Rhianon-2. Princess of Fire and the Winged Warrior

«All you’re going to do is make my ears hurt,» she hissed, silencing him at least for a few moments. How nice it would be if he only commented on business and kept his own considerations to himself. Shall she tell him to do that? Was he bound to her by so much sorcery as to be compelled to do her every wish? That would have to be checked sometime. For now she was more interested in the aura of the place. Rhianon went wherever it seemed to be calling her.

The train glided smoothly behind her on the marble floor. In the silence ahead some rustling could be heard. There were hundreds of voices. They were talking and whispering, making absurd suggestions and jokes and promises, but they were all part of one big overarching silence. Perhaps she could have singled out any one of these voices just by wishing to listen to it alone, but she didn’t want to. She didn’t even want to look beneath her feet and notice in the cracks of the floor a multitude of tiny uncertain creatures, like the midget she had seen in the carriage just for a moment. Then he gave her a bow. Did this mean that she had been expected here for a long time.

Rhianon walked down the corridor for a long time before one of the open doors caught her eye. Every door she’d seen before had been closed, but here a golden light shone through the crack. She stepped closer, and all kinds of hues flashed through it. It reminded her of a rainbow. Rhianon was about to reach out and open the door, when she remembered that the star was still clutched in her hand.

«There is a pendant from the neck of the condemned man,» she must have said the words out loud when someone in the empty space answered her.

«Do you want to call out to him?»

It was not the voice of Orpheus behind her, and it was coming from somewhere above, not behind. She looked up and saw that a tiny man, just like the one she had seen in the carriage, was sitting over the doorpost. He, too, had taken off his wide-brimmed hat when she looked at him, exposing his tiny head. He would have easily fit into a thimble or a walnut shell all by himself. The creature was no bigger than a ladybug or a bug, but he acted as if he sensed his own importance. It was dressed somewhat differently than her last acquaintance. Tiny legs in gold stockings dangled over the ajar door. Rhianon was sure that if he wanted to jump down, he wouldn’t crash, despite his tiny size. She even thought she could put her hand under his arm and he would fly down with a sweep of his cloak like a butterfly’s wings.

«What do you mean?» she asked softly.

«A dead one,» was the serious reply, «a dead one can be the mentor of a living one. You could choose him.»

«I don’t need tutors. I like to learn everything myself, that’s why I came here. Those who are really good at something don’t need a mentor.»

«It seems that way.»

The lilliput was staring somewhere beneath her feet, and Rhianon glanced there, too, and noticed the scarlet drops on the floor. She’d squeezed the star too hard in her palm, and it had sharp ends. They were too sharp. Droplets of blood rolled to her feet, a few of them staining the hem of her dress. Others touched the floor and began to faintly ignite on it. But there was no smell of burning, as there usually was, and no shower of sparks or scorching flames. Rhianon saw the scarlet drops fade, and black flowers sprout from them.

«No more frogs and toads that would emerge from the drops of my blood,» she whispered, looking at the tiny black magnolias or orange blossoms. She didn’t even know what they might be called. They don’t look like clover either, but they’re exactly the size of clover heads.

«It is like a drop of your blood,» someone remarked.

Rhianon glanced at the doorway, but there was no sign of the little man.

«Don’t talk to them,» Orpheus warned her. «You see, they’re all over everyone, trying to lead you astray. They are empty-headed insects. They’ll do as much harm to you as locusts do to a field.»

«But they’re funny,» Rhianon stared into the empty space, trying to see what else was there. But all the tiny creatures seemed to hide after Orpheus’ reproof. It was so easy for them to hide. After all, there are so many cracks and burrows and just dark corners around. They could fit everywhere.

«What did he say about me?» she frowned and looked questioningly at Orpheus. «What do drops of blood mean?»

«Well, if your blood is spilled, but fell on no treaty, then your soul is of no use to anyone here.»

«Is it my soul?» She didn’t understand him.

«There is a price to pay for learning, my princess. And what did you expect?»

