Art & Apparitions

Chapter 1: A Ghost Client

Possible new client coming in, Tasser sang out from the waiting room.

Sazzy signed her Fateday message to her cousin Rory, set her wizardwriter down, and looked up, started to speak and stopped. She recognized the man in her office doorway after all . . . even though she hadn’t seen him since her first, Cats and Crowns, Case: the blackfate mirror scryer.

Instead of her planned and polite, ‘May I help you?’, she demanded, Where did you disappear to?

Amusement flickered across the man’s plain, but comfortable face. He had just—past shoulder length thick brown hair and a solid build. His dusky blue outfit looked expensive and new, but out of date by several decades. He said, Chay says you’re the private spy to solve a case for a friend of mine.

Chay. The Youngest Sinister Fate. Oh—no. She waved her hand toward her client chair. Sazzy Jinn, and you?

He sat and said, Byran— He stopped, looked puzzled, fished the truth spell pillow out from between the cushions, held it a second, then asked, Do you mind if I put this somewhere else?

Actually, yes.

Chay?

The youngest Sinister Fate appeared perched on the corner of her desk and tilted herm’s head to one side. Both of her visitors stayed silent a several minutes, then Chay said, She won’t believe you anyway.

Byran, looking dubious, tucked the spell pillow back between the cushions. You tell her my name then.

Chay laughed first. Byran Spiritsong mostly.

Sazzy made no comment. But, like she had felt she had to take the Queen’s Cats & Crowns case, she felt she had no real choice about taking a case that the Youngest Sinister Fate wanted her to. She countered hopefully with, I don’t see how I can help you, if ... Chay can’t.

Chay isn’t a private spy.

And you?

I’m a . . . shaman mostly.

And what are you when you aren’t a shaman?

Byran looked confused a moment, glanced at the truth spell pillow, then at Chay, and finally said, I’m always a shaman, but I haven’t always been a shaman, and I am, also, several other things, not all of which I am at the liberty to discuss.

The elitedaughter needs a lesson in: Truth is all well and good, Chay said, eyes glinting with laughter, except it isn’t always true and sometimes it is entirely misleading. Just like her illusion-busting talent.

And a truth spell pillow from the market probably wouldn’t even cause a Fate to hesitate to bend words any which way.

Chay thought you could solve a case for a friend of mine, Byran said, repeating earlier words.

The first thing I do is interview the client and make sure they are telling the truth about their side of the case.

Byran glanced to the side, and a smile tickled his mouth. Elitedaughter, that is why I’m talking to you in her stead—unless you can hear ghosts.

She stiffened, slashed Chay a look, and slapped her wizardwriter down. All right, you’ve had your fun. Fatewell.

I told you she wouldn’t believe you even holding the truth spell pillow, Chay said, mouth quirking, obviously with held back laughter.

My ghost friend’s name is— Byran paused and closed his eyes a second. Mischiel Wingedfoot. It’s about her brother, Kimeriel—

Sazzy crossed her arms and managed not to glare at the Youngest Sinister Fate—but just barely. No. Absolutely not. No and no. She was not going to take on a five hundred-year-old legendary case, not even for the Sinister Fates Entire.

Byran reached out and took hold of something she couldn’t see. A ghost’s hand maybe. The hair on the back of Sazzy’s neck prickled.

Chay frowned at her. Why not? Byran can pay you.

She gazed at the Youngest Sinister Fate several minutes before saying overly-sweetly anyway, Because you’re asking me to solve a legend?

A legend? Chay and Byran echoed, and Byran glanced to his right. Toward his ghost friend?

Sazzy sat back and doodled a picture of a framed painting in scribbles. Legendary magic artist, Kimeriel Magictouch, walked into his legendary painting in 1363 and died there. Some say he was pushed, or killed and pushed in. No one else has ever had the caliber of art magic he had to be able to step into his painting and see. If he really did step into his painting to start. If any of it is true at all.

Legendary painting? Byran asked slowly, glancing to his right several times.

I told the Younger Fates about it a few seasons ago. It’s in the museum in Nakerty, Lyy. She paused. It looked to me as if half of them went to see it when I said that.

