The Fire Mages (25 page)

“Even if all this were true,” the Drashon said, and was there just the faintest hint of impatience in his tone, “it is no more than hearsay. Have your niece tell the tale to the other mages, and if they feel there is something to it, they can bring it to me, but I cannot consider this without seeing the scholar herself.”

I sighed with relief. A good point, and all the more effective for coming from the Drashon, not me. Yes, do go and find Marras, and we’ll talk about this when you’ve tracked her down. Poor Marras.

Another apologetic cough. “I fear that will not be possible, Highness, for Marras has disappeared. She arranged to meet me one evening board but she failed to appear at the appointed hour, and no one seems to have seen her since.”

“Then you have no witness, Lord Mage,” said the Drashon,  “and there is nothing further to discuss.”

“I fear I must disagree with you, Highness,” Krayfon said. His voice was soft, but the room stilled as he spoke. He looked across at me, and there was something gentle in his eyes. Was it pity? For the first time I felt truly afraid. The pebble had turned to an avalanche that would sweep me away altogether.

The room pressed in on me, hot and airless, choked by hundreds of bodies, suffocating me. Blood pounded in my skull, and I swayed forwards in my seat, unable to breathe, unable to hold myself upright a moment longer. Drei leaned towards me, concern on his face, but although I could see his lips move I couldn’t hear anything but the great wind rushing through my head. I was going to faint.

Something in me rebelled at the idea, determined to show no weakness. I turned my mind inward, focused on my inner energy and forced myself to relax, to breathe, to be calm. It worked. I began to recover. How many times had I used that technique and not realised I was using magic to heal myself? I looked across the room at Krayfon. Only moments had passed, and he still waited for a signal, for the avalanche to gather pace.

The Drashon leaned back in his chair and nodded at Krayfon to continue.

“The initial accusation here,” he said crisply, “was that of a contract scribe with knowledge of spellpages perhaps using that knowledge without proper authorisation. There was nothing described which could not, in theory, be achieved with spellpages. Complex ones, perhaps, but theoretically within the capabilities of a contract scribe. It is a controlled use of magic, one for which the user has been trained and is experienced. However...” He paused, perhaps for effect, for the room was silent now, focused on his every word. “However, the event described by Lord Mage Queltz is very different. Passing through the Shining Wall, if it is possible at all, is a mage-level use of magic. The user in question has received no training in such magic, therefore this falls under the category of uncontrolled use of magic.”

The Drashon nodded. He understood, which was more than I did. “What does that
mean
?” I blurted out.

Silence. The room itself seemed to hold its breath. “Uncontrolled use of magic is too dangerous to be permitted,” Krayfon said, sorrowful eyes fixed on me.

“But nothing has been proved!” I cried, leaping from my seat. “There is no evidence beyond hearsay, no witness, nothing to say I’ve done anything at all.”

“It does not matter,” the Drashon said, his voice harsh. “The law is clear. This matter is the province of the mages, and beyond the remit of this hearing. Lord Mage, what do you recommend?”

“We must investigate, of course. Any suggestion of uncontrolled magic, however tenuous, must be investigated thoroughly. We will examine Lady Scribe Kyra to determine whether she has any trace of such magic in her.”

I was numb. They had never noticed my aura, but they could hardly fail to detect my magical energy as soon as they laid hands on me. For one wild moment, I thought of running, but there were hundreds of people in the chamber and guards at the door. I would have to fight my way past armed men at five or six points between here and freedom. It was impossible. I was trapped, a fly caught in honey.

“You will have to bind her, of course?” the Drashon said.

“There is no alternative,” Krayfon said.

“Then you may proceed.”

I stood, rigid with shock. I had heard of binding, naturally, the magical restraint which would leave me helpless in the mages’ power, but I had never seen it, and had no idea what it would feel like. Would it hurt? Would my mind blank out, or my memory be erased? Or would it be purely physical – my mind caged, impotent, raging silently while my body obeyed the mages’ every command?

Krayfon raised one hand towards me, holding his vessel in the other, and began to mutter. His voice was too low for me to make out any words beyond my own name, but it was a surprisingly long spell. I wondered how well it would work if I were racing out of the room, or whether it made no difference. Most spells could be applied at a distance, if properly directed by name. Finally, he raised his voice and spoke the summoning incantation:
“By the sun, bring light and fire and colour; by the moon, enable the darkness”
.

I was aware of a warmth over my whole body. It was strange, a little tingly, but not unpleasant. Then it was gone. I felt no different. I couldn’t detect a single thing that had changed. But perhaps that was the heart of the spell, that everything felt the same to me, even though it had changed utterly.

