I understand your position, Ashley. Truly, I do. And its commendable that you dont want to drag anyone else into this. But, like I said, progeria curses are pricey. That also holds true for lifting them. Its going to cost a thousand dollars to reverse the spell cast over you.
Ive got my own money! she exclaimed, frantically scrambling inside her purse. Ive been babysitting to save up for an iPad. Ive got almost five hundred dollarsIm good for the rest. My neighbor, Mrs. Moretti, has twins. . . . She pulled out an envelope filled with five, ten, and twenty dollar bills and handed it to him.
Very well, Hexe sighed. Ill do it. But only because Im going to be in the market for a babysitter pretty soon.
Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you, Mr. Hexe! And you, too, Mrs. Hexe.
I opened my mouth to correct her, then shrugged my shoulders. What the hell. I was having his babymight as well get used to it.
Hexe walked over to one of the glass-fronted barrister cases that lined the walls of his office and removed what looked like an old-fashioned windup alarm clock, save that it was made of brass and the face was set with Kymeran numerals. He spoke an incantation in his native tongue under his breath while winding the clock with his right hand, then handed it to Ashley.
Miss Lattimer, I need you to sit on that sofa over there, he said, pointing to the fainting couch, and hold this clock in your hands while pointing its face away from you. Is that understood?
Ashley nodded her head and took her place on the couch, tightly clutching the magic clock as if it might leap from her hands and go running out the door. Although she looked like a woman in her early thirties, her face was as open as that of the young girl she really was.
Hexe raised his silver-clad hand over his head and began to chant in a loud voice. As he did so, the Gauntlet of Nydd became bathed in witchfire, the spiritual luminescence all Kymerans possess. The phosphorescent glow grew in intensity until, with an earsplitting crackle, a jagged finger of supernatural energy shot from his palm like the spark from a Tesla coil and struck the face of the clock. Ashley flinched and gave voice to a mouse-sized squeal but, to her credit, she did not let go.
As I watched in amazement, the hands on the clock began to turn backward, and Ashleys adult features began to soften and grow younger. Then, all of a sudden, there was a weird noise, as if the gears of some great, invisible machine had been thrown into reverse, causing the entire room to vibrate, as the color of the witchfire shrouding Hexes hand changed from bluish white to purple-black. At the same time, the hands on the clock began turning forward, and I gasped in horror as Ashleys reclaimed youth melted away and her brilliant red hair rapidly faded as traceries of white sprouted from her temples.
Hexe shouted something in Kymeran and grabbed his upraised right hand by the wrist with his left, abruptly forcing it against his side, severing the feed to the magic clock. His face was drawn and pale, and his golden eyes shone with barely controlled panic as he stared at his handiwork. Instead of reversing the progeria, his spell had aged Ashley twenty years further. Crows feet and laugh linesevidence of a life yet to be livedmarked the corner of her eyes and mouth, and her throat and cleavage both had sagging skin.
Whats wrong? she asked, her voice sounding huskier than before. She let go of the clock and reached up to touch her face, only to freeze upon seeing the wrinkled skin and bulging veins on the backs of her hands. Oh my Godwhat did you do?
Im dreadfully sorry, Ashley, Hexe said. Whoever cast the progeria spell over you protected it with a stingera magical booby trap. That means anyone who tries to reverse it will, instead, age you even further. I had no way of knowing the stinger was there until it was too late.
What can we do? Ashley asked, her voice wavering on the verge of tears.
Theres nothing I can do, Hexe replied solemnly. However, most progeria spells will reverse themselves after a month or two.
But what about Homecoming? I cant show up looking like my Aunt Lorraine! Please, cant you try something else to fix this?
Im not willing to take that risk, no matter how much Im paid, Hexe replied. I could accidentally kill you, Ashley. Here, take your money, he said, handing back the stack of bills. Ive done nothing to deserve it.
