Elva Rackthorn and the Tears of Azrael

Travel Blues, Part 4

After Amelia's injury, it had seemed like life could never continue in any semblance of order around the jagged edges of her absence. But so it did, and after barely a year a settled routine had emerged. Tutors came for Elva and Henry on the workdays and on waydays Elva headed out to Miss Westley's and the town school. Fine weather required the family hikes Silas was so fond of, and miserable weather meant listening to him drone on about etiquette and genealogy. While for most people the endspan was a time for leisure, for Silas Rackthorn those two days were for the important aristocratic work of socializing, and Elva and Henri were often brought along as props for visits to tenants, lunches with fashionable families, and the occasional night at the theater. When empty hours stretched out at the manor, Elva had a sense for which required "family time," where they all sat in the same room as Henri tended his stuffed animals, Elva read her novels, and Silas perused the newspapers, and which allowed Elva to sequester herself away in her room for necromancy. It was unsettling to trudge through day after day without Amelia and her whirlwind of chaotic whims, but there was a cold comfort to a predictable calendar.

But there was no such predictability with the vel Sints in residence and Nyx curling around the corners of Elva's mind like sentient smoke. Any hour could bring with it new surprises: the Baron trying to discuss fashion with Elva and being bemused when she couldn't keep up, Henri trying to bake Elva a going-away cake but forgetting the flour, the Baroness pausing during Elva's tour of her abandoned bedroom wing, head tilted as she surveyed the side room with its torn up couch as if she could sense the traces of necromancy that Elva had scoured away. Meanwhile, Nyx alternated between melancholy and sarcastic in her head as he accustomed himself to staying in her shadow-space during the day.

"— and then, since of course I couldn't leave such a vintage unattended among such amateurs," the Baron was saying at breakfast. Silas nodded and Henri, thirsty for social cues, bobbed his head as well. Meanwhile Elva's strategy was to keep her mouth so full of bacon that no one could draw her into conversation.

Are you there, Nyx? You usually have a quip when he puffs up all pompous.

There was a moment of silence in Elva's head.

Nyx? You there?

I'm busy.

Busy doing what?

Decorating.

Decorating?!

But Nyx's presence in the forefront of her mind had already evanesced away.

And stayed away, even after breakfast when the Baron declared he wanted to go hunting. A rainstorm, though nothing like the storm that had preceded the vel Sints' arrival, had hit the night before and the Baron was convinced the woods would now be teeming with. rabbits and other such prey perfect for his leopardhawk familiar. Elva hadn't seen too much of the giant bird so far as its talons made it a poor fit for staying inside around very shreddable upholstery, but she couldn't bring herself to be as excited as she thought she should be. To meet another person's familiar should have been a delight, but all Elva could think about was how Reggie, despite his large paws and sharp teeth, was a gentle soul who never hunted around the manor and how, in a different world, she would have had a tangle of wyrms to show off instead of a criminal secret in her shadow.

Elva settled onto one of the white wicker chairs on the patio near the Baroness, who had a tea service set out on the glass table beside her. Even with the tickling sunlight sneaking through the fading clouds and the smell of petrichor rich in the air, the Baroness held herself with stiff, perfect posture. For her part, Elva was slumped in her chair, feet up on the vase of a potted plant she had lugged over. There was still anxiety darting under her skin like minnows startled in a pond, but the smell of earth and silk of gentle sunlight on her face helped.

For a while there was nothing but the clinking of tea cups and high whistles as the Baron, out on the lawn with Henri and Silas, showed off his leopard hawk's aerial acrobatics. Henri, cautious at first but now up on Silas' shoulders for a better view, looked ridiculous in his stuffy outfit and furrowed face as he watched the familiar tear through the sky. He seemed almost older, somehow, then the man showing off his leopardhawk with boyish glee.

"He's very... energetic, your brother." Elva finally said.

"Randolph is my cousin, actually."

"Huh." Elva stared out at the Baron, at the slimness of his wrists and the narrow straightness of his nose. "I must have known that, only the two of you look so alike."

The Baroness sighed. "We did as children, too, though somehow he was always the more handsome one." She shot a conspiratorial look at Elva. "I was much too interested in books and runes to dress up as well as he did."

Elva hummed, swinging one of her hands where it dangled over the side of the chair. This was her chance to talk necromancy with the Baroness, but now that the opportunity had come, she wasn't sure entirely what to say. There was no subtle way to broach the topic of life line entanglement, and even with more casual topics, she wasn't sure how much of her necromancy knowledge she wanted to give away.

"He's well-suited to his familiar," Elva decided to say. "Leopardhawks are noted in the bestiaries for their beauty, keen eye for prey and pretty baubles, and tendency to collect entourages of lesser birds."

"And for their viciousness."

Elva looked doubtfully at the dapper man on the field.

"Oh, he may look quite harmless, but he's rather ruthless when pursuing his own goals. I admire that about him. I've always been... more hesitant, I suppose you could say. Prone to second-guessing or over-planning."

"My father is like that. Hesitant, I mean. Mother balanced him out. I don't know which I am, really."

The Baroness smile, the curve of her lips like the curve of her teacup. "You've still plenty of time to figure out your vices and virtues. The city will help, I'm sure. It's hard to get a good sense of who you are when kept so isolated." She offered Elva a small tartlet from the tea service, which Elva squirmed upright to eat. "And you'll have more opportunities to study what interests you. I met Amelia in the city, you know. We studied necromancy together, got our familiars together..."

The Baroness put a hand up her collarbone, as if holding onto something there. "That's when Randolph decided he needed a familiar of his own, though sigilmancy was never his forte."

"So you helped him?" Elva had wondered how the Baron, with his interest in politics and fashion rather than necromancy, had ended up with such a creature. And also why the Baroness seemed to have no familiar at all. But she didn't dare broach the latter subject, not when losing a familiar was one of the most painful things that could happen to a necromancer.

"How could I refuse? He had his mind set on it, and I suppose I wanted to show off my skills as well." The Baroness set down her teacup, and offered a small wave to the men who were tromping across the lawn back to the patio. "Here's a piece of advice, Elva. Choose your allies wisely, but make your decisions for yourself."