The Chocolatier's Wife (69 page)

That
serpent
glitter
had
returned.
“And
you
would
gain,
would
you
not?
‘Tis
som
e
thing
to
think
about,
when
you
are
spending
all
that
time
with
my son.”

“I
shall
endeavor
to
consider
it,”
she
said,
feeling
as
if
she
were
a
puppet whose
strings
were
being
fought
over.
Lavoussier, Henriette,
everyone wanted
control
over her
because
they
thought
she
had
some
measure
of control over
William.
Fascinating.

“Excellent.
I
trust
your
good
sense
will
rule.”
She
folded
the
cloth
of
the napkin
over
the crumbled food. “Are you going to the Magister’s Ball?”

It
took
Tasmin
a
second
to
jump
to
the
next
topic,
partly
because
she had
t
o
tally
forgot
about
the
Light
Day
celebrations
and felt
completely unprepared.
“William made
mention
of
it
in
passing.”
Which
was
not
an answer,
but
she
could
only
hope
that
she
was,
indeed,
for
she
would
not
go unless William
went as well.

“Ah.
Good.
Then
I
shall
send
for
a
dress
for
you.
Since
you
do
not
mind old-fashioned dresses, I
have
one that will suit you very
well.”

Several
hours
later,
when
she
had
finally
undressed
and
fallen
into
bed, all
Ta
s
min
would
say
to
Cecelia
was,
“If
he
ever
does
come
back
to
the
family business, I
shall be forced to run
away.
Else, I
may
turn
to homicide.”

“If
it’s
that
old
harridan
you’re
speaking
of,
the
court
would
heap
piles of gold at your feet, perhaps even have
a
town named after you.”

“You
don’t
think,”
Tasmin
asked
as
she
pulled
the
covers
over
her head
to
block
out
the
light
of
Cecelia’s
lamp,
“that
he
actually
loves
her,
do you?”

Cecelia’s
weight
joined
hers
on
the
bed.
“If
you
are
speaking
of
William, then yes. Loving
his mother is a
very
William
thing to do.”

Tasmin
groaned.

“I
did not,
however,
say that he
likes
her.”

She
sighed,
but
managed
to
finally
get
to
sleep.
The
next
day,
after
all,
was the Magister’s Ball,
and
she wanted to be well rested.

Dear
Tasmin,

Do you think that you might find
the time to stop by the shop this day?
Your sprites miss you
as—I
must own—do I.
Besides,
I should like to speak
to you
upon the
subject
at
hand...

Yours,

William

Fiv
e
mage
s
arrive
d
earl
y
o
n
th
e
mornin
g
o
f
th
e
Magister
’
s
Ball
,
i
n
a
coac
h
of snowy
,
sparklin
g
ice
.
The
y
wer
e
elementalists
,
an
d
sorcerers
,
an
d
illusionist
s
wh
o
travele
d
widel
y
fro
m
tow
n
t
o
cit
y
t
o
village
,
whereve
r
thei
r
service
s
wer
e
require
d
i
n
th
e
magic-poo
r
South
.
On
e
wa
s
a
mer
e
child
,
i
n
th
e
blosso
m
o
f
he
r
youth
;
th
e
second
,
heavil
y
pregnant
;
th
e
third
,
tal
l
an
d
bleache
d
b
y
age, he
r
strange
,
golde
n
eye
s
he
r
onl
y
color
.
Th
e
ladie
s
wer
e
followe
d
b
y
tw
o
men, one
,
bear-lik
e
an
d
huge
,
husban
d
t
o
th
e
secon
d
an
d
fathe
r
t
o
th
e
first
;
the othe
r
a
slender
,
tal
l
ree
d
o
f
a
ma
n
wit
h
faintl
y
purpl
e
skin.

The
morning
had
dawned
warmer
than
it
should
be
for
this
time
of year,
but
where
these
five
went,
winter
followed.
The
coach
rolled
into
the huge
courtyard
in
the
center
of
the
town,
now
cleared
out
of
market place booths
and the
other
clutter
of
everyday
life,
even
the
gallows.
A
snow began
to
fall,
covering the
paving
stones
with
a
thick
blanket, turning
the courtyard
into
another
world.
Trees
of
ice
sprouted
around the
p
e
r
i
meter of
the
square, reaching
high
into
the
sky,
blocking
the
place
off
from
the curious eyes of the town.

The
preparations
for the
three
days
celebrating
Light
Day
had
begun. The
town’s
prosperity
showed
in how
elaborate
the
celebrations
were,
and the
presence
of
the
five
showed
that
Azin
Shore
felt
that
it
was,
if
not
up
to the
standards
of
the
capital,
in
fine fettle.
People
would
come
from
miles around to
take
part
and
see
for
themselves
the
wonders
the
mages
would create.
The
five would
form
the
place
that
would
on
the
first day
be
for
a masked
ball,
the
next
for
commemoration
and
worship,
and
the
last
a
place for all, poor and rich, to gather to celebrate the first
day of the new year.