A Practical Guide to Sorcery

Chapter 261: Not Waving but Drowning

Siobhan

Month 4, Day 11, Friday 12:30 p.m.

“Deal,” Siobhan said immediately. She nudged Rory, and he repeated it.

Claudio rubbed his chin and tilted his head to the side. “On second thought, I find myself unsure if I should trust a pair of children with something that could get me in quite a bit of trouble. Even adults aren’t known for real discretion, and I have belatedly realized that I don’t really have any where else to go if Raaz kicks me out.”

Siobhan raised an eyebrow. Among the three of them, it was Claudio who was most likely to let something incriminating slip. He hadn’t even managed to keep the most basic of secrets about being on the run when his life was potentially on the line.

Rory squared his shoulders, stepped forward, and spat into the palm of his hand. Then he held the same hand out for a handshake. “No islander would break a spit-sealed promise,” he announced in what he probably thought was a manly voice.

Claudio stared down at Rory for a moment, and then his eyes sparkled and the edges of his lips twitched. He spat into his own hand—or maybe just pretended to, as Siobhan didn’t see any actual fluid—and shook the much younger boy’s hand with solemnity. “Hereby, let there be a pact of secrecy between us.”

Rory recited Claudio’s words back to him, and then Siobhan spat into her own hand and they repeated the process. It might be a little childish, but it was true. She didn’t know anyone who had broken a spit-sealed promise. The only thing more binding might be a blood pact, but those sounded unsanitary, and were probably illegal, besides.

Claudio covered his mouth with his hand as the three of them turned toward the house, and his shoulders shook silently.

Siobhan suspected he was hiding one of those smiles adults always had when they thought children were being simultaneously stupid and unbearably cute, but even though she watched closely, he just coughed a couple times and then lowered his hand again, his expression perfectly serious.She clicked her tongue reprovingly. No wonder Claudio had gotten chased away from Qesas. He was not only naive, but a bit too stupid to get away with living a life of crime. Maybe a bit of Grandfather’s common sense would rub off on the young man while he stayed with them. She feared for Claudio’s future if he couldn’t get his head screwed on straight.

They went up to the second floor and passed Siobhan’s bedroom on the way to Grandfather’s workshop, which was on the other side of the house, over the old man’s master bedroom.

Claudio took out an old, clunky brass key with tiny glyphs carved in dense rows around the circular grip. Rather than a standard key-hole, the dark metal door had a small spell array in the center. Claudio held the key by the toothed end, pressed the key’s Circle against the doors, and recited, “The reaper whose scythe cuts both reality and illusion may harvest dreams from the realm of slumber.”

Siobhan had a sudden, strange moment of dizziness, as if she were once again existing outside of herself. But the moment was gone as fast as it had come. She shivered like a dog shaking off water, sure that some part of her mind had sensed the release of whatever strange magics Grandfather had placed on the door.

It unlocked with a series of clicking and whirring noises, but he still had to press hard on it to swing it slowly inward.

Rory gasped as they stepped into the room beyond, but after a quick glance, Siobhan found herself disappointed. It wasn’t much different than the view she remembered from times she’d managed to sneak a peek past the doorway over the years. The main part of the workshop was two stories tall, with a gently curving staircase along the wall that led up to a second-floor mezzanine. The final floor, up above, was for storage. The tower’s single window let in a surprising amount of light, and the rest was supplemented by light crystals embedded into the stone walls above and in between towering bookcases and neatly organized workbenches, releasing their stored sunlight in a bright, diffuse glow. The center of the room was open, and there was enough space to fit many more bookcases and workstations around the wall than she had expected. Grandfather did most of his work here, except for small, detailed artificery, for which he had set up a space in his bedroom below.

The stone floor was warm, leaving the whole area, despite the high ceiling and lack of fireplace, quite cosy. Even the air was artificially clean-smelling, like freshly dried heather. Siobhan snorted at the irony. This was the kind of “luxury” that Grandfather liked to brag about not needing because he’d learned how to endure “true hardship” during his youth.

Whatever Grandfather and Claudio had been working on was not obvious—everything was neatly organized and put away. Siobhan looked up and around, searching for anything suspicious. There was some…strangeness in spots along the walls and the ceiling where her eyes wouldn’t track quite right, seeming to skip from one stone to another without landing on the one in between.

