Chapter 33 #3
He looked at me—we were only a few feet from each other. A flicker of recognition passed over his face, and he stilled. He said, very quietly, “Vortigern?”
I stared at him. He stared back at me.
Then I burst out laughing.
I laughed so long my throat ached and I began to cough. When I finally caught my breath, Havelock was glaring at me. He didn’t look otherworldly anymore—he looked like his familiar, awkward self.
“I don’t see why that’s a ridiculous question,” he said, and even in the dark, I could see his face was red.
“You’re cloaked in Vortigern’s magic. Not every magician could sense it, but I can.
And she was said to be half mad, which would explain why you were wandering around in the woods with a cat down your sweater. ”
“I’m Agnes,” I said. “Sorry to disappoint you.”
“Agnes,” he repeated doubtfully. “Not Alice?”
I could see he still thought I could be the great Vortigern, and it threatened to send me over the edge again.
I wondered why he couldn’t tell that I wasn’t a magician—but then, I realized, given the darkness, it was no longer obvious that he was, now that he wasn’t being swept along by impossible winds or hurling spells at people.
I’d been able to defeat him, even if it had been with a cat rather than an enchantment, which no other living magician should have been capable of, and if Vortigern’s magic still clung to me from the time-travel spell, it wasn’t an illogical conclusion for him to draw, I supposed.
I suppressed another half-hysterical snort.
Havelock was examining my face as if trying to read an antiquated book. “I do know you, don’t I? Have we met before?”
A shiver ran through me. Did time not work the same way for magicians as it did for humans? Did Havelock possess some gift of foresight beyond my ability to comprehend? Or was it the spell I’d used, Vortigern’s Artefact, that had made this moment echo through time like a carillon?
And then, fast on the heels of that thought: Havelock knew me. Not now, in this moment—three years from now.
I saw our first meeting unfold again before me—what I had thought was our first meeting, back in the shelter on Rue des Hirondelles. Valérie’s attack, which had only happened because I was there; Havelock in his nightclothes, casting her out. How he’d come towards me, the strange look on his face.
Agnes, he’d said. You’re here.
I hadn’t understood, at the time, the look of recognition in his eyes. He’d known me, because he’d met me before—here, on the second night of the world’s ending.
And then, I supposed, he’d spent the next three years wondering if he’d met the great Alice Vortigern. How disappointed he must have been when we met again on Rue des Hirondelles, to find I was not the greatest magician who ever lived, but the exceptionally ordinary proprietress of a cat shelter.
“Yes, you know me,” I told him. How much could I say, I wondered, without opening some vast fissure in time? “Though it seems impossible that you would remember. That shouldn’t be how memory works.”
“This is precisely what I was hoping for,” he said.
“A mysterious stranger to burden me with riddles. As if I don’t have enough to do tonight.
” His voice had an undercurrent of laughter that bordered on unhinged and he looked wearier than I’d ever seen him, the hollows under his eyes even more heavily shadowed than usual.
He seemed relieved to rest there on the forest floor, dabbing at the scratch on his face.
“I don’t see that you have any right to complain about that, given that you talk in riddles fully half the time,” I said.
“And you would know, would you?” Havelock said. “Very well, you ridiculous person. What is it you want?”
“The lantern,” I said. “You must give it to me, Havelock. If you don’t, a great many people will die.”
I was thinking of the cats when I said this—the cats and Havelock, my Havelock. Perhaps a loose definition of people, but I will make no apologies for that. And who knew how many other lives would be at risk if Valérie wasn’t stopped?
“I can’t give it to you,” Havelock said, with another disbelieving laugh. “Whatever your errand is, it can’t possibly be more important than mine. Vortigern’s lantern can—”
I shook my head. “It won’t work. You will only waste the enchantment in the lantern. You can stop the world from ending, but you must travel to the Fourth Fathom of the Rivenwood, and you must gather enough magic for a twelve-layer spell of partitioning.”
He stared at me in complete befuddlement. In fact, I shared some of his surprise; I hadn’t realized I had ever listened to him closely when he went on and on about magic.
“You aren’t a person at all, are you,” he said. “Just an enigma wearing a human face. I’ll admit, partitioning magic is an interesting idea, but there’s no such thing as a twelve-layer partition spell. No one’s ever managed more than nine.”
“You will,” I told him. “You’ll invent one. You can, Havelock. You’ve done this, haven’t you?” I made an incoherent gesture—at the unnatural dark of the city below us, the sky full of tempests, the crumbling edifice of the world.
He stood there, gazing at me in a way that made him look very young. He was also trembling lightly, as if he’d not slept or eaten in days. Had Havelock been alone during all this?
Yes, of course he had. Havelock had no friends among magicians, who feared and distrusted him—apart from Yannick, whom he hadn’t met yet. He had only ever had his twin sister.
He reached into an inner pocket of his cloak and withdrew a small object that glowed only faintly.
The lantern was a beautiful thing, though smaller than I’d expected, about the height of my hand.
It was made of silver and stained glass, and though its light was like fire, I saw no candle within it.
“Very well, Mme. Pythia,” he said, handing it to me. “I’ve not the slightest idea why I’m so certain I can trust you.”
This was belied by the almost hopeful way he was gazing at me, and I realized he was giving me the lantern because he still thought I might be Vortigern.
No doubt my telling him about the twelve-layer spell had only encouraged him in this.
The deception made me prickle with guilt—but, I reasoned, surely he would forgive me if I used the lantern to save his life.
“I have a trustworthy face,” I said. “Now, undo whatever it is you have done to élise.”
élise gave a grunt. She was still slumped upon the cobblestones, supporting the weight of her upper body with her hands. “Undo,” she slurred, “it. Bastard. What my sister sees…” The rest was lost in an incoherent mumble.
Havelock frowned. “I’m afraid I can’t. It’s a sleep enchantment, and I never bothered to work out a counterspell. It will wear off in a few hours.”
“A few hours!” I exclaimed. élise gave an outraged grunt.
“It’s remarkable that she’s conscious at all,” Havelock said, examining élise with interest.
“My sister is quite single-minded,” I said.
Then, before I could question the wisdom of it, I threw my arms around him, pulling him close enough to feel the brush of his hair against my cheek, and smell the magic on his rain-dampened skin.
He still felt like Havelock, still seemed more magic than flesh and blood, but there was more substance to him than there would be in three years. The thought made me sad.
Havelock had gone stiff. He lifted his arms as if to embrace me, then lowered them, then lifted them again and let them rest awkwardly at my waist.
“Will you be all right?” I said when I drew away.
He gave a quiet laugh. “That remains to be seen.”
He helped me to my feet, then lifted a hand. A seam opened in the world, through which I saw trees waving, smelled the overrich scent of unfamiliar flowers. He turned back to me, a frown between his eyes.
“You shouldn’t be here when I return,” he said at last. “I don’t know what state I’ll be in, given how deep I must go.”
I nodded, my heart thundering in my throat. I didn’t want him to leave. “Havelock,” I said, but stopped myself there—it would only unsettle him further. “We’ll see each other again,” I finished.
He gave me one last frown. Then he stepped through the door and was gone.