I step on a glistening footpath that seems to be made of the same material as Cinderella’s shoes. The garden is full of brightness, sparkles, and arrogance. Nothing reminds me of the rural Hare Rivulets: the strict rectangular maze of indomitable order reigns here. A lucky visitor can enjoy gorgeous flowerbeds, tamed bushes shaped like birds and animals, diminutive fountains where golden and yolk-colour songsters no bigger than finches or crossbills are washing and hovering over the running water singing passionately and vehemently like in blooming spring. Everything is well groomed in the ambrosial garden: fruit trees with lush foliage and shrubs are afraid of losing their leaves and dropping them on the neat emerald lawns and glassy alleys; the Alpine hills are boasting about their fancy roses, and I feel like teeny tiny Alice walking by huge rosebuds that are bowing their massive heads from above ready to gossip about me.
There are other noble birdpeople who like us decided to come earlier. All in black laces and silks they are entering the door portals and slowly promenading along the crystal roads. The scene and the atmosphere remind me of a traditional funeral of some distant relative: you are not sad at all, but keep up a serious face.
Two deck out servants in gaudy liveries come to greet us and accompany up to the Eagle castle. Like a couple of flexible weasels in summer and winter furs (one dark skinned, one light skinned) they are sneaking around penetrating us with their small black eyes. Zarya is irritated; they are bothering her, and she’s trying to bug them out. But the cockier one with darker complexion and soft effeminacy in manners and posture slips past Zarya giving her a flirty smile, slips past Kaleb giving him a flirty smile too. The girl wrinkles her nose like a queen who is looking at a ragged pauper from the window of her pompous carriage; blondie doesn’t even notice him thinking about something else. Finally, the “weasel” reaches me shooting his flirtiest grin he probably possesses in his arsenal.
“Mage Avis,” he whispers languidly. I can smell his properly scented white wig. “His Highness wants you to use this sphere and reach him as soon as you are unaccompanied,” with a pretentiously shy sigh and a low bow, as if casually, he puts a round object between the laces and folds of my long pitch black frock that is emphasizing my black widow look. “His Grace wants your rendezvous to be private and keep our lovely conversation a secret,” he covers his glistening lips with an index finger and out of sudden turns into a small sneaky predator. I gasp watching him disappearing between the rose bushes.
I’ve never seen Zarya’s transformation, and it was almost an emotional barrier for Kal to shift in my presence, but this one doesn’t even care...
My company has already away from me; they don’t mention my delay. I took servant’s present using the tips of my fingers and have a better look at the sphere that strangely resembles a mini crystal ball of a fortune-teller with some milky mist inside. I’m already familiar with these things: birdpeople use them to communicate with each other. They might be called local magic phones if not their short expiration date. Kaleb tried to show me how to use them when we were alone. The spheres could be used by mages and non-mages, but only those who have powers can make the spheres work. Non-mage peasants can’t talk to each other using them, for it is forbidden (Surprise! Surprise!). At least, one participant must be a mage, or it should be conducted by a mage, which I almost never am. ‘Just squeeze it and think about a person you want to talk to or send a light magic impulse into the sphere in your hand if you want another one to glow. See? It’s simple. Now you try!’ he would say. Nevertheless, I keep on screwing up. It’s easy to say, ‘Send an impulse!’ Like I'd know how to do it! Besides, most of the spheres are different and have the imprint of a sorcerer’s powers. One should know an exact “key” for a sphere. According to Kal, most spheres are simple (those I’ve already seen looked like opaque celluloid balls). He added that any mage can make them, and they are easy to deal with. Only some special ones need a peculiar spell or even a potion to activate it, just like a private channel for royalty. Unfortunately, the type of the misty one is unfamiliar to me.
I am gradually becoming convinced by some random facts that Avis and Prince might have an affair. The lovers could use a protected “love channel” with a code or a password. Despite all evidences, I continue to hope that it’s my stupid assumption, and Avis was just his best mage... Balls! Who am I kidding?
Consequently, dear, you are not able to call Prince, for your magic sucks, but he should not know about it, because blondie-marigold wants to hide it, aaaand, above all, you should keep your future date a secret, because His Highness wants it!
So I do what any true procrastinator will do: instead of taking a decision and choosing between bad and... also bad, I decide to do nothing and pretend to forget about the sphere putting it in a soft hidden sachet that is a part of my frock decoration.
“What did he want from you?” Zarya asks amiably, giving me a hint of a smile. She noticed my delay, after all.
I look up at her from under my eyebrows, “It’s not you business.”
I will never see her sitting next to me in the field of minty green grass.
***
The Eagle castle spreads two of his great wings on either side of a massive green hill. Kaleb told me that the castle is the oldest in Nefeli lands, and if you look at the gigantic building from above, it resembles a soaring eagle: that's why it got this name. The legend states that the first Mage built the Eagle castle himself using only his magic powers and nothing else. Being the first shifter on this land, the prehistoric magician could turn into a bird that’s why all mages in Nefelie lands are called birdpeople even if some of them can transform their bodies only into small animals.
The interior is as grand as the façades of the castle that is adorned with exquisite statuary of mages of the past and exaggerated bird embellishments on the windows. Over the years the castle has been obtaining new decorations, but the idea of birdpeople superiority remains in every feature of the ancestral nest of Nefeli rulers.
