Thief’s Magic (39 page)

The only dark and unpleasant place Rielle might plausibly go was the garbage pit in the side alley of the courtyard. It stank, so the neighbours came and went as quickly as possible. Garbage collectors spent the longest time there, shovelling the muck into a cart to be taken out of the city. If Rielle used magic there just after they’d visited, the Stain would have faded by the time they returned.

It was close to home, however, and she would have to return to it whenever putting out the garbage. If the Stain was noticed, it would draw more suspicion on the artisans living there, reinforcing the prejudices against them.

But she was part of that community now. If she went elsewhere and her use of magic was discovered, it would still reflect badly on all artisans. To find a place far from her home meant roaming around the city to parts where she was a stranger, and would draw more attention. Better to stay where her presence and movements were so familiar they would be ignored.

Her feet were now taking her towards Izare’s house. Glancing at the buildings, she estimated by the angle of the sunlight that bathed them that, if she walked slowly, she should not arrive too soon. When she neared the streets leading to the courtyard she spotted one of the neighbourhood’s children. The boy was happy to take a message to Izare and bring one back. She told him to deliver one word: “Now?”

The boy came racing back to her and panted out the word “Yes!” He took the coin she offered, grinned and ran off. Relieved, Rielle headed for home, wondering as she had many times during the afternoon if the wait had even been necessary. She expected to find that Famire had, after collecting observations about Rielle’s new life to relate to the other temple girls, claimed she did not want her portrait done after all.

As Rielle pushed through the front door she smelled the familiar scent of oil, strong enough to suggest Izare had been at work on something or simply preparing more paint. A glance in the lower room told her he wasn’t there, so she started up the stairs.

Emerging into the studio, she looked over to see Izare standing before a new painting. He turned to her, but she did not see his expression as the image before him caught and consumed all of her attention.

Famire stared back at her, a sly smile puckering her lips. She wore no scarf, and though her clothes were roughly sketched in it was clear by how much skin of her neck and shoulder was visible that her tunic was partly unfastened. Izare waited in silence as she stared at it.

“It’s horrible, isn’t it?” he finally said.

She tore her eyes from the painting and looked at him. His smile was rueful, but not from self-doubt.
He looks ashamed. I suppose I should be grateful that he’s not trying to pretend otherwise.

“So she stayed,” was all she could think to say. Stating the obvious.

He nodded. “And paid half in advance.”

She turned back to the painting, but found she could no longer look at it. Her eyes slid off it as her mind shied away from the thought of how Famire might have got into that state, and why she looked so smug.

It doesn’t mean anything happened. It’s only a painting. And we need the money.

That didn’t make her feel better. What if one of Famire’s conditions had been for him to do more than paint her? Was that the true reason he’d suggested Rielle should leave for the afternoon?

“How did the meeting go?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Well enough. I’m … I’m going to get something to drink.”

He said nothing as she walked back downstairs. She heard him moving about as she entered the lower room. The pitcher she’d filled from the fountain that morning was empty. Picking it up, she turned towards the door, then froze as she saw the bucket they collected their garbage in, half filled.

If I was pregnant, he’d never touch another woman for fear that I’d go back to my parents, and he’d never see his child.

The thought brought a sour taste to her mouth. Was this all that she was? Was being a vessel for making children all that was valuable about her? She had been, for a short time, a hero when she’d helped the priests capture the last tainted, but that time had been finite and short. She had been a source of inspiration and passion for Izare, but now she was just another mouth to feed. She had dreamed of painting alongside him, but nobody was ever going to commission art from her. Nobody even knew or cared that she was good at it.

Oh, stop feeling so sorry for yourself. You chose to come here. It must have been hard work for Izare to gain his skills and reputation, and he’s clearly had to do work he doesn’t care for along the way. I will have to do the same, even if that work is raising children.

If all went well, she would have the support of her family as well. At that thought she almost smiled. Narmah would be very happy to look after little ones while Rielle worked.

But it will never happen if I don’t fix things.

Straightening, Rielle put down the pitcher, picked up the bucket and headed outside.

As she neared the alley and garbage pit, fear stirred within her. She held onto her determination. She was glad to find nobody else there and that the pit had been emptied a day or two ago. Most people threw their garbage in from the front so they didn’t have to go far into the alley, though that resulted in a mound that overflowed into the street. Rielle grimaced at the smell, slipped down the side and tossed the contents of the bucket into the back of the hole.

She looked around. There was nothing to sit on. It wasn’t as dark as she thought, and she began to doubt that Stain would be so hard to notice here. Still, her eyes had probably adjusted to the dim light whereas anyone coming in from the street would be dazzled by the sunlight outside.

“Angels forgive me,” she breathed. “I only seek to put things back to rights.”

Moving to the very back of the alley, hoping that nobody would come in, she closed her eyes and thought about what the corrupter had told her. Some nights she had lain awake, worrying that she would forget the instructions and repeating over in her mind what she wasn’t supposed to know.

“
When you see Stain, you don’t see it with your eyes
,” the woman had said. “
You are sensing it with your mind. What you are sensing is nothing. An absence. It is where magic has been removed. And that means…?
”

It meant that magic was everywhere else. Around her. Inside her. It had taken a tiny shift of awareness to sense the
something
rather than the
nothing
. Even remembering that revelation was enough to make Rielle aware of the magic around her now. It was like being aware of sunlight, except instead of the sensation being detected by her skin it was felt by her mind.

She had only to stretch out and take it.

What was an even spread of magic became condensed power held by her will. She realised she was shaking, but it was not an effect of holding power. It was fear and panic.

Get it over with before someone comes along and wonders what you’re doing
, she told herself.

