Spiral Path (Night Calls Series Book 3) (5 page)

“
Anything
else, miss?” She still held her place, neither picking up her metal can, nor
arranging the open top of the fireplace screen.

“
What
is your name?”

The girl smiled and said, “Elizabeth, miss.”

I smiled, too. “My baby sister was just named Elizabeth, so
I should be able to remember that.”
I
have a sister!
And she’s a seer!

I didn’t say it aloud, but I realized that this might be a
place where I could someday say those words. But I could not say them yet. I
couldn’t chance it getting back to Momma.

I pulled the curtain back a foot or two. “My name is Alfreda
Sorensson.”

“
Yes,
miss,” Elizabeth said, bobbing into what I recognized from country-dances as a
curtsy. “Thank you, miss!”

I hoped she didn’t do that all the time.

Shivering, I pulled the blanket closer. “Thank you for the
fire!”

Beaming, Elizabeth picked up her metal can.

“
Oh,
Elizabeth. Where is . . . how do I get to the privy?”

Elizabeth’s blue eyes widened. “We don’t need to use a privy
here, miss! We have water closets! Dr. Livingston went to England for them! And
then he did something special with them so they never back up or overflow or
smell or—”

I could tell Elizabeth thought this was the best idea she’d
ever heard. Having visited a few privies that I had to gather up my long skirt
to even enter, I had a lot of sympathy with her feelings.

“Wonderful! How do I get there?”

o0o

It
was
a rather
astonishing contraption with ceramic pipes everywhere, including into the floor
and ceiling, and a polished wooden seat.

Elizabeth had demonstrated by pulling on a chain with a
smooth glass bauble attached, draining and refilling the “necessary.” Then she
left after scenting the air by running her fingers through some dried flower
petals in a bowl.

Well, I didn’t intend to gape like a rustic, so I used the
impressive throne and found it worked just as she promised. As I turned to
leave, I paused and touched the water pipe descending from the ceiling. This
was wondrous . . . something that existed, if imperfectly,
improved by magic. Lots of magic, if they had multiple necessary rooms, and
candles that lit by themselves.

Where did that much power come from?

Would they tell me?

I’d noticed a basin and pitcher in my room, so I shut the
door to the necessary and made my way back down the hall, wondering how they
handled bathing here.

I passed Elizabeth on my way into the sleeping chamber, and
nodded to her, smiling my thanks. She had recovered her metal pail of hot coals
and left the cinder guard on the fire screen folded to the stone fireplace. I
didn’t have time to judge anything else, even with the candle once again lit,
because someone was busy in the bedroom. I shut the door and found Marta at the
wardrobe pulling out my golden wool dress.

“
Isn’t
that . . . Sunday best?” I asked as she laid the dress on the
bed. We had altered it slightly after our trip to Cloudcatcher, raising the
waist and moving the ribbon to tie in the front.

“
Yes,”
Marta said, “But for your first appearance in the house it is better to be
overdressed than underdressed. And you’ll find the hallways in these huge
places are very cold. You’ll appreciate the warmth, believe me.” She turned and
surveyed me by the pale morning light. “I think you should meet Esme first—then
you’ll feel more like having breakfast.”

“
Do
I get any explanations?”

Marta gave me that look that said,
You have to ask?
“Did you understand the water closet?”

I sighed. “Elizabeth showed me the water closet. It’s very
fancy magic.” I went to the wardrobe to find my shift.

“
A
small magic, carefully applied,” Marta replied, settling in the rocking chair
near the window. “That’s often the best kind of magic, subtle and undetected.
You’ll learn about that kind of magic here.”

“
Like
candles that light themselves?”

“
Exactly.
Some things they don’t change—for instance, they don’t block every draft,
because they couldn’t explain it to visitors—but things like sewage and kitchen
chores are improved by delicate spell casting.”

The Hudsons used magic
to kill the smell of the pig sty and guard the fires
. I had not thought of
my former captors in days, but all this magic had me anxious to know the
source.

