A Brief Respite

Chapter 10: A Brief Respite

Silva

The lieutenant and I were both hurried off, up the stairs, and towards the room she had pointed out from the exterior hours earlier. Her stride finally began to outpace me as we, along with a couple of servants, made our way down the long hallways of the manor. I scanned the decor of the manor as we sped along. Portraits of the MacCrows dotted the walls, the space between them filled with the occasional ornate stand with relics, treasures, vases, and sculptures. The halls were dimly illuminated by fixtures the likes of which I had never seen: twisted wires encased in glass suspended within what was once a candle or oil-lit lantern. There was no time nor opportunity to inquire about anything I had seen. Shaela was entirely focused on getting me to my room so as not to be late for dinner. We came to a screeching halt, finally arriving at the door to my room for the next few nights.

“A member of our staff will accompany you to the great hall. If you need anything, they should be able to help.” Shaela spared a moment to unlock the door and pass me the key. “I will see you there.”

“Thank you.” I stepped over the threshold into the room, faced Shaela for a small curtsy, to which she returned a bow, sharply turned back down the hall, and departed. Closing and locking the door, I inspected my lodgings. The room was quite large for a single individual’s use. A chest of drawers and a wardrobe flanked either side of a large window. Between them, a small red-cushioned bench occupied the remaining wall space. Centered against the wall opposite the door, a bed close to twice the size of my own sat with curtains drawn to its canopy posts. I quickly locked the door behind me and, with my eyes closed, drew a circle in the air with my finger, a basic spell to detect magic. Instead of relying on my senses as I had in the abandoned town hall or in the carriage, this spell sent out an amount of magic just slightly greater than what was latent in the air. If any magic was present and was also more than what you would expect normally, a thin silver line of illumination would extend from my fingertip to the source of magic. Unsurprisingly, I was met with no reaction. No hidden curses, spells inscribed into the wood of the furniture, or magical items made themselves apparent in the room. It was safe. Or at least safe enough.

Confident in my privacy, I moved past the large bed to a connecting door that led into a bathroom half the size of the bedroom. A hot bath had been drawn ahead of time. I rummaged through my satchel for a small vial I had packed and let a single drop of an iridescent oil-like fluid out into the water. Again, nothing. It wasn’t as if I expected foul play from the Prydannians, but the circumstances of their invitation were still unknown to me or any of the elders. I sighed a deep breath, setting my satchel on the vanity present in the bathroom. I then freed the moon pendant from my cloak and placed it gently beside my satchel. My cloak drifted from my shoulders and fell to the ground. With a flick of my wrist, it neatly folded itself and joined my other belongings. Another handful of gestures and my clothes freed themselves from my body, laces untying, drawstrings loosening, and stacked themselves upon my cloak with my boots tucked squarely under the vanity. Shaela hadn’t given a clear time frame of how soon I was to be ready, so I assumed this wouldn’t be my chance to relax for the evening. Sighing again, I lowered myself into the bath, “Next time I visit a foreign power, I’ll be sure to request not to be disturbed after my arrival.” I sank deeper into the bath, submerging my head below the water. I pulled the tie out from my thick braid and lingered but for a moment, suspended in this tiny body of water.

A single moment was all I needed as I lurched out of the bath, sending water out onto the black tile floor below. Almost reversing the gestures that had freed me from my clothing, a towel wrapped itself around me and shimmied across my body until I was dry. My hair exploded outward into a massive sphere around my head, expelling any water left in it. With another gesture, it tied itself up into a well-kept braid. I paused in front of the vanity mirror, halting any movement of clothes or accessories. Viridia would abhor this. I thought to myself. She had been the one to teach me basic spells, the same ones we would use to make tea, prepare meals, or tidy the home, but she always hated when people used them to groom themselves. “It’s uncanny,” she would say, brushing the thousand knots out of my dense hair. “It strips you of your charm, your character.” She would always pull a small cowlick of hair free from her braiding, even if I would tuck it back away. It was “more human” to her, somehow more real. I once again brushed my hands through the air, beckoning my bag and clothes to follow. To be uncanny, less human, and alien in the minds of my guests would be an advantage I could leverage. Maybe my demeanor with the Lieutenant was a misstep, the thought ran through my mind. Her openness had lowered my guard. It was still unclear exactly why I was here. What tactics would they use to pressure me? What leverage did they think they had over the Mistborn Witches?

I didn’t have time to stay lost in my thoughts. I walked over to where my belongings had assembled themselves and pulled from my bag a long black gown. Viridia had packed it for me, pulling it from her closet and quickly tailoring it to fit before I departed. The nobles, not just Shaela, would be watching my every move. I couldn’t be sure what my apparel had communicated to Shaela as we toured the gardens, but I knew what impression I wanted to leave upon my hosts: that the Coven was in control of this exchange. I closed my eyes and flourished my hands. There had been so many times that Viridia had helped me dress, whether it was for festivals or funerals. I thought of her as my gown encased me, lacing itself tightly, perfectly. Fine black silk gloves slid up my hands, tucking themselves beneath the cuffs of my dress, not a single wrinkle as the two fabrics overlaid one another. I stepped into stockings which unfurled themselves to cover me and then into patent leather shoes. My veil flitted over, tucking itself below my braid and hiding my face again. Now, fully immersed in my role as representative, I stepped carefully to the chest of drawers, took my moon pendant, and affixed it just above my collarbone, keeping the short collar of my dress closed.

A knock came from the door, “Honored guest, we are ready to seat you for dinner.” A servant's muffled voice broke my solitude.

I opened the door, nodded in acknowledgement, a nd stepped into the hallway. We walked in silence to the great hall, only the clicks of our shoes echoing through the massive estate. My heart rate climbed with each step, each moment of deferential silence from my guide, thumping heavily until we paused before a set of large double doors. I took a deep breath, hoping to slow my heart rate, and turned to the servant who seemed to be expecting something from me. Unsure of what custom I may be missing, I simply nodded again, and watched as they swung the massive doors open.