Flora Segunda: Being the Magickal Mishaps of a Girl of Spirit, Her Glass-Gazing Sidekick, Two Ominous Butlers (One Blue), a House with Eleven Thousand Rooms, and a Red Dog (Magic Carpet Books) (15 page)

The horsecar left me at the Way Out Gate, Crackpot’s back door (or delivery entrance, as Valefor had informed me). When I stopped by the stables to feed the horses, I saw that they had already been grained and mucked, and my heart sank. Mamma had beat me home. And I just couldn’t face her right now.

Though I had defended Mamma to Udo, I couldn’t defend Mamma to myself. I know she is sworn to uphold the Warlord, and that means she must uphold the Peace Accord, too, but how could she execute one of Califa’s greatest heroes? A man who had once been her friend? She might have her reasons, but I did not understand them. Nor did I want to.

The dogs met me at the garden gate, caroling their pleasure at my arrival, and Flynnie flung himself forward to meet them. Any chance I had of sneaking in was lost in canine alarum. Still, maybe I could at least make it to my room. I very quietly opened the door, trying to slide in before the dogs could, but they leaped and pawed, and poured by me, almost knocking me down.

“Flora?” Mamma’s voice drifted down the Below Stairs. “Is that you?”

“It sure ain’t Nini Mo,” I mumbled. The dogs scurried upstairs, which was well for them, because then I got a good look at the kitchen. When I had left to meet Mamma, the kitchen had been tidy and the dogs were locked up in the mudroom. Now the kitchen looked like the Flayed Riders of Huitzil had ridden through it once and then doubled back again, just for fun. The room was trashed. Someone, who could only be Poppy, had let the dogs out and unsupervised, and here was the result. Anger boiled up in me, so hot that it fair burned my throat. If I’d had a stick, I would have whacked something. Instead, I kicked the scuttle, which lay on the floor surrounded by spilled coal.

“Come to the parlor, Flora—I want to talk with you.”

My heart, already low, disappeared into the depths of my boots. Mamma never actually talks
with
you; she talks
to
you. I trudged upstairs, a glassy sparkle of guilt glittering in my stomach. Had Lieutenant Sabre tattled after all? Or maybe Mamma had guessed? Or maybe she had found out about Valefor? I didn’t know which was worse. No, I did. My knees felt rather weak. Nini Mo had faced the Flayed Priest Njal Sholto in a magickal duel, knowing that he was the greater adept, and thus she faced her own death. And yet she did not quiver. I would not quiver, either.

I would not quiver.

“Flora! Chop-chop!”

Mamma sat on the settee in the parlor, surrounded by a wash of papers. More were scattered over the low table before her, which also was stacked with the redboxes I had last seen on her desk at Fifty-six. The dogs had displayed themselves upon the hearth rug, like butter would not melt in their mouths. I could have kicked them all, a good boot right into the hinder. Violence is not the answer, I know, but it’s a hard impulse to strike.

“Where have you been, Flora? I thought you were going home.” Mamma peered at me through her pince-nez. She’d changed out of her uniform into her purple silk wrapper, and her hair was standing up in spikes, as though she’d been running her hands through it.

“I’m sorry, Mamma. I stopped at the chemist’s; I still don’t feel so well.” It was easy to sound forlorn and sick, partially because I really
did
feel forlorn and sick. My cold was still lingering.

“Why didn’t you have the barouche wait for you?”

“There’s no place to wait without blocking traffic.”

“I don’t like your riding the horsecar this late alone.”

“I had Flynnie, Mamma.”

“Ayah so, I am sure he would be good in a fight, poor coward. Flora, I went up to your room looking for you.”

My stomach, which had started to warm, turned to ice again.
Do not quiver!

“I thought you said you had finished your Catorcena dress. What did I find, not finished? Your Catorcena dress. I understand that sewing does not come easy to you, but that is no excuse for not being truthful.”

“I’m sorry, Mamma,” I said, and I was sorry—that I hadn’t put the dress away. But then, I hadn’t planned that Mamma might snoop; it’s not her usual habit. And even more than sorry, I was relieved that Valefor did not appear to be anywhere evident. Although, blast him, he was supposed to finish the dress before I came home.

“I can accept your apology, but apologies are not going to cut it at the Barracks, Flora. They expect cadets to abide by their word and be truthful in all things. It is a hallmark of leadership to never dissemble.”

Ha! Mamma could say that, and yet was she not dissembling in her dealings with Boy Hansgen? She did not practice what she preached. Rangers may lie, but at least they know that they lie. They are not hypocrites.

