Foxhunt Read online

It was one thing to research her mothers as an extension of Orfeus’s life, to understand her music; she would accept that. That they exhumed her mothers’ names for something as petty as thinking her an unworthy heir to magic sat bitter in her stomach.

  “A pity my family is dead, then, as I imagine you’d like to interrogate them,” Orfeus snapped. Even the calmer dark-haired Elder took a step back, eyes widening. Orfeus bit hard on her tongue. This was a beautiful city, and a rich one, and she would gain nothing by making everyone here her enemy.

  Orfeus cut a short bow, as deep as she could make herself, and straightened. “Forgive me,” she said tonelessly, taking half a step back. “I’m tired from my travels.”

  “Our representative was told to deliver you first to a wayhouse if you needed rest,” Margaux said, looking back over Orfeus’s shoulder to the corner where Rivasoa sat, by the small pond, with her little book.

  Orfeus didn’t glance that way. “Your representative isn’t to blame. I’m a corrupting influence, after all. Right? I’ve got bad Blood in me.” Bitter thoughts and rankled weeds grew easy, easy, easy in her heart, and she wanted to spit spite at all these preening long-lived better-than-hers.

  “You’re being melodramatic,” Margaux said.

  Orfeus gestured wildly. “You know perfectly well I’m a performer!”

  They all tensed at her movement, reacting in different ways. Margaux’s hand hovered over the panel of her chair, the fair-haired person swayed back a step to stand behind a larger one. Orfeus thought she even heard the rustling of fabric behind her as Rivasoa, too, moved in readiness for … something. Orfeus couldn’t think what, and then she said, slowly, “That gesture isn’t keyed to any Blood functions, I was moving just to move. Do you think I’d come in and launch an offensive?” None of them looked any less wary. A laugh bubbled up in her at the sheer ridiculousness of it all, and she let it come cresting out her mouth great and mocking and triumphant. “Ha! You think I’m going to mount an assault on your city singlehanded?” She strode forward. Three of the council members, or whatever other high-ranking people they were, stepped back. Margaux stayed where she was.

  Orfeus halted. “I’m not first and foremost a combatant, and that’s why I came here,” she said. “I was attacked. I’m looking for information.”

  A grave-looking Elder who hadn’t spoken yet put their hands on their hips. “Sharing information is why we’re here,” they said, seemingly to the others.

  The one with long fair flicked their hair impatiently. “True, Latafale, but look at her. She seems a troublemaker.”

  “Amande is not incorrect,” Margaux said. Orfeus bristled.

  “If you aren’t going to help me, tell me that and I’ll leave,” she said. “We none of us are given as much time on this Honoured Earth as we would like.” Some more than others. “I have better things to spend mine on.”

  “You’ll leave, will you?” said a large person standing a little behind Margaux, six foot tall at least with what looked like a duelling sword tucked into their belt.

  Orfeus’s eyes hooked on to the sword. She laughed again, incredulously.

  “Othmar doesn’t mean to threaten you,” Margaux said, and Orfeus covered another laugh with her hand.

  “Good,” she said. “That would be a bad threat.” She looked the bulky person in the eyes. “I’ve been threatened better just this week by a puppy.”

  Othmar crossed their arms, glowering. Orfeus grinned sparkling and bright. Good to know she’d lost none of her gift for annoying people. But really, with a healing wound on her back and a drag to her breath, with the spectre of the Wolf stalking through her mind, nothing these people said had the slightest chance of scaring her.

  “Be sensible, singer,” Margaux said. She looked tired. “Whatever abilities you’ve taught yourself, and I do not scorn them, you can’t match five people from Eldergrove, or even any one of us. We use the power in the Blood our ancestors gave us to its fullest effect. We live long lives in this peaceful place. We strive to make the world more beautiful and more wise.”

  “You’re failing,” Orfeus said before she could help herself.

  Margaux’s fist clenched on the control of her hoverchair. After a moment, she relaxed it. The others were less restrained: Othmar growled. Orfeus thought she heard an intake of breath from behind her as well, but maybe it was her imagination. Fun as it was to taunt Rivasoa, she was still better at guarding her reactions than these fine folk.

