Look Beyond What You See
Anxiety

The dining room is more oppressive than usual this morning. Its windowless walls covered with thick red drapery and its heavy mahogany furniture always make it feel stuffy, but tension hangs over everything in a dense fog that makes it hard to breathe and unspoken words cloud the room. The servants have made themselves scarce in an effort to escape the feeling that a storm is about to break. Zinaida is oblivious to it and no part in the atmosphere, seeing as she is still struggling to wake up; despite her elegant appearance, it is plain that Wesley has dragged her to this meal for reasons I cannot fathom. Wesley, in contrast, is on high alert, like a rabbit being stalked by a bird of prey. I can almost see such a bird--a devil-servant called Anxiety--dark and torturous, hanging over him and harrying him. Dmitri’s father watches his son and me, as well as the doors, as his torturing bird watches him. What does he look for? I have no way of knowing, until such a time as he sees fit to speak.

“Blast! Where has your combat tutor gotten to?” Wesley grouses irritably. His bird of prey seems to pluck at his eyelids and makes creases in his brow. “He’s meant to attend breakfasts--”

“You mean he did not inform you?” I murmur with an appropriate show of surprise. It is not feigned, for once; I find it nothing less than shocking that Giacomo saw fit to leave me a rose and that note but neglected to properly take his leave from Lord Berkeley’s employment.

“What do you mean?” Wesley demands, muscles stiffening under the hovering bird’s touch.

“Why, he received a summons from his family in Venice, on account of the war, before all of the excitement yesterday. Shortly thereafter my grandmother scared him so badly, I’ve absolutely no doubt that he took advantage of the summons and fled immediately, and who can blame him? But I did think he had the decency to at least follow appropriate protocols for a leave-taking of an employed man from his place of employment, even under the unfortunate circumstances--”

“The cowardly fool. This is an outrage! We need every man we can get to face the threat that dratted sorceress poses, and he--”

“Clearly would be of no use to us in such a fight, if he is so frightened of her as to leave so unceremoniously,” Dmitri points out sourly. A sideways glance at him reveals that he’s rather miffed about my being so well informed of Giacomo’s doings, even though I’ve been careful to phrase most of it as speculation and have made no mention of the potentially offensive (but really quite sweet) note that was left on my desk.

“A fair point. It is well enough, anyway. Giacomo could not teach Aerys what I intend she should learn, anyway.”

“And what might that be?” I inquire. I have my suspicions about his intentions, but I might as well invite him to tell me his intentions himself. Mayhap he will surprise me.

“Your grandmother mentioned yesterday that you can obtain the same skills that she possesses. I intend that you do so,” Wesley replies in a voice that dares anyone to speak against him. Unfortunately for him, I dare, and I mean to win this minor clash of wills.

“And I intend that I shall not do anything of the kind,” I reply, soft yet firm. Wesley’s eyes nearly pop out of his head at this crucial and unexpected bit of intelligence.

“I beg your pardon?” he growls. He is unused to being defied, especially by women.

“I’ve seen what her power and the influence of darkness have done to her, and I’ll not have the same thing happen to me. Would you eternally bind your son to a woman like my grandmother?”

A deadly silence falls over the room. Dmitri squeezes my hand under that table.

“I would never subject him to such a thing,” Zinaida proclaims vehemently (it seems that the nature and content of this discussion has startled her out of drowsiness) while shooting an icy glare at her husband for suggesting such an horrific idea as that.

“You’re full of nonsense,” Wesley protests with no small measure of condescension. “She was an ill-tempered hag before you were even born. That’s just who she is, and you are not like her. Learning the skills she uses will not fundamentally change your character.”

“She’s become more evil since my earliest memories of her, and even in the past few months, as best I can tell. I grew up in her house, and I tell you I will not be learning any of her skills. I refuse to be anything like her. I can learn other skills to counteract hers, but I’ll not fight darkness with darkness.”

“Aerys speaks truth, Father. Our ruling elements affect our personalities, and she is not set in her path as we are,” Dmitri adds. This is a snippet of intelligence that I hitherto had not known. Does he mean that I can change my ruling element, if I so desire, simply because I am a magic-endowed human and not an elemental? I’ll have to explore that later. Why haven’t I found anything about that in those books I borrowed? “I will not be able to honour the agreement that has brought Aerys and me together should you force her to go through with this, for I refuse to unite myself with evil.”

“What, then, do you suggest?” Wesley inquires with a heavy sigh. He’s not beaten, but our arguments are such that he is willing to consider other options. “I mean to protect my family, and that witch gave us an ultimatum when she visited yesterday. She wants us to agree to fight on her side in the war within one week’s time, and I’ll not have that. Aerys, you have thrown your lot in with us, and while that means that I mean to protect you, too, it also means that you must fight against Xenia de Poitiers, somehow. If you will not learn her skills--”

“There are others I can learn, and have been learning. My grandmother spoke more of the potential that I have than of any particular skill set. If I can obtain her skills, then it stands to reason that I can obtain others of the same caliber that use other elements. Ideally, I would continue to work with water and the pure magic tricks I’ve been practising on my own time, and maybe begin to work with light.”