“I am sorry, Mamma.”

“And the kitchen—you are supposed to make sure the dogs are in the mudroom before you leave, Flora.”

Now, I would suck up the other stuff, but I was not going to take the blame for Poppy. “I did, Mamma, I did. Poppy must have let them out. They were in the mudroom when I left. It wasn’t me.”

“I stand corrected. In the future, then, perhaps you should put the dogs in the stable when you leave. Hotspur is not likely to go in there.”

“Ayah, Mamma.”

She sighed, and rubbed her forehead. She looked even more tired than she had at dinner. “I am sorry Hotspur is such trouble, Flora. You are good to look after him as you do. He has always needed looking after, poor boy.”

In my mind, people stop being “poor boys” when they hit thirty, and Poppy was way past that mark, but I suppose Mamma has known him so long that it’s hard for her think of him otherwise. Also, he does act very childish.

Mamma continued, “He has had a very rough time.”

I didn’t say anything because the only thing I had to say was rather mean. We must be nice to Poppy because he spent three years as a prisoner of war. But other people have rough times and they suck it up and move on. Sergeant Carheña lost his leg at the Battle of Calo Res, and he gets along just fine. There’s a girl in my gymkhana class at Sanctuary whose little brother fell out of the back of an ice wagon and was crushed. She gets along just fine, too. Why does Poppy have to be special?

“Can I go upstairs now, Mamma? I have a lot of homework.”

“I wish you would sit with me for a few minutes, Flora. It’s been so long since we have been home together, and now I have to leave again. A messenger arrived from Moro; the Ambassador from Anahuatl City requires me to wait upon him, and I have to leave first thing in the morning. I’m sorry, darling.”

Leaving again? Was this a stroke of luck! Mamma out of the way, while Udo and I undertook our rescue plan. One worrisome detail easily taken care of.

“But I promise I will be back for your Catorcena. I promise. I’ll be back in plenty of time. I promise.”

“It doesn’t matter, Mamma,” I said. “Can I go? I need to get the kitchen clean before I go to bed.”

“Leave the kitchen—I’ll tell Aglis to send a squad over in the morning. And of course it matters. I promise I’ll be back in time.”

“It’s fine. Good night.” I turned around to go upstairs, and though Mamma called me back, I did not go. I didn’t actually care about my Catorcena or whether Mamma was there or not. All I cared about at this particular moment was saving Boy Hansgen. Even Valefor had taken backseat to that; he could wait a little longer. Boy Hansgen could not. Mamma’s departure made things much easier. Once Boy was safe, then I would restore Valefor, and if Mamma found out and didn’t like it, to the Abyss with her.

When I got out of the bathroom, Mamma was waiting by my door; she never gives up, which is what makes her the Rock of Califa, I suppose. Persistence may be good for a general, but it is not such a happy quality in a mother.

“What do you mean ‘it doesn’t matter,’ Flora? I thought you were looking forward to your Catorcena.”

“I guess, Mamma.”

“You have done an excellent job on your room, darling. I don’t remember when I saw it this clean before, and the bathroom, too. I know you have a lot of responsibilities, and I am glad to see that you are, for the most part, handling them.”

“Thank you, Mamma.”

“I am sorry to have to leave again so soon, Flora, but I promise, before you go to the Barracks this summer, I shall take a nice long holiday and we shall do something fun, ayah?”

“Ayah, Mamma.”

“I have to leave early, darling, so I won’t wake you. Will you have cocoa with me before—”

A dog distantly barked, once, then twice, and then the entire herd erupted into a yodeling volley. There is only one reason the dogs howl this late at night.

Poppy.

Downstairs, glass crashed and the barking turned to howls. Mamma whipped around, then ran downstairs.

M
AMMA LEFT AT
oh-dark-thirty. She came into my room, but I pretended to be asleep and she didn’t wake me—only brushed the top of my head with a kiss and slid the bed-door closed again. As soon as she was gone, leaving a faint whiff of sandalwood behind, I booted the dogs out of bed and ran to the window.

The outriders were already assembled; two of them were heaving Mamma’s field desk into the back of a buckboard. Lieutenant Sabre stood by the back of the wagon, directing. The outriders finished levering up the field desk, then started on Mamma’s trunk.

Usually I am sad when Mamma leaves, but not today. Today I was fearsome glad, and a part of me grimly wished she’d never return. This is very mean, I know, but sometimes my heart feels very very mean. Small
and
mean. Mamma could leave when she wanted to, but I’m stuck.

