Naamah's Kiss - Jacqueline Carey [57]
"For whom?" Lydia demanded.
I tried to recall. "Atelier… Fabienne?" I pictured Caroline no Bryony's smile. "Fabrielle. No, Favrielle."
They blinked in unison, and then Florette patted my hand. "It's good to dream, dear. At least you're setting your sights high. To be sure, you're very striking in a most… ah… unusual manner. But don't be disappointed if they refuse you. They take on precious few clients."
Lydia eyed me. "They might."
"Not likely." Florette gave a delicate snort. "They turned away her imperious majesty herself for being too demanding."
"Well, as peculiar as she is, our young Moirin's certainly not the demanding type," her sister argued. "And they say Atelier Favrielle does love a challenge."
A less delicate snort. "Our Moirin's that, all right!"
The topic showed all the signs of being one the good ladies could debate for hours. "Well, if they refuse me, I'll simply have to go elsewhere, won't I?" I rose from the table. "If you'll forgive me, it's been a long day."
"I should say so!" Florette exclaimed. "Facing down highwaymen. Who ever heard of such a thing?"
I smiled and kissed her cheek. "Pleasant dreams, my lady."
She flapped her hand at me. "Oh, go on with you, child."
On the following day, we descended from the low mountains and reached the City of Elua a few hours later. Florette and Lydia were sufficiently excited that they consented to have the curtains open once we came within sight of the City's famous white walls.
I had to own, it was splendid. Even at a distance, the Royal Palace loomed, vaster and more elaborate than aught I could have imagined. It could have swallowed up the hall of Innisclan a hundred times. As we drew nearer, the ladies began pointing out all the places of interest.
"That's the Academy of Occult Philosophy founded by Queen Sidonie and Crown Prince Imriel." Lydia indicated an impressive building on the near side of the river.
"Occult philosophy?" I inquired.
She dropped her voice to a loud whisper. "They study magic?"
"They most certainly do not," Florette reproved her. "They study the philosophy of magic, which is a different matter altogether."
"Why?" I asked. "Do D'Angelines disapprove of magic? Is it vulgar?"
Lydia laughed. "Vulgar! Imagine. No, no, child. As the tale would have it, their royal majesties determined that wisdom enlightens, while power corrupts. Thus, they founded an Academy dedicated to the pursuit of pure knowledge. There are some—"
"Raphael de Mereliot," her sister interjected.
"—there are some who hold that they were fearful and overcautious and lobby to have the Academy's mission revised." Lydia gave a wistful smile. "Myself, I fear that if magic exists in the world, D'Angelines have no gift for it."
I wondered if she was jesting. "What of the old tales? Did Prince Imriel not free a demon from a stone?"
"So they say." She lifted one finger. "And yet you'll note, there's no account of a hero or heroine of Terre d'Ange doing magic. Only undoing it."
"Undoing whatever harm it wrought," Florette said tartly. "Which is precisely why their majesties in their wisdom chose the course they did; and King Daniel and his grandmother and father before him have sworn to honor their edict."
I nodded. "I see."
"I should hope so!" She gave me a sharp look. "Alban-born as you are, your people should understand it."
Lydia shivered. "Have you ever seen one?"
I wasn't sure what she meant. "One what?"
The loud whisper. "The magicians."
"The Maghuin Dhonn?" I asked.
She hushed me. "It's bad luck to say their name aloud! But yes, the bear-folk."
"I have," I said. "At Midsummer, many of them gather at Clunderry beside the burial mound where Dorelei mab Breidaia lies, with the magician Berlik's head beneath her feet. They gather to pay tribute to their memories and to remember themselves that the like of such folly should never come to pass."
The good ladies stared at me with open mouths. After a moment, Florette closed hers with an audible click. "Your folk are from Clunderry, then?"
"I have kin there,"