“Guards!” At the Drashon’s command, four of them jogged forward. They wore the ceremonial armour of the Drashon’s personal guards, lightweight and highly decorated, but solid enough to be effective, and the swords at their sides were not for show. Their captain gestured to me, and meekly I moved forward so that they surrounded me. What else could I do? I had never felt so helpless, but I had no plan, and even if I could formulate one, I could hardly carry it out now. I was bound, I had no will of my own. “Take her to the mages’ house, to the rooms of restraint.”

They moved off and I went with them. I wasn’t aware of any compulsion, I simply felt as if I were choosing to go with them. We went out of the chamber, watched by hundreds of silent faces, excited or shocked or distressed or merely curious, bobbing about to catch a glimpse of me. I would be greatly talked about amongst the nobility for a few suns, I supposed, and then gradually forgotten.

I didn’t notice Drei’s face when I left, or Yannassia’s, either. I was too wrapped up in my own trouble to wonder what was going on in their minds. I had no illusions that they could do anything to release me from this desperate mess. I was caught in the web of the law, and I wouldn’t be able to spell my way out this time. I would be examined and found to be full of magic and then I would be executed. I supposed they would wait until the baby was born. They would be able to see her when they examined me. Her? How did I know that? Yet it was true, I was sure of it. I carried a daughter inside me.

The guards took me down broad stairs, decorated with painted marble statuary and enormous gold-trimmed vases. Then a landing and more stairs. They said nothing, and I said nothing. What was there to say? We came to the entrance hall, where little knots of people moved aside for us. For some reason the great metal-bound wooden doors stood wide open, and looking through them I could see the whirl of the inner Keep – shops and stalls and milling crowds, a small cart laden with orange fruit and two men carrying a rolled up carpet.

Freedom. I yearned to be out there, to be ambling about idly looking at a scarf or a necklace or a pen, not buying but just dreaming, enjoying the bustle. I wanted to have nothing more on my mind than what book I would read next, or whether I would find my favourite pie at evening board, or which azai to wear to the next court assembly. I wanted all this horror – Cal and Marras and being kidnapped and accusations I couldn’t answer – to go away, to be just a bad dream. Yes, even my magic – I would have given up that, too, in a heartbeat, if I could just go back to some kind of normal life. And there it was, right across the entrance hall and through the doors, calling to me.

I stopped.

The guards straggled to a halt around me. “Wait, she’s not supposed to be able to do that,” one of them said.

I’d thought that too. But I could. I had. I wasn’t as bound as I’d thought.

I turned and ran for the doors, and freedom.

I fled through the crowds of the inner Keep, swerving around people but not deviating from the one main thoroughfare. I had to get out of the Keep, and that meant making straight for the nearest gate.

Behind me, I heard shouts and the metallic clash of armoured men in pursuit. “Stop her!” they cried. “In the Drashon’s name, stop her!” But no one did. Instead, people began to move aside for me, jumping smartly out of the way. Once or twice I heard crashes behind me, followed by shouts and lurid cursing, and the guards began to fall behind. I wasn’t sure whether people recognised me and wanted to help, or whether it was a reflex action to obstruct the tools of authority, but I was grateful for it.

There was the gate at last, the doors wide open, and I flew through, my feet slithering on the flags, still damp after rain. Thank all the Gods I was wearing sensible boots and not my flimsy slippers. At least I could run, although with my expensive clothes and no cloak I was still far too conspicuous. The gate guards, perhaps ten of them, were more practically clad than the Drashon’s guards, with metal plated leather, short swords and bows. They also had horns, to summon reinforcements and horses, but although they watched me pass in surprise, they made no move to stop me.

I sped on, racing across the street and ducking into a narrower alley. The alarm would be raised soon enough, and I had to disappear. These streets held nowhere to hide, though. The guards would search relentlessly, and I knew no secret places, no friends who could conceal me. I’d been here too short a time, and spent that time alone. A mistake, but too late now. The Imperial City was my only sanctuary, a place to shelter while I thought through my options, somewhere even mages hesitated to walk about freely, yet safe for me. All I had to do was get to the Shining Wall and open a door. But which one? My usual access through the vegetable market would be too crowded, stacked with carts and crates and children underfoot. Too easy to slip and fall, or find my way blocked.

So where to go? My mind was blank. My legs were screaming at me, my lungs gasped for air, I desperately needed to rest, to get my thoughts in order, yet I had to keep going. I dodged down one narrow street, then twisted into an alley, then another turn brought me out onto a wider street, the one leading from a large square towards the city. The wall was ahead of me now. Should I head directly for it, or stay with the winding back streets? I couldn’t think straight. Behind me I heard the horns, shouting, a few screams. A horse whinnied. They were coming.

