All the Paths of Shadow (40 page)

Meralda took the paper.

“I would be most appreciative if that list found its way to both your king and my countryman, Loman,” said Donchen. “Of course, you need not tell Loman where you got it. After all, ghosts can’t make lists of traitors, can they?”

“How many names?”

“Thirty-seven. Nineteen are Vonats. Twelve, sadly, are my countrymen, arrived with me. Six are Tirlish, of various stations, mostly palace staff simply paid to look the other way so spells can be laid. Disturbing, is it not?”

“Deeply.” Meralda put the list in her desk.

Donchen merely nodded and refilled her cup.

The Hang tea banished the heaviness from Meralda’s limbs and left her feeling, if not fresh and alert, at least not weary and sluggish.

By the time Donchen’s tea was gone, she and the Hang had covered three large pages of drawing paper with notes, and Meralda was finally beginning to see how the curseworks had remained in motion about the flat for so long without failing.

She caught herself chewing on the end of her pencil and blushed at Donchen’s grin. “So each cursework is actually falling.”

The Hang nodded. “But doing so sideways. That’s the part I can’t understand.”

Meralda stabbed at a corner of the topmost paper with her pencil. “It’s right here,” she said. “He put a right angle on gravity. On
gravity.
” She shook her head. “History just tells us the man was ruthless and powerful. But he was brilliant, more than anything else he might have been. The man turned gravity on its side just to make his spell more efficient.”

“Thus keeping the entire structure turning without requiring a latched spell of any kind,” said the Tower. “Well done, Mage Ovis. That single surmise escaped me for seven centuries.”

Mug blew a fanfare of trumpets and bugles until Meralda silenced him with a glare.

“But we’re no closer to repairing it than we were an hour ago. Tower, how long until the tethers fail?”

“Two hundred and eight hours, Mage. Give or take seven hours.”

Donchen pointed to the image in the glass. “The damage to the tethers seems irreparable, at least to my untrained and ignorant eye.”

“Hah,” said Mug. “Untrained. Ignorant. Pull the other leg, won’t you?”

Donchen pretended not to hear.

“It seems to me, though, that Mage Ovis has a certain detailed understanding of the structures involved.”

Meralda shook her head. “I’m a long way from being able to repair them,” she said. “Certainly longer than two hundred hours.”

Donchen nodded assent. “Repairing them seems an impossible task.”

“I must concur,” said the Tower. “Perhaps it is time to consider an evacuation of the city and surrounding countryside.”

“If the tethers cannot be repaired, they must be replaced,” said Donchen. He turned to face Meralda. “Do you agree, Mage Ovis?”

Shivers ran up and down Meralda’s spine. “He laid gravity on its side,” she said, quietly. “I am not Otrinvion. I could live to be five hundred and I still wouldn’t be Otrinvion.”

“No. But you are Meralda Ovis. You enchanted Mug to life when you were thirteen. You entered college that same year. You alone, of all Tirlin’s mages, found the Tower’s secret. We believe in you, Mage Ovis. Now you must only find a belief in yourself.”

“What he said,” piped Mug. “Who says you couldn’t make right-side up go sideways? You figured out a way to bend sunlight just a few days ago.” Mug sent his eyes toward Meralda. “You can do this, mistress. You’ve got to. I despise the country. Bloody bugs everywhere.”

Meralda took a deep breath.
First thing I do,
she decided,
is put a picture of Tim the Horsehead in here. Right where I can see it. That way, if I have any more moments like this, I can look Tim right in his big brown horse eyes and think to myself ‘Tim managed, and the man could only neigh.’

“All right,” she said loud. “Tower, how are the tethers attached to the curseworks?”

Night fell, and Meralda worked. Dawn found her asleep at her desk. The captain came with letters from the king, and departed with a copy of Donchen’s list and an explanation that the Tirls listed should quietly be directed to duties far beyond the palace.

Meralda sent Donchen’s original note to Fromarch, ordering Kervis to place it in Fromarch’s hand and no one else’s.

“He’ll ask me where I got it,” said Kervis. “What do I tell him?”

“Tell him a stranger slipped it under my door,” said Meralda. “Tell him we caught sight of a fat man dressed all in a white-trimmed red coat running down the stair, and that moments later we heard reindeer on the roof.”

Kervis ogled. “Father Yule?”

