Five - Isabel
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I ignored theduke’s ridiculous suggestion to do nothing all morning. Not only did I not want to waste time and be forced to stay in the castle a minute longer than necessary, but I also could not stand by idly while the node’s magic pushed me to fulfill my portion of the contract.
Break the curse.
Until I read the contract, that was all I had to work with. Wonderful. I made my way back to the great hall, where the incongruously small node dominated the space. There was so much power packed into those flames. Enough, apparently, to turn a man into a cat. Enough to enforce a contract anywhere in the world, once it was enchanted.
Contracts.
The node made contracts magically binding. Lady Cecily had written out her curse and passed it through the node, as well. If I wanted to break the curse, the first tools I needed were pen and paper.
I spotted a door at the far end of the great hall and made my way across the room. The doors whispered open, and I found myself in a large room that could have been another dining room. Tall windows ran along the back wall, with two tables running perpendicular to the wall and a short third table connecting them at the end closest to the great hall. Unlike in a dining room, however, chairs had only been placed on one side of each table, the outside of the U formed by all three.
A room for meetings and negotiations ought to have the writing supplies I needed. I made my way around the tables, pausing for a moment to enjoy the view out the windows. The hill the castle sat on sloped away below me, the land rising and falling beyond until the hills gave way to the Gaboor Mountains. Far in the distance, I could see the outline of a dragon flying near one of the peaks.
Reluctantly, I turned my attention to the credenza beneath the window. I found the paper, pens, and ink I needed and stacked them into a neat pile. I carried them into the great hall, then realized I should have made use of the table in the negotiation room. The power wrapped around me felt looser next to the node, however, so I settled on the marble floor, uncapped the inkwell, and dipped my pen. On the first sheet of paper, I wrote Felix Truthholder will take the form of a man. I tore off the top of the paper and stood.
I hesitated for a moment, but the flames gave off no heat. They looked real, but they weren’t. At least, they weren’t real fire. They were pure magic, their power thrumming over me.
Lady Cecily had held her curse to the flames and come to no harm. I could do this. I shoved my hand into the flames.
Nothing happened. The power of the node didn’t waver.
I sat on the floor again. So much for that hope. Not that I had truly expected the answer to be so easy. But better to try the obvious and fail than to miss something. With that thought in mind, I signed my name at the bottom of the scrap of paper. Even if—when—this failed, I’d have to ask the duke if he had tried what I was doing. I should have asked before I left the dining room, but I hadn’t been thinking about experimenting with the node at that point, only gathering facts about what had happened two months ago.
The plinth under the flames, combined with the width of the copper bowl, meant I couldn’t reach the flames from the floor. I stood and pushed the paper into the node. The power crescendoed, the pure note transforming into the chime of bells. I recognized the too-fast melody as my power’s way of identifying an opinion that held more hope than conviction.
But I couldn’t truth-read a bit of paper. Truth-reading was an animate power. I’d sooner learn to judge the truth and lies of animals than an inanimate object. I also couldn’t truth-read myself. But the node, the node broke the rules constantly. It made roses grow over the castle and candles light as people walked by. It wasn’t such a stretch to believe its power could be used to truth-read written words. Except the node was locked to truth-telling.
It was a stretch, but still understandable, that a magic that forced people to speak the truth, when amplified thousand-fold, could shape the world to match its truth. But reading the truth, whether through spoken word or on paper, was another magic entirely. One the node shouldn’t have.
I pulled back and thrust my other—empty—hand into the flames. “My name is Isabel Cardh.”
Nothing.
I let go of the first scrap of paper, crouched down, and scribbled out the sentence I had just spoken onto a blank piece. I signed my name and straightened. Reaching into the node, heard the power surge once more, this time the harmonious trio of bells I associated with pure truth.
“I can’t believe it,” I muttered.
“Can’t believe what?”
I shrieked and dropped the paper. It drifted to the base of the plinth as I spun around. The duke stood not three feet behind me. His paws hadn’t made a sound as he approached. Considering that I had been focused on my papers and the node, he could have been watching me the entire time and I wouldn’t have noticed.
He closed the remaining distance between us, sniffing at the fallen paper. No, I corrected myself. He was a man. Despite his feline form, he was reading the paper. He flipped over my first scrap of paper, scanning that as well. He tapped it with a claw. “I tried this. First thing, in fact.”
“You did not see fit to share with me a list of everything you have tried, so I did not know.” I was being ungenerous. I hadn’t asked him what he had tried. Then again, I didn’t feel the need to make excuses for the duke. “I had hoped you had at least tried this much, but I figured I couldn’t assume anything. And I’m glad I didn’t.”
“Right, because you figured something out just now. What can’t you believe?”
“The node is truth-reading signed, written statements. Somehow, it not only crosses the boundary between animate and inanimate powers, but also between active and passive ones.”
“You are certain it is truth-reading?”
“If you can call it that when it affects paper instead of people. But I recognized the sounds of my own magic.”
The duke sat, his long, silky fur fanning over my stack of paper. “The sounds?”
I nodded and sank down next to him. “I sense my power as sounds. When I signed these statements and held them into the node, I heard bells.”
“Did you see the flames change color?”
I frowned. “No. Why?”
“Because I did. It happens every time I pass a contract through the node. It happened when Cecily cursed me. And just now, it happened when you held your bit of paper into the flames. But no one else has ever mentioned seeing—or hearing—anything.”
The fact that I heard the magic and he saw it wasn’t surprising. People interpreted magic differently. Most people saw or felt it. Hearing it, like I did, was rarer, but not exactly uncommon. Even non-mages sensed power when using certain charms or enchantments. But only when they were the users.
I pressed my lips together. “I suppose, since you are tied to the node, it makes sense that you can always sense it at work. Would I hear anything if you held the paper to the flames?”
I grabbed the pen again. “Probably best to limit the variables,” I muttered, dipping it in the inkwell. I wrote out the words My name is Felix Truthholder. “Sign this.”
The duke read the sentence, then dipped his claw in the ink and scratched out his name. He picked the paper up between his teeth and leapt into the brazier.
The power flared, but I heard no bells. Then the paper dissolved and disappeared.
I gaped. “What happened?”