There is a golden crown, a triumphal procession, and a fanfare,» she joked, but then she realized this was no place for humor. Her laughter seemed to sink into the endless darkness, leaving only a crushing sense of emptiness. It was as if her soul had been drained out of her.

«Don’t be afraid, they don’t want to take your soul for some reason, it must belong to someone else,» his own voice cut off and fell silent. Orpheus obviously did not want to finish something.

«Is it my soul,» Rhianon repeated involuntarily, and this word sounded like a sigh and somehow frightened her.

«Yes,» Orpheus confirmed nonchalantly. «There are general rules for everyone, both for the marginally gifted and the super-talented. But they don’t seem to apply to you.»

«Do you know those rules?»

«Of course, and I wonder why no one has introduced you to them yet.»

«Then you name them.»

«Well, okay,» he shrugged. «First, anyone lucky enough to come here has to sign the contract with his own blood. It doesn’t matter if you stab your toe with a thorn, a pin, a needle, or just happen to cut yourself on a clump stuck in the doorpost, but the fact is, not a single drop of blood spilled here will be wasted. Barely a drop of it will get on the treaty, and you’ll see it. By the way, it’s already strange to me that you didn’t hurt yourself on the way in, no sharp teeth on the doorknob, no sharpened end of the pin you found. They don’t seem to want your blood too much. Otherwise you’d have found a sharp object, or stumbled across one. This is a school of the arcane arts.»

«Now,» she interrupted him abruptly. «What other rules are there? Or is there just one? And that’s my signature on the document, which, by the way, I haven’t even seen yet. And I probably won’t see it again, or else a drop of my blood will burn through it. Maybe that’s the only reason it wasn’t offered to me to sign.»

«I don’t think so,» Orpheus began to curl his fingers, clearly recalling the other terms, and Rhianon involuntarily noticed that there were more than five fingers on his hand. «One, you must sign with your own blood before you can begin training, two, no payment will be accepted – no payment in gold, because you must make your own gold,» he gestured briskly, and the doubloon glinted in his palm. «You see,» he showed the full coin triumphantly, «the third rule is, if you can’t do it, you have no business here.»

«Is it creating gold out of nothing?» She frowned.

«And what do you want, my dear, it is sorcery?» He tossed the coin, and it disappeared into thin air, just vanished into thin air. Rhianon would rather have thought he’d managed to hide it in his sleeve, but she didn’t see anything like that. The glittering gold really did seem to just emerge from the gloom and drown in it.

«You make your own gold, that’s the immutable rule of this place, which is why students would flock here in droves if it were open to all, but the trick is that only the chosen can come here. Everyone would like to be able to do something like this, but only the lucky few or the unfortunate can do it, they somehow consider themselves to be the latter, though if I were them…»

«You’re not,» she interrupted him, «and yet you can do it, too.»

«But not quite like them,» he corrected her reasonably. «Even you could do more if you wanted to.»

«I will someday, you bet I will,» she thought of her desperate longing to regain her lost kingdom, and the pain stirred in her soul again. She wanted power, and if only she had power, she would have no doubt in which direction to direct it and how to destroy her enemies. «Are you saying that those who come here are unhappy, despite their great gift?»

She arched her eyebrows skeptically.

«Well, personally I think it’s just bliss, but unlike me they have living hearts, they beat and hurt, they have human feelings, and they are not at odds with the burden of black talent that has fallen on them. You, for example, are not at all happy that fire lives inside you.»

She gave a silent gasp, though she should have realized long ago that he had guessed it. He could see inside her.

«And all because you’re used to living among people and thinking you’re a simple human,» he said, «you know you’re surrounded by simple vulnerable people, you’re used to feeling like them, you’re vulnerable like a fragile girl, and inside you lives such power. Too powerful even for a magical being, it burns through your graceful body. Never mind the broken feelings.»

«I wasn’t asking you about myself,» she reminded him.