Siobhan glued her gaze to the edge of one of the more obvious areas and walked forward, heading straight toward it. But after only a few steps, she realized that the inclination of her body in comparison to the spot had changed in a way she hadn’t expected. Instead of walking directly toward it, she had somehow moved forward at a slight angle. She stopped, walked directly backward, and somehow ended up back at the doorway instead of against the wall, her path having curved again.

Rory was busy poking his face up close to some of Grandfather’s more interesting artifacts, but Siobhan was fixated on the strangeness of the space.

Claudio leaned against the wall near the door, crossed his arms, and watched both of them with amusement.

She looked around again, and finally the niggling strangeness settled. The tower was bigger on the inside than it seemed on the outside. Grandfather must have cast some sort of space-rearrangement spells on it, just like he had done to turn the small bathroom in his master bedroom into a more luxurious lounge area where he could “soak his bones.” Here, perhaps some of the unused ceiling space across from the mezzanine was being repurposed.

Experimentally, Siobhan walked around the floor several times in different directions and managed to understand the basics. It was impossible to walk directly through the center of the room, and any attempt would see her instead walking in an arc around it. She called Rory over, ostensibly to look at Grandfather’s collection of magically useful gems.

The boy arced around the center of the room without seeming to notice anything amiss, then “oohed” and “ahhed” at the sparkly rocks.

She sighed, but supposed she shouldn’t have expected Rory to have sharp senses or a strong deductive ability.

Likely, people who worked here every day would get used to the strangeness. Or they didn’t, but thought the slight inconvenience was worth it to have the extra useable space. She turned back to look around the walls, searching for the map they were supposed to be working on, or perhaps the divination station they were using to scry. “How does your project work?” she called out absently to Claudio. “Do you catalogue literally everything on the island, or are you searching for something specific?”

She caught sight of a pair of huge ledgers and moved over to page through them. She recognized the labeling scheme—that same combination of nonsense words and numbers they had been using while she and Rory spied on them—but the notes beside each entry were obtuse and, frankly, boring, merely noting physical and magical properties. Many were so similar as to be almost identical, and if this is what they were doing, she could understand why Claudio had been pushing for more hands-on interaction with the project.

Grandfather’s voice came from the doorway. “Insatiable curiosity opens three paths.” His tone was so dark and cold it could have come from a grave in the dead of winter.

Siobhan spun around so fast she almost fell, and Rory let out a small whimper.

Grandfather’s clothes and hair were impeccable, and he was almost too still, too relaxed. Except for his eyes. Those were like two tarnished silver coins, darkened and flat with a rage. “We must choose which we walk, and bear the consequences when we reach the end, be that enlightenment, disappointment, or ruin.” He paused to let the last word settle and the silence stretch painfully. Finally, he said, “I wonder which of you will be brave enough to explain why you are here?”

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Rory was too white-faced with terror to speak. Siobhan wasn’t sure he was even processing anything that was happening. Hopefully, he wouldn’t pee his pants like he had when he was five and tried to ride the postman’s horse. If Rory peed on Grandfather’s floor, the old man might really snap.

Grandfather turned to Claudio, who had also frozen, his expression so blank and his body so motionless that he almost looked like a statue. Unfortunately, he held none of the power and gravitas that radiated off Grandfather like waves of heat. Claudio was more like a small prey animal that thought he might be saved if he were still enough.

Siobhan’s fingers were trembling, but she fisted them in the fabric at her hips and took a jerky step forward. “It was me,” she croaked. She swallowed hard and continued, “I stole Mr. Tierney’s key. And, um, I overheard the password before.”

Thankfully, Rory didn’t argue, but Grandfather tapped his forefinger three times against the side of his leg. With each tap, his Will tightened. “Have you learned to lie as well as to defy me?” he asked.

Siobhan swayed on her feet as her heart almost stopped and she lost feeling in her legs. Grandfather’s Will was writhing in the air, pressing on her, reminding her of a lead coffin whose walls closed on her with the steady tick of a clock, the turning of a gear, the inexorable edge of a blade honed beyond sharp until it had become something else entirely.

Claudio pressed away from the wall, held his hands behind his back, and with an astounding display of bravery, spoke calmly. “I thought to lead the children down the path of enlightenment… before a young girl’s insatiable curiosity led her to ruin. The paths look so similar, after all.”