I quickly peeled out of my nightgown and pulled my shift and
the dress over my head. Then I put on my silver necklace, which was under the
high neck, and looked over my silver bracelets and the delicate gold necklace
that bore the few trophies of my fledgling apprenticeship. Amber, tiger-eye and
a tiny diamond caged in gold threads showed that I was not a new initiate, but
on my way to knowledge and power.

I turned to Marta and held up the necklace. She nodded, and
I slipped it on.

Marta stood and reached for my brush. “You have little
ritual training, so you will mostly be with younger children for that class.
But you will undoubtedly be in the advanced class for herb work, or midwifery
and small injuries and illnesses. This is not a rigid school—it is common for
students to have vast differences in skills, and study with others not their
ages. Your necklace reassures your classmates that you are a practitioner, even
though your teaching was different from Esme’s lessons.”

I was silent while she smoothed the tangles out of my hair
and then started braiding it high on the back of my head, pulling hair from the
front to join the sides and back strands. Since my hands were free, I decided
on the bracelets as well.

Who knew if I’d need to protect myself with silver here?

Well, nothing
ventured, nothing gained
. “Are you going to tell me how we got here?”

“
No,
not yet,” Marta answered. “If I tell you how we arrived here, you’ll be so
curious about it you’ll be experimenting with that spell instead of learning
proper ritual magic. That secret will keep until Esme is ready to share it with
you.” Holding the end of my long braid, Marta asked: “Where is your string of
rawhide?”

“
Tied
to the brush, unless it fell off,” I replied. My head was still full of
questions. So . . . there was a spell to get here. Was there
just one spell, or multiple spells? Did we ride the back of the wind, the way
the others did when they came to rescue me from Hudson-on-the-Bend? Or was my
dream reality, and had we walked from the Michigan territory to New York with
only a comfortable stroll in the woods? Did—

It was hard to admit to myself that Marta had a good reason
not to tell me about the spell.

I stood up straight, and Marta’s gaze slid over me. Nodding,
she handed me my dancing shoes and waited while I slipped them on and tied them
to my ankles.

“Very good. Now—Esme has agreed to teach you ritual magic.
She hasn’t had a descendant of your great-grandmother Emma Schell to teach at
that level, so this pleases her. But I know she isn’t totally prepared for the
reality of Alfreda Sorensson. So you need to be courteous of her. Call her
Professor Livingston when others can hear, and let
her
tell people you’re related, if she desires to. You must trust
her for this—if she doesn’t tell you something, there’s a reason. Esme does not
make decisions like that capriciously.”

“
I
will.” At least I hoped I would.

Marta gave me another of her “looks.” I didn’t see those
looks often, but today was not like most days. “And please, Alfreda, try not to
attract attention with your wanderings. I know this city will feel like walking
in a dozen petticoats after living in the Michigan territory. But you can’t ride
astride here and leave Esme to deal with the gossip. You can’t even eat an
apple without cutting it up first. People expect a young girl to behave with
decorum—in fact, they expect someone your age to have a governess watching over
her. Think at the fussiest level you can; you can’t go too high with town
busybodies.” She paused, and then added, “What you do when no one looks is
different.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said, nodding once decisively. I had learned
how to keep the village of Sun-Return from talking about me, so I was
determined to master this, too.

Marta turned to the wardrobe and then touched my shoulder. “Now,
before I forget—” She pushed my heavy coat and bathrobe aside. “The pale blue
dress is a walking gown, for class, for weekend days when you’re only dining
with fellow students, for walking in the maze and labyrinths.” I blinked and
stared at the simply styled, square-necked dress in a pale indigo. Where had
this
come from?

And then followed the most incomprehensible speech I had
ever heard from Marta, about several other dresses in the wardrobe I did not
remember making, much less possessing. They changed clothes during the day?
Just for
dinner
?

I was in trouble.