  Orfeus took a step back, holding her hands up peaceably. “I just thought you could help me,” she said. “Whatever you think is special about me, it’s just not. I have the Blood, and that’s all. I use it to perform. That’s all I want to do, and I’ve done nothing wrong.” Nothing they knew about, she dearly hoped. “I’m not a test subject! I came here for help, and you want to use me?”

  “The things you say are impossible,” Margaux said. “You can’t just have magic in your veins when no one else in your family or their family or their family has had it running back generations. It’s impossible.”

  Someone cleared their throat and stepped forward from amongst the others of the council. “Not completely impossible,” they said. Margaux shot them a glare, and they shrugged apologetically. “I’m the Blood expert here. I’m not saying it’s likely. It’s one chance in a thousand thousand thousand. But it is just about possible.”

  Margaux glared at them for a moment, then said grudgingly, “Orfeus, this is Significance O’Hallow, a prominent mage. You’re very fortunate if you have xem on your side.”

  “I’m only on the side of learning,” O’Hallow protested.

  Xe had smooth black hair and bright blue eyes, and a dusting of freckles. A twist to xyr accent was familiar, and then there was the name. Orfeus said, on impulse, “Long life and fair health to you.” She said it in the best Éirish Gaelic she could remember, like her mother Maylis once taught her, the words dusty and unfamiliar like a chest full of belongings she’d left in an attic room.

  Significance O’Hallow stared at her. Then slowly xe said, “May you have many good things,” in the same language. Xe bared smooth white teeth in a grin. Everyone Orfeus had seen in this city had perfect white teeth and smooth clear skin. “Tide and treasures! It’s been a long time since I’ve heard anyone speak that tongue aloud.”

  “Nearly ten years for me,” Orfeus said. Nine years since her mother Maylis died, eight years since Basma, a rip in her chest that no Blood could heal.

  “Close on forty years for me,” O’Hallow said, with the warmth of reminiscence. Orfeus blinked. Xe looked younger than her. Another reminder that these weren’t people in the same way she was.

  Then she corrected herself. Not the same type of people. Certainly still people. That at least was proven by how irritatingly bureaucratic they were.

  Orfeus turned to Margaux and spread out her hands, slowly so it couldn’t be taken as any colour of threat. “Does the advice of your own expert convince you, at least, if my protests do not?”

  “I wasn’t advising,” O’Hallow said. “I don’t advise. I tell, teach, talk.” Xe smiled, looking enchanted by the words. “Speak and say and scribe.”

  “Significance,” Margaux said. O’Hallow subsided. Margaux looked at Orfeus, gauging her. “Perhaps if you agreed to comport yourself with the decorum befitting a Blood user – perhaps if you consented to further study, we could find you the information you seek and safe haven in our city.”

  “I feel you’ve learned the most important thing about me already,” Orfeus said. She glared daggers at the woman, like slivers of stained glass. “I don’t shut up! If you try to keep me here against my will, then I will rail and I will rant and I will spread the word of your doings as far as I can across the web of the world. I will, yes, tell and talk and speak and say and shout, and I will never stop and I’ll never shut up. I’ll use every inch of any bardic gift I have to sing to the world of your tyranny.” She grinned. “Now that would corrupt your image.”
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br />   O’Hallow nodded amicably. Xe was the only one who didn’t seem concerned one way or another by the goings-on. Margaux looked spitfire furious, her teeth grinding together.

  She glanced around at the other four, then directed her chair back, half turning her body away. “You have free rein to enjoy our city, Orfeus,” she said, the words dragging past her lips like they pained her. “For a day. Or two.”

  Orfeus gave the most elaborate salute she could think of, flaring her fingers at the end for the malicious joy of seeing half the council flinch. “I wasn’t planning on a month-long stay, Madame.” She’d just have to find some other safe place.

  They all turned their backs on her. But the bulky one, Othmar, made sure to still have her in the corner of their eye, like she was going to jump out at them or something.

  She tipped back her head and looked up at the stained solarglass wall, no significance to the design that she could see, just geometric patterns. Here in the presence of beauty and richly growing things, Orfeus stood making a soundless prayer to the Green. The Green didn’t need words or structured worship, one reason why she didn’t pray more often. It was about intention, appreciation, being in the moment, the smell of soil, living things.