My heart went out to Ashley as the poor girl began to weep in despair. High school is bad enough already without adding menopause on top of it. I slipped an arm about her shoulders as she sobbed, doing my best to comfort her. Dont worry, well figure something outisnt that right, honey? I said, overloudly.
Of course! I just need time to consult my spell books. Leave your contact information with Tate, and the moment I find the proper counterspell, Ill remove the curse free of chargeits the least I can do, given the, um, circumstances.
Thank you, Mr. Hexe, Ashley sniffled.
Thank me once the curse is lifted, not before.
I dont know how Im going to explain this when I get home, Ashley groaned as I walked her to the front door.
Just tell your mom and dad youve been cursed, I said gently. Im sure theyll understand.
No, not my parents, she sighed. I mean my boyfriend, Justin. I love him, and he says he loves me. But the last time he saw me I was me. What if he doesnt love me anymore now that Im like, you know? She hesitated, afraid to speak the word aloud.
I turned her by her shoulders so that we were facing each other. Despite the crows feet, her eyes were still those of a young girl. Ashley, if your boyfriend doesnt love you now, he didnt love you then, I said in a kind but firm voice. Because youre still the same person, no matter how different you appear to be. And if this Justin kid wont stand by you, simply because of how you look? Well, I may have only just met you, but I think you deserve something better than that.
You sound just like my mom, Ashley said, smiling with her fifty-year-old mouth.
Good. I need the practice.
* * *
Once I had seen Ashley safely to the door, I returned to Hexes office to find him seated at his desk, peering intently at his gauntleted hand through one of his many scrying stones. He looked like a scientist trying to identify a particularly malignant strain of bacteria.
Somethings wrong with the gauntlet, he announced in a worried voice. There was no stinger on that childs progeria curse. When I was in the middle of lifting it, the spell I was working began to reverse itself without me willing it. It was as if my Right Hand was being used to work Left Hand magic.
You mean youre the one responsible for aging that poor girl even further?
Hexe nodded his head, a heartsick look on his face. Im sorry I lied, Tate, but things are bad enough already without being sued by her parents!
Are you sure the problem is with the gauntlet?
Theres no doubt in my mind, he replied, returning his attention to the scrying stone. The spell-signature has mutated. There seems to be a second signature emerging from beneath the originallike a message written in invisible ink thats finally becoming detectable.
You mean this isnt the real Gauntlet of Nydd?
No, its authentic all right. But it appears that the original charm has been used as a Trojan horse for another spellnot unlike a computer virus.
What do we do?
The same thing you do whenever a microwave or television starts malfunctioning: take it back to the store it came from.
* * *
The first thing I noticed as we approached Madam Erys shop was the FOR LEASE sign posted in the front window. Hexe rattled the door, but it was tightly locked. Although the interior of the shop was dim and dusty, there was still enough light to see that the pair of silk opera gloves still lay draped over the counter, apparently untouched since the last time Id seen them, more than two weeks ago.
Excuse me, sir, Hexe said, addressing an older Kymeran with thinning, puce-colored hair, who was sweeping the stoop in front of the millinery next door. Do you know when Madam Erys closed her shop?
I couldnt give you an exact date, Serenity, the hatter replied, pausing to lean on his broom. Its been at least a couple weeks since I last saw her. Not that she was one for how-you-dos. I thought it passing strange when I saw the FOR LET sign in the window, since she had just opened for business a day or two before.
How could I be such a fool? Hexe groaned as we headed back down the street. I was so desperate to reclaim my magic, I waltzed right into a trap! He banged his gauntleted fist against his thigh in frustration. I was stupid! Stupid! Stupid!
Dont be so hard on yourself, I said, placing a hand on his arm. You had no way of knowing what she was up to.
Yes, but part of me knew it was all too good to be true, even for magic! he replied bitterly. But I was so desperate to make myself whole, I ignored my instincts! And that bitch Erys played me like a hurdy-gurdy.
What now?
