The Innocent Mage (60 page)

Gar felt sick, all joy congealed into sorrow. ‘Fane, this is ridiculous. You don’t want to kill me. And even if you did, you couldn’t.’

‘No?’ she spat. ‘I think you’d be surprised at what I can do, brother.’ Clapping her hands hard she conjured glimfire. No pretty coloured sphere, but a brute red thing pulsing scarlet with her pain and untamed fury. She aimed it at him, pelted it, and the air sizzled in its wake.

Startled, he raised a hand in self-defence. Thought desperately of shields and barriers and quenching rain. It wasn’t enough, or he lacked the skill. Her glimfire scorched him, blistered flesh and singed silk before exploding into a shower of blood-red sparks. ‘Heyl Fane, stop it! You know this is against the law! You know the penalty for duelling with magic! Do you want to cause a scandal? Do you want to bring the king down here?’

Clap clap, went his little sister’s hands. Clap, clap, clap. ‘No,’ she cried as balls of scarlet glimfire erupted into life around her. ‘I want everything to be the way it was! You bastard, you bastardl Why couldn’t you have stayed a bloody cripple! Why didn’t he let you drown?’

His heart broke. ‘Fane! Fane, listen to me —’

‘No, I won’t listen!’ she screamed. ‘Why should I listen? What can you say that I could possibly want to hear?’

He tried again to reach her. Not because he thought he could, but because he had no other choice. ‘Fane. Please. I’m begging you, stop now before it’s too late. Before you go too far. It doesn’t have to be like this. I love you. We can work our problems out…’

She screamed again, a wordless outpouring of vitriol and hate. Her hands flung wide, her eyes blazed blue in her chalk-white face … and suddenly the sky was raining fire.

Somehow Gar deflected her flaming rage. Managed this time to explode the balls of glimfire she hurled at him before they could touch his exposed and vulnerable flesh. Given no choice he hurled his own fire back at her in wild self-defence. He had no idea where the magic came from, it just welled out of that secret place inside him that nobody, not even Durm, had ever suspected he possessed.

‘Fane, for the love of Barl, stop thisV he shouted as the air filled with noxious smoke and exploding glimfire, his and hers. The sound of it boomed around his small walled bower, rocketed from brick to brick and sent the songbirds screaming into the sky. ‘Fane! Are you mad? There are laws!’

But she was beyond reason, beyond hearing. Almost, he realised, staring heartsick into her venomous eyes, beyond sanity.

Her wild attack intensified. It was impossible to destroy all the fireballs she flung at him; those he failed to extinguish engulfed trees, garden benches, flowerbeds. The smoke thickened till she was reduced to a crimson nightmare shadow spewing hate and fire. He defended himself as best he could but she was much more practised than he. Raw talent was no match for years and years of training.

If this didn’t stop soon one of them was going to die.

He thought he heard distant voices, shouting. The madness had to end now, before death and scandal overtook them. The sweat of desperation and fear poured down his face.

She was the most powerful magician born since Barl, or so Durm said. How in the name of their blessed saviour was he supposed to stop her?

‘Imagine a rose,’ Durm had told him, and he had, and in his hand he’d held a rose. Now he imagined a whip of glimfire, snapping and curling at his command.

‘Bastard!’ Fane shrieked as it lashed around her ankles and tugged her flailing to the grass. She retaliated with a whip of her own and, unburdened by scruples or any kind of reason, aimed for his hands, his throat, his eyes. He couldn’t deflect all her strikes.

Soon he began to sting, to burn, to bleed. Began to lose his temper as a lifetime of buried resentments boiled to the surface of his carefully cultivated facade. Spoilt brat. Rotten bitch. Never happy unless she was humiliating him. Taunting him. Hurting him. Whatever had he done to her to deserve such unkind treatment? Nothing. All he’d ever done was try to love her. Understand her. Forgive her. Defend her to their mother, their father, even though her words and deeds were so often indefensible.

With a supreme effort he evaded another strike and wrapped his lash of glimfire round her body, pinning her arms to her sides. She cried out, fingers spasming, and her own whip fell from her fingers to dissolve on the ground in a puff of acrid smoke. She cried out again as he hauled her towards him across the charred and stinking grass. As he seized her by the shoulders and forced her backwards against the rough trunk of the nearest tree. She kicked and cursed him as he framed her face in his hands, palms flat and pressing, holding her so she could look nowhere but into his anguished eyes.

