“I wish she’d explained herself more,” Rosie replied, still looking worried.
“Simeon was there. In Spirit Casting.”
Rosie gasped. “What did he do?”
“He made a lot of noise. I’m sure we’ll be hearing from Uncle Norbert.” Rosie didn’t say anything, but her expression was fearful. “I’ll tell you,” Clem continued, “that overall, enchanters are unpleasant. My books are better company.”
Rosie gave a strained laugh. “Clem, you would say that of almost anyone.”
“Oh, I did manage to make a friend. Her name is Vera and she works in the kitchens. She shares your fine eye for fashion.”
“Don’t tease me or I’ll rip out all the mending I’ve done to your dresses while you were gone. Including the one you’re wearing and you haven’t even noticed.”
Clem smiled. It was the first time I’d seen her smile as her own self, rather than in the guise of some inept buffoon—a true smile. Some people with severe faces are made beautiful by their smiles, brightening with sudden light. Clem wasn’t one of them. The smile, however genuine, conveyed more sadness than joy: it was the smile of an old soul, worn of the world, glad to find in it some spark still worth treasuring. She leaned forward and pressed her sister’s hand. “Thank you, dearest. Of course I noticed: the shoulder seam. But it’s so perfectly done I could be excused for not noticing. I also saw the sunflowers, which have cheered me almost as much as seeing you. So tell me. Have you had much copy work this week? Did you miss me more than you ever imagined?”
Rosetta gave a little sigh. “I’ve had a fair amount of copy work, and it’s kept me busy. But Ididmiss you, and it was very strange to be here alone.”
“Yes.”
Rising to her feet, Rosetta wandered over to the mantel and gazed at the painting hanging above it. “Missing you made me miss them, somehow. Your absence made their absence greater.”
Clem rose from her seat and joined her sister. “I know,” she said quietly.
Their attention to the painting compelled my attention also. I had no doubt it pictured their parents. Cassandra was right: Clem and Rosie looked distinctly like their father, whose long face, dark hair, expressive eyebrows, and fine beard gave him a distinguished air. The artist had captured a gentleness of expression in his eyes and smile. Their mother tilted her head slightly toward her husband, as if about to rest it on the spot between his neck and his shoulder. Her smile was sweet, her gaze open and direct. She wore her hair braided, in a crown. The style was familiar.
And suddenly I saw it. That face. Thatface. I stared at the painting, wondering if it could be mere uncanny resemblance. But no, of course it could not be. Their features were unmistakably identical. The woman in the painting, Clem and Rosie’s mother, was the same woman I’d seen two days earlier in a messy office at Commonwealth.
She was Livia, Professor Throckmorton’s spirit thew.
Clem: September 7, 1888
Dearest Mother,
I will not tell Rosie how dejected I am by the reversal. But I’m sure you could sense my disappointment. So many years of planning. The entrance exam. The tokens. All of it wasted. At the moment I can’t see a new way through. I have faith that something will become clear, but everything is murky and uncertain now.
Mother, have you confided in Cassandra? Mead’s thew? She came to me as I was leaving. I wonder if you saw us, since we were at the edge of campus, near the outer limits of your perception. She was waiting for me. I thought she intended some violence, but instead she gave me something. It is a piece of human bone.
How easy it would be for her to tell Mead about you, and in so doing overthrow all our efforts. But she hasn’t done that. Instead, she’s given me this bone. Why? What does she intend with it? She said: “For your armor…” Does she anticipate such injuries to my person that I could only repair with enchantment of bone? What kind of armor would that require?
I think she meant to explain more, but she was drawn away by Mead. Mother, I have so little experience of thews that I have never seen one coerced in that way. The pain on her face was excruciating.She was truly a soul in torment. I hadn’t expected to feel sympathy for someone who had just exposed me, not in the least, but if in that moment I could have ended her pain somehow, even if by striking Mead with my own hand, I would have done it. I realized then that an enchanter, when he pressures the shroud, is a genuine torturer. And I understood why a thew does whatever she must to abide and comply. Even a small disobedience, as Cassandra undertook, is a tremendous act of courage.
Please tell me that you have never been so treated by him.
Your loving,
Clem
Sam: The Trenches
How much of the woman’s nature remains in the spirit thew? Very little. The spirit is shaped by discipline, time, and training. In her ideal form, the thew is what her name implies: mere muscular strength, albeit of a spiritual kind, an extension of the enchanter’s will.
—César Castellanos,Understanding the Realm of Thews
Saturday, September 8, 1888
The knowledge of Livia’s identity had overturned my understanding of Clementine’s purpose. I had been misled by her innocent appearance. First I had thought her a fool, swimming in a sea of ill intent; then I had thought her too ambitious, hoping against hope that she could practice enchantment. Now I realized that I’d misjudged her twice. It was no wonder she had seemed so anguished after being ejected from Commonwealth. She had designs around her mother and Throckmorton, that much was clear. But what designs? If she thought the Cisneros Society would passively stand by while she pursued them, she remained, to some degree, both too innocent and too ambitious. No—the stones would come for her.
Well, I would not passively stand by, either.
