Thief’s Magic (26 page)

As if making the decision for her, her feet took her in a different direction. Her heart was beating quickly by the time she arrived. Forcing her breathing to slow, she relaxed her shoulders and strolled into the small courtyard.

Her senses stirred. Stain did still linger, but it was shrunken and patchy. Another woman was striding across the space but she was only around ten years older than Rielle and didn’t look up as she passed. A few steps from the other side of the convergence of streets, Rielle glanced back as if to look twice at the woman, letting her eyes move across the entrances of the other streets. Nobody stood there. She breathed a sigh of relief and turned back …

… to find her path blocked by a familiar, wizened creature.

“Looking for someone?” the woman hissed, ignoring Rielle’s yelp of surprise.

“No!” Rielle replied and stepped around the woman.

The woman didn’t move to block her, but she followed Rielle’s every move with her unwavering gaze. Rielle turned to hurry away.

“She can help you,” she said softly.

Rielle checked her stride in surprise. “
She?
” The old woman wasn’t the corrupter.
But she knows the corrupter. She’s here to find potential tainted and direct them to her
, she guessed.

She could tell Rielle how to find the corrupter. Slowly Rielle turned. She could not meet the old woman’s eyes, but that would hardly be unusual among those who sought magical knowledge.

“How?” she whispered.

“Only she can tell you that.”

The old woman moved closer, then extended a hand. Reluctantly, Rielle held out her own, palm upward. A curl of paper dropped into her grasp. The woman leaned even closer.

“Buy a yellow scarf and ask for the way to the baker. She will find you.”

She backed away. Rielle stared down at the paper, then closed her fingers over it. The woman shuffled into a side street. The courtyard was still empty of people.

What should I do?

Unsure, she opened the curl of paper. A map had been drawn there, a tiny scrap of the city’s plan. No words. No street names. No familiar landmarks.
How am I supposed to follow this?

Then she saw the yellow dot. Was this where she must buy the scarf? Her eye snapped to a black mark where several streets converged.
Ah. Very clever. Only someone who could see Stain would know what
that
meant.

The shop – if that’s what it was – was not far away.
I don’t have to go in. I don’t have to do anything but find information that might help the priests.
Taking a deep breath, she set one foot in front of the other. The map contained no indication of a specific path to take, which left three different options. She chose the quieter, more shadowed streets that did not approach her destination directly.

What if this is a trap set by the priests to see who might succumb to the temptation?
They might not believe that her intention was to help them.
Surely they will wait until the trap is sprung, and there is no question that the target had actually
learned
magic?

As she reached the spot marked in yellow on the map she slowed. There was indeed a shop selling scarves. Coloured awnings shaded the front, and the owner’s wares were tied up on rails across the wall, like a multi-coloured fringe. It was on the corner of a little courtyard of shops that sold jewellery, home furnishings and fabric. A few locals also lingered in the space: a musician, a shoe mender occupied with a customer and two children selling flowers. As Rielle moved forward to inspect the scarves a woman appeared in the doorway.

“Is there a colour you prefer?” she asked.

Avoiding the woman’s gaze, Rielle touched a blue scarf, not quite but close to the rich shade associated with the Angels. It had silver bells instead of tassels at the corners.

“Midnight on the sea, the waves sing to me…” a voice crooned. Rielle turned to see that the musician was watching her, strumming a very round-bellied baamn as he sang the popular love ballad.

“Don’t worry about him,” the scarf seller said. “He always does that. It’s a little strange at first, but there’s no harm in it and some customers like it. So … the blue?”

“No.” Rielle pretended to consider, allowing her hand to hover over one of the few yellow scarves. Her heart began to race. Would the woman guess her intention from her choice? “Blue is nice. But this … is for someone else.”

“Yellow is a bright, happy colour. Even so, it does not suit many people. I think this is a safer gift.”

As the woman untied a scarf the colour of dark leaves, the musician’s song shifted into a lament about being lost in the forest. Rielle mused that she had never seen a forest. Or the sea. She shook her head and gestured at the yellow scarf.

