The Conjurer (The Vine Witch #3)(72)
“We would be most honored.” Hariq held up a finger. “But we will not wait until then to return this, which I believe belongs to you, madame.” The jinni stepped behind a station post and walked out again holding a rolled-up tapestry that Elena was certain had not been there a minute earlier. “There’s a grass stain on the back and a snagged thread from where it caught in the tree branches, but otherwise it’s still in good shape for flying.” He reinforced his subtle jest with a smile.
“My tapestry. I didn’t think I’d ever see it again.”
“I have grown too old for flying rugs,” Rajul Hakim said with a sigh. “So, they are making me ride in that yellow beast to the coast, and then I am being put on a boat. A boat!”
On the street, Camille waved from her big yellow automobile paid for with the scent of desert flowers.
“It is necessary for the sorcerer’s sake. And once we land safe on the other side you will sit in a café under the sunshine, smoke your pipe, and forget all about it,” Sidra said to him. “It’s a good thing, getting out of the house once in a while.”
A bell rang, signaling the funicular was arriving from the top of the hill. They turned to greet it, but before the car even docked, Yvette’s hair and soft glow caught their attention. She, too, had found new attire. She had donned a powder-blue suit and a matching tricorn hat with a peacock feather that fluttered over her golden head as she disembarked. Her skin was radiant as she burst onto the platform bearing good news.
“I’m going to study to be a nose!” Yvette said. “Can you believe it?” The young woman held up her letter of acceptance as proof. “Camille arranged it. I’m going to learn to make perfume at Le Maison des Amoureux. Grand-Mère put her up to it, I’ve no doubt, but isn’t it wonderful?”
“You’re staying in this village?” Sidra asked.
“Not getting rid of me so easily, eh?”
Elena waited for Sidra to snap at the news she would be sharing a village with the young woman, but the jinni’s face betrayed the hint of a smile, even as she curled her lip. As if admitting a little lunacy in one’s life was the necessary cure to boredom. Sidra reached into the folds of her new silk and produced two bronze medallions. She placed one in Yvette’s palm and one in Elena’s. “One for each. The sorcerer made them for me,” she said, pointing to the star and the bird symbols engraved in the center of a pentagram. “Hold the talisman in your palm and speak my name. I will answer.”
“What if there’s something I need now?” Yvette asked.
Sidra raised her brows, her patience already tested.
“Slip the woman the suffragette pamphlet. The one in the village asking for help. Do that for me and we’ll be square.”
Sidra glanced up at the hillside village as if listening for something only she could hear before Hariq called over her shoulder that he and the old one were ready to leave. She breathed in the scent of the village that had protected her for so long and said, “It’s a thing I can do.”
Yvette and Elena both kissed the jinni’s cheek and said adieu. She walked away, then turned and waved, her gold bracelets jingling their own tune for one last farewell.
“And, of course, I had to come and say goodbye to you,” Yvette said, gripping Elena’s hands. “Isn’t it reassuring to know we’re all just a train ride away?” Yvette winked. “Or, you know, a quick shimmer from here to there for some of us. Grand-Mère swore she’d show me how the portal magic works, now that I’ve decided to stay.”
The young woman gleamed under the halo of her newfound purpose. Shimmering bright and radiating joy. Elena pondered, upon their farewell from the perfumed village, that Yvette was like a citrusy high note in the floral tonic of their rare and remarkable friendship. First to shine, first to see the luster of value in others. And Sidra, with her oft overpowering personality, was without question the solid base that would always be there for them, now and in the future. As for herself, Elena supposed she fell somewhere in the middle, the heart note infusing her influence where she could to bind and keep them all together.
“A mere day away,” Elena said and hugged the young woman.
There was a rush of activity as the conductor made his boarding announcement. Jean-Paul took her hand, and together they found a compartment with a window overlooking the platform. The boiler let out a puff of steam, briefly enveloping them all in a cloud of mist. When it cleared, the young woman was still there waving. Yes, Elena thought as she slipped her talisman in her satchel, it was reassuring, indeed, to know there would always be a friend waiting just on the other side of a wish.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I don’t know how common it is in publishing to get to work with the same people on all three books, but that was my good fortune in writing The Vine Witch series. More times than I care to admit, the editorial team members were often the ones to point out inconsistencies in details from one story to the next that I, as the author, had overlooked in the writing. That is why I thank them publicly and profoundly, because, as I’ve said before, in the effort to guide the books to publication, they make me look like a better writer than I am. So, thank you to Clarence, Jon, Karin, Robin, and Laura and the rest of the 47North team for your editorial magic. Thanks also goes to Micaela Alcaino, who designed the three enchanting book covers for the series. I am also indebted to my editor, Adrienne Procaccini, for believing in my witchy trilogy, and to my agent, Marlene Stringer, for plucking The Vine Witch out of her slush pile. Whatever fairy hand that had a part in orchestrating that particular magic, I thank them too! And, as always, thanks to Rob and David and the rest of my family for their continued support and encouragement.