The Fire Mages (32 page)

Once I started thinking about it, there were more signs – Mother’s habitually pinched face a little fuller and smoother, Father a shade less stooped, even Alita had filled out a little and looked less like a broomstick. And how had Deckas grown so much in three years? I thought back to the villagers I’d passed when I arrived. They, too, looked more prosperous, healthier. Old man Senton had called out to me without a sign of his usual hacking cough. Several houses had new fences or additional rooms. Even the cows and pigs in their fields seemed sleeker and plumper than I remembered.

It wasn’t until I saw Cerila running across the garden with no trace of a limp that I realised what had happened. All those practice spellpages I’d scribed and then dutifully burned in the spellarium hearth, they’d all worked. At first it had been general spells for good health or fine weather or bountiful crops. Then I’d learned to direct them more personally. Eventually it had been spells against specific illnesses. I’d always practised more than I needed to, and it had amused me to scribe proper cures and charms for people I knew. I remembered looking up clubfoot in the library, and copying out the spellpage to cure it. It seemed it had worked. How much spell-power had been directed at Durmaston for those two years? And all without anyone the wiser.

Ginzia had a different explanation. “Isn’t it wonderful?” she said, seeing me watching Cerila. “All that time we thought the mage had failed, and then overnight, she’s cured. I never knew the effect of mage spells could be delayed like that. But then the Moon Gods have been very kind to us lately. Well, not so much this year – Dracia’s chicken shed burned down, and then there was Cally’s girl, poor child, who fell from a roof – but before that, we had some very good years. Everyone did well.”

I said nothing. Better they didn’t know the truth. Just as well I had no mischievous streak, or I could have spelled them all warts or incessant sneezing or farting, and my return to Durmaston would have been a somewhat different affair.

~~~~~

Galnan and Winora were married two suns later at the village stone. Some villages held their ceremonies in the meeting hall, but Durmaston was traditional. Our stone was unusual, not the customary spike or slab, but an arch of two uprights with a third stone across the top. It made for a charming ritual. The man’s family would gather on one side of the arch and the woman’s on the other, and whoever was providing the home would invite the other through the arch.

Galnan, who was doing the inviting, was obliged to provide three gifts to tempt his bride, and there was good-natured competition to provide the most apt or unusual gifts. His first was practical, a pair of piglets in a decorated box. He had already made a pen for them in a corner of the garden. The second gift was decorative, but, Galnan being Galnan, was also practical – a beautifully carved chair with Winora’s name engraved on it. “So she has somewhere to sit at board,” he said shyly.

The third gift was where people liked to exercise their imaginations, and provide something no one had ever thought of before, and here Galnan had excelled himself. “My final temptation is – my sister, Kyra, who will heal or write spellpages for whatever Winora desires, to the value of this purse.”

I was in on the secret, of course, but I enjoyed the surprise on everyone’s faces as I stepped forward to the arch, and Galnan put the little embroidered purse into my hands. The whole village had gathered for the wedding, and now there would be only one topic of conversation – what Winora should do with her bounty.

After that, she stepped through the arch, blushing, and Galnan scooped her up into his arms and they became husband and wife. As everyone gathered round to congratulate them, I felt a soft tap on my shoulder.

“So, sweet child, are you ready to follow your brother’s example?”

I knew his voice at once. “Bonnor! I wondered when I’d see you.”

“You’ve been in Durmaston for two suns, little one, but to my sorrow you’ve not yet ventured to my inn. I’m mortified.”

I’d forgotten how beautiful Bonnor was. Maybe memory had painted him in duller shades, or perhaps my magic had added some extra sparkle, but his golden curls were even more lustrous than I’d remembered, his eyes a more brilliant blue and he had the face of a Moon God.

“I’ve been busy,” I said, smiling up at him. “But truth to tell, if I’d passed you in the street I’d hardly have known you.”

“You like my fine clothes, do you?” He twisted this way and that to show them off. “I’m a man of business now, darling girl.”

“No, I meant I don’t recognise you without the painted collar.”

He laughed in delight. “Ah, I still keep it, for sentiment. But an inn manager can’t be a companion too, that’s against the law. Although to be precise I am only the under-manager. Since you crushed my soul by refusing to marry me, my sweet, I’m not allowed to manage the place in my own right. Still, Tillon allows me a free hand. I have six companions working for me now, can you believe it? Business is good.”

“I’m glad of it, Bonnor. I’ll come down to the inn before I leave, and have a drink with you.” I turned to go, but he caught my arm.

“A drink?” His face drooped. “Kyra...”

I stopped, frozen. When had he ever called me by name?

“Kyra,” he said, his voice low, “I know you’ve passed far beyond my humble ambitions. You’re a great lady now.” He touched my mage mark with one delicate finger. “I understand that. But I should like just one evening in your company, a few hours when I have your full attention. I hope for nothing more than that, I promise you. Will you share evening board with me tomorrow? I have the best cook in three Kells, you won’t be disappointed.”

I had never seen him so serious before. I nodded and moved away. As I did, I caught a glimpse of Cal’s face, as impassive as stone, watching me.

The matter of Winora’s gift occupied the minds of the villagers to the exclusion of everything else that sun. She should ask for fertility, some said, for the gift of children. That can’t be guaranteed, I told them. She should ask for a long and happy marriage, others said. That’s too vague, I said to them. She should ask for great beauty, one said. She’s already beautiful, came the chorus. In the end, Winora herself settled the matter, and asked me to try to heal the girl who had fallen from the roof and had lain unconscious for several ten-suns.

I tried. I mended broken bones, and healed bruises and cuts, and restored torn flesh. I pulled together the shattered fragments of skull. But the jagged little patch of brain inside the injured spot remained resolutely brown and unhealed. In the end, it was Cal who stepped in, reciting a restoration spell and effecting some improvement, not full healing but enough to wake the girl.

I was rather pleased. “We’re a good team,” I said to him as we walked back to the guest house. “We work well together, don’t you think?”

He only grunted.

After the fee for the healing had been deducted, Winora used the rest of her gift on spellpages, general healing or well-being types, which could be directed by name when they were burnt. I spent an entire afternoon scribing a great heap of them, while Cal, supposedly supervising me, dozed on the long chair. He could sleep anywhere, that man.