«Oh, of course, there are the rules,» he continued to curl his fingers, more and more of them on his hand, as if new ones could grow at his will. «Create your own gold, and then you can create everything else, too,» he proclaimed, «No unelected tutors. No food but sorcery. No gratitude, nobody needs it here. No „thank you,“ no „goodbye,“ you just never leave here, because your soul will stay here, no matter where you go. The term of your training will expire, but the term of dependence on the magical forces you control will never, and believe me, one day you will stumble so that your own magic will destroy you itself. That’s when every student of the School of Witchcraft realizes that there was no one to thank and nothing to thank. He wove his own net and got tangled in it himself. And the victims that any disciple of this place can drag down, I don’t count anymore; there are always countless of them. You destroy yourself when you sign the contract with your blood, but you have no choice. The fragile human body, by a whim of fate, which holds a non-human talent, leaves the newcomer no choice. All the chosen ones come here, and here the same thing always awaits them. I think it’s very tragic to be born human and have non-human qualities. You’re like a moth tied to a candle in advance, you don’t even have to fly at it and you’ll burn anyway. And don’t look at me so accusingly, Rhianon, in your heart you know I’m right. With your unearthly gifts, you’re neither angel nor demon, though something in between, but you’re not human either, and thus you’re superfluous everywhere. That is why you think that your path lies with the School of Witchcraft. As a spirit I approve of you. It really is the only true path. It is better to perish after gaining a moment of your power here than to be an outcast for both humans and supernatural beings for a lifetime. For centuries I’ve watched humans discovering their magical powers as if from heaven, and I can assure you that a shelter here is the perfect way out for them. But you are different. You came here of your own free will, not because it’s time to improve your gift. So just remember one last rule. No gratitude. When a newcomer memorizes this condition as the last one, there is usually another one – someone’s shadow accompanying you. It will stay with you forever.»

Rhianon looked over her shoulder and saw no one. Orpheus had spoken his monologue with such self-confidence. She even flinched, though no one was following her.

«Is something wrong?» He was already smiling mockingly.

«Are you scaring me on purpose?» She snapped back angrily.

«No, I’m just testing how brave you are.»

«You are idiot! I should have you thrown out like a careless servant. Though you may be a spirit, you’re no better than a lazy peasant who’s been admitted to the castle kitchen and doesn’t know what he’s doing.»

«Hey, I merely said the general rules,» he said defensively. «You asked me to. Remember?»

«Yeah, but I didn’t ask you to comment on all those rules, just to name them.»

«If you were really meant to be here, you’d know them by now, they’d be written in fiery letters on the walls, like tablets or right in your brain, but believe me, you wouldn’t be left uninformed.»

«So why did they let me in at all?»

«It’s a mystery to me, too,» he stepped away from her and looked around as if he were looking for something. It was unclear whether he was joking, or whether he was really trying to find some clue. Nothing was ever quite clear with him, and his mood was always changing. One minute he was serious, and the next he was bursting into laughter and making obscene jokes. Rhianon was tired of him, but she could not drive him away. For one thing she did not know how to do it, and for another she was afraid to experiment, that she might drive him away for good, and then she would need him again. While she was not yet on the throne of her country, she could tolerate his presence around her. And then we’ll see if she needs such an advisor, who can find out everything about everyone, or if she will chase him away for being garrulous. At any rate, it will not be soon.

«Think about it, seven years,» he said, as if he could read her mind. «Do you really want to stay in that dark mansion for seven years? It’s a dark place. Besides, you won’t learn anything useful here. It’s so uncomfortable and dark.»

«But I can see light,» she nodded at the rainbow rays dancing in the gap between the door and the lintel.

«It’s just an illusion,» Orpheus tried with all his might to influence her decisions, but so far he had failed, and he was beginning to get angry. It seemed that if he found the tiny humans now, he would crush them with his own fingers.

«It’s all an illusion,» Rhianon corrected him. «You said yourself that magic is all there is. Magic is the only thing that can help me.»

«You’re exaggerating. There are many other ways to get back what you want,» he trailed after her, a gruesome look on his face. Rhianon shrugged, feeling the chill of his breath on her shoulders. He himself remained motley and bright, but it seemed to her that his sighs might freeze with ice.