We go find Moot, Hexe said grimly. It was obvious from the way they talked theres plenty of history between those two. If anyone might know where to find Madam Erys, itll be the good doctor. And even if he doesnt have a clue as to where she is, hes the one who bonded the gauntlet to my hand. If he can put it on, the bastard can sure as hell take it off again.
* * *
The Stagger Inn was little changed from the first time I saw it, except maybe even smokier and more vomit-drenched, if possible. The odor was sickening, and I had to clench my jaw in order to keep from adding to the establishments already impressive collection of puke puddles.
Dr. Moot was seated in the same booth as last time, although, like the rest of the Stagger Inn, considerably worse for wear, with his chin resting on his breastbone and his hands curled limply about a glass of absinthe.
Where is she, Moot? Hexe barked, causing the more alert patrons of the bar to turn and stare in his direction. Wheres Erys? When the disgraced psychic surgeon did not even twitch in reply, Hexe grabbed him by the shoulder and gave him a rough shake. Wake up, you miserable old tosspot! Tell me where I can find Erys!
As if in response, Dr. Moot toppled out of the booth and onto the sawdust-strewn floor, staring up at us with the cold, cloudy eyes of the dead.
Chapter 16
Was he like that when you found him? Lieutenant Viva asked, gesturing to the body, now hidden under a soiled tablecloth acting as a makeshift shroud.
Yes. I mean, no, Hexe replied with a shake of his head. He was sitting upright when we arrived. He only fell onto the floor after I touched him. I just thought he was dead drunk not, you know, actually dead.
I see, the PTU officer muttered as she jotted down notes, her badge dangling about her neck from a lanyard. Her long, vivid-red hair was worked into a French braid that hung all the way down to the base of her spine, and her scentthat of pink peppercorns and fresh cranberrywas a welcome respite from the sour reek of the Stagger Inn.
Once news that the PTU was on its way percolated through the taverns clientele, most of them had vacated the premises, leaving behind half-finished drinks and upended chairs, save for those too stupefied to either notice or care.
Do you think it was murder? I asked as I eyed a slightly built Kymeran with tangerine-colored hair inspecting what was left of Moots last drink.
Well know for sure once our potion-master finishes his tests, Viva replied. Personally, I wouldnt be surprised if it turns out the old tosser simply rode the dragon one time too manyyou know, mixing safflower oil capsules with absinthe, she explained, upon seeing the look of confusion on my face. Addicts claim it gives them the sensation of riding on the back of a battle-dragonnot that anyone really knows what that feels like anymore.
Lieutenant? The absinthe tests positive for Green Death, the potion-master announced grimly. Its a palytoxin made from a highly venomous form of coral. There was enough in his glass to kill him three times over.
Green Death was considered a relatively quick means of execution and an honorable death in ancient Kymeratheres no known antidote, Hexe explained. The condemned were given a choice of either death in the arena or drinking it mixed with wine.
Is that bastet friend of yours still working for Dr. Mao? Viva asked pointedly.
Surely you dont think Lukas had anything to do with this? I gasped.
I have to start my inquiries somewhere, Viva replied with a shrug. Your friend certainly had a reason to hate Mootafter all, he worked as Boss Marzs hambler, mutilating the feet of the weres who fought in the pits, including his own. Im sure it pissed him off that Marzs case getting chucked out meant Moot would be back at work, sooner or later.
The same could be said of most of the half beasts and werefolk who were liberated from the Maladantis gladiator pensincluding my mothers footman, Elmer, Hexe countered. Moot had plenty of enemies in Golgotham.
True, but even a Stagger Inn regular would have noticed a minotaur in their midst. No, whoever did this had to be able to pass for Kymeranor at least human. And doesnt Lukas work in an apothecarywith access to all sorts of drugs and poisons? That gives him a lot of motive and plenty of means in my book.
Youre assuming this was murder and not suicide?
Green Death might be preferable to dying in the arena, but its not a pleasant way to go. You basically suffocate, while remaining conscious to the very end. As a psychic surgeon, Moot would have known that. And I never pegged him as one to suffer unduly, Viva said wryly. Now, Serenity, if you dont mind telling mewhat, exactly, was your reason for seeking out this man?