Chay vanished . . . and reappeared a few seconds later . . . with the painting.

Sazzy straightened with a jerk. Oh, no, now the Lyys would have her up before the Queen for stealing a piece of famous art. I hope that is going back the way it came.

Chay stuck herm’s tongue out at her and leaned the painting against her bookcase.

The painting made her just as uneasy as she remembered. The wide, carved gold frame still made her think: over-ostentatious. What everyone said was a portrait of Kimeriel Magictouch, who lay on his stomach, feet toward the edge of the canvas as if he had fallen into his painting, dominated the picture. A scrap of paper had been painted in the lower right hand corner. It had words on it, but they hadn’t been painted clearly. Kimeriel Magictouch wore what must be his usual painting garb, since the loose tunic had dabs and smears of unrelated colors on it. He held a paint brush in his beringed left hand and a rag in his right. His feet were bare and she had always felt that if she tickled the bottoms, he would twitch them.

In the background of the painting, a woman had been sketched in broad strokes but never finished. The art historians said the woman would be his sister, the famous dancer, Mischiel Wingedfoot—Byran’s ghost friend and her potential client.

Sazzy glanced at Byran. Tears glinted in his eyes. She looked away.

The last time I saw this painting, Byran said, Kimnee was standing up in it. That was just after his sister had it framed and put in the family gallery.

It’s a legend, Sazzy repeated. It’s been five hundred odd years.

So? Chay said. You worked with Chiary in 1439, you went hunting for soup bowls all over the place and time—

Not alone. But wouldn’t it be fun to meet Kimeriel Magictouch and watch him paint? She took a breath and registered what Byran had said. Standing up in it?

And facing the side. Sculpting.

That’s impossible. Wasn’t it? Or was it? Kinsal, of her last case, had been alive and trapped in a necklace. A creepy feeling spiderwebbed through her body. Then that means Kimeriel is alive in the painting—or was? He didn’t look alive now. If he had been standing in the painting at first, why had he fallen? On the timetracks, if you stayed long enough, you could starve to death—but it took a long, long while. Had Kimeriel starved to death in his painting? Had he moved since the last time she had looked at the painting? She hadn’t really looked that closely. Wouldn’t the people at the museum have noticed? Sazzy looked up.

Byran now stood with his arms around someone invisible and his cheek tucked down on what could be the top of a ghostly head. Sazzy felt her hair stand on end again. She turned her attention to Chay. Like Kinsal?

We don’t know, or Byrie wouldn’t have to ask you to investigate.

Sazzy blinked. You want me to find out what happened to someone even the Fates have lost track of?

Byran half-smiled. That about sums it up.

With Chay looking at her pleadingly, she couldn’t not take the case. Dusty would have a fit. But she hoped her partner would know how to charge for the case, because she sure didn’t, and his board of fees certainly wouldn’t work here. Very likely, she would have to enlist Das Cousin’s timewalking help, maybe more than once. I don’t guarantee anything, she said.

She’s solved every other case, Chay put in.

Byran sat again, looked at her, then away, then to the side.

Does your friend need a chair? Sazzy asked without thinking.

Byran’s mouth twitched. She’s perching on the arm of my chair. He paused. Oh. Byran slanted Chay a look.

Chay grinned back and herm’s emerald eyes turned bright. Yeah, do it.

Byran glanced at her, then down and to the side. One of my talents is to make ghosts visible to others. In case that would help you decide.

Her hair stood on end for a third time, and felt as if it would stay that way forever. Sazzy pushed back from her desk. But, yes, she was curious.

After a few seconds, a handsome woman with a dancer’s body, wearing a floaty scarlet silk gown faded into view perched on the arm of her client chair. The woman had long, rippling, mirage-yellow curls and bright blue eyes that glinted with tears.

Sazzy felt her heart jump. She was smitten. Too bad Mischiel Wingedfoot no longer lived.

Mischiel begged her with her eyes, and Sazzy caved in entirely, even before Mischiel said shakily, I love my brother. Please. Byran can’t find him anywhere in Skyland. Neither can Shad. Please.

I don’t even know where to start. I don’t know if I can get back into your time to look.