“
Remember,
Alfreda, you aren’t the most careful mender and patcher, but you can use your
embroidery and sewing to trade services or earn actual coin,” Marta finished,
letting go of still another garment I’d never seen before. “This ancient green
dress will serve you for cleaning and brewing herbs, if you line it with a
chemise—a shift.”

While I stared at the rainbow of surprises, Marta turned to
the dresser and pulled out a drawer. “I have a gift for you. It didn’t arrive
until after Christmas, so I was waiting for your birthday. Now you need it so
it’s a very early birthday present.” On top of my unmentionables was something
else I didn’t recognize. It was loosely woven, like knitting or crocheting, in
shades of ivory, tanned leather and golden deer hide. My cousin unfolded it as
she removed it from the drawer and let it hang to its full length.

It was a shawl—a woolen, knitted shawl, its ends smooth and
nicely finished. Marta held it up. “Turn around and let’s see how it works.”

I let her slip the shawl over my shoulders, and pulled the
front closer before I turned around. Oh, the softness of the wool! I didn’t
know what it was made of, but I wanted some of it for gloves!

Marta steered me toward a looking glass on carved eagle
feet. I looked at the tall, slender woman in gold and ivory, and knew it had to
be me, though I couldn’t imagine I’d changed so much since the last time I’d
looked into a mirror, before Christmas. There was a pattern in the shawl that
gave it texture, woven in a Celtic or Greek key design. I watched the ripple of
light over ridge and dale, giving the garment depth.

“
It’s . . .
beautiful,” I said, pulling the shawl closer. And it was
warm
—I knew I would be grateful for it in this house.

“
I
traded a quilt for it, to a practitioner in the south continent,” Marta said
with satisfaction. “And I spelled it, so if anyone tries to take it, they’ll
have a surprise coming to them. Spelled your jewelry as well.”

“
Oh,
Marta—thank you!” I turned and impulsively hugged her. “Thank you for
everything,” I whispered in her ear.

“
Thank
you
, dearheart. You’ve given me light
and laughter when I thought only duty was left to me.” She smiled as she
straightened, and it wasn’t one of those wry smiles—it was a big smile. “I know
you will make us all proud, and I look forward to your return. Write us—Esme
allows students to use a ritual circle to send letters. Tell me about life in
the big city! You may write Cory and Shaw about your lessons, too. And—” She
touched my cheek again. “We will come to visit. I will encourage your parents
to bring the baby. She won’t be a stranger, child. We have resources.”

Somehow I managed not to burst into tears. Marta had a gift
for touching my deepest fears and then easing them. Some people acted like they’d
forgotten what it was like to be young. With Marta, you knew that somewhere
deep inside she remembered.

Before she hustled me away, I
had
to know—“The dresses? Where did they . . . come
from?” I gestured toward the wardrobe, because these were
not
the pieces of clothing I had cut out after my stay in
Cloudcatcher. Had they been under the material in the bottom of the trunk? Had
she put them in after I went to sleep?

Marta just looked at me with her famous impassive stare. “Where
do you think?”

“
Momma?”
It was unlikely, but still . . . .

“
She
was working on something for you, but it’s not finished yet. Try again.” Marta
must have seen something in my expression, because she abruptly satisfied my
curiosity. “I was frantic when you disappeared and we couldn’t find you. I had
to do
something
with my time.”

“
You
left me the hems?”

Marta raised an eyebrow. “You got more sleep last night than
I did. I left three for you. Two are cotton and linen, and easy—rolling the
silk one will be good practice.”

Silk?

How were we going to
pay
for all these things?

Well, there wasn’t much more to say except to thank her, and
I’d already done that. I just had to grow into someone she spoke of with pride.

“
Are
you coming with me when I meet Cousin Esme?” I really didn’t want her slipping
off while I kept my cousin busy.

“
Of
course. She will be nothing like you expect, and as full of surprises as a
Beltane fire. I want you to feel like you have reinforcement!” Smoothing a few
stray tendrils of hair away from my face, Marta gave the fireplace a last look
and then opened the door and gestured for me to follow her.