Hexe shifted about uncomfortably, sliding his gauntleted hand into his coat pocket. He was my surgeon.
Lieutenant Viva raised a bright red eyebrow but said nothing.
Yes, I know what youre thinking. Hexe sighed. But being the Heir Apparent and two dollars wont get me a tall latte at the Devils Brew.
You let that butcher work on you?
I turned to see Captain Horn, frowning in disgust, striding toward us.
He was all I could afford, Hexe replied stonily. Beside, when he was soberor close enough to itMoot was still a skilled psychic surgeon. It was his indiscretion, not a lack of ability, that got his license to practice revoked.
The man sold organs to the black magic market! Horn exclaimed, barely able to restrain his revulsion. Hearts, livers, fetuses!
I am well aware of that, Hexe sighed. However, I have come to believe Dr. Moot may have taken the rap in that case out of a sense of misplaced guilt.
Hes the one who stitched the Gauntlet of Nydd onto you? No need to look surprisedyour mother told me all about it.
Yes, Hexe replied hesitantly. I sought him out today because I felt the gauntlet was in need of a slight . . . adjustment. When we arrived, we found him dead.
Son, I realize you have your pride, Horn sighed wearily, but if you needed money for something like that, you could have asked me. I would have fronted you the funds, no questions asked.
I dont go to my mother for financial help, Hexe replied stiffly, getting to his feet. So why would I come to you? Now, if youll excuse me, I have business elsewhere. Good evening, Captain.
Once we were back on the street, I grabbed Hexe by the arm, forcing him to turn and face me. I was alarmed to see the same strange, cold cast to his eyes I first glimpsed when he tried to kill Gaza. How can you speak to your own father like that? I exclaimed. Hes just worried about you, thats all!
Ive gone my entire life without his help, Hexe replied stonily, yanking his arm free of my grasp. And I dont need him butting in now. Now, if you dont mind, Im going to try to track down Erys. Ill see you at home. With that he stalked off, hands shoved deep into his pockets.
I stared after him for a long moment, feeling as if Id just walked into someone elses life. I kept telling myself that Hexe was under an immense amount of stress. He had already undergone a life-altering event that would have shattered a lesser man, and was extremely worried about being able to not only provide for, but also protect, both me and our unborn child. Hexes entire professional life, not to mention his personal identity and sense of purpose, was tied up in his ability to work Right Hand magic. And now he had discovered, in the worst way possible, that not only was his talent corrupted, but that he had been tricked into going along with it. I realized I could never fully understand the turmoil he must be going through, no more than he could truly know what it was like to be pregnantso perhaps the best I could hope to do was be there for him while he wrestled with the question of what to do next.
As I arrived at the house, I found Captain Horn sitting on the front stoop. I handled that badly back there, didnt I? The PTU chief smiled sadly. I always had this fantasy in my head about how it would be between us, once the truth was knownbut the reality is that I dont know how to be his father, and he doesnt know how to be my son. He sighed as he stood up. It may be too late for me to be the father I always wanted to be, but its not too late to be a proper grandfather. Here, I want you to have this, he said, pressing money into my hand. Its not muchbut its the least I can do.
Cap, I cant accept this. You know how Hexe feels about parental charity.
And I respect him for it. But the money isnt for him or youits for my grandchild.
Then you should put it in a college fund, I said as I handed the cash back to him. Thatll do more good in the long run.
Very well, Horn sighed. If thats what you think is best. But I want you to promise me that youll call next time my son is desperate enough to resort to someone like Moot.
I promise, Cap, I smiled, standing on tiptoes to kiss his cheek.
Thats a good girl, he said, favoring me with a wink as he left. And maybe, some day, youll get around to telling me what really happened to his hand.