Under a dreadfully high stone rib vault like in medieval cathedrals I feel lonely and miserable for no reason, thus greatly relieved once I’m in my new white apartment with low and simple stucco ceilings. The moment I entered the room, I saw a vase with orange marigolds on a coffee table. A painful little tickle in my chest makes me put it outside on the wide banister of a balcony - a typical addition to almost every bedroom.
I have maybe thirty minutes to refresh and catch my breath before the official lunch. I want to remove my corset, but I don’t want to call for anybody. Before the arrival to the Eagle castle, I had to swallow my pride and ask Selina to help me with my “mourning”, as I secretly call it, dress.
I get the sphere out of the sachet. Reflecting about my last words to Zarya, I’m twirling the “phone” between my fingers. Then I make an attempt to think about Prince Livius, mashing the sphere as if I want to get some juice from it. But it‘s difficult to think about someone you’ve never met in your life.
The time is passing by making me nervous, but I can’t hide in the chamber forever. I want to stop the moment, but on the flip side I’m eager to hurry up the time in order to end the long, troublesome day that has not even started yet. I stand up with a hushed groan of a corset: not only have I felt bad today. The ball is stupidly gazing at me from the smooth surface of an ivory vanity like a blurred walleye. I’m sure it’s a bad idea to take it with me, so I chose to put the sphere under several thick bed mattresses hoping that none of the servants will find it while I’m absent.
***
Kaleb is waiting outside. Like a male top model he’s jauntily leaning on the wall with his arms crossed over his chest ready for a fancy photo shoot. I smile to myself thinking about Tania who would immediately try to lasso him. She would have liked this place.
“How long have you been staying here?” I look around, trying to figure out which of the corridors leads to the lunch room.
“Not so long. We have plenty of time. The lunch is not an obligatory part of the Black Night Ball. Informally, it’s time for gossiping and making new contacts.”
“Nice...” I absently pull up the long glove.
“Avi, just take it easy on her, you know, like, give her a chance. She’s trying... It’s hard to be with you,” he says, but looking at my sour expressions he swiftly adds, “Sometimes! Sometimes! And I’m not blaming you, of course! It’s difficult for all of us. You are like Avi and not Avi at the same time,” he rubs the back of his head. It’s the first time he calls me “Avi”.
“She hates me.”
“Absurd! She loves you. You’ve been besties since the moment you met at the welcoming ceremony of the Birdhouse Academy.”
“If we are all besties, so why didn’t you help me when Max immobilised me trying to stuff into a portal. Was it all because you wanted to teach me a good lesson? To show me that I can’t live without your help? Poor, powerless, forgetful girl!”
“Stop, stop, stop, stop!” Kal is about to put his hands on my trembling shoulders, but I wiggle out of his touch.
“It is not a damsel’s hysteria, blondie! It’s what I think!” I’m needling him with my eyes, though I’m not actually so angry at him: let the dead bury the dead.
“We would never let you go! We have been guarding you since the moment we found you. Zarya was always next to your bed when you were sleeping. She was so afraid to lose sight of you again. Everybody was trying to convince her that you had gone forever in the Mirror. Frankly speaking, I was about to give up too, but I didn't have the heart to tell her that it was all over, and you were gone. It killed your foster parents, and it would likely kill us if we continued scouring Mirrors and unknown worlds... Mostly we remained invisible, in between, but at night we preferred to shift staying next to you.”
“It’s all great, but you never told me why you left me the moment I really needed you!” I am not so confident anymore: my anger turns into shame and childish despair.
“When you drove to another city, we immediately followed you. It was not easy to sit in your bag all the time unnoticed, so I had to get out of there. But it was my mistake: the moment that man (Max?) walked you to his carriage, Zar and I wanted to follow you, as usually, but we could not. The iron mechanism was protected by some solid magic: it stunned us and disoriented for a while. It was like a white shock that clouded our eyes and all senses. Shamefully, we simply failed to react, because we didn’t expect any mages in the world you were living in. I know it’s already late to make excuses... Then you disappeared without a trace. Zarya was devastated! I thought she was about to destroy everything with her orange lightning! It was hard to calm her down, I must say. But his spells were broken in no time. This usually happens when a mage who has cast an enchantment dies...” I gulp, “...or unconscious. We found you and took you home as soon as you fell asleep. Otherwise, you'd never agree to go with us. Zarya wanted to wake you up and talk to you before the departure to the Nefelie lands, but I insisted on taking you without your permission. Don’t blame her, blame me if you want.”
I remain silent. Maybe he expects another reaction.
“What has happened between you too? How did you manage to get rid of him? Did he... did he do anything to you?”
“Nothing for you to worry about.“
“I promise you to find him,” he says resolutely.
“Maybe you’ll never find him,” I answer evasively, being still uncertain if I want to know whether he’s dead or alive. “Kal, what’s the animal or the bird Zarya transforms into?”
“Don’t you know? It’s a robin bird.”
My fear has happened: it was her shadow figure I saw the night before when Cygnie was sitting on me and caressing my nipples.
Good, fine, great, couldn't be better.
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