Meralda nodded gravely. “That’s as good as any, Guardsman. Say that and nothing more.”

I wonder what will happen to the Hang on the list,
Meralda wondered,
when Loman learns of this. Which he surely will.
She considered asking Donchen, but then rejected the idea.
It’s really no concern of mine.

Or is it,
said a little voice deep in her mind,
that you don’t want to risk angering Donchen by asking him?

Meralda felt herself blushing. “Nonsense,” she muttered, stabbing at the paper with her pencil. “Nonsense.”

“Mistress?”

“Nothing, Mug. I’m just tired.”

“No surprise there. Shall I send for more coffee?”

Meralda sighed. How many pots, in the last few days?

“Why not,” she said. “Send for two.”

Chapter Sixteen

Meralda began to measure the passage of her days by the arrival and departure of Donchen and his silver serving cart.

The mysteries of the cursework tethers fell away, inch by inch. By midnight of the second day of her self-imposed exile inside the laboratory, Meralda began to understand how the tether spells were integrated into the much larger array of the Tower’s structural spells.

By two in the morning, Meralda found a way to use the twelve original latching points to tether new spells.

By four, she could see a way to overlay new spells onto the old, and activate them when Otrinvion’s tethers began to fail in earnest.

Mug slept. The spark lamps in the laboratory were too dim to keep him alert. Meralda poured the dregs of her last cup of coffee into Mug’s pot, smiled when he muttered something about beetles, and then fell asleep herself with her head down on her desk.

Donchen knocked softly at the laboratory doors. A moment later, he opened them and looked inside.

Meralda did not awaken. Donchen and Tervis crept past the door, Donchen as silent as snow, Tervis rattling and scraping with every step. Still, they managed to reach Meralda’s desk without disturbing her slumber.

“Should we wake her?” whispered Tervis.

Donchen shook his head. “I think not.”

Tervis wriggled out of his red guardsman’s coat and draped it gently over Meralda. She shifted, but did not wake.

Donchen motioned toward the door. Tervis followed, attempting without success to tip-toe in his steel toed boots.

Outside, Donchen pushed the doors closed, and then put his back to them.

“I’ll be glad to stay, if one of you gentlemen would care to nap,” he said. “Tomorrow is likely to be another very long day.”

The Bellringers exchanged glances.

“Pardon, sir, but we’ll remain at our posts,” said Kervis.

Donchen smiled and shrugged. “As you wish. I’ll stay too. Have I ever told you gentlemen the story of Murdering Hosang and the Five Wandering Grooms?”

The Bellringers shook their heads.

Donchen took in a deep breath, and began to speak.

“Good morning, Thaumaturge!”

Meralda regarded the captain with bleary, half-open eyes.

“You needn’t be so cheerful about it, you know.”

The captain grinned. “Sorry. Here’s coffee. And a biscuit with ham. I know it’s not quite so fancy as you’re used to, these days, but I left my silver serving cart in my other pants.”

Meralda groaned and rubbed her eyes. The captain chuckled.

“Forgive me, Meralda. It is a bit early for humor, now that you mention it. Nearly ten of the clock.”

Meralda’s eyes flew open, and she shot to her feet. “Ten? Ten in the morning? Mug! Why didn’t you wake me?”

Mug kept all of his eyes aimed at the ceiling. “Oh my, deary me, how did I forget? Observe how contrite I am. Some days I have the brains of a cucumber, isn’t that right?”

Meralda glared. The captain put the biscuit in her hand. “The houseplant did you a boon, Mage. You’ve been running yourself ragged, these last few days. We need you alert. Especially now.”

Meralda paused, hot biscuit halfway to her lips. “Now? Why now?”

The captain grinned. “There’s been quite a lot of trouble, Mage. Started small, a couple of days ago. I didn’t bother you with talk of it. But last night—my, oh, my—last night was quite a busy one, for our friends the Vonats. Eat. I’ll talk. You look half-starved.”

Meralda bit and swallowed.

The captain pulled back the rickety old chair Fromarch favored on his visits and sat. “Looks like we’ve got a war of wizards on our hands, Meralda. Spells flying all over the place. Bangs and thumps and lights at all hours, that’s how it started. Vonats complaining that their quarters were either haunted or cursed. Yvin even moved the lot of them, twice. Didn’t make much of a difference.”