You might be able to visit me in my time when I was alive? Mischiel asked, her eyes brightening. Wow, that would be fun! She paused and her expression dimmed. Except for the reason.

Sazzy looked down and doodled a quick picture of Mischiel Wingedfoot. If it had been her favorite brother Dandy missing and her not sure if he had died or not—She pulled a fresh folder down and labeled it: ‘Kimeriel Magictouch’.

Thank you, Mischiel said fervently. Thank you. Mischiel glanced at Byran and, a moment later, started to fade.

Sazzy wanted to protest. No, she wanted the wonderful, vibrant woman to stay. And be a friend.

Yes? Byran prompted, looking hopeful.

I still can’t guarantee anything. I’m not even sure where to start. Or what you really want to know.

We want to know, Chay said, if Kimnee really walked into his painting and, if he did, did he do it on his own. And why. And, if he didn’t, who pushed him. And why. Along with where he is now. Chay paused, glanced over herm’s shoulder, then back. Hoppy says to warn you that the Youngest Dark Fate might be involved.

Sazzy made an unhappy sound.

Herm— Byran began and stopped. The Dark Fates have as strict a code of ethics as most of the rest of the Fates. I can bring you a book to read on them. He paused, not saying something. He glanced to his right and seemed to be arguing silently with Mischiel Wingedfoot. Finally he sat back and looked down at his hands tucked in his lap. Missie is wondering if it does have to do with the Dark Fates, because of the time Kimnee sent our dirty dishes to them.

Sazzy found a strangled half-laugh-half-sound-of-horror sneaking out.

Byran smiled a little. It’s funny. It’s not funny. They got back at him once when he was helping me by stabbing his picture with one of the forks he sent them. I don’t know how many more pieces of cutlery they have still. They sent one of the knives to me one time, too.

Sazzy sent them a shal-kasha cake during Gaudy Fest, Chay put in, and she scowled at herm without thinking. Chay stuck herm’s tongue out at her and added, Byran did it one time, too. That’s when he got one of Kimnee’s knives back. Byrie hasn’t collected on his cake yet either.

So the Dark Fates Entire are two shal-kasha cakes in our debt, Sazzy said. And this was going to save her from the Dark Fates while working on this case? Uncle Lily’s Gaudy Feast cake hadn’t been that big.

Byran stared at her a second, then laughed shortly. That’s one way to put it. S—The Youngest Dark Fate has helped me before—when it makes enough trouble for others.

The Youngest Dark Fate. One Sinister Fate in her life was bad enough. She had seen most of the Younger Fates, though, at one time or another. Even the Youngest Dark Fate, who had sat between two of her cousins, during Uncle Lily’s Gaudy Feast dinner. She stayed unmoving a moment, then started making notes. When she looked up to ask more questions, Byran stood near the hall door.

I’m sorry, he said, I need to leave.

I have a list of questions.

Perhaps tomorrow. Byran backed out into the hall. Thank you.

Sazzy scrambled to her feet to go after him, but by the time she reached the waiting room, he had already gone.

New client, yes? Tasser asked from behind his corner desk.

Sazzy took a breath and laughed instead.

When she returned to her office and bumped into the painting, she stopped laughing.

After several minutes of panicked mind whirls of how in the Thunderlands was she going to return the painting without going to jail for stealing it, she sat down and studied it. And made notes. And, on second thought, no matter how artistically inept she felt making a copy of one of Kimeriel Magictouch’s paintings, she did that. Byran had said the last time he’d seen the painting, Kimeriel had been standing in it. That would be a vote for Kimeriel being alive when he’d either walked in or been pushed in. Either action seeming impossible.

Byran hadn’t said when that time had been. The 1363 that history said?

Byran was a friend of Mischiel Wingedfoot? Who had lived 500 years ago. Was he a non-Cousin time traveler? He didn’t look like a Beacon waywalker, the only other timewalkers she knew of. Or was he a recent friend of Mischiel the ghost? Except he had sounded as if he knew Kimeriel Magictouch well, too. If Byran could talk to ghosts, why couldn’t he just ask Kimeriel what had happened?

Because, Mischiel had said Byran couldn’t find Kimeriel anywhere. Anywhere being?