As I reached into my jacket for the keys to the door, my fingers brushed against something else. I pulled it from my pocket to see what it might be, and discovered a wad of cash suspiciously similar to the one Id just handed back to Captain Horn. As I smiled and shook my head, I was reminded of how, back in college, my dad would surreptitiously slip money into my pocket whenever he and mom came to visit me at the dorm. And suddenly, just like that, I found myself missing my parents.
A knot bloomed in my throat and my eyes grew damp. However, before I could open the front door and escape into the privacy of the house for a good cry, an unwelcome voice called my name. I turned to see Boss Marznattily dressed as everstanding on the sidewalk, with his familiar Bonzo riding his left shoulder and Gaza standing at his right.
Good evening, Ms. Eresby! the crime lord smiled, gesturing floridly with his ring-covered hand. Lovely night for a stroll, isnt it?
What do you want, Marz? I snarled, trying to hide my discomfort at discovering the Maladanti at my doorstep.
Thats Boss Marz to you, nump! Gaza snapped, flexing his left hand as he spoke.
Now, now! Marz said as if chastising his lieutenant for using the wrong fork at table. Therell be time enough for that, later on. But to answer your question, Ms. Eresby, all I want to know is what you and Captain Horn were discussing so intently?
I wasnt chatting about you kidnapping us and breaking Hexes hand, if thats what youre afraid of, I said acidly.
See? Was that so hard? Marzs lips pulled into a nasty smile. As long as we understand one another, you have nothing to fear from me, Ms. Eresby. Such stress isnt good for the baby, after all.
How do you know about that?
A little bird told me, Boss Marz replied, with an unpleasant glint in his eye. Enjoy the rest of your evening, Ms. Eresby. If you can.
Chapter 17
I woke up and reached for his side of the bed, only to find cold sheets. Again.
In the weeks since the murder of Dr. Moot and the disappearance of Madam Erys, Hexe rarely came to bed anymore. Instead, he spent most of his nights either haunting Golgothams numerous nooks and crannies for some trace of the mysterious glover or locked away in his study, poring over his collection of grimoires in hope of finding a counterspell that would remove the curse on the gauntlet.
I went downstairs to a dark kitchen. There were no breakfast smells to greet me, no coffee percolating. If I wanted java, I would have to grab something at the Devils Brew on the way to work. I poured cold cereal into a bowl and splashed some milk on top of it and shoveled it down as fast as I could. I flipped open the lid of my lunch pail, only to find it empty. I came home so tired from work the night before, Id neglected to make myself a sandwich and fill the thermos before going to bed. That meant buying lunch from one of the pushcarts on the streetmoney we really couldnt afford to spare. Now that Hexe was no longer taking on new clients, and had parceled his regulars out to a couple of associates, our budget was tighter than a drumhead. Luckily, I still had a few more months before I had to worry about taking maternity leave.
I tried the door to Hexes office before I left for the day, only to find it locked. Pressing my ear to one of the panels I could hear the muffled sound of his snoring on the other side.
When I arrived at work I found Canterbury in talks with his real estate agent. He had recently decided to buy the property next door to the shop in order to expand his business, perhaps even set up a genuine showroom. I knew better than to bother him, so I quietly set to work on Canterbury Customs newest commission: a swanky custom rickshaw for Giles Gruff, who had been very impressed by his friend Bjorn Cowpens new ride. I must have lost track of time, because the next thing I knew, Canterbury was looming over me.
Its noon, he announced. Wheres your lunch pail?
I left it at home, I replied. Ill just grab something from Nykos pushcart.
Canterbury wrinkled his nose in disgust. You shouldnt eat crap like that even when you arent pregnant, he said with a depreciative snort. How about I take you to lunch? My treat?
You dont have to do that, Master, I protested.
Hey, I feel like celebrating, he smiled. I just closed on the space next door. Besides, I have a business proposition for youso we might as well discuss it over a nosh.
Okayif you insist. I grinned. After all, youre the boss of me.
Indeed I am, he whinnied.
* * *
The Feed Bag, located on the corner of Maiden Lane and Horsecart Street, was a restaurant that catered exclusively to Golgothams centaur population. Upon entering the barnlike doorway, I was greeted by the flavorful aroma of fresh bread.
