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 Posted: Fri Jul 27, 2007 8:01 am
As Malecoda had guessed, it did take him several days to master the techniques of making orbs of water. It was one of those self-contradictive activities which Lore couldn't think about too hard, or else it gave him a headache and ruined the orb he was working on. He just decided to take it as read that the orb would be made as it was made and that the rest was magic.
Malecoda, a huge fan of the amusement to be found in torturing Lore's brain, then started him on making orbs of fire. She smiled so sweetly that, for an instant, he was almost fooled, before he realized that water had, at least, had a definite state of matter, but that fire was neither solid, liquid, gaseous, nor even plasmic. The thought of confining fire to a sphere made him wince.
"This is one of the hardest orbs you'll ever have to make, but only because it'll hurt your hands to handle it, your eyes to look at it, and your brain to figure out how to shape it and make it hold its shape. I will remind you, because I'm a kind and generous mistress, that fire does form balls all by itself at times. It may make it easier on your poor, logical little brain."
And she sounded like she was actually doing him a favor by pointing this out, rather than simply reminding him of other things he had not considered about this newest undertaking. He had actually neglected to consider that fire had a tendency to burn.
So, for these purposes, Malecoda first had him enchant a pair of gloves which he could wear that would allow him to handle fire without burning. That, in itself, was the simplest part of the work. Lore's studies before had actually covered fire-proofing fabrics, and the making of salves which would prevent flesh from burning, too, though Malecoda dismissed those with a wave of her hand.
"If you must rely on anything but your own magic, you will regret it," she told him in a tone that had the sound of personal experience.
"Yes, ma'am," he said, knowing full well that she hated to be called ma'am.
"Either call me Madame or Sor or by my name, but do not use that vulgar contraction on me," she had told him sharply the first time he accidentally used it when speaking to her. Now he only used it on purpose, when he wanted to annoy her.
She only glowered at him for using the forbidden phrase and continued to instruct him. She also pointed out that once he had mastered fire he would learn to make orbs of air, earth, and finally magic, and then he would have mastered the making of any kind of orb, since those elements can be applied to anything in the worlds.
Lore actually did find the fire easier to work with once he reminded himself that fire, in a lightning form, did, indeed, form balls of its own accord, and that he wasn't exactly causing it to do anything against its nature by shaping it into a sphere. Investing orbs with power had become rather old hat by this time.
To his surprise, he grasped the technique rapidly, and to his even greater surprise, he got the knack of making orbs of air relatively quickly, too. The difficulty with air orbs was making sure that there was nothing else in the air, like dust motes or something, because that cause imperfections in the orb. As with investitures of power, making things perfectly spherical, once he'd acclimated his mind to the idea, was no longer a challenge. He could make spheres with the same carelessness which had so impressed him when he saw Malecoda do it the first time.
Orbs of earth were the simplest and the most difficult, a little like the snow orbs, because he was actually working with a solid thing that he could hold in his hands. Of course, like the others, he had to ensure that the earth was pure. But what made them difficult was the tendency of most earth things not to be pure anything, which caused distortions and imperfections in the orb.
On one memorable occasion he had been attempting to craft an orb from an actual clump of dirt and he had succeeded up until the investiture, after which it became apparent that every individual particle of dirt was going to show the image, making the image as a whole completely nonsensical to anyone.
It was, Malecoda told him, something he would just have to learn how to counter when he was doing these things. She mentioned that he might have an easier time of it if he chose things which were more solidly bonded together than dirt clumps. Stones, for example. She also pointed out that the Goblin King's penchant for crystal orbs was a matter of personal choice, and that they were made in the same way as any earth-based orb. She said this with a mischievious grin which gave Lore a little twinge of concern in his gut.
Lysander, throughout all, was incredibly patient. He had made a full recovery by the time Lore finished with fire orbs. The snow had melted most of the way by then, but he still didn't brave it. He didn't want to get sick all over again.
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Posted: Fri Jul 27, 2007 9:48 am
Lysander found himself returning to the library to learn more about the seelie fae. His brush with hypothermia - which was what Malecoda called his cold-induced condition - had scared him, and he wanted to know why he had reacted like that. It was just snow and cold, and it didn't seem to bother Lore and Malecoda at all.
Admittedly, Lore was human and Malecoda was whatever she was. A sorceress. He, Lysander, was a seelie fae, and that was something altogether different. Perhaps there was something biologically different about him which caused his frightening reaction to the cold. He made it his mission to find out what that difference was. He felt it was important to know, and it gave him something to do while Lore was busy making spheres - orbs, that is - out of everything.