‘BitchV he panted. Sobbed, nearly. ‘What is wrong with you? All I ever wanted was for you to care like I cared! To be my sister as I was.your brother. “Why is that so hard? Why is that so much to ask? Why in Barl’s name do you

]tee me so much?’

She was crying, her contorted face screwed up with rage and hurt. ‘Why do you think, you stupid bastard? Because they never wanted me! Not for me. Not for myself. Only because you were a failure! The only reason I exist is because you were born defective*. And now here you are, reborn a magician … so what’s to become of me’

Her mewling self-pity was his undoing. His fingers tightened on her face, nails digging into her soft flesh. ‘Who cares?’ he hissed. ‘So you’re not the only one with magic, so what? Do you think the world will cease its spinning? Do you expect the Wall to shatter and our lives to end in blood and fire, all because of me? Because at last, at last, Barl has delivered me my magic? My birthright} Do you think what I now have diminishes you? Little sister, you preen yourself too proudly!’

Her eyes were wide, the pupils cavernous. Flooding tears washed the soot and smoke from her ice-white cheeks. Through distorted lips she choked, ‘Gar — let go — you’re hurting me! You’re hurting me!’

‘Merciful BarlV he shouted, blind and deaf to her pleading. ‘You are the most selfish creature alive! Have you even given one minute’s thought to what I’m going through? To what I’ve gone through my whole life? No, of course you haven’t. Because no matter what happens, no matter who is suffering, at the end of the day you’re the only one who matters. You! You! You! And you have the temerity to complain that I’m hurting you’

Untrammelled at last, his rage would have overpowered him, would have clutched his fingers round her throat and shaken her till she wept her penitence and begged for his mercy, or suffocated.

They were saved from disaster by Asher.

‘You damned bloody idiot!’ his friend bellowed, hauling him bodily away from Fane, one strong arm anchored round his chest and arm. ‘Are you out of your mind? What are you doin’? You tryin’ to kill her?’

Gasping, swearing, he struggled free of Asher’s grasp. ‘Keep out of this! Go away! It’s none of your business and you wouldn’t understand anyway!’

7 wouldn’t?’ said Asher, glaring. ‘Me? With my bloody brothers?’

Panting, Gar dragged his charred sleeve across his gritty, sweat-stained face. The rage was still in him, burning, yearning. He throttled the impulse to flatten Asher where he stood. ‘That’s different!’

Asher’s expression was profoundly sceptical. ‘Aye. Right. I forgot. Royalty’s got a better class of family strife.’ He shook his head. ‘What were you thinkin’, Gar? Half the bloody Tower’s heard the two of you goin’ at each other like alley cats! Darran’s pissed his panties twice over! What’s got into you? Has all that newfangled magic gone and burned up what little common sense you were born with?’ He flung out a hand towards Fane. ‘She may be sixteen and a pain in the arse, y’fool, but she’s still little more than a child! And she’s your bloody sister!’

As though waking from a nightmare Gar turned and looked at Fane. She’d slid down the tree trunk and was folded at its base, face pressed into the battered ground, weeping fit to break a brother’s heart. Fury fled, and sanity abruptly returned. Flooded with sudden shame and self-loathing he went to her. Fell to his knees at her side and gathered her into his arms. For one searing moment she resisted him … then crumpled against his chest.

‘No, no, don’t cry, Fane,’ he whispered, rocking her. ‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Don’t cry. It’s all right. Everything will be all right. We’ll work this out. I don’t know how, but we’ll think of something. You’re my sister and I’m your brother,

504 ‘

and even though you drive me to distraction I love you. Nothing either of us can say or do will ever change that.’

She was hidden from him, her voice muffled. ‘So you say.’

‘So I promise.’ He gently shifted her so he could see her tear-stained face. ‘And I promise something else, too, and Asher will be my witness.’ He raised his voice. ‘Won’t you, Asher?’

‘Aye,’ said Asher, keeping a discreet distance. ‘Provided you promise it fast so’s we can get out of here.’

Ignoring that, Gar took his sister’s chin between his fingers and stared unguarded into her face. ‘The crown is yours, Fane. Only yours. Always yours. You are the WeatherWorker-in-Waiting. On my life, I will never take that from you.’

He watched the doubt shift behind her eyes. ‘On your life?’ She shook her head, frowning. Rejecting. ‘I don’t believe you.’

She sounded uncertain, though. As though she wanted to believe him but couldn’t quite bring herself to make that leap of faith. Despair threatened. He couldn’t let this happen. He couldn’t allow his miraculous magic to tear their fragile family apart. Not when they should be celebrating.