Meralda nodded and fought to keep her face blank.
Fromarch and Shingvere,
she thought.
Armed with heaven knows what.

“Saw some of it myself. Two wagonloads of Vonat laundry marched right out of the palace, they did. Marched all the way across town, all the way up the park wall, all the way around it.” The captain slapped his knee. “You should see the dancing gargoyles, Mage. All dressed up in Vonat underclothes. They claim the Vonats nearly declared war, right here in the palace.”

Meralda nearly choked on her biscuit.

“You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you now, Mage?”

Meralda shook her head. “I haven’t left this room for two days, Captain. I certainly haven’t had time to animate anyone’s unmentionables.”

“It’s been three days, Mage, and it’s a good thing, too. The Vonats can’t accuse you of making off with their socks when everyone in Tirlin knows you’re holed up in here trying to move the Tower’s shadow.” The captain’s grin didn’t falter. “That is what you’re doing, isn’t it, Mage Ovis?”

Her mouth full, Meralda just nodded. The captain snorted.

“Well, Meralda, I hope you know you can call on me anytime, for anything. I don’t have to know why, and I won’t ask any questions. You do know that, don’t you?”

“I know. And I thank you.”

The captain shrugged. “Well, I’ve said my piece. I’d better be off now, in case that pair of daft old codgers manages to start a war right here in our kitchens.” He rose, reached into his jacket, and withdrew a short, black bladed dagger in a black felt sheath.

“I didn’t forget, by the way. Had this special made for you. Double edged. I had old man Kinnon put the edge on it. It’ll cut daylight. Blade is black so it won’t shine in the dark. Hilt is soft leather for a good grip. The felt will keep it from nicking your ankle. Will it do?”

Meralda took the dagger. It was heavy in her hand, and cold.

“Perfectly,” she said.

“I hope you never do more than put it away in a drawer when all this is over with,” said the captain. “But if you use it, strike underhanded, with the blade level. It’s good sharp steel. Go right through leather.” His face darkened. “I’ve got a granddaughter your age. You be careful, you hear? Don’t go breaking any old men’s hearts.”

Meralda put the dagger on her desk and caught the captain up in a sudden fierce hug.

“Just a few more days, Captain. A few more days, and we can all go back to pilfering the royal kitchens and idling on the royal stairs.”

The captain didn’t reply. He patted Meralda awkwardly on her back, and when Meralda released him he turned and stomped out the doors.

“Sounds like the daft codgers have been busy,” said Mug, once the doors were firmly shut. “The bit about the marching clothes? Shingvere’s, or I’m a petunia.”

Meralda made for the laboratory’s tiny water closet. Mug watched her go, then turned his eyes to the notes she’d left the night before.

His eyes all went wide at once.

“Tower,” he said, in a whisper. “Does this mean she’s found a way to save Tirlin?”

“It is possible,” said the Tower, matching Mug’s whisper. “Your mage is possessed of a formidable intellect.”

Mug’s eyes hovered over the page, darting back and forth across it in a wild tangle of motion.

“You’re an ancient construct possessed of a formidable intellect yourself,” said Mug. “Do you think this will actually work?”

The Tower was silent for a moment.

“It seems plausible. If a number of assumptions and estimates are correct.”

Mug emulated a sigh as the sound of running water issued from the back of the lab.

“Don’t overwhelm me with your confidence.”

“We have no time to pursue further research,” it said. “This is Tirlin’s only hope.”

Mug tossed his leaves. “Sunlight,” he said, to the glass.

Warm, bright morning sun flooded the desk, bathing Mug’s leaves in light and warmth.

“Well.” Mug spread his leaves and closed his eyes. “I suppose it will have to do.”

Meralda emerged from the water closet at the same time the Bellringers knocked at the door and announced coffee and pancakes.

“No sign of Mr. Donchen this morning, ma’am,” said Tervis. “Shame, too. I was looking forward to some more of those Hang vittles.”

Meralda beckoned the Bellringers inside with a frown.

“Did either of you sleep last night?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“No, ma’am.”

Meralda sighed. Kervis kicked his brother in the shin, causing Tervis to yelp and amend his reply.

“Mr. Donchen stayed with us until a couple of hours ago,” said Kervis. “Said he had some bird watching to do.” Kervis frowned. “I told him most Tirlish birds don’t fly till after sunup, but he left anyway.”