He, like Lore, had never seen the keepers of the library, but he had learned that if he said what he was looking for out loud and then went around a corner, the next time he went around a corner the books he needed would be stacked nearby. The library keeper or keepers was (were?) shy, it seemed. He didn't mind. They were also highly efficient and helpful.
He did just this and found a stack of books on magical creatures. It was worth noting that the librarian did not bring him books he had already read on the subject unless he specifically asked for them, and that if he even gave just a piece of information found in the book, it would be found for him, even if he forgot the name.
He settled in to read, beginning with a book promisingly title The Fae. This book was not like the ones he had read before, the encyclopedae and dictionaries. This book was devoted to nothing but the fae, both the seelie and unseelie varieties. There he read that it was natural for him to be lopsided as he was, because during adolescence the fae shed both their wings and their horns, but not always at the same time, which, the book drily stated, could pose difficulties for the adolescent fae, particularly the vain adolescent fae. Lysander had never considered himself vain, and so read on.
What both horrified and fascinated him was that the fae were related to faeries, which wasn't anything to be ashamed of, though everyone knew that faeries were nuisances. That, actually, wasn't what horrified and fascinated him. What horrified and fascinated him was that faeries and fae were related to insects, and it was apparent from their wings what sort of insect from which a particular fae's line was descended. There was a catalogue of common wing types.
Lysander looked for his, guessing it would be some kind of butterfly or dragonfly from which he was descended. Or would have been descended if he hadn't come from an orb. It seemed that he was from a Blue Leaf, a butterfly known for having wings with rough edges, like the leaves of a tree. All leaf butterflies were susceptible to the cold and many died over the winter, though enough managed to bury themselves underground in coccoons to carry on the species.
The book said that fae descended from leaf butterflies shared their susceptibility to the cold and also tended to build coccoons lined with soft, warm things like cotton and down to winter in. These would enter stasis and emerge basically unchanged, though they would have cravings for sugary foods, which was understandable. Those which did not build coccoons tended to freeze quickly with the onset of the first snow, being rendered first immobile by the cold, and then dead shortly thereafter. It was not encouraging, but it was enlightening.
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Posted: Tue Jul 31, 2007 7:27 am
Lysander would have shared his discovery with Lore and Malecoda, but neither of them seemed to have much time for him suddenly, and he was left to his own devices much of the time. Lore was learning how to make orbs out of pure, raw magic. Lysander didn't like to be around him when he was engaged in these studies, because the presence of raw magic in the form Lore was using made his hair stand on end and his wing quiver.
What he did instead was continue to study the fae. It seemed to him that his temperment was more like that of an unseelie fae than a seelie fae, but he would rather believe as Lore did, that a person's upbringing determined who they were and who they would be, rather than a person's birth. He didn't really want to be a bug-brained idiot, as he was rapidly coming to view others of his race.
Lore, meanwhile, was struggling.
"This is ridiculous, Malecoda. Why do I need to know how to do this? Only the Goblin King uses orbs at all, and don't you dare say I could impersonate him. I don't want to impersonate him. People who impersonate him get in lots and lots of trouble which lands them dead, I've noticed."
Malecoda sneered.
"How could you notice that? The Goblin King left the Underground to go fetch some person or other, and you've never been to his court. His balls, by the way, are not indicative of his courts."
"I've been to court, though, in other lands, and it's a pretty universal crime to impersonate royalty."
"Are you a coward, then?"
"Sometimes, but in this case I'm simply being practical. Practicality and cowardice are two very different, separate ideas."
"So says an admitted coward."
Lore closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "What do you want from me, Malecoda? Why are we doing this? I'm never going to need to know this, if you'd just be reasonable you'd see that. I don't have to learn to do this. It's beyond arcane."
Malecoda's eyes narrowed and Lore guessed correctly that he had gone too far. She turned her head barely, so that she looked at him from the corners of her eyes.
"You think I'm wasting your time? May I remind you that you, at least, have time to waste. Not all of us do. In case you've forgotten, you pledged to learn whatever I would teach you, to do anything to help me. I am simply asking you to learn a skill which I think you need to know, but if you have no need of it, of course, let us not waste your time. You may go, find something better to do with your time."
