the city, she rushed about, chatting boisterously with women and flirting with men.
It was much less intimidating in the daylight—while the streets and buildings were dirty and old, the people were friendly and chatted easily with each other. It was only when a carriage or wagon rolled through, carrying on it a lofty nobleman or several elegantly-dressed women, that the commoners lowered their heads and turned sullenly away.
"Rich bastards," commented Muse acidly. "Think they could spare a dime for some of us less unfortunate folk, but no. What do they care if we're starving?"
"Are many people starving?" I asked.
"Oh, yes," she said. "They say there are jobs in the capital, but they're only there for the rich and educated. Ever since the economy's gotten better, the rich have gotten richer, but the poor have gotten poorer. I'm lucky to have a job with Titiana. Otherwise, I'd be out on the streets, probably selling myself under much less sanitary conditions. She's good to us, you know."
Muse seemed pensive for a moment, and then jumped and ran ahead. "Look!" she said. "Here's the palace! Oh, do you mind if we stop at the royal bakery for a moment? I've got to do some business."
Business involved flirting with the young baker's apprentice. Muse was a master at what she did—I almost believed that she was truly in love with the young man, and that it was a cruel twist of fate that the only time she could see him was when he could come by the Parlour and pay for her company. I stood awkwardly by the window as they waxed eloquent at each other.
The palace was grand; I could see it through the wrought iron gates that stood twenty feet tall around the grounds. It was an old, impressive building, made of white stone and set all over with lavish carvings and gold inlay. Gold from across the sea, I remembered reading in one of Dante's books, although I couldn't remember what relationship this fact had had with magical history. Perhaps some myth about a curse attached to the gold?
Finally, Muse was done, and we proceeded to the front gates where two guards stood, dressed in smart royal blue uniforms and wearing rather ridiculous tall white hats with feathered plumes. They sniffed down at me, obviously taking in my short boots and loose burlap trousers with dislike. They seemed rather more inclined to talk with Muse, but I forced their attention to me.
"I'm here to see the Wizard Dante," I said. "Do you know if he made it to the palace alright?"
"Indeed he did," the taller of the guards informed me through his thick, groomed moustache. "And who are you?"
"I'm, er, an apprentice of his," I said, trying and failing not to be intimidated by their sharp, suspicious looks. "But we, ah … got separated. Perhaps he's mentioned me."
"He most certainly has not," boomed the other guard, stepping to look down at me over his equally impressive moustache. "But then, he hasn't had the time to mention anything much since he's returned to the palace." The two glanced at each other darkly.
"What do you mean by that?" I asked. When they neglected to answer me, I continued, "Look, can I just see him?"
"Absolutely not," said the first guard gruffly. "We don't let whores and hooligans into the palace without leave. Besides, I'm disinclined to believe you." He leaned over again, inspecting me suspiciously.
I thought about using my powers on him. I thought about making him so dizzy and in lust with me that he could barely walk, and would then let me into the palace—then I could find Dante and make him remember me—no, I mustn't do that. But really, how could Dante not remember me? Of course he did! There must have been some mistake, and I told the guard so, but he merely laughed at me.
"Come back with a letter from someone inside granting you access," he said. "Then we'll think about letting you in."
Chagrined, and with nothing to besides head back or make a huge show of using my powers (Muse was already looking at me suspiciously), I
It was much less intimidating in the daylight—while the streets and buildings were dirty and old, the people were friendly and chatted easily with each other. It was only when a carriage or wagon rolled through, carrying on it a lofty nobleman or several elegantly-dressed women, that the commoners lowered their heads and turned sullenly away.
"Rich bastards," commented Muse acidly. "Think they could spare a dime for some of us less unfortunate folk, but no. What do they care if we're starving?"
"Are many people starving?" I asked.
"Oh, yes," she said. "They say there are jobs in the capital, but they're only there for the rich and educated. Ever since the economy's gotten better, the rich have gotten richer, but the poor have gotten poorer. I'm lucky to have a job with Titiana. Otherwise, I'd be out on the streets, probably selling myself under much less sanitary conditions. She's good to us, you know."
Muse seemed pensive for a moment, and then jumped and ran ahead. "Look!" she said. "Here's the palace! Oh, do you mind if we stop at the royal bakery for a moment? I've got to do some business."
Business involved flirting with the young baker's apprentice. Muse was a master at what she did—I almost believed that she was truly in love with the young man, and that it was a cruel twist of fate that the only time she could see him was when he could come by the Parlour and pay for her company. I stood awkwardly by the window as they waxed eloquent at each other.
The palace was grand; I could see it through the wrought iron gates that stood twenty feet tall around the grounds. It was an old, impressive building, made of white stone and set all over with lavish carvings and gold inlay. Gold from across the sea, I remembered reading in one of Dante's books, although I couldn't remember what relationship this fact had had with magical history. Perhaps some myth about a curse attached to the gold?
Finally, Muse was done, and we proceeded to the front gates where two guards stood, dressed in smart royal blue uniforms and wearing rather ridiculous tall white hats with feathered plumes. They sniffed down at me, obviously taking in my short boots and loose burlap trousers with dislike. They seemed rather more inclined to talk with Muse, but I forced their attention to me.
"I'm here to see the Wizard Dante," I said. "Do you know if he made it to the palace alright?"
"Indeed he did," the taller of the guards informed me through his thick, groomed moustache. "And who are you?"
"I'm, er, an apprentice of his," I said, trying and failing not to be intimidated by their sharp, suspicious looks. "But we, ah … got separated. Perhaps he's mentioned me."
"He most certainly has not," boomed the other guard, stepping to look down at me over his equally impressive moustache. "But then, he hasn't had the time to mention anything much since he's returned to the palace." The two glanced at each other darkly.
"What do you mean by that?" I asked. When they neglected to answer me, I continued, "Look, can I just see him?"
"Absolutely not," said the first guard gruffly. "We don't let whores and hooligans into the palace without leave. Besides, I'm disinclined to believe you." He leaned over again, inspecting me suspiciously.
I thought about using my powers on him. I thought about making him so dizzy and in lust with me that he could barely walk, and would then let me into the palace—then I could find Dante and make him remember me—no, I mustn't do that. But really, how could Dante not remember me? Of course he did! There must have been some mistake, and I told the guard so, but he merely laughed at me.
"Come back with a letter from someone inside granting you access," he said. "Then we'll think about letting you in."
Chagrined, and with nothing to besides head back or make a huge show of using my powers (Muse was already looking at me suspiciously), I
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