Page 33 of Spring's Arcana
“You’d be surprised.” But he laughed, as if she’d made an excellent joke at a dinner party. “Anyway, a rat in a confined space is quite an excellent combatant. The dogs were bred in job lots, and trained to be vicious as well.”
It was a good thing she hadn’t eaten. Nat’s stomach was decidedly uneasy. “Oh.”
He whirled on one heel, his head cocked, and examined her from green-clad toe to tangled top. Those terrible, devouring black eyes moved slow and unhurried, measuring her like a talent scout at a beauty pageant. Still, he didn’t seem angry, just mildly amused. “In this particular situation, Miss Drozdova, you are the dog. Yaga has sent you down a hole.”
Does that make you the rat?Maybe earlier in the evening Natwould have asked, but all her bravado was gone. A holiday-party crucifixion and a flying van could do that to you, she supposed. Not to mention magical seamstresses and a gangster whose fingernail marks on her arm still smarted. The only thing to do was pretend she was in the headmistress’s office yet again, her own fingertips aligned with her side seams and her chin perfectly level, using the rushing noise in her ears to drown out whatever an uncaring authority was attempting to shame her with this time.
Except she couldn’t afford to let the slipstream fill her skull and anesthetize her at the moment. Still, she could give a good impression, and stare into those black eyes like she didn’t give a single fuck in the world, like she was Mom eyeing a belligerent neighbor. The plants were murmuring behind her, and that was comforting.
“How very interesting,” he finally remarked. “You don’t seem surprised, though your command of resources is clumsy at best. Would you like some coffee?”
I think I’d like to go home, change into pyjamas, and crawl into my closet, thanks. “That would be lovely.” Her Mom imitation was pretty good. Or at least, it was good enough that the man’s lips curved even further. His grin had absolutely no warmth to it at all, a skull’s reflexive grimace.
He did another military turn back to the samovar, and liquid splashed. The warmth in here was all but tropical; she wondered about his power bill.
Maybe people like this didn’t pay bills. Nat crossed her arms defensively. She didn’t want to leave the edge of the green zone. Striking out across the parquet suddenly seemed a very bad idea.
“Good, good. Come in, my dear. I’m not in the business of harming fragile flowers, as you can no doubt see.”
What would her mother say? Nat wished she had the trick of lifting one eyebrow; she’d practiced in the bathroom mirror during her teenage years, never quite managing. “I suppose it would be impolite to ask just what kind of business youarein.”
“I grant wishes.”
Of course you do. Why wasn’t she more surprised? “No kidding.”
“Most sorcerers do, you know. If paid properly for it.”
“Okay.”C’mon, lemme see ya saucer!Bugs Bunny’s voice caroled through her head; Leo loved Looney Tunes. “You’re a sorcerer.” It even made a mad kind of sense.
All of this did. The most unsettling thing was the familiarity, a song on the radio she couldn’t quite place until the lyrics began.
“I amthesorcerer, my lady, as you aretheDrozdova. Or you will be, if the process continues. New growth is so invigorating to witness, isn’t it.” An edge crept into the non-question. Maybe he was getting bored.
“The” sorcerer. Well, at least this guy has some healthy self-esteem.“Isn’t my mothertheDrozdova?”
“And yet this land is killing her.” One tiny, bony shrug, as if it didn’t matter one way or the other. “She is an alien here, but you—well, nature takes its course; she knows that better than anyone.”
This land is killing her. Well, Mom wasn’t too big on the old country either. Nat couldn’t blame her or Leo; sometimes after dinner the two of them mentioned terrible things that had happened back there. “The doctors say she has cancer.”
“Human doctors.” Koschei’s laugh was a rasp against sunburned skin. “They believe in other things than you or I, my dear, or even your poor Mama.”
A galvanic thrill ran through Nat, from the heels to the ends of her curls. “You’re implying my mother isn’t human.”Which would explain a helluva lot. And nothing at all, at the same time.
“Human enough. As such things go.” He turned away from the samovar. He carried dainty porcelain cups on equally thin, expensive-looking saucers like a man who had never waited tables, so Nat had to step away from the plants to be polite and accept one with unwilling good manners drilled into her since childhood.
The greenery rustled, rustled. Someone else might think it was a breeze from overhead fans, but the air was still, dead, and humid. One of the cups chattered against its accompanying plate, because Nat’s hand was shaking as she accepted it.
“How curious,” the sorcerer said, gazing down at her. This close, he smelled strange. Not unpleasant—slightly spicy, with a mineraledge. But there was no hint of flesh or the oiliness of an adult male mammal, lingering even after aftershave or the drench of “manly” body spray high school boys liked so much.
No, he smelled very much like she imagined a mummy might. One left in its tomb even after the robbers had come through.
“You must be possessed of great courage, to tread among us thinking you’re human.” His grin hadn’t altered, and at this short distance it was even more of a rictus. “Or maybe deep down, little Drozdova, you have suspected something you dare not admit even to yourself.”
I don’t think I like this guy.At the moment, Nat might’ve preferred Dmitri, even if he was a gangster. Her scratched arm throbbed. “All I know is that my mother is dying. She sent me to de Winter, and Baba’s sending me to get something Dmitri will kill me for if he can. All I’ve got is a bunch of riddles. So, maybe we could stop with all the cryptic theater and get to business.”
“Theater? And why not?” His laugh this time was a soughing wheeze, probably because it was more genuine than the smooth radio-announcer voice, and his eyes danced merrily. “It’s good magic, my girl, possibly the best. Oh, I wish we had more time together.”
I can’t say I agree.Nat glanced down. It was almost a letdown to find the cup full of prosaic brown coffee, a lighter brown lump of sugar tucked between its porcelain belly and the saucer painted with blue forget-me-nots. Nostalgia seized her—Mom had a set just like this in the huge hutch in the dining room. She never used it, never let anyone else use it either. It just sat there, lovingly dusted every two weeks while Leo polished the already-shining silver from the big cypress box with its carving of running stags.