Siobhan’s respect for him increased several levels. She tried to straighten her shoulders and lift her head, but struggled to achieve anything resembling true confidence. Her knees were trembling too much.

Surprisingly, Grandfather’s anger seemed to recede, and his Will settled and withdrew. “I see.”

Siobhan let out a long, slow breath of relief. She knew Grandfather would never hurt her, but when he was so angry that his Will spilled into his surroundings, that fact was hard to remember. It felt like he was so large, and she so tiny, that he might crush her by accident, or on a whim.

Rory whimpered, then ducked his head and held his arm to his face so that his sleeve could soak up his tears and snot.

In the end, Grandfather didn’t kill any of them, as Rory still seemed to fear. He sent the boy literally running back home, then scolded Siobhan severely and put her on house arrest and punishment detail for her “meddling and disobedience.” Punishment detail involved two things: first, an excessive amount of cleaning, which Grandfather would review with a spell to reveal any lingering dirt. Second, Grandfather would teach her the basic mending spell, so that she could start fixing every piece of damaged, cracked, or splintered flooring throughout the house—excluding his workshop.

She wasn’t sure if she should be excited or disappointed about the second half of her punishment. She wanted to learn the mending spell, of course, but she already knew that being forced to practice only it for half an hour in the morning, afternoon, and evenings for the next month was going to drive her insane.

As she passed back through the doorway with one last, morose look over her shoulder, Siobhan knew that she had lost. Not only had she been punished, but there was nothing of particular interest in the workshop to make it worth it. She hadn’t known what she’d been expecting, exactly, but definitely something interesting. Huge spell arrays set up around a crystal ball, or a map that covered half of the tower wall, covered in pins and red string, or even samples of material that matched what she had seen in the treehouse. Some small part of her might have even wondered if they had something of Mom’s up there, using it to try to break the suspected curse. But whatever their project entailed, it didn’t involve any big, powerful spell arrays or interesting investigative methods.

When Grandfather had kicked them out, confiscated Claudio’s key, and re-set the wards behind them, Claudio gave a dramatic sigh of relief. He sagged, holding the back of his hand to his forehead like some kind of frail lady who was lightheaded from wearing her corset too tight.

“I was so frightened,” he said. But he wasn’t trembling at all, not breathing hard, and his voice was smooth. He wasn’t even sweating. In fact, he displayed none of the tells of nervousness that Father had taught her about. But Claudio didn’t show any signs of lying, either.

Siobhan rubbed at the frown-wrinkle between her eyebrows to try to ease her frustration. She couldn’t be sure, because she was so bad at Father’s particular flavor of skills, but an inkling of suspicion was growing in her. Perhaps Claudio was more competent than he let on. “Did you show us the workshop just so I’d stop trying to get inside?” she asked.

“Yes,” he admitted.

Siobhan stared at him, her eyes and nostrils both flared wide as outrage billowed up inside her.

Claudio covered his mouth with his hand, said, “Tee hee!” and ran away.

This was so bizarre that Siobhan didn’t even try to run after him. Any suspicion that he might actually be competent withered and died. She trudged back to her bedroom, closed the door, and flopped face-forward onto her bed. Unfortunately, she was just beginning to doze off when Aimee knocked on the door.

When Siobhan opened it, Aimee handed her a bucket, a block of soap, and a scrub brush.

Siobhan groaned, let her head flop forward, and took the cleaning supplies with stiff, lifeless movements.

Aimee patted her on the head. “Best get to it, little beauty. If you finish fast enough and do a good job the first time, you might not have to go over rooms you’ve already finished after they’ve gotten dirty again.”

Siobhan’s mouth fell open. She hadn’t even considered that horrifying possibility! “I have to work fast. I’ll work from the top down, and do the areas near the stairs and door last,” she said, hurrying past Aimee. “And be careful not to track in mud!” she called over her shoulder.

By evening, she was exhausted and cursing the abnormally large size of their house. If she lived in a cramped, three-room house like Rory, she might be finished already. Of course, if she lived in Rory’s house, all of his many family members would have tracked dirt over her freshly-washed floor three dozen times over.

Aching and irritable, she refused to look at Grandfather over the dinner table. As was becoming all too common recently, he didn’t seem to notice—not even to scold her.

