirror, Marie decided hate was inadequate. She despised the dress.

The dress had an entirely useless a ribbon waistband with a bow. The puffy sleeves failed to extend at her wrists, instead ending midway down her forearms. A flimsy shawl was meant to drape artfully over her shoulders. The flouncy skirt ended above the knee, which was fine, but she didn’t have tall boots to wear or leggings. The soft leather “shoes” were little more than dainty slippers, which meant they would soak through if they even looked at a puddle of water. Marie could see her knees!

The entire outfit made her look like a child. Not even a healthy child, but a sickly spoiled child of a crown family that neither knew work nor hardship. Her black hair made the dress seem even more stunningly unflattering. She almost put the ugly healer tunic back on.

Scowling, but still wearing the dress, she returned to the main room.

Poe sat by the fire, cleaning his pipe with a twist of paper. When he looked up at her expression, he immediately turned his face away, and Marie saw his shoulders shaking a little bit.

“Go ahead. Laugh.”

“Not at all.” Poe gasped. “It’s fine.” When he turned back toward her, only the very hint of a smile danced at the edges of his lips. “Oh, and the Stags brought your things. I have them in my coat pockets.”

“My conduit?”

“Its safe, don’t worry. Let’s gather up what we have, and negotiate our bill..” Poe said, still smiling.

Marie smiled back, but she had a bad feeling. ‘What does he mean, negotiate?’

They gathered their things and headed for the office to settle-up on their stay at the Verdant Stag.