She turned from Lore, but she did not leave. It was clear that she meant for him to be the one who departed, as per her instructions.
"Fine," he snarled. He threw himself from his seat, nearly sending the chair flying backwards, and stalked off, out of the castle and into the surrounding forest.
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Posted: Tue Jul 31, 2007 7:45 am
Alone in the forest, so-called dark both for the natures of the creatures which dwelt there and also for the general atmosphere, Lore walked determinedly until his side ached. He knew that the outburst of temper on his behalf had been uncalled-for, but he was still angry with Malecoda and furious that she kept implying that he could impersonate Jareth. He had no earthly reason to wish to do so, and she had no conceivable reason to keep mentioning it.
He didn't understand her. That was a great deal of the problem. Malecoda's thought processes were so unlike those of any other person he had ever met, it was impossible for him to grasp all that she tried to convey to him. Her sense of humor was the same. He knew she had one, and occasionally they found the same things amusing, but there were times when it was clear they were from different worlds.
But it came back to the impersonation thing. He didn't know if she was serious or jesting, but it made him uncomfortable. He had been raised at court, and even the idea of behaving thus was enough to make him nervous. It was treason. Peasants and the middle classes read novels about people who masqueraded as royalty successfully, usually at the expense of the nobility in the novel, but Lore had always thought such works to be in poor taste.
There was also the matter of the orbs. He really didn't know why Malecoda was having him learn to make them. Obviously she knew how to make them, and it had been a part of her education as a sorceress, but she never used them, to his knowledge. Of course, there was a lot of esoterica that his father knew and never, ever made use of, but mostly he knew only practical things.
Perhaps that was Lore's problem, he decided. He was too practical. He couldn't accept things without questioning them. He always needed reasons and explanations. He probably drove Malecoda as crazy with his questions as she drove him with her lack of clarification. For her, it was enough that a thing worked. He wanted to know how, and why it worked. It was not a good match, really.
The forest grew continually darker, signaling that the day was coming to an end. Lore knew, logically, that he ought to turn around and go back to the castle and make his apologies, but he didn't really feel like it, and the small part of him that was spiteful told him that he could survive one night in the forest, and that it would serve Malecoda right to worry about him.
Of course, there was Lysander to consider. Lysander would worry a great deal more than Malecoda, and he might take it into his head to come after Lore, which could be harmful to his health. The area around the castle was still a bit frosted over from his accidental snowfall. That could be bad for Lysander, but more likely, the forest itself would be bad for him. Light creatures such as a seelie fae were always at risk in the Dark forest.
There was also the fact that Malecoda may not care if he was out all night, and when he came back to the castle in the morning it would be embarrassing for her not to have even noticed his absence. On the other hand, she would chastise him whenever he returned for being immature and thoughtless, so he might as well get the potential satisfaction, he decided, of spending the night out. Malecoda would restrain Lysander, he hoped.
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Posted: Tue Jul 31, 2007 8:12 am
Over dinner, which Lore and Lysander usually ate together in Lore's room, Lysander noticed something: Lore was missing. He might have noticed earlier, had he not been engrossed in a work of fiction he had come across in his search for information on the fae. The premise was relatively simple, it was a love story, but it was written by and about fae, which was interesting to him. He hadn't realized that the fae were given to writing at all. To his knowledge, he was the only one that could read, or even had any interest in the literary arts.
But, when Lore failed to show up in his own room for dinner, Lysander was not overly concerned at first, having assumed that Lore's lessons with Malecoda had run late. However, as time passed and Lore's dinner grew cold, Lysander realized that the servants who had brougt the tray had assumed he would be there, or else they would have brought Lore's dinner elsewhere. Which meant that Lore wasn't where he was assumed to be by the castle staff.
Concerned, Lysander indicated for the servants to clear the places and he went in search of Malecoda. He knew that simply saying her name was enough to get her attention in her castle, but he was a little uncomfortable just summoning a person like her, as though she were nothing more than a servant. Lore never showed any compunction about thus summoning her, though, and so Lysander told himself not to mind it either and called, "Malecoda."
The sorceress appeared moments later. She wore an expression of haughty fury which Lysander fervently hoped would not be directed at him. Then came a moment when she saw him and her expression altered dramatically.
"Lysander. How unlike you to summon me. I expected...Well, never mind what I expected. What is it?"
"Lore. I can't find him."
It wasn't exactly the truth, as he hadn't actually looked for Lore, but he could assume if the servants didn't know where Lore was, he, Lysander, would have little hope of finding him through conventional means.