~~~~~

I looked forward to my evening with Bonnor more than I’d expected. I’d spent two suns surrounded by my chattering kin, distracted by wedding preparations and conversations that barely lasted more than three sentences before someone burst in to interrupt.

My poor mother had no idea what to make of me. On the one hand, I wore a gratifying number of earrings, my status marks almost filled one arm and my clothes exuded wealth. I was pregnant, too, and she loved that, even though she wouldn’t see my daughter growing up. But my magic distressed her. I’m sure she felt that if she stepped out of line or spoke a single cross word to me, I’d turn her into a toad. Maybe I could, at that.

So I relished the prospect of a quiet evening with Bonnor. The front of the inn looked much as I’d remembered it, with customers spilling out of the taproom onto sunny benches, the older people chewing graylon leaves, the younger ones trying the newly fashionable smoking pipes. There were just a few signs of greater prosperity – a fine new painted barrel to advertise the taproom, some new shutters and a permanent wooden shelter to one side replacing the old pavilion erected as needed for festivals and gatherings.

Bonnor met me at the door, and I was glad I’d bothered to put on skirts because he was arrayed in a pale silk coat that even Drei wouldn’t have scorned to wear. He gave me a full tour of his domain, although I knew it well; the oldest part with the taproom, kitchens and a private room down below and his own apartment above, and the later wing with larger guest rooms for merchants and the like on the ground floor, and above smaller rooms for passing wagoners and the inn companions.

“And now the best part – the new wing!” he said. “There’s nothing like it this side of Ardamurkan. We get visitors from all over – some from the river, even.”

It was so new, it still smelled of fresh wood and paint. Downstairs were new kitchens and several private parlours, with wooden walls that could be folded away to make larger or smaller spaces. Upstairs were miniature apartments, each with two bedrooms, a small sitting room, private bucket rooms and space for servants to sleep. He only showed me one, since the others were all in use, but he assured me that every one was decorated in a different style.

I’d been afraid that he’d entertain me in his own apartment, but instead we were in one of the new private rooms. There was no cheap tavern system of bowl, platter or tray here; no, the food was served in proper board style, each dish brought out piping hot as soon as the cook had finished preparing it, as my mother aspired to but never quite pulled off. Bonnor had the whole range, too: farm, forest and fish, the latter fresh from the coast; the Moon Gods alone knew what that must have cost. The cook’s reputation was well-earned, I thought.

