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shake her.
"Stay here and study it, then, until you can think of a use for it," she said
tartly. "I shall see you at luncheon." She turned on her heel and stalked out of
the room.
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Five minutes later she was pacing the study, venting her exasperation to
Uzun. "That child is going to drive me insane!" she complained, explaining
what had transpired in the workroom.
Uzun's strings rippled uneasily. "Maybe she already has. Are you saying that
you left her alone and unsupervised and told her to play with the sand-table?"
"Of course not," Haramis replied impatiently. "I told her to study it, not to
touch it."
"Did you forbid her to touch it?" Uzun asked anxiously.
"No, I didn't. She'd probably mess it up just to spite me, the little wretch. Why
are you so worried, Uzun?"
"Because that table is one of the most powerful magical objects in this
Tower," Uzun said bluntly, "and despite the names you call her, the Princess
Mikayla has a good mind and considerable natural magical ability."
"Which she refuses to use," Haramis pointed out.
"That could change at any time," Uzun warned. "I believe that you are
seriously underestimating her. And it doesn't take much intelligence to
discern that the table can be used for weather magic, especially if the bowls of
water and the powdered rock you use for rain and snow are sitting next to it."
"They're in the rack at the end of the table, where they belong," Haramis
informed him. "Where else should they be? Without the activating spell
they're just flakes of rock and drops of water."
"New spells can be created to do the same job the old ones did," Uzun said
sternly. "Magic is a matter of focus and intent, and Mikayla does have both."
"You worry too much, old friend." Haramis smiled fondly, moving to his side
to stroke the smooth wood of his frame.
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"Indeed?" Uzun said in a soft ripple, sounding almost amused. "Did you
intend for it to be raining here today?"
Haramis whirled and dashed to the study window. Uzun was right; a thin
stream of rain was falling precisely into the center of the courtyard, and the
snow was melting in a circle around where the rain fell. She heard the harp
chuckling behind her as she cursed under her breath and ran for the
workroom, where she arrived with a stitch in her side and difficulty
breathing.
"Stop that!" she gasped.
Mikayla looked up from the table, where she was carefully dripping water off
of her little fingertip onto the image of Mount Brom. "I believe that I've
figured out what this table is used for, Lady," she said calmly. "It appears to
work quite well for weather witching."
Haramis felt a sharp stabbing pain in her head and forced herself not to
clutch at it. Bad enough to be gasping for breath without displaying further
signs of weakness. "I told you to study the table, not to touch it or play with
it!" she snapped. "I told you it was not a toy."
Mikayla looked bewildered. "But if it were dangerous, Lady, surely you would
not have left me alone with it. And how was I supposed to study it without
touching it? One learns about things by experimentation, by forming a theory,
testing the theory, and creating a new theory if the first one doesn't work,
until one has a model that accurately represents reality—or at least the
portions of it that one needs to deal with. And you need a bigger sand-table,"
she added. "This one doesn't have room for Labornok or Var, and surely
Labornok at least is your responsibility; the kingdoms have been united for
almost two hundreds now."
Haramis's head felt as though it were about to split open, and she did not feel
up to debating with Mikayla or anyone else her alleged responsibility to the
inhabitants of a country that had attacked her home, violently murdered her
parents and everyone else they could get their hands on, and tried to do the
same to her. Even if the events in question had occurred a long time ago, in
Haramis's memory they were as clear as if they had happened last week. I
must be getting old , she thought, If I can remember long-ago events
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more clearly than recent ones . Aloud she said simply, "Go and wash for
dinner, Mikayla. I shall see you at the table."
As she left the room to find some willow-bark tea for her headache, she heard
Mikayla's voice behind her.
"But it's only lunchtime."
After lunch, Haramis gave Mikayla an old Chronicle on the history of
Ruwenda to read, hoping that this would at least keep the girl out of trouble
for the rest of the day. She felt much too tired to deal with her.
Haramis went to her room, feeling a need to be by herself for a while,
although she was trying hard not to think of the strange episode of that
morning. She lay down on her bed, planning to rest just for an hour or two,
but her weariness overcame her and she didn't stir until Enya came to see
why she hadn't come down for dinner.
"Dinner?" Haramis sat up and pushed her hair out of her face. "Is it
dinnertime already?" She looked out her windows and was surprised to see
that it was dark. "I must have fallen asleep."
"You certainly did, Lady," Enya replied. "I already fed Princess Mikayla, and
she's sitting talking with Master Uzun, so you don't need to worry about her.
Why don't you just stay here in your room and let me bring you a tray? You
look as though you could use the rest."
"Thank you, Enya," Haramis said. "I am a bit tired and a tray in my room
sounds like a good idea."
As soon as Enya left, Haramis dragged herself out of bed and went to look in
her mirror. Enya was correct. Obviously she had overtired herself, for the
glamour that she usually maintained automatically, the spell that made
people see what she wished them to see when they looked at her, was gone.
The face that stared back at her was her true face, pale and gaunt and old. "I'd
better stay in my room until I get my strength back," she muttered to herself.
"Uzun can't see me, and Enya knows what I am. But it's a bit soon to have to
explain this to Mikayla."
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Haramis had forgotten that Mikayla had seen her earlier in the day. In fact,
Mikayla had been staring at Haramis all through lunch, and Haramis hadn't
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