Page 70 of The Ragpicker King
“It will heal.” She touched it again, lightly; saw the color darken around his pupils. “But... how odd for a spill of candle wax that it should be in the shape of a hand. Look, here is the palm, and here the fingers—”
Conor drew his hand away. Lin sat where she was, without moving, trying to hide her breathlessness. She wanted his hand back in hers, wanted his eyes on her again. But she could not consider that. She forced herself to think instead of her dream, of the scorch marks on the walls inside the King’s tower, and of what Mariam had said of the cursed King in the time before the Sundering.
“Your father did this, didn’t he?” she whispered. “He burned you with the touch of his hand.”
Conor yanked his sleeve down hard, hiding the burn. “Why would you say that?”
“In the Sault, I have access to books that speak of magic in the time before the Sundering.”
“How illegal.” His eyes glittered. “And there is no magic now.”
“You have cause to know better,” Lin whispered. “There is the magic of talismans, like the one Kel has, that lets him be your Sword Catcher. And there is magic in the healing I do.”
“I know.” His eyes said:You healed the whip marks on my back, made them disappear. It should have been impossible.
“We all say there is no magic when we know what exists: Old magic. Small magic. What we mean when we say magic has vanished is that no new great spell can be created.” She took a deep breath. “And yet I think that Fausten’s medicine was meant as a cure for an illness that was magical in nature. Thatismagical in nature. If we still have healing magic in our world, might its opposite not also exist?”
Conor rose to his feet. The room had darkened as the moon outside passed overhead, and he was a shadow against greater shadow.He will throw me in the Trick,Lin thought dizzily,for even bringing up magic. For suggesting it could be affecting the King.
In a low voice, Conor said, “In the moments before his death, Fausten cried out to my father, saying that if he died, my father’s sickness would be worse. He said:You know what is coming, my lord.” He raked his hands through his hair. “Why would my father want to kill him, then? Why would he want to sicken, to die?”
“Perhaps he did not want to be dependent on him,” Lin said softly. “It can be hard to feel you absolutelyrequiresomeone else. Especially if you do not trust them.”
His look was a flash of silver, like lightning over the ocean. He reached into his jacket then. When he drew his hand back out, Lin saw something fluttering and pale, like the wings of a bird. He threw it down on the table: not wings at all, but long strips of parchment, on which were scrawled lines of symbols. They were simple as a child’s drawings: a wheel, a compass, a rose, a coin.
“Fausten’s notes,” said Conor. “At least, I have guessed that is what they are. I found them in a lockbox in his room. They seem nonsense, but he must have valued keeping them secret. It is perhaps a code—”
“They are not nonsense, nor a code.” Lin pulled the papers toward her, her heart hammering. “Will you let me have these? I will bring them back to you in a few days, I swear it. I should have their meaning by then.”
“Really? You can read them?”
“No,” Lin said, “but I know someone who can. And I should examine your father again. I cannot test for the presence of magic, of course, but perhaps I can rule out a few other ailments.”
He hesitated. “I suppose I must trust you.”
Lin folded the papers carefully into a square and slipped them into her pocket. “Why would I lie to you?” she said. “What good would it do me?”
For a moment, he seemed almost angry, but the look was quickly gone. He passed a hand over his eyes, as if very tired. “Forgive me,” he said. “Yes. I will arrange for you to see the King again, when it is safe to do so.” His eyes were a very dark gray. “You understand—there are not many I can trust.”
He looked very young for a moment, and she wondered if she could see in him the boy he had been long ago, when Kel had met him and thought:This is someone I would give my life to protect.She wanted to stand up, to go over to him, but at that moment there wasa sound like a whip crack, and the sky outside the window lit up brightly.
Fireworks. She could see the sparks of them, dark orange and red and gold, falling past the open window like a rain of flame. She thought of the people in the city, who would be standing in the streets now, admiring the light show exploding over Marivent.
She should be there, she thought. With the people of the Sault, looking up into the sky; not here in the Palace, under a royal order. She felt the weight of a strange sorrow on her shoulders—that, and the shadow of an even odder feeling, the uneasy sense of something sinister not far away...
Conor glanced toward the window. “The banquet is ending,” he said. “I ought to find Kel. See how it all went. Whether the nobles behaved themselves.” He sounded weary. “I would rather stay here.”
But Lin was already on her feet, picking up her satchel. “I must go,” she said. She paused. “Unless, of course, you require me further?”
She saw his eyes narrow.It can be hard to feel you absolutelyrequiresomeone else.“No, I do notrequireyou,” he said. “Go, then. Manish will be waiting for you below, with the carriage.”
He turned back to the window as the sky outside lit up again, this time in even more brilliant streaks of color: deep golds and blues, struck to violet by the light of the tinted moon.
Lin hurried from the library, pausing only to look back once. She could see him, outlined in front of the window. He held his injured forearm cradled in his right hand, his fingers over the place where the burn was hidden beneath his jacket. Perhaps it was hurting him still.
Elsabet
Imagine you are light as a bird, flying free. Imagine you are soaring over Marivent, with its salt-white walls and its cliffs that fall away to the ocean below, black as the night above and fringed with lacy foam. Below you is a lighted garden, trees hung with lanterns like luminous fruit. As you pass over it, you see nobles below you, dressed in their finery, their gold and silk and satin that shines in the lamplight. How greatly you despise them. Gremont and Seven are no doubt down there, too, currying favor with royalty; you loathe them equally.
