Brightly Woven
Page 48
I stood, barely able to contain myself. How could he not understand that we didn’t have time to waste? Lady Aphra hadn’t said a word during the argument, but now she placed a hand on my shoulder.
“Are you willing to be brave?” she asked me in a low voice.
“Of course,” I said. “Anything.”
She smiled. “I was hoping that would be your answer.”
The next morning I was intently studying the little map of Palmarta inside the cover of Proper Instruction for Young Wizards when North let out a groan, his eyes blinking open. Pascal had gone out, sent by Lady Aphra to help the men of the village clear the remaining snow. The old man had gone out grumbling but finally gave up his position by North’s side.
“Syd,” North said. His voice was so weak I had to lean down to hear him. “Where…am I?”
“Arcadia,” I said. “Pascal and some of the boys carried you back up.”
He nodded and swallowed hard.
“Why did you go back?” I asked. “What were you thinking?”
“Wanted to kill him…too dangerous,” he said, rubbing his face. “He was gone by the time I got back, but I couldn’t twist all the way to Arcadia…. Pretty embarrassing, huh?”
I let out a weak laugh, and he tried to smile.
“Not at all,” I said. “Can I get you something?”
“Water?” he asked. I poured out a glass, and he drank it down greedily, wincing as he pulled his stitches.
“My head feels…like it’s going to split…in two,” he said, falling back against the bed. He shut his eyes.
“Why didn’t you want an elixir or a sleeping draft?” I asked, resting my hand lightly against his. “I had to force it on you.”
North shook his head. He looked so slight on the bed. The dark circles beneath his eyes stood out plainly on his ashen skin. “I’m so sick of it…. I can’t even stand the taste of honey. It’s been a while since the pain was this real.”
“North…,” I began. “You don’t have to keep this from me, not anymore.”
“It’s an ugly, dark part of me, and…” His voice was bitter. “You have no idea how disgusting it is…how shameful…”
“No part of you is dark or ugly,” I said sharply, squeezing his hand. “Not to me, not ever. Do you understand?”
North turned his head away from me, toward the faint light from the window. “I inherited the curse from my father, and he from his father before him,” he said. “Do you remember…what I told you about the hedges?”
I nodded. “But I thought they were at the outskirts of towns, in the wilderness?”
“My grandfather was a Wizard Guard.” He paused. “The king sent him to disband a hedge coven outside of Andover. Most of the wizard knights he brought with him were killed…”
“But not him,” I finished.
“No, not him. They held him hostage for over a fortnight, and when he finally escaped, it was with this…lovely gift.”
I ran my hand through his hair, waiting for him to continue.
“It eats away at my magic,” he said in a hollow voice. “Rips through my blood and body. When I was younger, I could spend hours practicing magic and only feel the slightest discomfort—but now…”
“I know,” I said softly.
“The black skin is an indicator of how much of my body has been corrupted by the hedge’s curse. I don’t understand why it’s worse now than before…. It’s happening so quickly. I use less magic now than in the past, but it hardly matters.”
“And no one’s been able to figure out a cure in all these years?” I asked.
“Hedges are dangerous because they’re unrestricted.” He was hoarse again, but he refused more water. “They experiment with horrors you can’t begin to imagine—curses, killing spells. They’re fiercely protective of their knowledge, even from each other.”
“Is the hedge who did this still alive?” I said. “Couldn’t she reverse this?”
“Dead from all accounts I’ve heard. Even my father searched for her for a time. From the sound of it, the old hag didn’t have an apprentice to pass her secrets to.”
I pulled the gloves from his hands, studying his skin with new understanding and a heavy sense of dread. It was important for me to touch him.
“Your hands are so soft.” His voice sounded far away. I was losing him to sleep again.
“North, if it hurts you, if it’s going to eventually kill you—why do you still practice magic?”
“Because,” he said, his eyes drifting shut again, “who am I without it?”
Lady Aphra found me in the same position, perched beside North’s bed, hours later. She silently set a bundle of clothes down at the foot of the bed and went out of the room to allow me to change. I had no idea where the brown pants and white shirt had come from; they were certainly nothing Aphra would ever wear.
She was waiting for me in the hallway, hands on her hips.
“Is it enough?” I asked her.
“You need a hat to hide that hair,” Aphra said, pulling a knit cap from the hook on the wall. She tucked my hair inside it and pulled it down low on my face. I turned to look in the mirror hanging behind me.
