A twinge of pain crossed through my body, but the satisfaction came, too. Finishing a well-formed spell, one that does what you want it to, elegantly and fast – there’s no other feeling like it. I smiled.
Brix tugged the ring free and stared down at the bits of metal in her hand. ‘I’ve worn this since I was thirteen.’
‘Yes, well, dump it somewhere. It’s too distinctive.’ I rose, wincing. ‘And you’ll want to wipe the circle off of your skin. Runes put out a lot of energy; leave them there and they’ll eat at you. You’ll get sores.’
‘Ugh.’ Brix shuddered and scrubbed at the paint with her sleeve. ‘Why write it on skin, then? You used parchment earlier. Why not carry your spells in a book?’
‘Pages of a book touch each other. The spells interact, start fires. You can write an incantation spiral on a single piece of parchment, but you have to use it very quickly. It’s just thin leather – skin, like your skin. Given enough time, the runes eat through it.’ I stuffed my tools back in my satchel.
‘You’re not a Guild member, are you?’ She crossed her arms. ‘You lied to me.’
‘We met in a barn.’ I started moving again. If I concentrated, I could keep my limp minimised. At least I hoped I could; if not my knee would be used up soon, and I’d be stuck until I could get the swelling down. ‘I don’t know what you expected.’
‘That man at the temple, the one I hit.’ She was walking, too, still holding her arms clasped around herself. ‘What did he want with you?’
‘I’m leaving at the crossroads,’ I said, ‘so it doesn’t matter.’
‘And I saved your life, so it seems like that should have bought me something.’
I twitched my shoulders, annoyed. Nobody asked her to save my life. ‘You wanted your tracker off, now it’s off. At least, I can’t imagine another reason why you would think braining Keir was a better option than running away.’
‘I didn’t—’ Worry hummed in her voice. ‘I wasn’t thinking, if you want to know, I was angry, stupid, I was—’ She blinked, trembling with something that I was startled to recognise as a deep, quiet rage. ‘I hate them. I hate how they hurt people. And I didn’t start thinking again until it was too late, and now I’ve messed everything up and I don’t know what I’m going to do.’ Her eyes fixed on me. ‘This is your fault, so start talking. I need to know if they’re going to hunt me because of you. This isn’t a game for me, wizard. I can’t just cast a spell and run away.’
I exhaled. ‘His full name is Keir Esras, he’s the Examiner General to the Royal Mages’ Guild and he’s supposed to hunt dangerous wizards, not escaped slaves. You’ll be fine. I don’t think he even saw you.’
She eyed me. ‘Why was he after you?’
‘Clearly because I’m a dangerous wizard,’ I said.
‘All wizards are dangerous,’ she said, bitterly.
I sighed. ‘Look, the Guild regulates magic because although it’s handy to have a supply of wizards, gods forbid you let people who can throw lightning wander around without supervision. They might get above themselves and question the authority of Temples, covet the throne – you see how the war would go? So the king grants them a charter as an alternative, which allows them to study the narrow bit of magical knowledge that the throne and Temples agree is safe. In return for survival, the Guild fights for the throne when necessary and hunts down anyone who practises outside the Charter.’ I shrugged. ‘Like me.’
‘But that’s not why they’re hunting you,’ she said, ‘or at least it isn’t the only reason. You and Keir both mentioned someone called Acarius.’
‘Leave it.’ I put my head down and tried to walk faster. I wasn’t going to talk about that. Keir had arrested Acarius six months ago, and every day that passed meant more risk that the Guild was torturing him, more chance that I’d never find my grandfather alive. Wherever they were holding him had to be heavily warded against divination. I had half killed myself with scrying and hadn’t got even a hint of his location – just whispers of emotion, waves of fear and pain. I’d searched jails, bribed officials and had been sneaking into libraries and records rooms for weeks with no luck. The judge’s diary in my satchel was the first thing that had even looked like a lead. Gods knew I didn’t need any reminders of how thoroughly I was letting Acarius down.
‘No,’ she said. ‘You’re still lying.’
