Dead Letter (5 page)

“
And you are fortunate none came upon us,” said Lanuille.
“Injury upon one of the Order would bring you suffering for the
rest of your days.”

The
peddler collected her basket and replaced the spilled oranges. Her
lip was split and swollen, dripping blood mingled with tears down
her chin.

“
No law is broken here,” said Kettna, helping the injured
woman pick up the oranges. “Leave the peddler to her
business.”

“
Sure enough, there’d be a law broken. Her lot break a score
before they break a mornin’ loaf. Bet my mother’s grace, those
oranges were stolen.”

“
No such lies!” shrieked the woman. “I bought these fair. Go
ask the wharfies. Any of ‘em will vouch I tell it true.”

The
guard waved her off. “Piss off back to the docks then, and leave my
line alone.”

“
Take your leave,” said Lanuille to the peddler.

“
Where’s the justice?” The woman spat a bloody gob and
retreated, shouting, “You guilders are all alike!”

The
mages returned to the queue. Kettna was annoyed at Lanuille for her
cold regard of the poor woman’s treatment, and waiting in line
fanned that frustration. Two guards inside the gatehouse collected
the shine as the citizens filed through. Kettna handed over a
silver tab and received a moustached scowl.

“
Anything smaller?” asked the guard, his twitching moustache
and bunched eyebrows mirroring each other.

“
I have half a silver,” replied Kettna. “Will that
help?”

The
guard’s frown deepened and he snatched the full silver tab from
Kettna’s open hand. “Bloody mages. I swear you’ve never seen a
copper in your life.” The guard counted back six full coppers and
eight halves. “Don’t go dropping it in the nearest beggar’s hat
neither. It only encourages ‘em to ask for more from folk like me
who can nary afford it.”

Once
through the gatehouse, Kettna headed straight for the vibrant
market square across the street. She pressed into a thick crowd
gathered about a trio of street performers. One juggled daggers,
another spiked maces. Both did so on a pole balanced on the
shoulders of a minotaur. The bull wore only loose cotton pants, and
his formidable muscular physique drew as much awe as the juggling
did. Women blushed and giggled with bawdy humour. They fluttered
fans and caressed their moistened skin with floral
handkerchiefs.

A
distraction like this was just the thing to test her escort. Novice
Kettna watched the performers a while longer, waiting for the
adepts to think she was mesmerised by the show. Then Kettna ran,
dodging through the crowds and heading for the nearest backstreet.
Lanuille fell behind, but her companions wouldn’t be shaken. No
matter which way she turned or how fast she ran they kept up. More
infuriating still, they appeared in no way breathless from the
chase. Kettna ran through a maze of back alleys until she reached a
dead end and knew she was lost. There was no way to outsmart these
two men. “Fine then,” she said, admitting defeat. “You’ve caught
me, guildermen. I yield, for I’m all out of breath.” They made no
response, only stood in the alley and resumed their conversation,
as though the wild chase had been no annoyance at all. “You two
never gave your names. I’ve not seen you around the Island before.”
The two men continued their reserved discussion. “No need to be so
rude about it. Just give me your names and we can all get
along.”

They
didn’t even look at Kettna. What conversation could be so
interesting? She tried to listen in, but she only identified
incomplete words and fragments of speech that made no sense alone.
While every specific detail of the discussion dropped out of her
comprehension, her mind persisted to evaluate the discourse as
legitimate. Kettna reached for the arm of the closest mage to get
his attention. His robes felt softer than any she had known. The
man took a step away from her grasping appraisal, but kept
directing his attention and conversation towards his companion.
Kettna waved a hand in front of his face and garnered no response.
She summoned a connection to the weave, watching the men converse
and listening to their indiscernible dialogue. The more she
examined their interaction with the surrounding world—the light and
shadows, the movement of the breeze, their impossibly diverting
conversation—the more she became convinced of their true nature.
She reached out again and her hand passed through the man’s arm,
her doubt an antidote to their mental trickery. Neither man was
real.

The
illusion was masterful, but how was it functioning when Adept
Lanuille was nowhere to be seen? How could she control the spell
when she had no idea what was going on in the alley? It had to be
something on Kettna’s person, some enchantment she carried. There
was no time to test everything. It could wait until later. At least
now she knew that the twins were just an illusive escort. It was an
effective deterrent. A group of thugs would be tempted to rob a
mage on their own, but they wouldn’t dare set upon an entourage of
sorcerers.

The twin
mages were a deception worth having for the backstreets of a
sprawling city. Even so, knowing she was alone amongst the deep
shadows and crooked corners of the cities less fortunate labour
quarter gave rise to a worry she’d never experienced before. She
convinced herself she needn’t fear for her life. These were
ordinary people doing the best they could with what they had been
dealt. Kettna was born into opportunity and merely looked out of
place in expensive robes. Such was the novelty of a mage in the
area that the locals hung out windows to stare at her, calling to
neighbours to witness the spectacle. Kettna walked on, pushing a
barrow of guilt. The robes of the Order branded her as an elite
with powers above other citizens. On the Isle of Solitude, they
declared her part of the community. Here, they marked her out as
separate.

A group of youths loitered in the doorway to a rough tower
block, sharing a smoke stick and leering at Kettna without shame.
The stink of paff wafting by reminded the novice of her own teenage
rebellions, sneaking out after curfew to smoke under a bright moon,
seeking the attention of the gifted boys. It was safe on the
island. Here it was menacing. Anti-guild slogans defaced the
weathered yellow brick of the old tenement housing.
No Name - No Justice. Guilders are Slavers. No
master of mine.
On the wall beside the
youths was one so juvenile it was amusing. It read
Isle of Stolen Food
, a
direct insult to the Order. Did these poor folk think so little of
the institutions that defended them from dragon attacks?

