Wren the Fox Witch (Europa #3: A Dark Fantasy) by Joseph Robert Lewis Page A
Authors: Joseph Robert Lewis
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was finished dressing, she stood in front of the window and squinted at her dim reflection superimposed on the view of the palace grounds outside. A tiny draft whistled around the edge of the window and the movement of the air made her lace and ruffles and ribbons flutter gently around her.
I look like a raven.
She smiled.
A pretty raven.
She found a black ribbon in one of her jacket pockets and used it to tie her thick red hair back from her face, and then she covered her hair and ears with a thin black scarf that she found in the dress cabinet. She stepped back out into the hall and said, “I’m ready.”
The short officer turned and looked at her, and froze. He blinked. “Uhm. Yes.” He smiled, and a nervous twitch at the corner of his mouth made it look as though he wanted to speak but didn’t know what to say.
Wren waited.
“Right.” Tycho tugged his jacket down smooth over his chest and straightened his back. “Let’s be off.” He started walking and she followed, but he kept slowing down a bit to walk beside her instead of in front of her, and since she didn’t know where they were going, she kept slowing down to follow his lead, and so they proceeded rather slowly, glancing at each other every few moments.
Either he thinks I’m pretty, or I put the dress on backwards and he’s trying to think of a polite way to tell me. I don’t think I’d know what to say to either one.
She followed him out into the courtyard and down a broad brick road through a park of yellowed grass and naked trees. Gradually, the major stopped looking up at her and they quickened their pace, and her thoughts returned to the task at hand.
Damn it, Omar. You old coward. Why am I going to talk to this woman? She doesn’t know me. I don’t know her.
“Can I ask you something?” Tycho said, glancing up at her.
Wren looked at him, and for a moment she forgot about the corpses and the immortals, and she saw a handsome young man struggling to keep pace beside her, and she slowed down a bit and managed a smile. “Sure. As long as it’s not about my ears.”
“Oh.” He looked away. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you.”
Oh gods, he looks mortified!
“It’s all right, it’s all right,” she said. “I’m just a little sensitive about them, and it’s a rather long story.”
“I understand,” he said. “I’d tell you about my condition, but it’s a rather short story.”
She smiled, and he smiled back.
“All right, well, I’ll tell you the short version then,” she said.
“Just my type!”
She said, “Well, there was a plague, and everyone in my country was becoming infected, including me. It wasn’t a normal plague, with spots and smelly bile and death. It was a… soul plague, I guess. Then Omar found a cure, except it wasn’t quite perfect, and everyone was left with a little bit of a fox’s soul inside them, which gave us these ears and eyes.”
“You have a fox’s soul inside you?” He glanced at her with a look of mingled amusement and disbelief.
“Yes. But just a little piece of one.”
“And now everyone in your whole country has ears like that?”
“Yes.”
“Even the men?”
She laughed. “Yes, even the men, although they weren’t very happy about it.”
Tycho blew out a long breath. “Well, if that’s the cure, then I’d hate to see the disease.”
Wren winced and looked away. Visions of deformed monsters ran through a blood-soaked tapestry in her mind. “Yes, you would.”
They walked on in silence for a minute, nodding at passing servants and soldiers. Wren tried to study the strange buildings around them, the huge towers and domes and arches and columns. Omar had told her about the buildings in the south, that they would be larger and grander than anything she had known in Ysland. And he was right, as ever. But there was no magic or mystery about the palace. It was all just cold, gray stone. Shaped and polished and cunningly arranged, yes, but just
I look like a raven.
She smiled.
A pretty raven.
She found a black ribbon in one of her jacket pockets and used it to tie her thick red hair back from her face, and then she covered her hair and ears with a thin black scarf that she found in the dress cabinet. She stepped back out into the hall and said, “I’m ready.”
The short officer turned and looked at her, and froze. He blinked. “Uhm. Yes.” He smiled, and a nervous twitch at the corner of his mouth made it look as though he wanted to speak but didn’t know what to say.
Wren waited.
“Right.” Tycho tugged his jacket down smooth over his chest and straightened his back. “Let’s be off.” He started walking and she followed, but he kept slowing down a bit to walk beside her instead of in front of her, and since she didn’t know where they were going, she kept slowing down to follow his lead, and so they proceeded rather slowly, glancing at each other every few moments.
Either he thinks I’m pretty, or I put the dress on backwards and he’s trying to think of a polite way to tell me. I don’t think I’d know what to say to either one.
She followed him out into the courtyard and down a broad brick road through a park of yellowed grass and naked trees. Gradually, the major stopped looking up at her and they quickened their pace, and her thoughts returned to the task at hand.
Damn it, Omar. You old coward. Why am I going to talk to this woman? She doesn’t know me. I don’t know her.
“Can I ask you something?” Tycho said, glancing up at her.
Wren looked at him, and for a moment she forgot about the corpses and the immortals, and she saw a handsome young man struggling to keep pace beside her, and she slowed down a bit and managed a smile. “Sure. As long as it’s not about my ears.”
“Oh.” He looked away. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you.”
Oh gods, he looks mortified!
“It’s all right, it’s all right,” she said. “I’m just a little sensitive about them, and it’s a rather long story.”
“I understand,” he said. “I’d tell you about my condition, but it’s a rather short story.”
She smiled, and he smiled back.
“All right, well, I’ll tell you the short version then,” she said.
“Just my type!”
She said, “Well, there was a plague, and everyone in my country was becoming infected, including me. It wasn’t a normal plague, with spots and smelly bile and death. It was a… soul plague, I guess. Then Omar found a cure, except it wasn’t quite perfect, and everyone was left with a little bit of a fox’s soul inside them, which gave us these ears and eyes.”
“You have a fox’s soul inside you?” He glanced at her with a look of mingled amusement and disbelief.
“Yes. But just a little piece of one.”
“And now everyone in your whole country has ears like that?”
“Yes.”
“Even the men?”
She laughed. “Yes, even the men, although they weren’t very happy about it.”
Tycho blew out a long breath. “Well, if that’s the cure, then I’d hate to see the disease.”
Wren winced and looked away. Visions of deformed monsters ran through a blood-soaked tapestry in her mind. “Yes, you would.”
They walked on in silence for a minute, nodding at passing servants and soldiers. Wren tried to study the strange buildings around them, the huge towers and domes and arches and columns. Omar had told her about the buildings in the south, that they would be larger and grander than anything she had known in Ysland. And he was right, as ever. But there was no magic or mystery about the palace. It was all just cold, gray stone. Shaped and polished and cunningly arranged, yes, but just
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