“You have been practising on your own time?” Zinaida repeats incredulously. “How can that be possible, with the schedule on which we keep you?”

“I have little need or desire for sleep.”

“Unnatural. A lady ought to enjoy her beauty rest--”

“And a warrior ought to hone her skills at every opportunity. What, exactly, can you do other than manipulate water, Aerys?” Wesley cuts in.

I turn to Dmitri. “Shall I show him or tell him?”

“Oh, showing is much more fun,” Dmitri replies with a mischievous grin. The flames dance merrily and devilishly in his eyes. Oh, that I could be alone with you just now.

“As you wish, then.” With that I cause a few witches’ lights to appear above Wesley’s head. I’ve practised that skill so much that I no longer need to shape them; I can simply point and they appear, though they are still murky, like lights viewed underwater. Next I move his chair--while still he sits in it--first across the floor, then up into the air a few inches, where I spin it around in a circle before returning him to his rightful place at the head of the table. Then I whisper a few words and flick my fingers at the centerpiece, which instantly becomes a collection of crabs and dragonflies and water beetles and frogs that separate almost immediately and begin to roam about the room. Zinaida screams and leaps atop her chair (in a most unladylike fashion) at that, and so I snap my fingers (not without rolling my eyes) and the centerpiece suddenly resumes its original attitude.

“You’ve gotten much better,” Dmitri observes, eyes aglow with admiration.

“Pent-up rage and frustration are good for some things,” I reply before abruptly disappearing. This is too much for Wesley, who has been staring with shock and awe up to this point. He slumps down into his chair, clutching his head and moaning something about a ‘magical prodigy.’ What nonsense. I reappear at his side, which unnerves him still further.

“Please tell me that’s all,” he whimpers, uncharacteristically meek. I could get used to this.

“There’s one more thing, but I cannot demonstrate that one,” I tell him, fighting back a smirk. “I have begun to work with a sort of clairvoyance. Naturally, it requires that I look into water, and as yet I know not how to direct it, but that is the skill I have most recently acquired.”

“Unbelievable,” Wesley mutters. “Absolutely unbelievable. We got by far the best deal, of all the deals your grandmother brokered.”

“She’s still banking on us fighting for her and not against her.”

“And we only have a week before she loses patience with us, as I recall,” Dmitri adds helpfully. Zinaida is no use at this point, having been so traumatised by the demonstration of my skills as to be half-senseless in her chair while timorous serving maids attempt to revive her while watching me as mice watch a sleeping cat.

“Can we declare absolute neutrality? Tell her that your respective ruling governments will not release you from your oaths? Attempt to negotiate some sort of deal with her?” I suggest.

“What do you mean, a deal?” Wesley asks, intrigued.

“Well, technically, once Dmitri and I are married, the contract between your family and hers is fulfilled, is it not?”

“Excepting the provision that you are eventually to produce a male heir to carry on the family name, yes, that’s correct.”

I will ignore that, for now. Dmitri’s hand squeezes mine once again, as he’s come to stand next to me near his father’s chair. “So technically, if he and I were to marry, say, within the week, you would be under no obligation to her.”

“I suppose, though I doubt she will see it that way.”

Dmitri’s eyes are wide as saucers. “You can’t mean that you would agree to wed so soon, especially after everything yesterday--” he begins, clearly hoping that I would agree to wed so soon, even after everything yesterday.

“Isn’t living and beating my grandmother at her own game more important than silly little scruples? Especially since there is no law that says we must consummate the marriage the night after the ceremony is performed. Pray, allow me to continue. So if we are under no obligation to her, you can plainly tell her that yours and Zinaida’s respective governments have cut you deals that are too good to throw away and that, if she really wants you to fight for her, she will have to offer you a better deal.”

“She could simply turn us into rats and have done with it,” Wesley points out.

“She still wouldn’t have us fighting for her in that case, which you ought to mention. Also, I don’t think she knows exactly how good my skills are at this point, and they can even improve to some degree before this confrontation takes place, unless I am harassed by wedding plans for the whole week.”

“I strongly suspect that will be the case, given the first part of your plan,” Dmitri points out with a nervous glance at his mother, who is thankfully still indisposed due to the general incompetence of the maids, who are still scared witless (which is funny, considering that they have been working some time for elementals, Wesley in particular being more frightening than I am).

“No need for that, with all the planning we’ve already done and the stakes being so high. Also, if the contract is honoured so soon after her visit, she may well be inclined to be more benevolent with us than she would otherwise be disposed to be, particularly if she is handled correctly.”

“Are you really saying that you’re willing to go through with this, as you’ve laid it out?” Dmitri questions. I don’t even know how I feel about that, and I won’t let him distract me from business mode now.

“Do you have a better plan?”

***~O~***

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