“You really prefer military service? Isn’t it limiting?”
“It’s less limiting than life at Elayison. Hanging about smoking dreamsmoke and ranting on about nothing, and everyone spying on you. If you do your job on the frontier, they don’t ask any questions.”
“Promise?” I asked softly. “You’re not just...?”
“I’m not just saying it. I’m loving it there. Best thing I ever did.” He squeezed my wrist. “You can stop worrying about me. Honestly. Impi and the rest have done me a favour.”
He smiled at me and it was a smile I could believe. He seemed like his old cheerful self. Some of the weight seemed to leave my chest and I found my eyes tearing up. I blinked.
“We going to the tree house?” I asked, to cover the moment.
“Such a perspicacious little coz!” He laughed.
Little coz indeed. I smacked his arm. I was two years his senior. Twenty-three and still on the farm. And likely to remain so now.
The phaeton slid over the river that fenced our lands off from the forest, and in under the canopy of the trees. The lush undergrowth swayed as we manoeuvred between the tree trunks. So close to the edge of the forest there were no puffballs or mine shafts to look out for. I felt Katti’s mind fill with the possibility of small tasty animals and squeezed the back of her neck to remind her to stay put.
I love travelling by magic phaeton. I’d have had to take the much longer route via the bridge and the path if I’d been alone. Now in a few moments we reached the single spreading fig tree where, as children, Bright and I had had a secret hideaway. You could curl up on the deep beds of leaves that collected between its huge roots, and make little houses. The fig tree’s spirit felt sleepy and sort of motherly. Bright laughed at me the time I told him that, but I was certain it was true.
It looked like children still played here. I myself rarely visited now, because it always made me melancholy. When we were little, I’d always assumed that I’d grow up to be a mage, inheriting my mother’s estate and title, and that Bright would act as uncle when I set up my nursery. Now here I was ten years later, no magic powers, no nobility, no inheritance and no children. And Bright kicked out of the family for being a man-lover. Dust, dust, all dreams are but dust.
Bright turned the phaeton as we landed, so that the fig’s lower branches hid the back of it. He relaxed and the crystal blinked out.
“Graceson, release the luggage!” he cried, mock dramatically, as Katti and I jumped out.
Katti gave a chirrup. Something is alive here. She darted around the back of the phaeton after Graceson.
“Oh, drat, call that cat to heel,” cried Bright. “Graceson, look out!”
“Katti!” I darted in under the branches and saw Katti jumping up on Graceson’s back as a hooded figure rose out of the large trunk and gave a yelp of alarm.
“Down, Katti, down,” I cried, seizing her collar. “Bright, what’s this? Did you arrest a rogue on the way here?”
“Better than that,” said Bright. He looked round to check that no one could see us and waved his hand so that the figure’s hood fell back. Despite the canopy of branches, it was quite light in here, so I saw the figure’s horrible pale face and hair clearly. Its weird blue-coloured eyes were wide with surprise.
I’m ashamed to admit I squeaked.
Very well, it was an actual scream, but only a small one.
Katti hissed and pulled back. I squeezed her neck consolingly, trying to send calm to her - which wasn’t easy because I didn’t feel very calm myself. I’d never been this close to one of these pale foreigners, unless you count the one who sired me, who’d gone by the time I was a year old.
“Lady! Is that a ghost? Is it real?”
“Of course. Get down, outlander. I won’t let the cat hurt you.”
The outlander jumped out of the trunk and landed with a reassuringly corporeal thud. His joints even creaked, as he stretched his back and legs. These pale outlanders from over the Bone Mountains in the west had come to the Empire of Light about thirty years ago, full of clever inventions and pretty trinkets to trade for crystal. Every outlander in the country was registered and limited to a strict trading path; only a few of them came at a time and the Imperial Government kept stern watch on them—as well they might. Most of the peasants feared these pale folk as escapees from the land of the dead, and at first there had been panic and attacks.
“You can touch him, if you like,” said Bright. “He’s human.”
“I...” What if he put an enchantment on me, the way an outlander had enchanted my mother? You’ve spent too much time among superstitious mundanes, my girl, I told myself. I put my hand on his cheek and was intensely relieved that it felt like any proper-coloured cheek. He even needed a shave.
“No wonder people call them ghosts. What a horrible colour! Like a fungus. “
The outlander glared at me.
“I can speak your language,” he said with a perfect accent.
I jumped back with another embarrassing squeak.
Graceson poked the ghost with a finger. “You have no manners,” he hissed. “The lady is of noble lineage. Address her as ‘marm.’”
“I beg pardon,” said the ghost, and swept a surprisingly good, if rather stiff, bow. “I am at your service, marm.”
“Let’s have a seat, coz,” said Bright, stripping off his riding gloves. “Come on, Graceson, I’m starving and thirsty.”
The valet nodded and turned to rummage in the luggage compartment.
Bright spread his cloak between two of the largest roots at the base of the tree and threw himself down on it. I settled down beside him and wriggled my back into my old accustomed place. The outlander didn’t sit but stood over us, rubbing his back and groaning softly.
“Sit, friend Shadow,” said Bright.
From a noble, such words are an order, not a request, but the ghost said quite simply, “No, thank you. I have been cramped up in that trunk and my back is killing me.” He stretched out and bent back.
“Don’t worry,” murmured Bright to me. “He doesn’t mean to be rude. He’s very blunt.”
“But where’d you get him from? And what’s he doing in your luggage trunk? And out here? Are outlanders allowed outside the capital now?”
“He’s unregistered,” said Bright. “Apparently he and his friends came from their own land without letting our government know about it. He says they were intending to come and go through the Endless Desert without really entering our borders. They’ve been investigating crystal smuggling. They were asking questions at a mine in the borderlands and got caught up in some kind of attack. The other ghosts were killed, but one of the miners rescued this one and dumped him at our outpost. Ran away before I could question him—the miner, I mean. I went up to see the mine site before we came here. Shadow’s telling some version of the truth. The place was a mess, and the attackers had at least one mage with them. Shadow said he thought they took most of the miners prisoner. Thanks, Graceson.”
Graceson offered us a little travelling tray holding stuffed marrow-blossoms and metal beakers of red wine. Since we were alone among friends, once we had been served, he sat down and took a beaker for himself. I notice he didn’t serve the outlander, though he had poured a beaker of wine for him. Clearly Graceson didn’t regard the ghost as noble. That presumably meant the ghost had no magical powers: he certainly had no crystal in his forehead.