Further
on, lost in the warren of alleys, Kettna approached a woman sitting
on a doorstep. She nursed a tiny babe and watched over a pack of
children kicking a ball about the alley.

“
I’m sorry to bother you. I can’t find my way out of
here.”

The
young mother tutted, eying the two illusory mages. “Magic
yourselves home then. The Cauldron ain’t no cookpot for your
sort.”

Kettna
ignored the woman’s smirk. “Do you know the way to Flint
Street?”

“
What if I do?” The woman screwed her face up, as though she’d
been asked to take out night soil.

“
Could you point me in the right direction? I can pay, if
that’s what you are asking.”

“
Never asked for no shine, did I?”

“
No, but you seem hesitant to help. I just
thought.”

“
Where’s your dignity, girl?”

“
Excuse me?”

“
Your dignity?” The woman jabbed a finger at Kettna’s robes.
“Paradin’ about like you three own the place. You’ve got a whole
island to yourselves, so fiddle a fairy and sod off back where you
came.”

Kettna
swallowed the verbal assault and washed it down with a swig of
surprise. Embarrassment heated her cheeks as though she had been
slapped. “I’m a citizen of Calimska. I have every right to be
here.”

“
So take your shine and buy a map. Keep that pretty little
guilder nose out of our patch and you won’t get lost
again.”

The
residents of the tenement buildings gathered to see what the
argument was about. An old bearded fellow hurled anatomically
impossible insults from a high window and several rough looking men
gathered at the doorway behind the nursing mother. One of them
pointed down the laneway. “Get ya slice off our
cobbles.”

There
was no reason to argue. The man made the direction clear enough.
Kettna walked around a few more turns in the alley, finding herself
on a broader street. It was nowhere near the market where she
started the ill-conceived chase. Kettna would have better spent her
time visiting the Courier Guild and asking after Rix. She knew his
father lived somewhere in the Cauldron, though she forgot the name
of the street. Her immature escapade turned up naught and wasted
the afternoon. Finding Rix would have to wait until the next
day.

The
novice walked on until she came to an elderly fruit merchant with a
pleasant smile. She bought a couple of nectarines and asked for
directions again, hoping for a warmer response.

“
Flint Street’s not far, though it’s a long street. Where are
you looking for, dear?”

“
Mertin’s Alchemy and Sundries.”

“
Of course you are,” he said, looking the three mages over.
“Just turn right at the end of this street and follow the golden
drain until you see the Cog and Wheel on the corner. That’s it.
You’ll see Mertin’s place clear as day.”

Kettna
thanked him for the fruit and found her way to Master Mertin’s
empathising with the sun as it took a dive to the West, lighting
the plains in a fire of pink and orange. The shingle above Mertin’s
door depicted a mortar and pestle with a cherry red potion exuding
a wisp of smoke. While the buildings on either side of the shop
were the usual golden-yellow brick, Mertin’s Alchemy and Sundries
was rendered lime white and painted with a mural of Calim’s
pilgrimage from Tashiska across the western lands to settle
Calimska. It was a detailed work of art and must have been
commissioned at quite a cost.

Adept
Lanuille waited at Mertin’s door, her porcelain face clouded by
thunder.

“
How did you know I was coming here?” asked Kettna.

“
I was told,” said Lanuille. “That is not the issue we need to
discuss.”

“
I think it is exactly the issue we need to discuss. Who told
you? What else do you know?”

“
I know of the edict assigning you to a post in the city
guard. I also know of the edict that is required to reach
Mertin.”

“
And what else?”

Lanuille
shifted her feet and straightened her posture. “I’ve been briefed
on various threats that may arise.”

“
Rix is no threat. You’ve been misinformed. The elders and my
mother made him a pariah to set an example. What do they command of
you now? Will you stop me from seeking him out?”

“
Only if you do so without my escort.”

Kettna
considered this. “The edict you showed me on the ferry made no
mention of Rix. Have you been asked to stop me should I look for
Rix?”

“
I have not. On the contrary, I’ve been asked to assist
you.”

Now
Kettna was gobsmacked. “Why would Mother task you to help me find
Rix? She sent him as far away from me as she could. Why would she
help me find him now?”

“
I am truly sorry, but I do not have reasons. I have
directions. I will fulfil my part, however, I need you to refrain
from childish games of catch in a city that is not nearly as safe
as you imagine. You are not on the island anymore, Kettna. The
Order of Calim has its enemies and you are best kept out of their
hands. Bloody Agnus would make a prize from you.”

The
scolding was warranted and Kettna realised her immature folly. If
Lanuille was here to help, she should make use of the adept’s
talent. She opened her palms in peace. “So how do you propose we do
this in a civilised manner? I can’t have all three of you enter the
Constable’s office with me.”

“
You do as you must to fulfil your commitment to the Order and
I shall do the same. We are not at crossed paths, Kettna. You must
have discovered by now that our fellows here are but an illusion.
I, on the other hand, am very real and capable of shielding you
from danger and remaining as anonymous as is required.”

“
I suppose I don’t have a choice.”

“
No, you don’t.”

Kettna
resigned herself to the idea of Lanuille being around. “Have you
tried the door?”

“
It’s locked.”

Kettna
rapped on the door, then rapped again. There was no answer. A
handsome young man sprinted down Flint Street, raven hair dancing
in a frenzy until he stopped at the Cog and Wheel. He called back
before he went inside, “It’s shut, Mistress. Don’t
bother.”

“
Do you know when Master Mertin will be back in?”

“
Sorry, I’m late for work. Speak to Innkeep Rimple. He might
know.” The man dashed inside and the mages followed.