‘Saints, leave me alone!’ I snapped. ‘I don’t bother you with a lot of questions about why you were running away, do I? Fuss at you about whether you’re endangering me? Can we just walk?’
She went silent for the next few miles. I breathed in the scent of the grain fields, with just a musty hint of the river that snaked along to our right. The sun on my shoulders and the free road stretching in front of me felt good, and I could almost distract myself from the pain in my knee with the rhythm of my own steps. But my mind wouldn’t stop churning. The Guild wasn’t holding Acarius in a normal prison, with the road conjurers and black-market witches that they picked up in their enforcement sweeps. Keir’s gloating had been too convincing for that to have been a lie. They had hidden my grandfather, somewhere secure. Somewhere private, where they could force his immense magical knowledge out of him, question him.
Hurt him.
I blinked, but my eyes still burned, gritty with fatigue and guilt. There was no point in circling back through the same thoughts that had tormented me for six months. I had to find a place to stop for a few hours, give myself time to examine the book closely and try to piece together whatever clues it might hold. I needed sleep, and food.
It took us until noon to reach a place where four roads met, by which time my knee was a white-hot ball of pain and I was dozing on my feet. Brix halted in the middle of the cross, biting her lip uncertainly.
I jerked a thumb towards the path that broke to our right, leading down towards the river and, filtering up through the willow trees along the water, the smoke of what was probably a town. ‘I’m going that way. It’s probably best if you pick a different direction.’ I waited, but she didn’t say anything. I’m not sure what I was expecting, considering that she had only known me for nine hours or so. Good luck, maybe, or sorry for getting you arrested. I shrugged and started down the path. ‘Safe travels, then. It’s been . . . interesting.’
‘What would be so bad about staying together, just for a little while?’ she said. ‘Do I have to pick a different direction?’
I paused and looked over my shoulder. ‘I don’t know why you wouldn’t. I’m a dangerous wizard, remember?’
‘I just—’ Brix hadn’t moved, her hands balled into fists, watching me. ‘Are you going to tell Temples where I am?’ Her voice was low, intense. ‘I can’t go back there. You don’t understand how they hurt you. You don’t know what they can make you do.’
I touched the barely-scabbed cut that Halling had left on my chin. Being tied to a temple would be difficult enough, but Brix would also have had to go about her work knowing that Halling was always lurking behind her in the dark, watching, fondling his knives.
You don’t know what they can make you do. I had to swallow, hard.
‘No,’ I said. ‘I’m not going to tell them. It’s none of my business where you go. If you wait until I’m gone before you leave, I won’t even know where you go.’
Her ears and the tip of her nose went pink. ‘Thank you.’
‘It’s nothing.’ Temples wanted her, but the Guild wanted me. Even if I’d had the sort of ethics that found it acceptable to send someone back into slavery, it didn’t make sense to attract the attention of either organisation. Besides, by choosing my direction first, I had the advantage of stopping in the closest town. She’d have to walk further, in her bare feet. The only thing I dislike more than feeling indebted to someone is being thanked when I’m not being altruistic. ‘Right,’ I said, suddenly anxious to be gone. ‘Well, goodbye.’
‘Good luck, Gray.’ She gave me a tiny smile, but I didn’t altogether like the shrewd calculation
in her eyes. She knew where I was going. Maybe she wasn’t being altruistic, either.
I left her standing there and moved quickly down towards the willows. Now that it was over, and I’d never see her again, I wanted to be away from her. Even after I’d passed into the trees, it still felt like she was watching me.
Four
The village squatted along the banks of the river, all smoke and peeling wattle-and-daub. I wasn’t expecting much in the way of an inn, but Pavel the tavern-keeper still managed to disappoint me. I had in mind to barter for a meal and a night’s rest. Most tradesmen that I’ve met have something they want enchanted – say, hens that aren’t laying. Simple enough to write a rune spiral for a witchlight to glow on the coop roof and solve that problem. As it happened, however, Pavel thought magic was unnatural and wizards were deviants. It wasn’t until I offered him one of the two remaining vials of yavad that he stopped picking at a gravy stain on his apron and perked up.
