The Smoke-Scented Girl Read Online Free Page A

andirons, and that combined with the pale blue wallpaper and
the winter sunlight filtering through the falling snow made his
room feel frozen. “ Forva ,” he said, snapping his fingers at
the fireplace, and fire sprang up golden and cheery from the thick
logs. The word left a taste of hot metal in his mouth and made the
knot of tension in his spine twinge as it tapped his nearly
depleted reserves further.
    Now that he was home, exhaustion sank into
his bones and his eyeballs, and he could almost hear the bed
calling to him. No. He was too filthy. Bath first. He removed his
frock coat and unwound his neckcloth, which suddenly felt stifling,
tossed both on a chair, and went down the hall to the bathroom and
turned on the tap. It had been his first magical gift to his
family, years ago, when he’d first learned to enspell the water
tank to produce hot water and installed the filter that purified
the waste water before it reached the street. He’d won the gold
medal at Houndston School for it. He was fourteen. And now here he
was, ten years later, trying and failing to keep things from
getting too hot. He stripped off the rest of his clothing and sank
into the hot water. Two days, or he would—no, he wouldn’t lose his
position, he was too valuable to Elltis and Company, but— He sank
further under the water until only his nose and mouth were above
it. He wasn’t going to think about it. He’d promised Piercy.
    So. Someone capable of producing fire on a
scale no one had ever seen. No, that was wrong. If there was a
kernel of truth in legend, it was fire on a scale no one had seen
for centuries. He didn’t know very much about the stories of Alvor
and his companions, except that they’d gone on a quest to find a
way to defeat the warlord Murakot, who’d supposedly had great
magics at his command. Including powerful fire spells. That
can’t be the answer, though , he thought, sitting up and making
the water splash over the edge of the tub, then lathering up to
keep from falling asleep in the wonderful, warm, soothing embrace
of the bathwater. I might be convinced that some creature from a
thousand years ago exists and is present in this time, but there’s
never been any evidence that magic was somehow different in the
past. Someone’s discovered a new spell.
    He scrubbed at his hair. It took two rinses
before he felt truly clean. His cheeks burned to think of how he’d
let himself go. Focused, Piercy? I really think ‘obsessed’ is
the better word. An unexpected pang of loneliness struck him;
he was suddenly conscious of how isolated he’d become, how alone
he’d managed to make himself even in the midst of his large family.
And yet he couldn’t remember how he’d gotten this way. At school,
he’d been a top student, but he’d always had time for sport and
courting young women and, of course, getting Piercy into trouble.
He’d been popular, damn it, and now he hardly ever saw his friends
from those days, except Piercy, always had his head down over some
work project or other. It couldn’t be healthy. And it’s not
making me happy , he thought with some surprise. Satisfied,
maybe, content, possibly, but there was definitely something
missing in his life.
    He dried himself and ran back down the short
hall, naked and clutching his clothes in front of him because he’d
forgotten his dressing gown. Safely in his room, he put on a clean
shirt and trousers and collapsed onto his bed. He was starving now,
but he was more tired than he was hungry. His bed was the best bed
that ever was made by human hands. He began to drift off. No more
fires of any intensity. Just his sleepy brain putting up a soft
barrier between himself and—
    His eyes snapped open. It couldn’t be that
simple, could it? Not rigid; flexible. He leaped out of bed and
began rummaging in his desk. So many odds and ends, broken pieces,
discarded spell components—there was a cowrie shell, no idea how it
had gotten there but it would have to do.