A Ghost in the House of Iron

Chapter Eight

SINDRED

When I arrive at the apothecary in the morning, I've wrapped a gray woolen shift around my head like a sort of hat. Ezebel narrows her eyes at it in wordless question as she pours me a cup of green mush. Instead of answering, I make sure the door is closed and tug on the end, letting it come undone. My hair gleams in the sunlight.

"You washed it," she says. It's not a question.

"If I can erase myself from the minds of others, does it matter?" Not exactly a question, either. A statement. Almost a challenge. 

She raises her eyebrows. "Did you practice?"

I don't respond, but she takes my silence as an answer. "Very well," she says, "if you want to take such a risk, prove it. I'll summon a test subject, and you will show me what you can do."

Don't let your fear control you. I take a deep breath and say, "I'm ready." Even though it feels like a lie.

.

In the training room, Ezebel stands in front of me with a girl named Enna. She's a handmaid to Vessimira, a powerful young woman in court, daughter of High Priest Rogemere Nikaldia. With that placement she serves as one of Ezebel's most useful tools. Beneath her rudimentary glamour, Enna's skin is a rich green, and her teeth are long and sharp like fangs. But to the human eye, she is brown-skinned and doe-eyed, with a shy smile that wins over even the most distrusting.

We know each other, but not well. But I do know she is not skilled with glamour or magic of any kind, and that is why Ezebel chose her for this test. She doesn't know why she's here, but stands patiently while Ezebel gestures for me to proceed.

"I don't know if you should stand so close," I say to Ezebel, "if you don't want it to…" What am I saying? I don't even know if I can do this again, let alone affect two people.

Ezebel walks backwards until she is standing about ten feet away, close to the wall. Enna looks nervously from Ezebel to me, but stays where she is.

I close my eyes, stand tall, pull back my shoulders and my chin, concentrate on the slow in and out of my breath. Though in the training room it is warm as a late spring day, in the world of my mind it is snowing. Big fluffy flakes drift slowly down, creating a landscape of white. I fly through the blizzard, a wild flurry of wind, whistling through barren branches, across the cold-bitten cheeks of daring travelers. I am the ice crystals in their hair, the hunger in their bellies, the chill sneaking into their bones. And then I am gone. Driven away by the heat of a snapping fire and the sizzle of freshly cooked meat. By sunshine and laughter and the promise of summer. A droplet in a river of rushing meltwater. A flicker of white sinking into the darkness. Unwanted, meaningless. Forgotten.

“Try to feel, Sindred.”

Just a ghost, a pale shadow. Nothing.

I open my eyes. Ezebel is watching me carefully. Enna has her eyes lowered, is holding her hands loosely behind her back. She is waiting for something, but she doesn't know what.

This time, I know I've done it. I smile at Ezebel.

She frowns, looking at Enna, then back to me. "Enna," she says.

The girl looks up. "Yes, m'lady?"

"Do you know why you're here?" Ezebel asks.

She is careful with her answer. "No, m'lady. You asked me to come, but did not say why."

"Who is here with us?" Ezebel presses.

Enna looks around, confused. "No one, m'lady. Or… Wait." Her eyes focus on me and she blinks. "Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't see you."