In her room that night, as she was searching the latest paper for anything interesting, she noticed movement through the window. She turned off her desk lamp and squinted to be able to see better.

Someone was out there, in the dark, sneaking around her treehouse. They turned their head and with the moonlight, she saw that it was Claudio. Instead of messing about with the treehouse, as she half-expected, he hurried onward, out past the backyard and into the meadow between their house and the forest.

Siobhan bit her lip, hesitating as his indistinct form faded into the darkness as clouds passed over the moon. Then, with a flare of defiance, she turned around and hurried out of her room. She tiptoed down the stairs and across the house, and left her boots unlaced until she had closed the front door behind her.

She hurried after Claudio, following the faint traces of bent grass and crushed new growth until she reached the woods. There, she hesitated, trying to peer into the ominous darkness under their looming branches. In the end, she crept forward despite her trepidation. Luckily, it took less than a minute to find Claudio. Siobhan put a tree trunk between him and herself and peeked around it. As the moon came out again, its light filtered through the mostly-bare branches and illuminated his kneeling form.

Claudio was gagging, retching, until he spewed up a gush of vomit into a freshly dug hole. He heaved a few more times, spat, and then smacked his mouth at the unpleasant taste. Then, he pulled a small, cloth-wrapped bundle out of his clothes. He untied it, poured the food on top of his puddle of vomit, and then began to cover it all back up again with dirt.

He stilled, his head cocked to the side like a deer. “Come out.”

Siobhan swallowed hard. How had he noticed her? She didn’t think she had made any noise. She waited a moment longer, just in case this was a bluff and he really wasn’t sure of her presence.

But then he said, in a softer tone, “It’s okay.”

She stepped out from behind the tree, and he waved her closer. Still kneeling, he said, “You must be wondering why I am doing this.”

Siobhan stopped a few feet away and stared down at the small mound of freshly turned earth, which was completely suppressing any scent of vomit. “You hate all of the food Aimee makes?” she guessed in a small, unsure voice.

He let out a breathy, humorless laugh. “I don’t know how to say this, so I guess I shall just be blunt. I suspect Raaz is poisoning me.”

Siobhan blinked, then stared down at Claudio in silence. After her mind spun futilely for a moment, she said, “What?” Surely, she was missing something, because that made literally no sense.

Claudio patted and pressed the mound of dirt down a little flatter, then stood and brushed off his hands. He spoke softly. “I am unsure how much you know about your grandfather, but it wouldn’t be the first time he’s done something like that.”

Siobhan just kept staring, unable to wrap her head around these outlandish accusations. Were she and Claudio talking about the same person?

He sighed and turned back to face the tree-line and house. “You might then be wondering, if this is true, why I agreed to come be a research assistant.” He shook his head sadly. “I wouldn’t have, except for the unfortunate reality that I truly have nowhere else to go…and Raaz Kalvidasan is not the kind of man whose ‘requests’ you can deny.”

“What does that even mean?” she asked.

“It means I fear him,” he said plainly. “I know you do not, which frankly astounds me, but please, Siobhan, do not tell him about any of this. The situation between your grandfather and I cannot be resolved with words, and if he knows…” He shuddered, then grabbed her hand between both of his. “Promise me.”

Siobhan hesitated, but Claudio was staring at her so intently that it made her skin itch. She drew her hand away. “I promise.”

“Do we need to do a spit seal?”

Siobhan rolled her eyes. “Is that necessary?”

“It would make me feel better.”

When they had done so, she wiped her hand dry on her pants and they walked back to the house together. Siobhan did not want to walk behind Claudio like a duckling, so she was forced to make a new path through the tall, dew-laden grasses beside him. “I really don’t think Grandfather would poison you. If he really wanted to harm you, couldn’t he just attack you outright?”

Claudio just chuckled and looked at her sadly, as if she was some naive child.

She wanted to snap back at him, but there was a kind of heaviness about him, a weight borne from too much left unsaid. She remained silent.

That night, Siobhan had another dream of Mom. This time, the woman was trapped inside a chest like the one Siobhan kept at the foot of her bed to hold extra blankets and old plush toys.

Mom’s limbs were all bent up and broken so that her body could fit inside, and the only thing she could move was her head. She kept banging her forehead against the wood until blood ran down into her wide-open, milk-blind eyes.