Bonnor was a delight. He entertained me with amusing anecdotes, but nothing private – he was always discreet. He talked about what the villagers were up to, for he knew everybody. He told me his plans for the inn, his hopes of bringing entertainers and musicians for regular performances, and his ambition for a bigger stable block in a year or two. He asked me clever questions about Kingswell and Drei and Cal and my adventures, so that I found myself telling him all about it, at great length. He sympathised with my difficulties, was shocked by the dangers and laughed at my feeble jokes. It was so long since anyone had listened to me with such rapt attention that I unfurled like a flower. I’d been prepared to fend off another marriage offer, but I had no defence against the skills of a professional charmer.

After we’d sampled everything and drunk a little wine, we moved to a padded settee against the wall, and he presented me with a box of sweetmeats, marked with the name of an expensive shop in Ardamurkan, and he watched with a smile as I sampled those too.

“So what does your future hold, sweet child?” he said, when at last even I had reached the limits of my stomach’s capacity. “Will you travel around, amazing people with your mage skills? Will you settle at Kingswell? Will you lapse into milk-sodden domesticity with the babe?”

“Not that!” I said, pulling a face. “The baby will go to my drusse-holder as soon as she’s a moon old. I’m not suited to motherhood.”

“You might feel differently when the time comes. And will you be free then? Or will you be looking elsewhere? Another drusse-holder, maybe? Or a husband?”

“I’m looking forward to being completely free. Life as a drusse has been – mixed, shall we say, and I’m not suited to marriage.”

“To my deep sorrow, dearest. You condemn me to a life alone.”

I couldn’t help laughing at that. Any man less likely to spend the rest of his life alone was hard to imagine. “There’s no need for that, you know. You could marry Alita. She’s far better suited to be the wife of an inn manager than I would have been.”

“Ah yes, Alita. Poor Alita. She should marry the baker’s son and be done with it.”

I said nothing to that. Poor Alita indeed! Drooping round after Bonnor all these years, and he still had no interest in her.

“Have you ever wondered,” he said, “why I became an inn companion?”

“I assume you liked the work.”

“So I did. Still do, you know. I may not wear the collar any more, but I have a few old friends who enjoy my company from time to time. And some of the new visitors like a little relaxation, too. They come here wound as tight as a spindle, then they eat my food, they walk in the forest, they relax a little. They look at me and that makes them think of other ways to relax, and I’m happy to oblige. Yes, I like the work. I love women’s bodies. Men have their attractions too, but women – such smooth skin, such soft breasts and delicious curves. I love the feel of them, the smell, the taste. I know a hundred ways to pleasure them, and I’m good at it, something which you will never know, sweet one.”

“I’ve heard all about your skills.”

“Have you now?” He chuckled. “How gratifying! I love to show a woman that sex can be a delight, a wondrous experience for her. Sometimes that’s all I do. I don’t like to spoil the moment by insisting on my turn. That’s why I like to be a woman’s first, so that she knows what a joy it can be. Then, when she goes off and marries her ignorant peasant boy, when he takes his fun and immediately rolls over and goes to sleep, she can kick him awake and tell him what she expects. But the best of what I do, little one, is that afterwards, when a woman is glowing and happy and thinks the world is a wonderful place, she goes away. There isn’t one woman in a thousand that I would want to lie beside all night, or face over morning board. You, my darling, are such a one. Your sister, lovely as she may be, is not.”

I had nothing to say to that. It seemed very final.

“Before you left here,” he went on, “I offered to show you the delights of the bedroom.”

“More than once, as I recall.”

He gave me a smile of pure affection. “Indeed, and you always turned me down. One of the few women impervious to my charms. I don’t think you really knew what I was talking about, then. Now you do. I can see it in your face. Someone – one of your drusse-holders, or another lover, perhaps – has given you the ultimate pleasure. I’m glad. I’m sorry it wasn’t me, but glad anyway.”

I blushed a little, my thoughts instantly with Cal, and those long blissful afternoons in the Imperial City. It was the wrong subject for me just then, for I was still overflowing with energy from all the spell-breaking at Ardamurkan. Once my thoughts turned to the idea of sex, I couldn’t get them away from it.

