Thief’s Magic (3 page)

“Yes! Over here!” Miko shouted.

Kilraker turned the aircart to face the cliff edge, its propellers swivelling and buzzing. Bags and boxes had been strapped to either end of the chassis, suggesting there had not been time to pack their luggage in the hollow inside. At last the cart moved over the cliff top in a gust of familiar smells. Tyen breathed in the scent of resin-coated cloth, polished wood and pipe smoke and smiled. Miko grabbed the rope railing strung around the chassis, ducked under it and stepped on board.

“Sorry, boys,” Kilraker said. “Expedition’s over. No point sticking around when the locals get like this. Brace yourselves for some ear popping. We’re going up.”

As Tyen swung his satchel around to his back, ready to climb aboard, he thought of what lay inside. He didn’t have any treasure to show off, but at least he had found something interesting. Ducking under the railing rope, he settled onto the narrow deck, legs dangling over the side. Miko sat down beside him. The aircart began to ascend rapidly, its nose slowly turning towards home.

I
t was impossible to be gloomy when flying with a steady tail wind on a clear, beautiful night. The bright reds and oranges of the setting sun had ended the banter between Miko and Neel, and an appreciative silence had fallen. Leratia’s capital and home of the Academy, Belton, could put on some grand sunsets, but they were always tainted by smoke and steam.

To Tyen’s senses, the aircart appeared to have a bow wave. Unlike a boat in water, the ripple in the atmosphere was caused by the removal, not displacement, of something: magic. In its place the dark shadow of Soot remained, and trailed behind them like smoke. Soot was hard to describe to anyone who couldn’t sense it. It was merely the absence of magic, but when fresh it had texture, as if a residue had been left in magic’s place. It moved, too – shrinking as magic slowly flowed in to fill the void.

As Tyen drew in more magic to power the propellers and heat the air in the capsule he relished the opportunity to use magic without restraint. It felt good to use it, he reflected, but it wasn’t a physical pleasure
. More like the buzz you feel when something you’re making is all coming together exactly as you planned
, he thought. Like the satisfaction he’d felt when making Beetle, and the other little mechanical novelties he sold to help finance his education.

While it was not difficult driving the aircart, it did demand concentration. Tyen knew that his skill with sorcery had guaranteed him a place on the expedition, as it meant Professor Kilraker didn’t have to do all the driving.

“Getting chilly,” Drem said to nobody in particular. Kilraker’s manservant had dug around in the luggage earlier, careful to avoid losing any of it overboard, and found their airmen’s jackets, hoods, scarves and gloves. Tyen had been relieved to know his bag must be in the pile somewhere, not left behind in the rush to leave Mailand.

A hand touched his shoulder and he looked up to see the professor nod at him.

“Rest, Tyen. I’ll take us from here to Palga.”

Letting his pull on magic go, Tyen rose and, holding the tensioned rope railing for balance, stepped around Kilraker so the man could take the driver’s seat. He paused, considering asking why Kilraker had let him dig where the Mailanders hadn’t wanted them to, but said nothing. He knew the answer. Kilraker did not care about the Mailanders’ feelings or traditions. The Academy expected him and his students to bring back treasures, and that was more important to him. In every other way, Tyen admired the man and wanted to be more like him, but he’d come to see on this journey that the professor had flaws. He supposed everyone had. He probably had a few as well. Miko was always telling him he was well behaved to the point of being boring. That didn’t mean he, or Kilraker, weren’t likeable. Or so he hoped.

Miko and Neel were sitting with their legs dangling over one side at the central, widest, point of the chassis, while Drem sat cross-legged on the opposite side for balance, surprisingly flexible for a man of his age. Settling on the same side as the servant, but a small distance away, Tyen took off his gloves, tucked them in his jacket pocket and drew the book out of his satchel. It was still warm. Perhaps he had imagined it earlier and now it only gave off the body heat it had gained from Tyen himself through the satchel pressed to his side. In the hours since then he’d almost convinced himself he’d imagined the conversation he’d had with it, though he hoped not.

