Dead Magic by A.J. Maguire Page A

with Monty. The Ambassador managed to wedge her out of her stateroom on board the Crescent Moon just once, exclaiming how unhealthy it was for her to remain cooped up for so long. She still wasn't certain how she'd managed not to be sick in front of him. Whatever he'd seen on her face seemed to convince him that she wasn't faking, but Monty would not be deterred from his answers.
    At least it had been a pleasant sort of interrogation. He needled and pried, but covered it all with laughter and compliments. In retrospect, Valeda thought his company had been welcome in spite of her illness. For the hour he'd spent at tea with her, Monty managed to keep her distracted from the fact that they were flying.
    Still, she'd kept her responses vague, especially when he asked about her private walk with Lady Elsie. House Witch Minne Orzebet didn't need to be kept abreast of movements in Delgora, and Valeda was well aware of the fact that Montgomery Taven would relay everything to his own Lady. That was, after all, his job.
    Glancing both ways, Valeda made certain the road was clear before crossing. She blessed the Fates that she was back in her trousers and suit-jacket, nimbly avoiding horse droppings and muddy puddles in the cobblestone. While she saw the necessities of wearing a skirt on occasion, Valeda much preferred trousers. It wasn't considered stylish, but she wasn't a fashion mogul.
    No , she thought, as she reached the front gate of the school, she was a fencer and a reporter, capable of handling herself if need be .
    A plump old man sporting a chest-long white beard waddled out of the gatehouse on the other side. Valeda was caught off guard by the lush beard. It was braided, of all things, and the pointy triangle the braid produced should have looked absurd, but somehow, on this man at least, it complimented his features. His matching white hair made a pleasant sort of wave at his shoulders, accenting the deep tan peeking out from the beard, and his round, sturdy frame lent him an intimidating presence.
    "Hello, I'm Miss Quinlan. I've an appointment with Master Walter this afternoon."
    The big, white-haired man had an icy-blue glare that seemed to bore right into her. She made certain not to qualify herself as a reporter since she was still, technically, on leave and far out of Tormey Lands. While it wasn't uncommon for a newspaper to send reporters under cover to other House lands, it was generally frowned upon by the Witches. It appeared the Witches did not appreciate having the troubles of their home lands under the scrutiny of their peers.
    "Miss Quinlan?" The big man's menacing demeanor melted into a big smile. "Ah, the newspaper woman. Lady Feverrette said to expect you. Come on in."
    He unlatched the gate and held it open for her as she passed through.
    "Lady Feverrette?" Valeda eyed the front porch of the manor house with a frown. She was getting quite tired of feeling outclassed.
    The sooner she got her answers, the sooner she could get back to her quaint little apartment and her regular life. She had four distinct tasks to carry out for House Witch Delgora, the first of which this strange meeting with Master Bernum Walter. Valeda had no idea what she was supposed to say or do in this meeting, just that she had to be there.
    "Yes, Lady Feverrette is our patron," the man said, his bearded smile somehow widening. "Lovely woman. She deals with all the financial particulars of running the school. Master Walter says she's a verifiable mathematical genius."
    Confused, Valeda glanced up at him. "Perhaps I'll have the pleasure of meeting her in the course of the meeting."
    For all intents and purposes, Valeda had assumed Lady Elsie was the school's patron. That seemed to make sense anyway. Why else would she have been sent there?
    "Oh, no. You'll not be seeing Lady Feverrette here. She prefers to stay in town, closer to Fortress Lorant." He locked the gates behind her and turned toward the Manor. "But look at me, forgetting my