«It is like picking up a companion spirit,» she teased him.

«Well…» Orpheus didn’t find something to say, probably for the first time in all eternity, and so he looked bewildered.

She was glad. So it was possible to surprise or offend him to the point where he would stop talking. Or maybe she should just not answer him so he’d shut up. His chatter would soon give her a headache. Rhianon sighed and reached for the opened door. Was the light really an illusion, or was a rainbow sheltering beyond the threshold? Her fingers touched the doorjamb, her movements unsure.

«You don’t have to follow me if you don’t want to,» she muttered, and involuntarily dropped her gaze to the hem of her dress. It was stained. There weren’t many red stains from blood drops, but they stood out sharply against the pale blue fabric.

«You don’t have your uniform yet,» someone said behind her, but not Orpheus. The voice was clearly that of a woman. Rhianon turned around and spotted the same couple at the end of the dark corridor. Strangely, their black outfits instead of blending into the darkness stood out sharply against her. She only recognized them by their clothes, though if black outfits were the uniform for everyone here, then the lady and the gentleman might not have been the ones she’d seen at the masquerade at all. They could have been other students of the School of Witchcraft dressed exactly the same. Yet something told her it was them. She liked the lady’s dress, which exposed her shoulders and was embellished with puffy trim, but she herself would have preferred men’s clothing. She was tired of dresses. She would have felt more comfortable in velvet breeches and a black camisole than in a corset that restrained her.

As soon as she looked away from the strange couple and glanced at herself, everything changed. There was white lace stretching across her breasts in place of the dainty cleavage. On her hands she noticed dark lapels and puffy cuffs. Diamond cufflinks gleamed slightly. Gold thread was gracefully woven into the white lace.

«It’s a privilege,» Orpheus remarked, «it’s obvious you’re special.»

Rhianon examined her black camisole. Just the way she wanted it. The wall next to her, which had been dark until recently, suddenly showed her a mirrored reflection. The costume looked good on her. The black was such a shade for her golden hair and pale skin. For a moment Rhianon studied the mirror reflection, tinged with a light haze. It was as if she did not know it. Who was this girl? Was she the perfect student of the School of Witchcraft? No, it was as if she was already standing on her way out of here, though she was still wearing her uniform, there was something childish or boyish about her, but it was immediately obvious that she was a seductive beauty.

The wall went dark again, and Rhianon turned away from her. And then, despite Orpheus’ protests, she opened the door and stepped into some room. At first she thought it was quite small, but in a moment she realized that she had miscalculated. In only a second it seemed to have grown in size, and it was already an entire miniature universe. Behind the huge windows stretched a starry night. For some reason only the heavens were visible, as if the earth was far away, and the hall itself was high above the Earth’s expanse. Rhianon was only confused by the bleachers placed there in a circle instead of the desks. They left vacant only a large circle in the center, as if a performance was being prepared here. One of the stands at the end of the hall seemed very much like a pulpit set up for a teacher or a judge. Somehow she found the latter suggestion absurd, but she couldn’t shake the intuition that it was not only a place of teaching and performance. There were also trials. Who and why would be tried in a place whose mere existence was probably against the law. If people found out about such a place, they would come here with a crowd of inquisitors and executioners. Yes, it is, and the supernatural beings seemed to be against humans being likened to them here. Rhianon could not understand the purpose of the strange objects in this hall. She ran her fingertips over the lid of some desk, shooting golden sparks out of the walnut wood.

«What is this place?» She asked Orpheus, when her own attempts to guess were in vain.

«It is the corner of the School of Witchcraft,» he looked around enigmatically, «it is an assembly or courtroom, they too have their own problems, inventions, and laws.»

He shrugged indefinitely, and it was clear he had nothing more to say.

«I wonder if that’s how you learn magic and pay for it.» She ran her slender fingers over the desk once more, almost shooting out a flame, but she jerked her hand away just in time.

«And your magic is stronger,» Orpheus remarked, as if casually. «Students can’t use their charms in this room, but you can. Perhaps you have great power.»

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