“I have no idea.”
They continued searching, and found their breakfast in a drab little room with
an unplugged dishwasher in it, a box of laundry detergent on the bottom of a
set of shelves, and an empty birdcage.
“Our mother,” Pierce said as they leaned over the dishwasher and ate
scrambled eggs, peppered bacon, and cranberry muffins, “is a sorceress. One
of us must have inherited something of her magic. We should be able to think
our way around this.” He paused, looking expectantly at Val, who shook his
head. “You recognized the basilisk when all I saw was what she wanted me to
see. You recognized the Mistbegotten mist. You recognized me. You piece things
together far better than I do.”
“That’s not sorcery. That’s perception. What you do with that knife—that’
s magical.”
“It’s in the knife, not in me.”
“Is it?” Val waggled his fork at his brother. “What could you do with this,
for instance?”
“Eat,” Pierce said flatly. He did, then added, “I still think we may have
some of her powers. We’ve just never had to use them before. If you wanted to
make all of this—”
“It’s illusion,” Val pointed out.
“You mean it’s all in our heads? We’re imagining this house?”
“No. The sorceress is. It’s in her head.”
“Well—” Pierce grappled a moment. “Can we—can we change it with our
minds? Put a door in it that leads out?”
Val considered the question, then answered simply, “I’m a knight. I’m
better at bashing things apart than imagining doors through them.”
They tried that for a while, swinging at scarred plaster and torn wallpaper
with whatever they could find: removable shelving, a rolling pin with a
missing handle, a mop. The sorceress appeared as they were battering at the
walls around a chimney, raising clouds of soot but doing no discernible damage
to her spell.
She sat down on a couch with a few springs sticking out of it, and said, “I
need some help with your father.”
They gazed at her, still holding makeshift battering tools, which she ignored.
Val said, “Of course we’ll help. Just take us to him. What’s wrong with
him?”
She brushed his words away. “Not that kind of help. He’s fine. He just— Is
he always so stubborn?”
Val took a step toward her, still wielding the mop handle. He asked tightly,
“About what?”
She waved her hand again; the mop disappeared. “About— Well. His feelings? I
’ve been doing everything for him. I put him in the loveliest room in my
house. I removed the basilisk’s spell. He has only a bit of a headache. My
attendants bathed him, dressed him in clean clothes; I cooked for him myself.
I would have fed him with my own hands. He refuses to be grateful. All he does
is ask for you.”
“Why wouldn’t he? He’s our father. We were traveling together.”
“I explained that to him,” the sorceress said a trifle querulously. “More
than once. That everyone around him was incapacitated by the monster, that I
saw the incident from a distance and went to help, that he was alone when I
found him, and in such distress that of course I did all that was possible to
get him out of there, and quickly. The roads were blocked, so I brought him
here. I saw nothing of a limo, a driver, or two young, red-haired men wearing
uniforms. They must have driven on to search for him when the road cleared.”
“He doesn’t know we’re here?” Pierce said, appalled.
“No. He has no idea where you’ve gone.” She brooded a moment. “I suspect
that—in some tiny way—he doesn’t entirely believe me. I don’t know why.”
She stood up restively, paced a moment across a rumpled, faded hearthrug. They
watched her in complete bewilderment.
“What is it you want from him?” Pierce pleaded. “Maybe we can help? Is it
something he did to you? Are you that angry with him?”
“Of course not. He has never met me before in his life. But I’ve known about
him all of mine.” She paused, studying them, nibbling on a fingernail. “It
may be that you’ll both—no, maybe just one of you, to be on the safe side—
will have to appear at my door asking if I’ve seen him. He will be so
grateful to me when he sees at least one of his sons. But we’ll need some
convincing story of where the other one has gone.”
“How about this?” Val said sharply. “That one of us was kidnapped by the
incredibly stupid and selfish sorceress who turned herself into a basilisk and
attacked our father.”
The sorceress took her finger from between her teeth and pointed it at him. “
You,” she said coldly, “can stay here. I’ll take your brother with me to
see your father.”
“I’m not going to lie to him for you,” Pierce said adamantly.