"Really."
"Yes. I was hoping you might have some way to locate him?"
"I'm not certain I want to locate him at the moment. He is not behaving well at all."
Comprehension hit Lysander like a ton of bricks. They were fighting. Lore had probably gone off to avoid Malecoda and Malecoda was angry at being denied the opportunity to continue the fight. He shouldn't get in the middle of this. Lore was probably fine. He had no reason to worry. Or so he told himself as his mouth ignored him.
"Sor, did you behave well?"
Malecoda looked impassive, and for a moment Lysander wasn't entirely certain he had actually spoken the question aloud, but then she answered it and dashed that hope.
"No, in truth, I did not. I carried a joke a little too far, I think."
Lysander was instantly concerned once more that Lore might have been hurt. Malecoda's idea of what was humorous wasn't always pleasant. Even if Lore hadn't been physically damaged, his emotional state was another thing entirely, and likely to be in some danger. Malecoda had a knack for wounding Lore casually, Lysander had noticed.
"Did Lore know you were joking?" Lysander really wished his mouth would stop talking, but it didn't seem inclined to listen.
"I'm not sure. I thought it was clear, but he can be relatively obtuse at times, can't he? You said you couldn't find him?"
"Well," Lysander admitted, "I didn't actually look, but the servants assumed he would be in his room over an hour ago and he wasn't - and isn't - there. I thought, if the servants don't know where he actually is, that you might."
Malecoda worried at her lower lip with even, white teeth. She looked very nice doing that, Lysander noticed, but his taste didn't really run toward humans. He assumed Malecoda was human. Nevertheless, he could understand Lore's attraction.
"He's not on the castle grounds," Malecoda announced. "And I can only guess that he went into the forest."
"Will he come back before dark, do you think?"
"Lysander, sweeting, it is dark. If he were going to come back before dark, he would be here. And being that it's totally unlike him to do anything this irresponsible, causing you to worry, I wonder if he is able to return?"
"Shouldn't we go look for him?"
"Not you, fae. The Dark Forest at night is no place for a fae like you. I'll go. You start boiling some pitch for when I bring him back."
Lysander smiled at her suggestion, but he had noticed she looked more concerned than she would admit, and it only added to his own concerns. She was correct, after all. Lore would never give him cause for worry on purpose. Malecoda he might, but he took his responsibility for Lysander very seriously.
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Posted: Tue Aug 07, 2007 7:45 am
Lore had found a decent place to sleep and had settled in to do just that. He was not concerned about the things which dwelt in the Dark Forest. He had always had a gift for not getting attacked by animals, and even more of a gift for setting up magical shields, which he had always felt served him better anyway. There was no reason to rely on charm and good looks when one had magic available to him. He had known people who had relied on their natural charisma or on luck, and it had not served them well. Magic was more reliable, and his magic in particular had become a great deal more reliable since he entered Malecoda's tutelage.
He had been sleeping fitfully, secure in the knowledge that his shield would keep out all but a magical foe, and in that case it would at least hold long enough for him to think of an alternate plan. The alternate plan's main goal was simple: escape alive. He was not one to do battle if he could possibly avoid it. It was really only Malecoda who could goad him into fighting. That drove him crazy.
As he slept he dreamed. It was not a true dream, as a Seer will dream, but it was a scarily accurate dream. Fortunately, he was not awake to realize how eerily accurate it was, or else he would have been extremely unnerved. On the other hand, had he been awake, he might have been aware of Malecoda's approach a little sooner. Before she threw a bolt of magic at him that completely decimated his shield and left him feeling a little singed about the edges.
"Christ almighty!" he snarled as he woke with a jerk and found himself staring into Malecoda's beautiful - and furious - face.
That is to say, Malecoda's face displayed absolutely no emotion whatsoever, which meant only one thing: she was beyond furious and approaching irrational. It was actually quite terrifying to see her thus, knowing what that expression - or the lack of it - heralded. She remained, however, beautiful.
"That's a new one. I've never heard you swear by any religious icon before," she remarked.
Lore took a moment to recover his breath and his wits before answering. She had startled him out of both, and he would need both to deal with her in her current mood. He daren't take too long about it, though, or else she would only be angrier, which was the last thing he wanted.
"They're buried deep. My father abhored them. He was an atheist. He said, 'Why believe in a God who won't help when magecraft can perform the same miracles and its practitioners are willing to do so?'"