It was dangerous to travel as a woman, but not nearly as dangerous for a young man. As long as I kept to myself, I could make the journey in peace.
“Are you willing to be brave?” she asked me in a low voice.
“Of course,” I said. “Anything.”
She smiled. “I was hoping that would be your answer.”
The next morning I was intently studying the little map of Palmarta inside the cover of Proper Instruction for Young Wizards when North let out a groan, his eyes blinking open. Pascal had gone out, sent by Lady Aphra to help the men of the village clear the remaining snow. The old man had gone out grumbling but finally gave up his position by North’s side.
“Syd,” North said. His voice was so weak I had to lean down to hear him. “Where…am I?”
“Arcadia,” I said. “Pascal and some of the boys carried you back up.”
He nodded and swallowed hard.
“Why did you go back?” I asked. “What were you thinking?”
“Wanted to kill him…too dangerous,” he said, rubbing his face. “He was gone by the time I got back, but I couldn’t twist all the way to Arcadia…. Pretty embarrassing, huh?”
I let out a weak laugh, and he tried to smile.
“Not at all,” I said. “Can I get you something?”
“Water?” he asked. I poured out a glass, and he drank it down greedily, wincing as he pulled his stitches.
“My head feels…like it’s going to split…in two,” he said, falling back against the bed. He shut his eyes.
“Why didn’t you want an elixir or a sleeping draft?” I asked, resting my hand lightly against his. “I had to force it on you.”
North shook his head. He looked so slight on the bed. The dark circles beneath his eyes stood out plainly on his ashen skin. “I’m so sick of it…. I can’t even stand the taste of honey. It’s been a while since the pain was this real.”
“North…,” I began. “You don’t have to keep this from me, not anymore.”
“It’s an ugly, dark part of me, and…” His voice was bitter. “You have no idea how disgusting it is…how shameful…”
“No part of you is dark or ugly,” I said sharply, squeezing his hand. “Not to me, not ever. Do you understand?”
North turned his head away from me, toward the faint light from the window. “I inherited the curse from my father, and he from his father before him,” he said. “Do you remember…what I told you about the hedges?”
I nodded. “But I thought they were at the outskirts of towns, in the wilderness?”
“My grandfather was a Wizard Guard.” He paused. “The king sent him to disband a hedge coven outside of Andover. Most of the wizard knights he brought with him were killed…”
“But not him,” I finished.
“No, not him. They held him hostage for over a fortnight, and when he finally escaped, it was with this…lovely gift.”
I ran my hand through his hair, waiting for him to continue.
“It eats away at my magic,” he said in a hollow voice. “Rips through my blood and body. When I was younger, I could spend hours practicing magic and only feel the slightest discomfort—but now…”
“I know,” I said softly.
“The black skin is an indicator of how much of my body has been corrupted by the hedge’s curse. I don’t understand why it’s worse now than before…. It’s happening so quickly. I use less magic now than in the past, but it hardly matters.”
“And no one’s been able to figure out a cure in all these years?” I asked.
“Hedges are dangerous because they’re unrestricted.” He was hoarse again, but he refused more water. “They experiment with horrors you can’t begin to imagine—curses, killing spells. They’re fiercely protective of their knowledge, even from each other.”
“Is the hedge who did this still alive?” I said. “Couldn’t she reverse this?”
“Dead from all accounts I’ve heard. Even my father searched for her for a time. From the sound of it, the old hag didn’t have an apprentice to pass her secrets to.”
I pulled the gloves from his hands, studying his skin with new understanding and a heavy sense of dread. It was important for me to touch him.
“Your hands are so soft.” His voice sounded far away. I was losing him to sleep again.
“North, if it hurts you, if it’s going to eventually kill you—why do you still practice magic?”
“Because,” he said, his eyes drifting shut again, “who am I without it?”
Lady Aphra found me in the same position, perched beside North’s bed, hours later. She silently set a bundle of clothes down at the foot of the bed and went out of the room to allow me to change. I had no idea where the brown pants and white shirt had come from; they were certainly nothing Aphra would ever wear.
She was waiting for me in the hallway, hands on her hips.
“Is it enough?” I asked her.
“You need a hat to hide that hair,” Aphra said, pulling a knit cap from the hook on the wall. She tucked my hair inside it and pulled it down low on my face. I turned to look in the mirror hanging behind me.
It was dangerous to travel as a woman, but not nearly as dangerous for a young man. As long as I kept to myself, I could make the journey in peace.
