The Chocolatier's Wife (70 page)

Inside,
a
grand
palace
was
slowly
beginning
to
form
under
the
guidance of
the
five mages:
tall
stately
walls,
windows,
towers,
the
process
unseen, but
heard
in
distant
song. The
purple
man
emerged
once
from the
trees, and
he
did
so
only
to
throw
his
hand
out
towards
a
hill
and
side
street, where
the
snow
began
to
fall
even
more
heavily, allowing
the
children
a place
to
gather,
throwing
snowballs,
sliding
down
the
hill
on
whatever
they could
find.
Tasmin
watched,
feeling
outside
the
world
of
the
mages,
content to observe for
a
few moments while her mind
cleared.

She
looked
at
the
chocolate
shop.
Ayers
was
setting
up
a
table
next
to
the door,
and
a
couple
of
lads
were
gathered,
waiting.
William
came
out
with a
half
round
of
broken
tabletop
in
his
hands,
and
he
gave
it
to
them.
They ran away
with
it,
clearly
excited,
and she
smiled.
Well,
there
was
one
table that
wouldn’t
get
repaired.
Part
of
her
sighed,
considering
the
expense,
but also
she
knew
the
well-waxed
and polished
su
r
face
would
be
wide
enough to hold two or
three lads and
would move
quite well over
the snow.

As
she
approached
the
trees,
the
purple
man turned
and
saw
her.
She curtsied to him,
knowing
him
from
her time traveling
the land.
For
a
short time
she
had
been
as
these,
wandering
the
continent.
He
smiled
at
her
and blew
across
the
palm
of
his
hand.
She
looked
up
at
the
snow
as
it
began
to fall
into
her
hair,
sticking
to
her
face
and
eyelashes.
On
the
other
side
of
the trees
she
could
hear
the
voices
of
the
women
combining,
rising
and
falling, twisting
together
and
falling
apart, as
they
sang
the
building
into
being.
It was
old
magic,
hearkening
back
to
the
time
when
their
people
had
sung
their very
homes
to
life
from
the
rocks
of
the
earth.
It
was
a
magic
that
pulled at
her
bones,
and
she
could
feel
the
sprites
tumbling
around
her,
attracted and
repelled
by
the
call
of
the
spell.
The
branches
created
a
doorway
just
for her,
and
she
realized
part
of
her
was
unsure
she
really
wanted
to
go
in,
but she
did.
Behind
her
they
shut
again,
keeping
out
any
who
might
wander
in, for
while this was a
magical process, it was also dangerous.

Berend,
the
huge,
bear-like
man,
raised
his
arms.
Water
came
gushing out
of
the
ground,
held
in
place
by
a
river bank of
ice
and
snow.
She
could see
the
pylons
of
a
bridge
that
would
go
across
the
stream
and
skating
pond he was making.

And
there
she
was,
Elyria
,
the
oldest
and
wisest,
her
hands
filled with the
hardest
spell of
all.
Orbs
of
golden
cold-light dropped from
her
fingers, her
own
clan of
sprites
whipping
them
away
to
string
them
into
the
trees. They
were
fire-sprites,
hard
to
see
in
the
day,
for
they
were
visible
to
her
eye like
line
drawings
made
of
fire
rather
than
ink; she
could
see
through
their tiny little bodies, which trailed sparks
like burning
wood.

“Did
you
ever
manage
to
learn the
secrets
of
cold
light?”
Elyria
asked, throwing one of the orbs
to Tasmin,
who caught it lightly.

“Nay,
milady,”
she
said,
and
another
came
at
her,
and
a
third,
and she began to juggle
them. “I am only an Herb Mistress; plants are my interest.”

“Only,”
Elyria
sighed.
“Your
mother
and I
had
a
long
talk the
other night.
She thinks
you are
throwing away your opportunities.”

Tasmin
threw
one
of
the
orbs
at
a
tree,
and
a
sprite
caught
it
and
threw
it up
onto
the
branch.
“I
can
imagine
very
easily
what
words
were
exchanged, Honored
Aunt,
but
I
am
happy
with
my
path.”
Another
orb
was
tossed
and borne away,
and
then the last.

“I
can
see that you are
...
mostly.”

Tasmin
turned
so
she
could
look
her
aunt
full
in
the
eye.
“Are
you
very disa
p
pointed with my choice to stay?
Do you think
I
am
wasting my life?”

“Well.”
Her
aunt
seemed
to
take
a
moment
to
think.
“You
are
only
a
little extraord
i
nary. If
you
were
very
extraordinary, then
I would
probably
fight on
your
mother’s
side
in
the
matter,
but
then,
if
you
were
very
extraordinary, you
would
not
have the
time
to
consider
this
matter
at
all,
and
the
point would be moot.”
Elyria
winked at her,
and
Tasmin
felt a
little lighter.

She
smiled
brightly
at
her
aunt,
and
then
asked,
shyly,
“Will
they
come? When
I
am
to be wed? Will
they see me that day?”

“They
started
the
day
they
received
notice
and are
part
way
here.
Your mother
and
father
are
staying
at
Snowdon
’s
peak
to
see
in
the
Light. They don’t wish to arrive too previous; after all, they don’t like spending too much
time
with
barbarians.” The
last
part
was
added
with
a
mischievous smile.
They
were
both
traveled
enough
that
they
knew
that
everyone
was
a barbarian
to all but themselves.