“I know this person well,” she explained. “She likes yellow.”

The seller looked as if she might be prepared to argue, then to Rielle’s relief she shrugged. “Well, if she changes her mind you can exchange it for another, if it is still in good condition.”

Rielle nodded. Her skin itched as she haggled a little over the price because it would have been odd not to. As she counted out the coins, the musician’s tune changed again and a chill ran down her spine.

“Your love is like sunshine…” he sang, clearly enjoying the game.

The seller rolled the scarf carefully and wrapped a piece of cheap cloth about it. Rielle watched, holding back her impatience and anxiety. Finally, she was free to go. She hurried away. Only when she had turned into the next street and saw she was in a narrow alley did she realise she hadn’t asked where the baker was. She mouthed a curse and looked back.

A woman walking a few strides behind her looked up and smiled. Her clothes were the colour of the desert, and her face was well weathered. She was not quite Narmah’s age yet she had deeper lines between her brows and around her mouth. At the woman’s direct, appraising look Rielle felt her knees go weak.

“That’s a lovely scarf you bought,” she said, without taking her eyes off Rielle. “My favourite colour.”

Her tone was full of expectation. Rielle stood frozen, her heart racing.
It is her! It must be her! What do I do now? Run?
She imagined herself caught by magic and lifted off the ground, writhing in pain, as had happed to her abductor. Taking a slow, shaking breath, Rielle held out the wrapped scarf.

The hand the woman extended was covered with rings. She took the package then gestured towards something behind Rielle. Turning, Rielle saw a longcart as weathered as the woman filling most of a nearby alley entrance. It was covered by a cloth canopy the same colour as the woman’s clothes.

A hand hooked around Rielle’s arm. “Come inside.”

Heart pounding, Rielle let the woman guide her to the back of the cart. The corrupter pulled aside a flap. Peering in, Rielle saw a surprisingly comfortable interior filled with cushions and small travelling chests. She hesitated. If she entered first she would be trapped, with the woman between her and the exit.

The woman smiled faintly, then climbed the small ladder and crawled inside. She turned back to hold the flap open.

“See? Perfectly safe.”

Rielle took a deep breath, let it out slowly, then forced herself to follow the woman inside. The corrupter settled herself onto the cushions, close enough to reach out and touch Rielle. They regarded each other in silence for a long moment.

“Did you enjoy the festival?” the woman asked.

Rielle nodded.

“Did you celebrate with family or friends?”

“Both,” Rielle replied.

“You’re a native Fyrian, right?”

Rielle nodded again.

“Have you ever travelled beyond the city?”

After Rielle shook her head, the woman regarded her in silence.

“Where are the directions you were given?”

Mutely, Rielle held out the slip of paper. The woman took it then tucked it under a pillow.

“You’re not a chatty one,” the woman observed. “That is good. So, tell me how I can help you.”

Since deciding to follow the map, Rielle had considered and reconsidered what to say if she came to this point. She needed proof that the woman was teaching magic, but the woman was expecting that anyone who came to her badly needed her help. Whatever she asked for must be something about which it was reasonable for Rielle to change her mind. Or something she didn’t need straight away. Remembering what Greya had said about the woman of her homeland using magic had given her an idea. She kept her eyes lowered.

“I … I don’t need it right now. It’s just … I’ve heard that there’s a way to stop a woman … conceiving.”

The woman smiled. “There are many. Have you tried any?”

Rielle shook her head. “I heard some make you sick, others don’t work every time and some are permanent.”

“And some are forbidden. But you must be willing to ignore that, if you have come to me.”

Rielle bowed her head and nodded.

“Is avoiding a pregnancy worth that risk?” the woman observed.

Rielle grimaced and nodded again.

“Are you sure? The inconvenience or shame, for yourself or others, of you bearing a child is nothing compared to what they will do to you if they discover how you prevented it.”