Malecoda might have followed the lead at another time. He could almost see her storing the information away so that she could ask about it at another time, but she refused to lose her fury. Which was really too bad. Lore would have liked for her to be distracted.
"Have you had your fun yet?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"I assume you're out here in hopes of worrying me. Have you had your fun yet?"
Lore was tempted to reply that not everything he did centered on her, but the truth was, it did. And she knew it, so there was no point in denying that. It was awful to be him sometimes.
"I thought it might be for the best if I stayed away from you. Clearly we are neither of us in a mood to behave like rational adults."
"And so you couldn't go to your room?"
"Sor, please try to put yourself in my place."
"I won't. I have been in your place, and I survived without throwing temper tantrums."
"You don't throw temper tantrums?" Lore raised one eyebrow.
"Not without provocation." He tone dared him to contradict her further. Lore was not that stupid.
"Clearly something about me irks you. What can I do, Sor?"
He realized that he was having this conversation while sitting on a bed of leaves and that his backside was probably covered with bits of leaves and the thought brought an inappropriate smile to his lips.
"Lore, you might have noticed that I have a temper. You know part of the reason behind it. The rest is simply that I have a short temper and little tolerance for idiots."
"Am I an idiot then, Sor?" If she said yes, he wouldn't argue the point, but he would have like to know if she really thought he was an idiot. Sometimes he was sure she did, and others less so.
"You are not. And that is what drives me to distraction. You are clever, and talented, and you refuse to realize your potential. You have this stupid idea that you are a worthless, untalented idiot, and you will always be that until you rid yourself of your mistaken belief. People who delude themselves into being less than they are irritate me more than those who experience delusions of grandeur."
"What do you want me to do? Forget everything my family ever said to me?"
"If that's what it takes. You will never be the best that you can be unless you cease to allow them to bother you. You haven't seen them for nearly a year. I think you would be surprised if you saw them, and they you. You have changed much."
Lore was a little confused. Being roused from sleep was not conducive to insightful thought, and Malecoda usually required to be at the top of his mental form. He was not at the moment.
"Thank you? Is that all?"
"You know what really irritates me about you? You place your own worth below that of most objects. You don't seem to think that you have any reason to exist at all. You do what you want to do, or what someone else tells you to do, but you don't care what you do. It's all the same to you, because you don't think it matters what you do. Not to you or to anyone."
"I'm sorry, Sor. I shall endeavor in the future not to exhibit that feeling in your presence."
"Lore, get this through your head: you make a difference to people. Lysander loves you and would do anything for you. He looks up to you and thinks the world of you. And, Lore, I don't like having my time wasted. I would not have taken you on as an apprentice if I thought you were as worthless as you seem to think you are."
"You took me on because the Goblin King told you to do so."
"No. He told me to take Kion as my apprentice. He just gave you the orb. I chose you for my own reasons. Not because he told me to. And if he had ordered me to take you on and I thought it would be a waste of my time, I would have found a reason to get rid of you."
Lore smiled a little. "I don't make things easy for you, do I?"
"Not in the least. But it might be good for me. Now, let's go back to the castle. Lysander's worried nearly sick about you. I'll try not to be such an ogre, if you'll try to at least pretend you like yourself."
"You're not an ogre," Lore protested, dusting off his backside surreptitiously as he stood up. "And I do like myself."
"Thank you. You know how to be chivalrous when it occurs to you. I do like that about you."
They had walked in silence for several minutes before Malecoda turned to Lore and said, "Lore, if you ever worry me like this again, I swear I will kill you. Do you understand?"
"You were worried," Lore said, feeling a little smug and gratified.
"Not so you'd notice," she retorted and started walking again, leaving Lore to trail behind.
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Posted: Thu Aug 09, 2007 7:06 am
Lysander watched Lore and Malecoda return through the window of his room. He was pleased that Malecoda had found Lore, and more pleased that she hadn't seen fit to destroy him for having the bad sense to be in good health. He imagined that the thought must have crossed her mind. Malecoda didn't like to worry for no reason. It was entirely possible that if Lore had been perfectly fine when she found him, she would have seen to it that he was not so that she would have a reason worry about his well-being. It almost made sense, in a perverse sort of way.
As they approached, Lysander began to go upstairs to meet them at the door when he felt a distressingly familar sensation. He had felt it only once before, when he became a Corsea, but he knew that a stairway was not the best place to undergo this change. He floated up the stairs as quickly as he could, hoping to reach the lower floor before the change overtook him completely.