He ought to hand her over to Kilraker now, but the man was busy and Tyen wanted to establish exactly what he’d found first.

“So, Tyen,” Neel said. “Miko says you found a sarcophagus in that tomb. Was there any treasure in it?”

Tyen looked down at the book. “No treasure,” he found himself saying.

“No jewellery? None of those baubles we found in the other caves?”

“Nothing like that. The occupant must have been poor when he died. The coffin lid wasn’t even carved.”

“Nobody buries poor men in stone coffins. Robbers must’ve got in there. That’s gotta be annoying, after you wasted all that time working out where a tomb might be.”

“Then they were very considerate robbers,” Tyen retorted, letting a little of his annoyance enter his voice. “They put the lid back on the coffin.”

Miko laughed. “More likely they had a sense of humour. Or feared the corpse would come after them if they didn’t.”

Tyen shook his head. “There were some interesting paintings on the walls. If we ever go back…”

“I don’t know if anyone will be going back there for a while. The Mailanders tried to kill us.”

Tyen shook his head. “The Academy will sort it out. Besides, if I’m only drawing the pictures on the walls, not taking anything away, the villagers might not object.”

“Not take anything? Maybe when you’re rich and can pay for your own expeditions.” From Neel’s tone, he didn’t expect rich was something Tyen would ever be.

It’s all right for him. Dumb as a brick, but family so wealthy and important he’ll pass no matter what his marks are or how little work he puts in.
Still, Neel was genuinely interested in history and did study hard. He idolised the famous explorers and was determined that he’d be able to hold a conversation with one if the opportunity came.

Sighing, Tyen opened the book. It was too dark to see the page now, so he created a tiny flame and set it hovering above his hands. Making a flame involved moving a tiny bit of air so quickly it grew hot and began to burn the air around it. Refining it to such a small light took concentration but, like a repetitive dance step, once he got it going he could focus on something else. When he fanned through the pages he was disappointed to see that the text that had appeared before was gone. He shook his head and was about to close the book again when a line appeared, lengthening and curling across a page. He opened the book at the new text.

You lied about finding me.

He blinked, but the words remained.

You’re not what they’d consider “treasure”. Wait … how do you know that? I hadn’t opened you yet.

I only need someone to touch me. When they do I can form a connection to their mind.

You can read my mind?

Yes. How else could I form words in your language?

Can you alter anything there?

No.

I hope you’re not lying about being unable to lie.

I am not. I am also as open to you as you are to me. Whatever information you ask for, I must give. But, of course, you must first know that information exists, and that I contain it.

Tyen frowned.
I suppose there had to be a price to using you, as with all magical objects.

This is how I gather knowledge quickly and truthfully.

I have the better side of the deal, then. You can hold a lot more knowledge than I do, though it will depend on what was known by the people who have held you. So what can you tell me?

You study history and magic. Obviously I can’t tell you about the last six hundred years because I was in the tomb, but I existed for many centuries before then. I have been held by great sorcerers, historians, as well as philosophers, astronomers, scientists, healers and strategists.

Tyen felt his heartbeat quicken. How much easier would it be to learn and impress his tutors with a book like this at his disposal? No more searching the library and studying late into the night.

Well, not as much of it, anyway. Her knowledge was at least six hundred years old, and much had changed in that time. A great revolution in reason and scientific practice had occurred. She could be full of errors. After all, she had collected knowledge from people, and even famous, brilliant people made mistakes and had been proven wrong.

On the other hand, if the Academy was wrong about something he couldn’t use her to convince them. For a start, they’d never accept one source, no matter how remarkable. They would not accept her as proof of anything until they’d established how accurate she was. And then they’d decide she had more important uses than allowing a student to satisfy his curiosity, or take short cuts with his education.