It smells marvelous in here! I exclaimed.
Yes, they bake all their own bread here on the premises, Canterbury explained as he led me up a wide ramp that took the place of a staircase. Its all organicplenty of whole grains, oatmeal, that sort of thing. They also prepare marvelous salads and have an extensive vegetarian menu, both raw and cooked. A centaurs diet is very healthy, you know, even though we eat like horses!
Upon arriving at the second floor dining room, we were greeted by a handsome young sorrel centaur dressed from the waist up in a waiters jacket. Good afternoon, Master Canterbury, he said with a polite bob of his head. Your stall is ready.
Thank you, River, Canterbury replied, bobbing his head in kind.
The dining room was a huge, loftlike space, the walls of which were lined with box stalls of various sizes. I walked past a group of centaurs dining in one of the larger ones; they were seated on their haunches around a circular, pedestal-style table, the middle of which rotated like a lazy Susan and was loaded down with humongous loaves of homemade bread and heaping plates of turnips, apples, and alfalfa. They were all impeccably dressed from the waist up, with the males sporting elegantly tailored brocaded waistcoats and the females wearing elaborate Edwardian hats youd expect to see on Derby Day. As we passed, one of the centaurs paused in his meal to stare at Canterbury and then shuddered from head to tail, as if trying to rid himself of a horsefly.
We were escorted to a cozy stall in the corner, where I found what looked like an adult-sized version of a babys high chair waiting for me. Upon clambering into the seat, I suddenly realized this was the first time Id ever actually been face-to-face with my boss.
An ipotane dressed in a waiters jacket appeared, carrying a tray heavily laden with loaves of bread and raw vegetables. Without preamble, he set a salad bowl the size of a hubcap in front of me, along with a bucket of beer.
Take that away and bring the lady some spring water! Canterbury said sternly. Our server nodded his understanding and whisked away the offending pail.
Dont I even get to see a menu? I asked.
Since we centaurs all eat the same foodstuffs, theres no need to waste time ordering different items, he explained as the ipotane waiter returned, this time lugging a gallon jug of water and a plastic straw. The moment you arrive at a table, they start bringing out food and dont stop until theyre told otherwise.
Well, I certainly cant complain about the portions, I laughed. This isnt just a saladits the whole garden!
Have you given any thought as to what youll do after youve foaled? Canterbury asked pointedly.
I was planning on coming back to workassuming you still want me there, I replied.
Im very pleased to hear that, he smiled, a look of relief in his eyes. You are the best apprentice Ive ever trained, Tate.
That means a lot coming from you, Master Canterbury, I said, bowing my head in a show of respect.
It wont be long before you will be making the transition to journeyman, he said. You could set up your own shop, if thats what you want. And I wont stand in your way, should you make that decision.
But I dont want to leave. I like working with you. Youre the only person, besides Hexe, who ever really seemed to understand why working with my hands is so important to me.
His smile grew even wider. I can not tell you how it gladdens my heart to hear you say such things, my dear. How do feel about joining me as my business partner?
My jaw dropped open and the salad fork fell from my hand, hitting the floor with a loud clatter. It seemed like an eternity before I was finally able to find my words. MasterI dont know what to say!
Just say yes, he said with a laugh. Well hammer out the partnership agreement before you take your maternity leave. I would be a fool to let a talent like yours walk away from me.
Im sorry about getting emotional, I said, dabbing at the sudden tears welling in my eyes with a napkin. It must be the damn hormones!
At least you dont kick like our women do! Canterbury smiled. You can even nurse your foal at the workshop. If its anything like you, itll have acetylene in its veins, anyway.
* * *
We had finished lunch and were heading back to the workshop when we ran into traffic congestion on Maiden Lane. I didnt really think anything of it, at firstdespite the lack of automobiles, traffic jams were all too common in Golgotham. But then I heard several voices chanting in unison, as if at a sporting event.