A striker held Jimmy’s reins. The same wind snatching at the guidons was making Jimmy frisky, and he kept hopping a bit, so the striker had to also bounce, to keep him in place. The guidons dipped suddenly, and there was Mamma’s bright head. She said something to Lieutenant Sabre, then took over Jimmy’s reins, rubbing his nose soothingly. Mamma has a way with horses. No matter how wild they are, she can calm them.

I had not followed her all the way to the kitchen the night before. I had gone to the top of the stairs, and there I had stopped. Below, Poppy was shouting, the dogs were howling, and glass was smashing. Mamma’s calm voice cutting through the clamor like thread cuts cake. Poppy’s grating voice, rough with tears.
“The Human Dress is forged Iron!"

“Shush, my darling, my sweet boy. Shush.”

“
The Human Form a Fiery Forge!’
"

“No, my darling, here, give the knife to me...”

That’s when I ran back to my bedroom. I had slammed the door, crawled into my cold bed, and lay in bitter darkness the rest of the night, thinking bitter thoughts.

Now Mamma mounted, and Jimmy twirled a bit while she settled in the saddle, after rapping him on the withers with her crop. The last trunk was strapped down, and Lieutenant Sabre, who had been overseeing the stowing, mounted. Here was revealed Lieutenant Sabre’s one military flaw: He had a terrible seat. His stirrups were way too high and his knees stuck out like wings.

The guidons went first, and then the buckboard. Mamma fell in next, then Lieutenant Sabre, and the entourage jogged down the drive. Because Crackpot’s main gate is too heavy to be opened without Val’s effort, the drive now cuts away and veers to the back of the House, toward the freight entrance. At the split, Mamma paused and looked back. I ducked behind the curtain, although I know she was too far to see me. I couldn’t see her face, just the bobbing feathers on her tricorn hat. For a few seconds, she looked at the House, and then she turned and rode away.

I went back to my warm bed, and there found Valefor, usurping my place and seeming pleased with himself. He looked not quite the worst I had seen him, but not the best, either. Somewhere in between, faintly sparkling but faded to lavender.

“How happy that Buck should have to leave again, and now here is our chance. I can still feel that Sigil rumbling around inside me. I know this time we shall find it, I know we shall, Flora Segunda—let’s start.”

“I can’t, Valefor.” I found my wrapper and put it on, then looked for my slippers. Now that I was up, I might as well stay up. Udo and I had agreed that we would be cutting school today; his plan was to leave Case Tigger as usual, walk the kiddies to school, and then hit the horsecar. I had plenty of time to take a long hot bath before he came, if I went now. We had a long day before us, and it would be nice to be clean for it. Plus, I was too hungry to sleep. I needed a big breakfast and then to start preparing.

Valefor said, “Why not? We are burning daylight, and Buck is gone. When will she be back?”

“Tomorrow afternoon,” I said. “Just in time for my Catorcena the next day.”

“That should be plenty of time to—”

“No, Valefor,” I said, then told him about Boy Hansgen. When I was done, Valefor’s brow was furrowed in a pout deep enough to plant potatoes in.

“But what about me, Flora Segunda? Have you forgotten poor Valefor?” The tears were welling. Val was a regular fountain; it was a talent that I should cultivate. Crying on cue should surely be a handy ranger skill.

“No, I haven’t, but we have to rescue Boy Hansgen first. He’s on a deadline, and you are not, Valefor. He’s going to be executed at midnight tonight, so we can’t lollygag.”

“But you care more about a stupid pirate than your own family?” Valefor sobbed.

“No, I don’t. Don’t be silly. But I have to prioritize—”

“Your own family!”

“Valefor, look at it this way. Boy Hansgen is a ranger. I know he’ll be able to help us open the tea caddy. And he’s an adept, too. He will know exactly how to restore you.” I was making this up as I went along, but as I did, I realized that it actually made pretty good sense. If anyone would know how to open a seal lock without the seal, surely it was Boy Hansgen.

Val’s sobbing turned into hiccups. “I might remember him, actually. Boy Hansgen, you said?”

“Ayah.”

“Was he in a band? I think they played for Buck’s twenty-first birthday—I do remember: The Infernal Engines of Desire, that was their name. It was a fancy dress party—come as your fear. I made the most wonderful cake in the shape of Horrors to Come and Delights to Pass, and real chocolate spouted—”