Luna looked at the wand curiously as I held it out to her by the tip. With its pearly colour and tapered design, it looked more like a decoration than a weapon. “Really?” Luna said. Hesitantly she reached out and took it by the handle. “Thanks.”
As soon as Luna took it I stepped back. To my sight Luna’s curse had been curling lazily around her, the silver mist pulsing softly. She’d pulled it back to take the wand from my hand, keeping the lethal stuff away from my skin, but she couldn’t stop it from soaking into the item as soon as she touched it.
Luna’s curse works on objects as well as people, although nowhere near as strongly. Usually I can tell if something belongs to Luna by looking for the silver aura. As her curse touched the focus, though, something different happened. Instead of sticking to it the mist was drawn in, being absorbed. “It’s attuned to you,” I said. “It draws in your curse and uses it.”
“Okay,” Luna said. She was holding the thing by the handle but still looked a little puzzled. “What does it, um, do?”
I was about to tell Luna to try it and see when I remembered Arachne’s warning. “Wait a sec.” I walked out of the room and into the corridor, then put my back to the wall and leant into the doorway so that the only part of me visible from inside the room was my head. “Try it now.”
“Uh,” Luna said. “Okay. So I’m supposed to-”
Luna’s curse poured into the focus and it activated. A thin tendril of mist snaked from the tip, extending to ten or twenty feet long. All of a sudden Luna wasn’t holding a wand but a whip, the thong made from the silver mist of her curse. To anyone who couldn’t see Luna’s curse it wouldn’t have looked like anything at all, but I could see the whip curling around her. “Hey,” Luna said curiously. “It’s doing something, isn’t it?” She lifted the handle to look at it, turning it back and forth.
The whip slashed outward, zigzagging across the room, its length amplifying the small movements of the handle. I ducked behind the door frame as the end of the tendril lashed into the corridor. “Okay, it’s working!” I shouted through the doorway. “Turn it off!”
I felt the effect shut down and peeked my head cautiously around the corner. Luna was standing at the centre of what looked like a spiderweb of silvery lines. Glowing trails of invisible silver mist traced lines along the floor, walls, and ceiling. Luna was looking at the handle with new interest. “Invisible whip,” she said. “Cool.”
“Arachne based the design off an Australian stock whip,” I said, walking back out. “The long handle’s for balance, but since the whip’s weightless it doesn’t take any strength to use.” I glanced around at the glowing lines on the walls. “On the downside, the whip’s weightless and doesn’t take any strength to use. We’re going to have to work on your aim.”
“It feels. .” Luna said, frowning down at the focus. “Strange. Not in a bad way. Natural, I guess. Like it fits.”
“Arachne designed it for you,” I said. “The thong of the whip is formed from your curse. If you hit someone with this whip it’s as if you’d touched them. It’s just as subtle and just as lethal.” I locked my eyes on Luna. “This is a weapon, not a toy. You can use it on an azimuth piste safely. But never use it anywhere else unless you’re intending to kill whoever you point it at. I’m trusting you with this. Don’t make me regret it.”
Luna nodded. “I understand.”
“Good.” I walked to the end of the azimuth piste and activated the shield. “Let’s give you some practice.”
I worked with Luna late into the night, and she picked up the basics of attack and defence very fast. Both the whip and her curse seemed eager to do their job, striking out at targets and protecting her in return. The problem was control-the whip didn’t want to hit just one target, it wanted to hit everything, and only the azimuth shields kept me safe. By midnight we were both exhausted. I dropped Luna off at her room and checked that Anne was there before saying good night. I wanted to sleep, but this was a good chance to get a look at the deeper parts of Fountain Reach.
* * *
The outer rooms of the mansion were busy despite the late hour. Apprentices were still up and chatting in each other’s rooms, excited about their first night at the tournament, while their masters talked over drinks in the lounges. I prowled the corridors, a silent shadow in my mist cloak. My cloak doesn’t make me invisible-good light or movement makes it possible for a watcher to spot me, and both together make it almost certain. But when I combine it with my divination magic, watching for the areas where people will look and avoiding them, there’s not much that can find me if I don’t want to be found.
As I went deeper, the background noise died away. It seemed most of the guests had been housed around the edges of the building, and as I walked the halls I could see why. There was something oppressive about the inner mansion-the ceilings felt too low, the architecture too alien. Most houses are designed as places to live and they’re meant to be comfortable for the people who use them. Fountain Reach didn’t feel like that. It was as though it had grown for its own reasons; the people inside were just trespassers. All around I could sense the thrum of the wards, limiting my vision, and it felt as though the mansion were looking for me.
Turning in to a corridor I heard a muffled voice from ahead of me. The corridor was old and crooked, the floor age-darkened wood. Animal heads were mounted on the wall, gazing down with dead eyes: deer, leopard, buffalo. I stood still and listened. The voice came again: a woman. It was coming from a door a little farther down. I moved forward, placing my feet softly on the bare planks.
As I drew closer I recognised the voice as Crystal’s. She was arguing with someone, but for some reason I couldn’t hear the other half of the conversation. “. . take some time,” Crystal was saying.
A pause, then Crystal spoke again. “The end of the tournament, obviously.” Another pause. “That’s impossible. You’ll just have to wait.”
It sounded like she was on the phone with someone. I sized up the corridor and decided to take the risk of getting in close. A stag’s head was mounted above the door, antlers reaching almost to the ceiling, glass eyes staring at the opposite wall. I put my ear to the door and listened.
“No,” Crystal said sharply. The door looked like it had been well crafted, but it was warped from long neglect and there were gaps between the planks that let sound through. “Absolutely not.”
Silence, then Crystal again. “I don’t care. It’s too risky.”
Something was odd: I could make out Crystal’s voice clearly but I couldn’t hear anything else. If she was on a phone or speaking into a headset I should be able to hear something, even just a buzz. I looked into the future in which I opened the door to peek inside.
The room within was a bedroom that looked like it had been abandoned for years. A four-poster bed was piled with dust, the hangings moth-eaten. Old and darkened pictures hung on the wall and Crystal was standing in front of one of them. The angle caught her in profile, showing off the beauty of her features and making her gold hair shine against the murky background. She was frowning, though, and she wasn’t talking into a phone or headset. She seemed to be talking to the wall.
“The whole point of this plan was so we didn’t have to keep picking at random,” Crystal said. “There’s virtually no chance we’d get someone who’d meet-”
Crystal cut off. Looking again into the immediate future, I saw she was staring at one of the pictures. “Then wait,” she said abruptly. “We’ve been preparing for months and you’d risk it all for this?”
There was no answer but Crystal threw up her hands. She was acting as if there were someone right there talking to her. “I don’t care! It’s too dangerous.”