I dived into another back street. At least I was out of sight, even if it took longer. The street was wide enough that I didn’t have to do much dodging around traffic, but once a mule skittered out of my way, and further on a man cursed me colourfully as I knocked a basket of bread off his head. Now the way was uphill, and I slowed, puffing and wheezing like an old carthorse. I wasn’t used to running. The wall was coming closer, I could see it looming above the rooftops but could I make it? I could hear shouts, closer now, and the sound of hooves. The horses were after me.

A final spurt brought me out of the buildings into the gap before the wall. Desperately I looked for the signs of a door, but there were none. Behind me, the horses were suddenly louder, rounding a corner. More shouts as they caught sight of me. I ran along the wall. Where was the next door? I couldn’t remember.

Jinking round a stack of boxes I found myself at the furthest end of the wide street again. Not a hundred paces away, a group of gate guards, running on foot, shouted and sped up as they saw me. Behind me, the horses emerged from the smaller street. I was surrounded.

I had a door, though. There on the wall were the marks, the hand-shaped prints to open the door. My route to freedom. Five paces brought me to the spot. I held my trembling hand to the closest mark and waited. One heartbeat, two, three – the longest moments in my life, waiting for the hand on the shoulder, grabbing me. Then – thank the Moon God! – the door swished open and I was through.

People screamed behind me. I didn’t stop to discover why. I found myself on the city’s widest road, the one leading directly to the library at the top of the hill, and I ran as hard as my exhausted body could manage. If I’d had time, I would have closed the door behind me, but I didn’t dare wait. In the few heartbeats it would have taken, they could have reached through and dragged me back, and that would have been the end of it.

I was inside, but was I safe? The sounds of pursuit died away behind me and I dared to look back. The door was still open. Beyond, horses were rearing, their riders struggling to control them. The magic, I supposed. It must terrify them. But several of the guards on foot stood, peering through the open door, watching me. I willed them not to enter. If I’d had a better grasp of my own magic, I could have spelled them to stay on their own side, but I didn’t know how.

One, braver or more stupid than the others, strode through. Then a second, and a third.

“Go back!” I screamed at them. “It’s not safe!”

They stood still, uncertain, looking around. Then the door slid shut behind them.

Blow it. Now what?

For several long moments we stood in tableau, gasping for breath, watching and waiting, the three guards just inside the door, me a little way up the street near the ceremonial archway. Two of them wore the gleaming armour of the Drashon’s guards. Under their helms, their faces were red and sweating from the chase. The third was a gate guard, less sweaty, but nervous, trailing behind and taking his cue from the others. Then one of the Drashon’s guards straightened a little and started jogging up the hill after me. A well-trained guard, that one. Dogged, determined. And strong. Where did they get their stamina from? Endless training, I suppose.

Heaving a sigh, I turned and half walked, half ran, as best I could. Where could I hide? The buildings lining this avenue were impressive in scale, but they were all open, their doors visible to anyone. The library, however, that was more promising – it had hidden doors. If I could just get there. I could barely breathe, and my legs were aflame with shooting pains. A quick glance over my shoulder showed me that they were gaining. I wasn’t going to make it.

I turned to face them, my chest heaving as I tried to catch my breath. How could I deter them? Fire, perhaps? There was no need to hide my magic now, so I could hurl shafts of fire at them. But then what? I didn’t want to hurt them, and a little singeing wouldn’t make them give up.

The birds came to my rescue. I was aware of them long before they were visible, soaring somewhere near the mountain peak and gliding towards us. The guards were in deep trouble, and they had not the slightest idea.

“The birds – are coming!” I called out, still panting. They stopped, exchanging glances. “Need – get – under cover! Over there!”

I pointed to the nearest building, but even as I spoke I realised there was no time. The distance across the road and up a long flight of steps to the door was too great. The birds would be upon them even if they ran full pelt, and they were already too tired for that.

I remembered Cal, the times we’d walked around hand in hand. It was worth a try. “Hold my hand! I can – protect you!”

The two in armour laughed at that, and came on again, confident now. But the gate guard was more observant, shouting and pointing at the sky.

“What is this?” one of the armoured guards said. “What trick are you conjuring?”

“No trick. Birds – come to check. No magic – take you away. Hold my hand. My magic – protect you.”

“Make them go away, witch.”

“Can’t. City sends them.”

I’ll give them their due, they were game. The Drashon’s guards drew their swords and stood back to back to defend themselves against the birds. The gate guard reached for his bow. He got one arrow off, but it flamed and disappeared before it got anywhere near the birds. It seemed to anger them, for they screamed and dived down at once, no lazy circling this time.