“I know,” Rielle said. “But once I am married I won’t need it. And … I might not need it at all.”

The woman sighed, then reached forward. “You aren’t already carrying, are you?” Rielle resisted the urge to shrink away from the hands that reached towards her.

“N-no. I don’t think so,” she mumbled as a warm palm pressed against her belly.

“Good,” the woman said, her eyes fixed beyond her hand.

Twin knives cut into Rielle’s flesh. She cried out, grabbed the woman’s wrists and thrust her away. Looking down, she was sure she would see wounds leaking blood, but her clothes were undamaged and no red stain welled up from beneath them.

“What have you done?!” she demanded.

The woman’s expression was hard and amused. “What you asked for.”

“I thought you would teach me…”

“What? A trick to use each time you couple with a man? The worst places you can use magic are those you and others frequent, as they are more likely to detect the Stain. It is safer and more efficient to use magic once. You now need only use it when you are ready to undo the change I have made.”

Rielle stared at the woman in horror.
She has made me infertile!
And the only way to reverse it was to use magic. The pain in her belly was an ache now, more like the pain she occasionally felt at the bleeding part of her cycle.
I should leave. Escape before she does any more damage.
But the thought of the childless women she’d known and their deep sadness, and of Jonare saying how much Izare loved children, kept her motionless.

I’d only need to use magic once.
She wrapped her arms around her abdomen, closed her eyes and took several deep breaths.
Just once.

Then she raised her eyes to meet the corrupter’s.

“Tell me what I have to do.”

A
t first Rielle walked in a daze.

What have I done? When I die the Angels will know I have used magic. They will rip my soul apart.

But she had only used the tiniest bit of magic. Enough to demonstrate she had learned what the corrupter had taught her. Enough to make a tiny, fist-sized ball of Stain. Would the Angels forgive such a small act? Would they understand that she had sought the corrupter out with the intent of turning the woman over to the priests?

Or had the tiniest use of magic, no matter to what purpose, shut the door on any chance of her existence after death?
Have I made the ultimate sacrifice for the benefit of others? For people who would fear and reject me if they knew?

It was incredible that it was still early afternoon, the sunshine warming her face. It ought to be night, the city shrouded in a darkness appropriate to forbidden, secretive deeds. People were everywhere. Those who looked at her frowned, as if seeing through her skin to the tainted soul beneath. Or perhaps her guilt was too easily read in her face.

They can’t know
, she told herself.
Only the Angels know. They are the only ones who ever will. Apart from the corrupter.
She couldn’t even imagine telling the priests what she had done. They needed to know nothing more than that she had found the corrupter.

Who would tell them that Rielle had used magic, if she was caught.

They won’t believe her
, she told herself. But they would ask Rielle if it was true. If she denied it she would be lying.
If I tell the truth they’ll send me away. Away from Izare and my family.
And then what was the point of her learning to undo what the woman had done to her?

A flash of anger briefly held back the fear.
She had no right to do that!
But she could see now how smart the corrupter had been. Her victims risked the discovery of their own crime if they betrayed her. Only someone truly willing to sacrifice everything could not be caught in such a trap.

Perhaps the Angels will forgive me
, she thought. Priests used magic all the time, though they purified themselves afterwards. She wished she knew what those rituals entailed. Her skin itched for a bath. But it was unlikely to be a mere physical cleansing. More likely it involved offerings and prayers. Perhaps a robust version of what the priests suggested for those who sought forgiveness for other misdemeanours or mistakes. She could do both – more of both – though not so much that the priests might suspect her reasons.

At last she reached Temple Road. The short distance she had to walk to the dyeworks seemed to have grown. Finally, she pushed through the door. One of the servants was serving a customer. He gave her an odd, wary look. She ignored him, once again having to push aside the certainty that her stained soul was visible to all, and headed for the door to the family’s private rooms. A bell rang, indicating that another server was required.

The door to the receiving room opened and her mother leaned out, but instead of looking around for the customer her gaze snapped straight to Rielle.