‘You can have a bed, until tomorrow morning.’ He gestured to where a few straw-tick mattresses were rolled up against the wall. It was less than ideal, but at least I could rest for a few hours before the evening crowd began to gather. I chose the cleanest-looking mattress and the most inconspicuous corner. I tucked my satchel under my head, one hand gripping the book through the leather, and managed to sleep until Pavel and his wife began clattering around, preparing the evening meal and arguing.
I sat up, bleary and sore, feeling every spot where Keir had landed a blow the night before. I rubbed my eyes, carefully extended my left knee in front of me so it wouldn’t lock up and took the book from my satchel.
Back in the temple I had assumed that it was a judge’s diary for Guild tribunals. And indeed, the first year or so of cases were nothing out of the ordinary: a Guild member censured for selling divination without charging official prices, convictions for a few petty spell-forgers and a court-ordered silencing for a village sorceress who had been providing prophylactic incantations. The last one made me wince – silencing meant they’d removed her tongue.
But the handwriting of the scribe changed after about twenty pages. Some ten months ago the tribunal had taken an interest in necromancy cases. Death magic is both unsavoury and uncommon, yet someone had managed to dredge up every necromancer or suspected necromancer between Varre and Llana, extract detailed information about their practice and then execute them. Overall, some twenty wizards had met their end. I was unsurprised to see Keir Esras’ signature as sentencing judge, but finding Halling on the list of witnesses gave me pause. What would a Jaernic priest know about necromancy, and why did Keir care? What was he planning?
Don’t pretend you care about the Charter. You and I both want it abolished. Now that I wasn’t trying to keep myself from being strangled, Keir’s comment during the fight struck me as odd. There had been pushes in the past to revise the Charter. It was possible that Keir belonged to some splinter group that wanted more freedom, I supposed. But then, he had said ‘abolish’, not ‘revise’. Everyone knew that there were factions within the Guild in the same sense that everyone knew there were factions at court, but this was the first time I had seriously wondered whether one of those factions was going to attempt a coup.
I turned the page.
Acarius Gray, guilty. Before the Examiner General, secret tribunal, Greater Fenwydd Guildhouse. Third session. Involuntary testimony.
It took a while to get my eyes to leave the words. Beneath them, labelled soul-catcher, was a pencil sketch of something that looked like a small glass flask or vial, the kind of thing you’d keep perfume in. A list of specifications was scratched across the facing page, ranging from those I understood (leaded glass) to those I didn’t (rennen), and a note: In the opinion of the court, the subject is still not being entirely forthcoming. Found attempting unsanctioned communication incantation with candle grease. Recommend removal to a more secure location with suitable interrogation facilities. It ended with an inscription that simply said subject transferred north and Keir’s cramped, untidy signature.
North. Half the damn country was north of Fenwydd.
Involuntary testimony.
I shut the book and took deep breaths to keep from throwing it across the room.
Eventually, the meaty scent of whatever it was that was boiling on the hob made its way to my nose and my stomach cramped with hunger. I glanced up to find that the room had filled around me, a mixture of locals in from the fields and a raucous group of what looked like merchants off the road. Everybody seemed to be enjoying themselves more than I would have imagined possible in a place where the beer smelled like watery piss. I raised a hand as Pavel passed me, harried, carrying a tray of food.
‘Can I have something to eat?’ I said. ‘It was included in the price of the bed, right?’
‘Aye, in a minute.’ He went charging across the room to where the merchants were drinking. I stretched my stiff neck from side to side, trying not to think too hard about what ‘something to eat’ would probably entail. Baked cabbage, maybe. I tried to return to my book.
But the merchants who were delaying my dinner burst into noisy laughter, and I glanced up, annoyed. A small, familiar form was trying to pass their table, arms crossed protectively over her chest.
‘No.’ Brix’s voice carried across the room, with a hint of fear underneath the anger. ‘Let me by.’
One of the merchants, a sweaty fellow with a paunch, patted his knee. ‘Oh, come on now, lovely. The ale tonight is the best I’ve ever had in this place, and we had a profitable day in town. Let me buy you a drink.’
