Gods of Jade and Shadow - Silvia Moreno-Garcia Page 0,82

moment. Even the flames that rose around them grew softer before leaping up and shimmering violet-red as the sorcerer tossed another handful of ash at the barrier.

“Enjoy your time in my house,” the Uay Chivo replied.

But when he stepped out of the room, he bent over his cane with a great deal of effort, and one of his assistants walked by his side, speaking in his ear. The other assistant remained, obviously meant to guard them.

Casiopea and Hun-Kamé sat next to each other quietly. The guard wrapped his hand in a handkerchief and crossed his arms, sitting down on a chair and watching them intently. At length he grew bored or tired and closed his eyes.

“How will we get out of this?” Casiopea asked in a whisper.

“I imagine with some effort,” Hun-Kamé replied laconically.

Casiopea raised an eyebrow at his words. “Was that a joke?”

“I suppose it was.”

“It wasn’t very good.”

“I don’t have much practice with them.”

She smiled at him and he smiled back. Minutes passed before he half turned away from Casiopea, regarding the wall of flame.

“The spell is sound enough, but there is a solution to every riddle,” Hun-Kamé said. “If I thrust myself against the flames, I’d simply scorch my body and writhe in pain. But I won’t do that, not exactly. What we need is that guard to come here, right next to the barrier.”

“What do you propose?”

“Have you any practice at playing the damsel in distress?”

“I could manage.”

“Good. The man is tired; so is the Uay Chivo. Magic takes a toll. Exhaustion may engender mistakes. I will cast an illusion, make myself disappear. You must make a ruckus. Say I’ve run off and get him as near as you can.”

“That is all?”

“I’ll manage the rest.”

Casiopea nodded. Hun-Kamé stood up, and he slowly lifted his hands. He was there, but then an inky darkness lifted from the floor, enveloping him in the blink of an eye, and he disappeared. The guard who was supposed to watch them had his eyes closed; he had witnessed nothing. Casiopea hoped for the best, took a deep breath and cried out.

“He’s gone! He’s left me, he’s gone!”

The guard was startled awake and stood up, his hand immediately going to the hilt of his knife.

“He’s escaped!” Casiopea cried.

The man’s eyes went wide. He opened his mouth but did not seem able to believe the sight, the girl alone in the circle of fire, hands pitifully pressed against her face.

“He went away, like a puff of smoke, left me here. Please, come, see,” she babbled.

The man looked like he was about to bolt out of the room. Casiopea pointed to the floor. “See! All he’s left behind is a jewel, a tiny diamond, like the coin you toss a beggar.”

Creative, her tongue, schooled by books and poems. The words, along with her distraught expression, must have done the trick. The guard rushed forward, stood by the rim of fire, and bent down to look at the nonexistent diamond Casiopea was pointing at.

All of a sudden the guard was pulled forward, Hun-Kamé became visible again as the man was violently flung against the floor, the top of his head falling inside the circle of fire. Blood welled from the man’s temple and Hun-Kamé dragged him around, following the circle’s contour, whispering several words. It was as if he were wiping chalk off a slate, the wall weakening, dissolving with each word and each drop of the man’s blood. Every single link in a spell is precious. Topple one, the others will fall, and this is exactly what Hun-Kamé did. He wrote over, crossed out, he eliminated a single link, and the violet fire ceased to burn.

Once the barrier was gone, Casiopea bent down, pressing a hand against the man’s neck, relieved to feel a pulse beneath her fingers.

“Thank God, he is not dead,” she said.

“What if he was?” Hun-Kamé replied with a shrug, smoothing the lapels of his suit. “He is only a man.”

“I am only a woman. It doesn’t mean you can chop me down like a weed, without any care or thought; neither can you chop him.”

“You forget, maybe, who I am.”

“I think you are a nobleman, and killing a man who need not be killed would be ignoble. Am I mistaken?” she countered.

Behind his handsome, polished stillness, there lay a hard and ugly core. Her naïveté allowed her to glimpse it, but she could not fear it. He’d been kind to her, and she therefore expected his kindness would