  Frustrating to come all this way for insults and a dead end, but at least the speed of the train meant she hadn’t wasted too much time. Orfeus turned to go and blinked. Significance O’Hallow smiled graciously and stepped back out of her personal space.

  “I was wondering if you would have a word with me,” O’Hallow said. “My life’s interest is in the mechanics of Blood, and also in the limits and possibilities of adapting, advancing, the human body. Your records and associations make me think it would be interesting for us to have a conversation.”

  “I just said that I don’t want you lot to study me,” Orfeus said, as politely as she could. Significance O’Hallow seemed a little removed from the world, a scholar, and in some obscure way xe reminded her of Linden.

  “I have fresh fruit,” Significance said hopefully. “You can have some, if you like. We get shipments from the orchards daily.”

  “Daily,” Orfeus said wistfully. She hadn’t made it to the swap-market that week, hadn’t managed to trade a spare head of lettuce or two for a basket of fresh strawberries. What she wouldn’t do for strawberries. She licked her lips and considered. “If you have some going …”

  O’Hallow smiled white and even and took a step back, waving backward with one sleeve, and tripping a little on the trailing end of xyr elaborate robe.

  Significance O’Hallow led Orfeus through a winding passage into a smaller and more private room, one with plants merely in pots on the floor and hanging from the ceiling rather than taking up every inch of space. There was a basin of cool clear water on a stand as well as the promised fruits, a bowl of strawberries and small oranges and grapes.

  Significance O’Hallow dipped xyr hands in water, then flicked the water off xyr fingers. Xe tugged at xyr rich cream robes, looking vaguely dissatisfied, and pulled on a royal purple cloak that looked soft to the touch.

  O’Hallow didn’t say Orfeus could help herself, but xe didn’t say she couldn’t either. Orfeus ate two strawberries in quick succession, savouring the sweet burst of sunlight-taste on her tongue.

  O’Hallow turned to her and vaguely picked up a grape. “So your records—” xe said.

  Orfeus finished her third strawberry and interrupted, “I really don’t know why I’m such an outlier. Maybe I’m just that unique.”

  “—your records,” Significance said, vaguely. Xe waved xyr grape, then put it down on the small pillar that held the water basin. “Orfeus the singer. Yes. Your records say you have close association with some citizens of Farflung.”

  Xe had a vague air, and xyr blue eyes were wide and harmless. “Fairly close,” Orfeus said warily. “Why?”

  Significance sighed and picked up another grape, then put it down. Xe stepped over to one side of the room, clasping xyr sleeves behind xyr back, gazing out at the wall. The wall bore no window or tapestry or anything worth looking at. “There are many here who do not approve of Farflung’s ways,” xe said. “On the surface our peoples may be similar, but Margaux, for one, with her love of architecture, certainly feels that…well. Here at Eldergrove, we use ancient technology and preserve knowledge of the old times: we seek the things worth protecting. Farflung forges forward. Pushes boundaries. Uses new technologies. A lot of people here hold them in contempt.”

  No amount of strawberries would win Orfeus’s silence. She said hotly, “The only real difference is that they’re not hypocrites who cling to the past. There’s more worth in one lab in a tiny corner of that city than there is in a whole library in yours.”

  O’Hallow turned, blinked blue eyes at her. “I agree.”

  “… Oh.” Orfeus ran out of steam. “Well.” She rallied, and leaned against the narrow pillar carrying the fruit bowl, stepping hastily away when it rocked. “It’s nice to meet someone sane here.”

  “Oh, neurotypes,” O’Hallow said dismissively, and flicked xyr fingers in the air. Orfeus grinned. She found herself liking xem. That didn’t mean she’d trust xem an inch, but at least it was a change. “The others in the council don’t trust you, but I’d hate to be so small-minded. If you happened to have any news from Farflung, any technological advancements … I’m most interested in physical modification…?”

  She wished she could give xem a different answer. “I’m afraid I don’t know much of the technical side of things,” Orfeus said regretfully. “Of course I could if I wanted to, I’m sure I’d excel at it, but that’s not my area of interest.” She leaned forward and confided, “I get by mostly by befriending talented and skilled people.”

