Vellum and Green Vitriol
Copyright © 2007, S. Y. Affolee
The First Conjuration
Seal VIII
"Is that silk?"
I wrapped the red kimono closer to my body as I shut the compartment door. I had just come back from changing in the bathroom located at the end of the car. Both of the fold out beds in the berth were pulled down and someone had helpfully turned down the sheets.
Rhys wore light blue pajamas, although I wasn't entirely sure whether it was a concession to the prevailing fashion or in deference to what he perceived was my sensibilities. He was leaning back casually against his pillow with some sort of journal in his hands and with his overhead light on. He looked over me with what could only be described as an interested gaze.
"No," I replied, "It's actually wildebeest hide."
"I take it that it is silk. You know, you didn't strike me as a silk kind of girl."
"I guess I'm full of surprises then."
He closed the journal and tucked it in a shelf above. He then slid under his covers, closing his eyes. "I'm not looking."
I just shook my head and finally took off my kimono and raised a knee to get into bed. Something that made the hairs at the back of my neck rise had me turning around.
His eyes were open. He grinned at my glare. "I lied."
"Pervert." I crawled into bed and pulled the covers over my head.
* * *
A scratch and a scream jolted me awake. At first, I thought I had finally remembered a dream. But another scream punctuated the air.
"You're trying to make my night miserable, aren't you?" came a low groggy voice in the darkness. "You're making me pay for just a look."
"It's not me, you idiot." I scrambled out of bed and struggled to tug on my kimono. "Someone's outside."
Before I could turn the handle to the compartment door, an arm wrapped itself around my waist and pulled me back. "And you shouldn't be an idiot and barge out there without seeing what's out there."
"Who said anything about barging outside?" I managed to wiggle out of his grasp. "I was just going to look." I edged the door open a crack and peered outside.
Faint electrical light from another open berth illuminated the car corridor. A faint burning smell reached my nose. Several of the other passengers were poking their heads out into the corridor, heedless of any danger.
"Did someone get murdered?" one of the passengers remarked.
There was an audible smack. "Harold! This is not something to joke about."
"Ow. Martha, you have a mean right."
An intrepid passenger in a night cap ventured out into the corridor to examine the corridor. "Nothing here," he announced to everyone. "Of course, it could have been from one of the berths."
At that, everyone else scrambled out of their cabins and began banging on the doors of those who had slept more heavily. After a moment, with everyone accounted for, someone suggested that perhaps it was the engine's whistle that had sounded. Seemingly satisfied with that answer, the passengers went back to their berths, grumbling.
Once the corridor was empty, I stepped out, following my nose.
"What do you think you're doing?" Rhys whispered.
"Something's not quite right." In the flickering moonlight, I examined a bit of scorched wall across from berth number seven, our neighbor. The older man residing in that compartment had not appeared to be a suspicious figure--but then again, bad people didn't necessarily appear bad. "You're the expert with fire. What do you think? Is it just a cigar burn?"
He regarded the burn and in the dark, his eyes glimmered green. "I think it's a bit bigger than that. Exactly what made it, though, is still debatable."
"Debatable between what? Was someone simply a little careless with a match or something more serious?"
"I'm not sure, although there is a taint of something to it." He glanced around the corridor. "No one's here, but I'd feel more comfortable discussing this back at our berth."
Curious now, I led the way back to number eight and scrambled back onto my bed as he locked the compartment door. And for extra measure, he also shut the curtains. "So what did you notice?"
"I can't be completely positive, but I think it was some sort of summoning spell. Why someone would do it in the corridor of a train car is a mystery to me."
"A sorcerer is one of the passengers then?"
"Not necessarily." He slid into his own bed and yawned. "I guess I'm more wiped out from that encounter at that antiquarian bookshop than usual. Maybe I'm getting too old. But anyways, not only sorcerers know how to wield that kind of power. Untrained persons who have an affinity for such things may have done it. It's the most likely scenario, really. A seasoned sorcerer would have remained in his berth, or at least used the dining car when no one was around."
"Or it could have been a grimoire."
"How likely is that to happen? One chance in several million, perhaps."
"I met you, didn't I?" I pulled up my covers and turned off my overhead light.
"You probably used up all your chances with me," he replied, clearly on the verge of sleep now. "You and I have gone centuries without meeting up with another of our kind."
"I don't know. For centuries, there has only been transportation by horse or on foot. One was stuck in one place most of the time so, of course, meeting up with another talking grimoire was pretty dim."
To that, Rhys replied with a soft snore.
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