He tripped up the last stair. Yes. Tripped. He suddenly had legs and feet over which he could trip. It was not a pleasant first experience as a Coursier, he decided, but it was not as bad as it could have been. At least he had tripped up the stairs. Of course, it was impossible to trip down the stairs in Malecoda's castle, but he wouldn't have liked to have done that. It was considerably more dangerous.
He pulled himself carefully to his feet and swayed unsteadily as he stood. It was a foreign activity, supporting his own weight, and he wasn't sure he'd be able to walk. Simply balancing on two legs was proving enough of a challenge at the moment.
"Lysander!" Malecoda called.
He wondered, briefly, if she thought he would simply materialize, as she did when her name was called within her castle. He hated to disappoint, but that was simply not going to happen.
"Lysander!" she repeated.
It became apparent that he would have to answer the summons and so Lysander staggered forward, nearly falling and catching himself on the mantle of a fireplace which had no corresponding chimney chute. He crossed the room on treacherous legs that threatened to betray him with every step, but he crossed the room, went into the hallway, and made slow progress toward the stair that he would climb to get down to the first level. He heard his name called a third time, this time with impatience, which was never a good sign.
"I'm coming," he called. It was not in his nature to yell, but in this case he felt the occasion warranted it. He certainly was not going to move any faster than the pace he was currently using.
Finally he reached the room where Lore and Malecoda stood, waiting for him. They might have at least come to meet him, he thought, but didn't voice it. The two looked as though their time in the woods had been enlightening, and he hoped that it would be good for their rather unstable relationship, but he rather doubted that there was any way to achieve a permanent fix there. The two were destined to be at odds.
"Lysander!" Lore exclaimed. "Look at you."
Malecoda seemed a little less exuberant. She smirked and turned her head away.
"Actually, Lore, I think it might be best if no one looked at him until he finds some trousers," she said drily.
Lysander turned crimson and dropped to the floor with his legs drawn up in front of him to hide the parts which had appeared with his legs, and which he had actually failed to notice until that moment.
When he was able to look up again, he saw that even Lore was smiling, and he felt an uncharacteristic urge to throw something at the human for being so smug. When he realized that he had though of Lore as a human first, and then as himself, he experienced an unpleasant shock.
"I don't think you're going to fit any of my clothes particularly well, but they'll do for the time being," Lore said as he vanished.
"Take him with you," Malecoda said with her face still politely averted.
Lore reappeared, grasped Lysander's wrist, and transported both of them to his room. There, he set about finding clothing for Lysander. He tried to make conversation, but Lysander was not really in the mood. He was much too embarrassed by the episode downstairs (well, upstairs, technically), and Lore's attempts to make light of the situation fell very flat indeed.
"Lysander, do you remember coming out of the orb?"
"Not particularly."
"Well, when you came out of that orb, it was early in the morning the day after the Goblin King's Yule ball, and I had gone to bed sans culottes and sans chemise."
"You were naked?" Lysander clarified. He didn't speak French, but he thought he understood what Lore was saying.
"Yes. And when you changed you startled me out of bed and I yelled for Malecoda because I had no idea what was going on. When she showed up moments later, as she does, she saw me in all my naked humiliation. And this was early in my tenure here. I spent months worrying that she would only think of me as the idiot naked boy."
Lysander smiled. He didn't remember that happening, but Lore's tone had a definite ring of truthfulness about it.
"It could have been a lot worse," Lore concluded.
"I tripped up the stairs," Lysander admitted.
"No one saw that. You were walking quite well as you came into the room, you know."
"Really?"
He began to pull on the clothing Lore had set out for him. As Lore had predicted, it didn't fit. The pants were much too long for him, and also too bit about the waist, though that was fixed with the belt he had always worn as a Corsea, on a slightly longer setting. The sleeves of the shirts were also too long and the shirt hung baggily on his body.
"I think we need to talk to Malecoda about procuring a tailor for you," Lore said. "This will not do."
Lysander agreed. He looked ridiculous. But at least he was clothed, and that was such an improvement. Nevertheless, the next time he saw Malecoda he blushed furiously, though she had the good manners to pretend not to notice. Unless she was actually self-absorbed enough not to have noticed, which he doubted. Malecoda noticed most things that went on in her castle, and everything that went on in her presence.
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