  Significance nodded and grinned. Elders really were unfairly beautiful. Xyr hair flowed like a waterfall. “You’re doing well enough at that,” xe said.

  “It’s been a few weeks since my last visit,” Orfeus said. “If you lot get sent information as often as fresh fruit, your knowledge will be more recent than mine. I suppose I could drop by the Hub there, if I learn anything of use.”

  Significance O’Hallow tilted xyr head, hair flowing. “Mm, if you wish to. You know I do have my own agenda and interests,” xe said. “Yours just happens to align. I’m sure you know better than to be trusting.”

  “Please,” Orfeus said. “I know better than to trust beautiful people.” She gestured at herself.

  “Wise,” Significance agreed, without seeming to notice the jest.

  Orfeus ruffled a hand through her hair. Maybe she could get something out of this trip. “I help you, you help me. Tell me what you know about the Wild.”

  Xe had to be at least fairly knowledgeable, to be standing in on meetings of the council. But O’Hallow shook xyr head. Xe said, “We know as much as you do. The Wild refuse to share details about their contracts with anyone outside their little group of roughs.” Xyr voice was condescending in the most delicate way imaginable, like someone picking up an insect to remove it outside.

  Orfeus sighed. She paced while Significance watched her serenely. She certainly couldn’t trust xem, or any Elder. But then, off the top of her head she wasn’t sure she actually trusted anyone. What was life but different and carefully gauged levels of distrust?

  She leaned against the wall. “How the hell am I supposed to protect myself against something I can’t predict?” she said quietly. “The Order seem impossible to fight. They can’t be, but it’s hard to fight something people take so much for granted. The Order come for energy criminals and monstrous folk and they strike in the night!” Orfeus gestured wildly. “Everyone knows but no one’s seen them. Maman used to tell me stories about them. I never thought I’d see them in Tinctora, it’s such a good town, I never thought …”

  The Elder clasped xyr hands together so the sleeves met. “You seem shaken.”

  Orfeus pushed off from the wall and drew her cloak tighter around her shoulders. Her back itched. �
�I’m sick of having to scan every shadow for a beast come to kill me, that’s all.”

  Significance nodded, looking thoughtful. “I’m not the best at people,” xe said, “but I hope you don’t die when you might be able to get me useful information.”

  Orfeus sighed. A person after her own heart, really. “That’s nice, Significance.”

  O’Hallow put a grape carefully in her hands. “Thank you for the conversation,” xe said, which was certainly one way to dismiss someone. Xe took xyr own grape, popped it into xyr mouth and chewed thoughtfully, then swallowed. “If you like, I will look more into this. Quietly. I can’t find the contractor, but perhaps I’ll learn more about your Wolf.”

  Orfeus shuddered, without meaning to, without knowing why she did it. “They’re not my Wolf,” she said. She stretched her arm out carefully, relaxing. She’d mashed the grape in her hand to a sad pulp. “But perhaps.”

  Significance looked at the grape-blob with slight distaste, then shook xyr head and stepped back, stretching xyr arms as xe yawned. “Would you like some token of mine? It may aid you sometime for others to know you work with me. Of course,” xe said, thoughtfully, “it may not.”

  She couldn’t make head nor tails of xem, and she was tired. But potential allies weren’t a thing to be scorned. “Thank you for your help,” said Orfeus, and flicked her cloak gratefully, wiping the grape off her hand as she did so. “But I work alone.”

  “Mm, that makes sense,” Significance said. “What’s that old phrase about sharing the spotlight?”

  She bowed. “I’m glad we understand each other.” Xe shook xyr head, a vague look on xyr face, and was still mumbling phrases when she left xem.

  Orfeus walked out of the temple, the shapes of trees and bushes silhouetted against the street’s lights. She entered the first wayhouse she found and climbed into bed, and she slept a sleep deep and without dreams.

  The next morning she walked through the shifting prism-lit streets to the quartertrain and stopped dead. All five council members stood there, quiet in robes of cream: Margaux, Significance, Amande, Latafale and Othmar with their sword.