Inspiration struck. A memory from distant childhood, a time when he and Fane had not yet learned to hate. Holding out his hand he dribbled saliva onto his palm and showed it to her. ‘You have to believe me. See? I’ve spit on it. Now. Your turn. Come on.’

Her eyes widened. Filled with a brief, incredulous laughter. ‘No. That’s disgusting.’

‘Spit on it,’ he insisted.

She shook her head. ‘It doesn’t mean anything.’

‘Doesn’t it?’ He bit his lip, thinking. ‘It meant something when I didn’t tell about the gardener’s flowerpots. It meant something when you fell off the stable roof that time you thought you could fly. It meant something when —’

‘All right!’ she cried, torn between laughter and temper. ‘Shut up. My memory’s as good as yours. Better, probably.’

‘Come on, Fane,’ he murmured coaxingly. ‘You know you want to. You know I mean it. Just spit and we can put all this behind us. Start over, on a whole new page. My magic won’t change anything for you. I swear it.’

She stared at his spittled hand, her dirty face screwed into a frown. Holding his breath he willed her to accept the challenge. Join him halfway. End the destructive, corrosive feud poisoning their family.

She said, still frowning, ‘Mama doesn’t like it when we swear.’

His laugh was half a sob. ‘Mama’s not here.’

She spat. Pressed her hand on top of his and shook. Then she looked up at him, a little shy, a little defiant. ‘I’m not really selfish. I’m just focused.’

‘Focused?’ he said, grinning. Light-headed with relief and hope. ‘So that’s what they’re calling it these days.’ Fishing a handkerchief out of his pocket he wiped the tears from her face, then smeared both their hands dry of saliva.

Asher said, agitated, ‘All done then? All finished swearin’ and spittin’ and tryin’ to kill each other? Good. Then best the pair of you make yourselves scarce. Ain’t no tellin’ who that ole Darran’s gone flappin’ to.’

Gar nodded. Got to his feet and pulled Fane upright beside him. ‘You’re right. As usual. And then we’re going to have to come up with an explanation.’

Fane was staring around them, her expression awestruck. ‘It’s going to have to be a pretty good one, Gar.’

For the first time he gazed at their erstwhile battleground. His glorious bower was a smoking ruin, splintered and scarred and shredded. Hardly a flower was left untouched. Beneath the smashed branches of one blackened tree, four charred and feathered corpses. The air stank of magic and death, smudged still with drifting smoke.

‘Barl save me,’ he said quietly. Tiredly. Asher was staring over his shoulder, his face grim. ‘Well, I somebody bloody better. ‘Cause here comes trouble times I three.’

Gar felt his heart plummet. Wrapping his fingers around I his sister’s trembling hand, he turned. Took a deep, shuddering breath and prepared to face his father and his father’s best friend … and his father’s bitter enemy.

‘Burl’s sacred bonesY roared Conroyd Jarralt as his fist crashed down upon the Privy Council table. ‘This is your fault, Borne. You are to blame for this appalling state of affairs!’

‘Now, now, Conroyd —’ Barlsman Holze began, his expression pained.

Jarralt turned on him. ‘Hold your tongue, Holze, you pandering old fool! Don’t think I’ve forgotten your part in this!’

Morg had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing aloud; the look on the pandering old fool’s face was priceless. But Dunn would not have let such an affront to dignity pass unchallenged so he arranged the magician’s face into a frown. ‘Mind yourself, Lord Jarralt. We will swiftly achieve nothing if we cannot control our choler.’

Jarralt continued unchastened. ‘And why should I control my choler, Master Magician? We are facing the gravest crisis this kingdom can know: a divided succession. Not since the days of Trevoyle’s Schism have we seen such a barbarous display as provided by Prince Gar and Princess Fane! Control my choler? No, indeed! Rather I should be shouting my outrage from the rooftops of the City. The rooftops, sir!’

Pale and rigidly composed the cripple stirred in his council seat. ‘Lord Jarralt, you are gravely mistaken. There is no divided succession. When the time comes I have no intention of challenging my sister for the crown. She has worked for it her whole life. Sacrificed every joy of childhood in service to the goal of serving this kingdom as its queen. As a prince of the ruling house I have my own duties and I am well satisfied with them. Fane will be WeatherWorker hereafter. I do so swear it, in this place at this time before you, my witnesses.’