Perhaps Bonnor mistook my flushed silence, for without warning he leaned forward, tipping my head upwards, and kissed me. The most delicate of kisses, but even so it was like lighting an oil-soaked bonfire. I was instantly aflame, burning up with desire. I kissed him back hard, leaning into him. For a moment he was still, then he responded hungrily, and for a long, long time I left my common sense behind and gave in to raging passion.

He was the first one to pull back. “Kyra... Kyra, listen. Is this the wine driving you?”

I couldn’t understand what he meant. I wanted him so badly I could barely breathe. Why would he stop? I moved towards him again, but he put a finger against my lips.

“If this is truly what you want, my sweet, I’m more than happy to oblige. But...”

Above the boiling desire coursing through me, I heard the quiet voice of reason. It wasn’t wine, or the pleasure of Bonnor’s company that had made me respond to him, but the over-abundance of magic roiling through me. I didn’t want this, I’d never wanted him in that way. To use him to relieve my pent-up need and then walk away from him was a cruel way to treat an old friend. I forced myself to breathe deeply, to control my desire, using my magic to tame itself. It worked, a little.

“Sorry,” I gasped. “I – got carried away.”

“My ladies often do,” he said, with a twisted half-smile, “but never you, little flower. I would hate you to regret this in the morning.”

“I’d better go.”

“I’ll walk you back to the guest house. No, don’t protest. Let me have just a little more of your company, sweet child, for who knows when you might come back this way.”

I hardly know how we got to the guest house or what we talked about. I suspect he chattered away in his usual easy way to cover my embarrassment. At the door, he kissed me lightly on the forehead, and was gone. He was perhaps the only person in the village who wasn’t uneasy about my being a mage.

I somehow got myself up the stairs to the apartment we’d been given. There were no other nobles staying, so Cal and I had the best rooms in the house, a bedroom each and a shared sitting room and bucket room. Even the carriage driver, servant and guards were given apartments, instead of curling up in the hay, as was usual.

I went to my room, but I couldn’t begin to think about sleep. I’d avoided a mistake with Bonnor, but inside me I was still consumed with desire. The bonfire, once lit, could not be put out. I knew of only one way to douse the flames.

I tapped on Cal’s door, and he answered at once. He was sitting up on his bed, fully dressed – did he ever get undressed? He was reading a book by the light of a glow ball hovering over his left shoulder. I was instantly distracted, and wanted to try it too. It wasn’t hard, for they had no substance to them and took almost no effort to levitate or move. For a while we played with the glows, making them chase each other round the room or duck under the furniture, giggling like children. I’d forgotten how long it was since we’d been so relaxed with each other.

Then the fire caught up with me again, and need washed over me like a summer storm, swift and violent and inexorable. I’d never learned how to be subtle, so I plumped down on the side of the bed and bent forward to kiss him.

He put a hand up to stop me, and I crashed into it so hard that my chest took a pounding blow.

“Don’t!” he said, with sharp anger.

Both the glows popped out of existence, dropping us into abrupt darkness. I couldn’t breathe. What had I done wrong? Why was he always so horrible to me? Tears stung my cheeks, and I was glad he couldn’t see me.

He swept off the bed and strode over to the window, his breath ragged. “Did he reject your advances, your friend at the inn? So you thought you’d console yourself somewhere else, eh? Good old Cal, always good for a quick roll. Well, you can fuck off! Go away, and don’t come back until you’ve grown up a bit.”

I ran out. I could barely keep back the sobs until I reached my own room, then I hurled myself onto the bed and cried until I had no tears left. I jumped up again and paced restlessly across the room, up and back, up and back. When the first rays of dawn tinted the sky, I crept down the stairs and walked the forest margins until the early workers were up and about, and I had to sneak back to the guest house to avoid questions. I lay down on the bed, and with the smells of morning board wafting up from the kitchens, I finally fell asleep.

We stayed two more suns at Durmaston, and I managed to avoid attracting any attention. A little magic helped to hide my reddened eyes and pale cheeks, and I was never a chatterbox anyway, so no one commented on my silence. I couldn’t understand why I was so miserable, when Cal had consistently been rude and unpleasant to me in the past. I should be used to it by now. It was that sweet interlude at Kingswell that had been the anomaly.