Your friends and teacher keep some discoveries for themselves. Why shouldn’t you keep me?

Tyen looked over at the professor. Tall and lean, with short-cropped hair and moustache curled as was the current fashion, Kilraker was admired by students and peers alike. His adventures had brought him academic respect and furnished him with many stories with which to charm and impress. Women admired him and men envied him. He was the perfect advertisement to attract students to the Academy.

Yet Tyen knew that Kilraker didn’t quite live up to the legend. He was cynical about his profession and its benefits to the wider world, as if he had lost the curiosity and wonder that attracted him to archaeology in the first place. Now he only seemed to care about finding things he could sell or that would impress others.

I don’t want to be like him
, he told Vella.
And to keep you could mean I was depriving the Academy of a unique and possibly important discovery.

You must do what you feel is right.

Tyen looked away from the page. The sky had darkened completely now. Stars freckled the sky, so much more brilliant and numerous away from a big city’s glow and smog. Ahead and below the aircart lay lines and clusters of lights more earthly than celestial: the town of Palga. He estimated they’d arrive in an hour or so.

The book – Vella – had already connected with his mind twice. Did she already know everything about him? If so, anybody who held the book could find out anything about him. They had only to ask her. She had admitted that she must give whatever information she contained to whoever asked for it.

But what did he have to hide? Nothing important enough to make him wary of using her. Nothing that wasn’t worth the risk of others finding out embarrassing things and teasing him about them. Nothing he wouldn’t exchange for the knowledge gleaned from centuries of great men handling the book.

Like the “great sorcerers” she had mentioned. And Roporien himself. He looked back down at the page. He wouldn’t reach the Academy for several days. Perhaps he would be forgiven for holding onto her until then. After all, Kilraker might not have time to examine her properly during the journey home. Tyen might as well learn as much from her as possible in the meantime.

Do you know everything that Roporien did?

Not everything. Roporien knew that for me to be an effective store of knowledge I must be able to access the minds of those who hold me, but he had secrets he wasn’t willing to risk revealing. So he never touched me after my making. He had others ask questions of me, but he rarely needed to.

Because he already knew all that there was to know?

No. Since a stronger sorcerer can read the mind of a weaker one, and Roporien was stronger than all other sorcerers, he did not need me in order to spy on anyone’s mind. Most of those he wanted information from did not attempt to withhold it. They gave it out of awe or fear.

Tyen’s mind spun as he contemplated sorcerers with the ability to read minds. They must have been powerful indeed.
But why would Roporien create a book that he couldn’t use?

Ah, but he didn’t have to touch me in order to use me. By having others touch me he could teach them and spread knowledge.

That is an unexpectedly noble act for a man like Roporien.

He did so for his own benefit. I was a tool for teaching his fighters the lessons of war, to show his servants how to provide the best in everything, and inspire the greatest makers and artists in all the worlds so that he could use the magic produced by their creating.

Magic produced by their creating? Wait. Are you saying … You’re not saying…?

That their creativity generated magic? Yes, I am.

Tyen stared at the page in dismay.
That’s superstitious nonsense.

It is not.

It certainly is. It is a myth rejected by the greatest minds of this age.

How did they disprove it?

He felt a flash of irritation as he realised he did not know.
I will have to find out. There will be records. Though … it could be simply that it has not been proven to be true, rather than disproved.

So you would have to believe it, if someone proved it was true?

Of course. But I doubt anyone would succeed. Rejecting primitive beliefs and fears and embracing only what can be proven is what led us into a modern, enlightened time. Gathering and examining evidence, and applying reason led to many great discoveries and inventions that have improved the lot of men.

Like this aircart you travel in.

Yes! Aircarts and aircarriages. Railsleds and steamships. Machines that produce goods faster than ever before – like looms that make cloth quicker than twenty weavers working at once, and machines that can print copies of a book, all the same, by the thousands, in a few days.