CHAPTERTWENTY
‘. . . opposition minister, the Spirit Marcidus, of course, will attempt to move the amendment, while Minister Bianca De Leónand many of her fellows in the House of Representatives push on in their campaign. De Leónthis morning told our journalists that the opposition’s plan to rescind the daemotion clause without also restoring magic to the mortal populace would have “diabolical outcomes” if rushed through parliament. The opposition minister, however . . .’
Lamplight from the hallway spilled through her open door. How many hours had Dot spent in her room, staring up at the ceiling, listening to the radio? Her scales now adorned half of her forearm. She surveyed the growth. Theodora had tried everything to stop it, from dousing her arm in tonic to almost burning her skin with spells.
When Dot had woken, she’d felt calm and miserable. Here she was again, so extremely fatigued that to lift one arm felt as if she were lifting the weight of an ocean. She counted the scales. She closed her eyes and wished, not for the last time, that this affliction was not hers to bear.
Dot let her eyes flutter shut and in her gentle dozing she vaguely discerned a knock upon the open door, followed by safe, domestic shadows moving around her, the sound of quiet footfalls and the lowpatof something being placed beside her. When at last her eyes opened again, there was a cup upon her bedside table.
Slowly, she lifted herself.
It was a mug of chamomile and fennel tea beside a packet spell – to soothe, to calm, to keep the bad dreams away. The first potion she had been shown in the tea shop. Dot smiled a little and then realised that the tea had not been brewed by Theodora or Belchamber. There was a note beside it, and in the dull lamplight she made out the boy’s cramped script:
Thank you.
‘Your birthday was in the winter?’
Theodora sat in the armchair beside Dot’s bed. It was a new day.
‘Yes,’ said Dot. ‘Why?’
‘I have something difficult to tell you,’ said Theodora, still in the robes of the Minister for Sorcerie and Magic. ‘And despite all of my resources and all of my myriad friends who are researchers or doctors or people of intelligence, I’m afraid that I must drop this upon you with absolutely no idea of how to solve it.’
Theodora leaned forward, her elbows on her knees. There was no gallant smile this time.
‘I knew your magic was unique, Dorothy.’
‘Because I smacked that Moira woman out of the Lourdes?’
Theodora did not laugh.
‘Because magic is traceable,’ she said. ‘If a Magician is skilled enough and knowledgeable enough, they can determine magical abilities in others. After I brought you back here and tended to your affliction, I performed some tests.’
‘You did?’ said Dot.
‘I did,’ said Theodora. ‘While you were pretending to sleep. I was unconcerned at the time.’
‘Why bring it up now, then?’ asked Dot.
‘I performed the tests again,’ said Theodora.
‘And?’
Theodora spoke in a distant way. Only at the edges of her demeanour – the restless foot, her minutely moving fingers – was her discomfort discernible.
‘If I can explain this simply,’ Theodora went on, ‘we, in this modern age, with our modern telescopes, have the ability to track the stars. We know that they are moving, always away from each other like ships sailing from home harbours, and we can do this by measuring where they are now against where they were a month ago, a year ago.’
Theodora paused and looked into Dot’s eyes.
‘In a similar way,’ said Theodora, ‘I have now tracked the trajectory of your magic and its effect on your life.’
Dot’s heart began to sink.
‘Your affliction, that is to say, thesymptomsof your affliction, not just the scales, but the facets which you have experienced since you were fourteen, are rather a part of you. The fatigue. The dizziness. This seems to be your body’s defence for duress. That, at least, is what I can tell from the spells I’ve cast and the results they’ve turned up. Even if you had not fallen into the ocean that day, I believe that all of this would have come forth at some point had you come down with some significant stressor. Even if you somehow removed those scales from your hand, your illness would remain.’
‘So, Icouldremove them?’ asked Dot.
Theodora shook her head. ‘No, Dorothy. I am quite certain you will never remove them. Those scales are as much a part of you now as your curly hair and your love of maps and your skill for mathematics.’