The Drashon’s guards seemed calm, and even confident. They simply flipped their visors down, gripped their swords more firmly in gauntleted hands and took a defensive stance. They must have thought their armour would protect them, and maybe it would. Maybe the birds would be unable to grip them. But I couldn’t help them. There was no unprotected part of them which I could touch.

The gate guard was a different matter. He wore a leather helmet but his face was exposed. I ran down the hill. He had given up on arrows, and was waving the bow round his head. It would have worked with real birds, but it passed right through the magic bird attacking him, still screaming in anger. I caught him on the run, and pulled him to the ground, falling half on top of him.

“Lie still!” I shrieked. “Don’t fight!” Then I laid my bare hand firmly on his cheek.

He shook with fear, but he was sensible enough to realise that I was on his side. He lay still, his chest heaving, and I lay where I’d fallen, watching the birds circle in my mind. I couldn’t see the other guards, but I heard muttered voices, the swish of swords, then shouts, and finally a long wailing scream that tailed away and then was abruptly cut off.

Then there was nothing except the rasping of breath, his and mine.

Cautiously I rolled away from him and sat up.

“Sorry about that,” I said. “I don’t usually jump on strange men.”

He started to laugh. “There wasn’t much time for formal introductions.”

“No. Are you all right?”

“Think so. Didn’t even piss myself. Where are the others? Shit. The birds took them, didn’t they? What are they, those things?”

“City magic. A defence system.”

He picked up his bow, broken where it had landed hard, then went to retrieve the sword dropped by one of the guards. The other must have held on to his, or else it had been magicked away.

I watched him warily. He was young, probably younger than I was, and taller and fitter and well armed. “Are you going to play the hero?” I said. “Or shall I take you to a gate and send you back to your commander?”

He didn’t hesitate. “I’ll have to give a full report.”

“I know. Say that it’s best not to send any more guards. Next time, I might not be around.”

He nodded. He was remarkably calm, but then he’d done the brave thing in entering the city and he’d lived to tell the tale. He’d be a legend before the sun set.

I dared not reopen the door I’d entered by in case the other side was still infested with guards. Instead, I led him to the door behind the vegetable market, striding surely through the city’s twisting back streets. As always, they were clean, well tended and empty. Fountains played, carved faces in the walls watched us pass by, tendrils of vines leaned towards us. Our footsteps echoed against high walls. And everywhere the softly glowing light left by mages long ago. Yet just the other side of the Shining Wall, children played barefoot in the dirt, detritus from the market was trampled to a filthy paste and rats peered from gaps between houses.

I opened the door and stood aside for him to pass through. That was his moment for heroism, if he wanted it. He could have grabbed my arm and dragged me through the gap. Of course, I’d have burned him alive if he’d tried it, but he didn’t know that. Instead, he bowed to me, rather awkwardly with his arms full of bow and sword, and left without a word. I rather liked him.

I waited until the door shushed closed before turning away. Now I was alone. I had shelter and food and clothes, but no one to talk to or laugh with or share plans with. And sooner or later, the Drashon would send someone to capture me again. More guards, maybe. Mages, probably. I shivered. I had somehow managed to avoid being bound, but I had no idea what else they might try. I didn’t know whether I could fight them at all.

Surprisingly after all that had happened, it was still early in the afternoon. I wasn’t inclined to linger outside, though, in case the Drashon decided to send an entire troop of guards after me. I couldn’t save most of them, and I didn’t want to watch the sky blacken with birds, and listen to their last screams.

I went to the pillar. I hadn’t been back in the city since Cal was taken, and perhaps I might never have gone back if it hadn’t been forced upon me, but now that I was here I might as well have as much magical power as I could carry. I was exhausted, every muscle screaming at me, and I’d banged an elbow hard when I’d hurled myself at the guard. My body was already healing itself, but I felt drained.

It was so strange to be in the city without Cal. Every step I took reminded me of him. Here was the seat where we sat in the sunshine and he explained how mages create a quick spell from a long spellpage, his elegant fingers painting the air. There was the garden where he picked a flower and tucked it into my hair. And the pillar – that had strong memories, for we’d made love there.

The pillar room was the same as ever, empty of everything but the pillar, yet full of pulsing energy. I walked round it once, and then again. Why was I hesitating? It called to me, as always, and the air crackled with power and made me tingle, but still I hesitated. I think there was a part of me that wanted to be finished with the whole business. I had lost everything that ever mattered to me. My childish dream to be a law scribe was gone. I doubted I could ever be a contract scribe again. Cal was gone for ever. Even Drei – he’d treated me badly, but still he’d been generous to me, and he was a friend, of sorts, and in all likelihood I’d never see him again. What was there to live for? Wouldn’t it be better to let the mages take me and do what they wanted? Then it would be over, and this misery, this loneliness would be done with.