The witch led her deeper into the palace, down several long hallways, each as exquisitely decorated as the last until finally they halted before an olive-green door.
‘One moment, Dorothy.’
Theodora slipped into the room, and as she did so Dot hastened to glance inside, but the door was shut as quickly as it was opened, leaving Dot in the hall alone. For the first time, she felt a stab of annoyance at the witch. Dot knew almostnothingabout her, she realised.
With each passing moment, Dot dwelled deeper. Why didn’t Theodora trust her? What was the witch up to? What was so inferior about herself that she had to be excluded? Was it her inability to do magic?
Dot was so consumed by this that a pompous, booming voice caught her utterly unaware.
‘Who is thisdelightfulcreature?’
The owner of that voice stood before her. He had wiry limbs and pug eyes and a jade-encrusted crown atop his head. King Ellarde Custre IV.
Two female guards shadowed him, both wearing purple.
‘What is your name?’ asked the King of Calléum.
What had Theodora said to the footman?
‘Knox,’ said Dot, quickly. And, when the guard on the right-hand side glanced pointedly at the ground, Dot gasped and bowed.
‘Adorable,’ said the King and he seemed prepared to leave her there until he spotted the oddness of Dot’s hand and paused. He stared for a long moment, as if his eyes were tweezing each scale off her. He peered back at one of his attendant guards. ‘Bring our guest to the menagerie when he arrives.’ The taller of the two guards bowed and left. Then, to Dot, the King said, ‘And you, strange creature, will come with me.’
‘Oh,’ said Dot, ‘I’m waiting for Th—Valiente. The Grand Magician. She is my mistress.’
‘She will follow,’ said the King, taking Dot’s afflicted hand and placing it on his arm. She winced as his too-warm skin touched her cold scales, and soon she was guided down the halls, regretting more and more that she had not thought to shout for Theodora. At last, they came to a large room filled with strange bird cages. Each enclosure was crafted of fine lacquered wood and thin bars, and they hung from the ceiling or else were scattered upon the dark, luxurious carpet. There were no windows here. It smelled intoxicatingly of wood polish. Dot glanced at a birdcage in the centre of the room and to her horror, realised that it was far too big for a bird. This was a cage for a person.
‘Welcome to my menagerie,’ said the King. ‘I have a special interest in creatures of severed magic. Ex-Magicians with missing limbs, the daemoted, you know.’
‘Oh,’ said Dot, terrified.
‘I am a man of science,’ said the King, roving. ‘That might surprise you, child. How must I find the time? Well, my hunger knows no satiation. I forge the time from idle moments or late evenings. I must.’
He waited patiently for her to enquire further.
‘You study ex-Magicians?’ asked Dot in a very small voice.
‘And other curiosities,’ said the King, eyeing Dot’s hand. ‘What makes a being magical? What specifically animates that vital part of the corporeal soul? What is the link between spirits and the rest of us? I would like to find out. We have discovered how to remove magic – that is of course the daemotion. Do you know that particular area of scholarship?’
‘W-well, I learned about it at university,’ said Dot truthfully.
‘So, youarea scholar of the Royal Institute. What area did you specialise in?’
‘Article Thirteen,’ she said carefully. ‘I did – well, I did quite a lot of research.’
‘So, you’ve an interest in my legacy,’ said the King, ‘Tell me, child, do you know the truth of the article, or just what they printed in the papers? Are you sure you dida lotof research?’
Despite her fear, Dot bristled. ‘Article Thirteen was introduced because of a rogue spirit,’ she said.
Behind her, the grand doors to the menagerie opened. The King smiled and held up a hand to the incumbent guest, commanding them to pause. His gaze returned to Dot; she did not dare turn around.
‘Go on,’ said the King. ‘Dazzle us with your knowledge.’
‘Well, the constitution was changed,’ said Dot, ‘You, your Majesty, changed it. The Prohibition on Magic came in after the crimes of a rogue spirit had come to light. His magic was stripped away, and that spirit was the first in hundreds of years to be turned into a daemon – I mean, there are only five or so daemons on record.’
‘And what of the crime?’ came the voice of the new guest behind Dot. The words sounded rasping and wet. She now noticed the dank smell of pond water and glimpsed a figure, peripherally, hidden in the shadows by the door. Still, she did not dare take her gaze away from the King.
‘A spirit has to commit a truly vile crime to be Daemoted,’ said Dot. ‘The daemon in question captured thousands of spirits. He put them in cages, not unlike these, and performed experiments on them.’