“
Your body will know what it needs
,” the corrupter had said. “
Feed it and it will heal itself.
”

Turning her awareness to her body, she directed the magic into her belly and let it go. A tingling sensation filled her abdomen, making her want to scratch deep beneath the surface. It lasted a few breaths before fading away.

Then … nothing. She felt no different from before. If something had changed then it was so subtle that she could not sense it.

“Rielle?”

She jumped, her eyes flying open. A young man was standing in the alley entrance, peering at her.

“You’ve been gone a while. Are you upset?” he asked.

Izare. Hearing the concern in his voice, her heart warmed. A traitorous relief followed. He probably thought she had come here to seethe or cry over the painting of Famire.
Well, it’s not far from the truth
, she thought.

“No,” she replied, knowing that he’d hear the lie and misinterpret it. She walked around the pit to join him, noticing that he held the pitcher. “Just thinking.”

He put an arm around her. “Don’t worry about Famire. She’s petty and ugly. She spent the whole time here sniping about other people. I had to imagine what her mouth would be like when it’s not all twisted.”

“While her clothes were half off,” Rielle reminded him. She resisted the temptation to look back into the alley for a sign of Stain.

He led her away, towards the fountain. “Not half. A little skin, that’s all. It’s what she wanted. I suspect it’s what she thinks your portrait is like.”

“Did you show it to her?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

He smiled. They had reached the fountain and he dipped the pitcher in. “Because there’s more mystery about it now. Apparently it’s very romantic of you to sacrifice all to be with me, which has made getting a secret portrait done the new fashion.”

“Secret?” Rielle frowned. “You said she’d got permission from her parents.”

He chuckled. “I doubt it.” He took her hand and drew her towards the door of his house.

“What if they find out and object? You lost spirituals as a source of income because of annoying my family, but they’re not as powerful as Famire’s family. They could have you driven out of the city.”

He pushed open the door and they moved into the cool interior. “There are always risks when you’re an artist. Painting spirituals in a different way was a big risk. Perhaps a bigger risk than a private portrait that could help a young woman attract the eye of the man she wants to marry. Which is a risk that pays a lot better, I have to say.” He reached under his tunic to his belt and, after untying the cords of his money bag, drew it out and pressed it into her hands. It was heavy and full to bursting. She opened it and felt her heart skip. Gold and silver glittered softly.

If this was
half
the painting’s price, perhaps it was a risk worth taking.
Another risk worth taking
, she added, thinking of the healing she had done.

“Then you’re going to have to let me stay here whenever you paint them,” she said. “You need someone to reassure their parents when they’re finally found out that nothing scandalous happened to their daughters while they were here.”

He smiled. “Famire won’t like it, but she will have to put up with it. You, on the other hand … can you stand being around her?”

Rielle sighed. “I’d rather that than get run out of the city because of some silly rich girl.”

I
zare frowned at the ceiling. Rielle waited for him to say something, but he remained as he was, lying on the bed with his hands behind his head, eyes fixed on the dusty undersides of the flooring above. Keeping her eyes from wandering over his lean, brown chest, she fixed her gaze on his face, determined not to be distracted or to back down. He’d had several days to think about Narmah’s proposal. He’d seemed pleased by her family’s wish to be on good terms.

She’d thought he was being sensible deciding to think about it for a while, but if she didn’t give her family an answer soon they might assume she’d rejected the offer. Now, as time stretched and Izare said nothing, she felt as if her insides were shrinking and contracting with doubt and fear. Then they seemed to reach a limit and expanded with sudden hot anger.

“You said you wanted to get married,” she reminded him.

He rolled over to face her. “I do,” he said gently. “But I don’t want you to move out. I like having you here.”

Her heart flipped over and she quickly looked away, not wanting him to think that he could win her over with a few, admittedly wonderful, words.

“I like being here, but I would like to be on good terms with my family, too. It would not have to be for long. My parents will probably want us married quickly. The sooner we are, the sooner the respectability of the family will be … well, not so much restored as patched up. The last thing they’ll want is their daughter having a child out of marriage.” She looked at him. “And it’s not something their daughter would be all that happy about, either.”

He smiled, reached over and laid a hand on her belly. “The priests have been known to lower the bribe, if the bride is with child.”

She rolled away and swung her legs over the side of the bed, rocking into a sitting position. “It seems no matter what we do, we won’t get very much time together, the two of us,” she lamented. “It’s a pity what Famire paid you wasn’t enough to pay for both the bribe and the rent.”

“We can be married and homeless or unmarried with a house to live and work in,” Izare said. “Such is the life of an artist.”

She shook her head. “I still can’t believe the priests are so corrupt.” She sighed, stood, and moved over to the shuttered windows to peer through the slats. From the angle of the shadows outside she guessed it was mid-morning.

“It’s later than I thought. I had better clean up and go. Jonare said to come over before midday.”

“Me, too. I’m meeting Errek at Dorr’s house.”

Izare stretched, the muscles under his skin shifting in all too interesting ways, then threw off the blanket and stood up in one smooth motion. She averted her eyes, still not used to his unhurried attitude towards dressing of a morning.

“Anything planned?”

He shrugged and began to put on his shirt from the day before. “We’ll probably sit and talk. You and Jonare could bring over the results of your cooking lesson later on.”

Rielle rolled her eyes and handed him the empty water pitcher as he finished tying his trousers. “I suppose we could. If there’s anything edible.”

He took it and grinned. “I’m sure it’ll be a feast worthy of the Angels.”

After he’d returned with water for the wash basin, they cleaned up, dressed and set out together. As they passed the garbage pit alley, Rielle resisted the temptation to stare into the shadows to see if the Stain she must have left was visible. She was sure she could feel a wrongness down there, but she dismissed that as her anxiety stimulating her imagination.

It’s done
, she told herself
. Hopefully it worked, and I’ll never have to think about magic and Stain ever again.