‘I’m not interested,’ she said. ‘I just want—’
‘Now, then.’ The merchant’s oily confidence faltered. ‘Wouldn’t be the first drink you’ve had on a man’s lap, I’ll wager.’ He made a swipe for her.
‘I said no!’ She jumped backwards. Pavel, who was putting the fourth round of drinks on the merchants’ table, ignored her. Brix stared at him for a moment, then looked around the room, searching for something – an ally, maybe. The locals were all carefully absorbed in their own conversation. They weren’t going to interfere with a group of open-handed merchants, not for a stranger.
‘Little snob,’ growled the merchant, starting to rise. ‘I’ll teach you—’
‘Pavel,’ I said, loudly. ‘How about that food? Do I have to get it myself?’ I waved at Brix. ‘Hello, friend. Took you long enough to get here.’
Relief flashed across her face. She crossed the room and plopped down beside me as Pavel bustled his way over to the kettle on the fire.
‘Can I just sit with you until . . .’ Her eyes were on the merchants, who had subsided into grumbling and occasional bursts of intoxicated giggles.
‘If you like. I wasn’t using that piece of floor.’ I closed the diary and stuck it in my satchel. ‘Interesting secret destination you ended up choosing.’
‘I’m not following you, I promise,’ she said. ‘I found out that this is the only village for miles, and I need to find someone who’ll let me ride in their cart tomorrow. I didn’t think you’d still be here.’ She looked down at her hand, picking at her fingernails.
‘How are you planning on paying Pavel?’ I said. If she still had the icons, she’d snatched from the temple she could trade one, but that would be dangerous. Not only would it leave a trail for anyone taking the trouble to try to track us out of Fenwydd, but they were more valuable than anything in the village. Offering one might give Pavel ideas. After all, why be content with one icon when you can simply rob someone and have all of their icons?
She gave me a tight little smile. ‘I’ll be all right. There’s usually some work someone wants done. I can barter.’
Pavel stomped up to us then and held out a half-filled bowl with a spoon stuck in it. Brix ignored the food, humming faintly to herself, a tune I didn’t know. It didn’t keep her stomach from growling, emphatically.
I sighed. ‘Two dinners, Pavel. There are two of us. Do try to keep up.’
>
His face clouded. ‘You bargained for one.’
‘A dinner for me,’ I said, ‘and a dinner for her. It’s my yavad that you’ve been spiking everyone’s ale with, isn’t it? Lowers the inhibitions so nicely, puts people in a mood to spend money, to not notice if the ale is watered . . .’ I smiled. ‘Funny how some people don’t like it. It’s probably just as well that I’m a discreet man.’
He went red, but turned and went back to the kitchen. When he returned, he brought a tray with a loaf of doughy bread, some strong brown cheese and a couple of bowls of what he alleged was lamb stew. I wouldn’t have ever thought I’d wish for baked cabbage, but apparently there’s a first time for everything.
Brix put the tray on the floor between us and grabbed a bowl while I took a piece of bread and cheese. She paused for a second before taking a bite, muttering a rhyme under her breath. The prayer tugged at a very old memory in the back of my head, where I keep the scraps I have of my mother’s voice.
‘A blessing of Ranara,’ I said, without really meaning to. ‘You pray to the Mother of the Moon?’
‘Yes.’ She took a bite. ‘Why? Who do you pray to?’
I shouldn’t have asked. I don’t really pray to anything, not even the little lucky saints. But saying that makes people uncomfortable, so I took a bite of bread and pretended like I hadn’t heard the question. The vice-toothed ache in my knee was getting harder to ignore. I straightened and bent it gingerly and pinched at the kneecap, wishing I could take the brace off and stretch.
‘If you tell me why your knee pains you, I might be able to help,’ Brix said. ‘Pay you back a little for all this. I’m no Healer, but—’
‘No.’ I should have had the sense to leave my damn knee alone. ‘You can’t help.’
Lord of Secrets Page 4
