Lord of Secrets

by Breanna Teintze

  I shrugged. ‘Wizards more or less deserve it.’

  ‘Maybe, but Tirnaal aren’t bad luck. They don’t have djinn blood.’ She crossed her arms. ‘Nobody has djinn blood. Djinn aren’t real.’

  ‘You’re an expert on the Tirnaal?’ I had been trying to get Ri Dana’s geography straight in my mind, and being yanked into conversation again was disorientating. ‘I was an idiot, then, explaining them to you after the mess with Pavel. I’ve never even seen a Tirnaal slave – wouldn’t know where to find one outside of Genereth. You should have told me to shut up.’

  ‘I met a couple of them working for Temples.’ Her cheeks flared crimson. ‘And they’re not all slaves, you know, there’s plenty living free in the provinces – they just don’t flaunt their ink in front of everyone. There’s probably some in this godsforsaken city, passing back and forth in front of the pig at the gate every day. They don’t look different than anybody else. All they would have to do is keep their heads down and avoid the notice of wizards.’ She cocked an eyebrow at me. ‘A bit like you do.’

  ‘Well, I hope it works better for them than it does for me.’ The scent of a hundred boiling dinners wafted past me, mingled with dust and spices, blood and sweat. A puff of another odour made both of us halt.

  Brix wrinkled her nose. ‘What is that stink?’

  ‘Clifftown.’ I remembered that much – anyone who’s seen Ri Dana’s slum does not forget it. I pointed to the east, where ramshackle dwellings were carved into the crumbling limestone cliffs that plunged towards the sea. ‘You can smell it at low tide. Luckily I don’t think we have to go that way.’

  I struck off down a narrow by-street. Phosphorescent witchfire lichen started to glimmer to life in the gutters as we moved past, ghostly plumes of pale green and blue that curled upwards into the dark to light the main thoroughfares. The best witchfire had been seeded long ago, when Ri Dana was still a jewel of the old Daine empire, sending treasure across the sea to the Silver Court and its king. In those days, the governor had demanded lichen-light woven in the shapes of fruit trees, rose bowers and, occasionally, a beautiful man or woman. Now the Daine lords had been gone for three generations, and the elaborate patterns they favoured had mostly been replaced by simple, easily-replicated stripes and cross-hatches. Thus all empires end, I suppose.

  ‘You do know where we’re going, don’t you?’ Brix said, as the sinuous green light curled around her ankles. She was somehow managing to watch both me and the lichen as we moved. It made it difficult to look like I knew what the hells I was doing.

  ‘I haven’t been here since I was fourteen,’ I said. ‘I’m remembering as fast as I can.’ All I could recall from the trip with Acarius was that we’d met one of his friends – Lorican, presumably – in a pub, and the pub had a sign that looked like a dancing woman.

  I knew Ri Dana was divided into three districts: the Spires, the Cobbles and Clifftown. The Spires was for Daine-descended lords and ladies, owners of the successful wool export ships, or merchants in silk and cinnamon. They did not, of course, associate with those from the whiterock shanties of Clifftown. But anyone could visit the Cobbles’ ale-houses and pleasure halls, from nobles seeking vice to cliff-dwellers selling it. It made sense as a starting point – I hoped.

  By the time we got to the cluster of inns and less reputable establishments on Jinsleet Street, at the heart of the Cobbles, the spells on my arms were itching and I was starting to lose optimism. Rows of shuttered buildings hulked around us, none of them familiar. There were six taverns, but only one with a sign that had a dancing woman painted on it.

  When we entered, the low-ceilinged taproom was packed full and thick with smoke, liquor and a fume of old sweat. Everyone goggled at us as we entered. As if that wasn’t enough, three youths in the blue robes of Guild apprentices huddled over their drinks at a back table. We had to cross the room to get to the bar. Wondering whether the Guildhouse here had my description was bad enough, but the apprentices were unlikely to miss Brix, wearing my wizard’s robe, looking like an out-of-town colleague. What if they decided to try to chat with her?

  Nothing for it but to bull forwards. I slapped my hand down on the bar to get the tavern-keeper’s attention, and immediately realised my mistake. I yanked it back and grimaced at my palm, trying to figure out what sticky mess I’d touched. Beer? Mashed fruit? It didn’t smell quite bad enough to be vomit.

  ‘Aye?’ The barman turned from where he had been filling two pottery mugs from a keg against the wall. He was in his late forties or early fifties, whipcord-thin, with dark hair braided into a long pigtail down his back. All in all, he was not my idea of a barman. Barmen should be portly and comforting. ‘You want something?’

  I wanted to ask him what the goo was that I’d found on the bar. Instead I scrubbed my palm on my trousers and tried to look non-threatening. ‘My colleague and I would like dinner,’ I said. ‘And information. We’re looking for a man named Lorican – used to run this tavern years ago. Have you heard of him?’

  ‘Colleague, is it?’ The barman’s dark eyes studied Brix’s robe briefly, impassive. ‘We have bread and cheese for two pence or lamb and barley for five.’

  Looking non-threatening was beginning to seem like a mistake. ‘Don’t you think that’s a bit high, for a tavern dinner?’

  ‘I’ve already been serving that useless pack of apprentices all evening,’ he said. ‘If you Guildies are going to keep parking members here to eat and drink and drive away my usual patrons, then that’s the price for a dinner.’

  Brix elbowed me. ‘It’s fine. We’ll take the bread and cheese, and a couple of cups of stout.’ She flashed the barman a smile. ‘We’re sorry our Guildmates have been trouble. We’re happy to pay a little extra to make up for it. I’m sure it’s hard to remember things like names if you’re run off your feet serving difficult customers.’

  He didn’t smile back. ‘What’s this Lorican done, that the Guild is paying for news of him?’

  ‘Nothing,’ I said. ‘I just want to talk to him.’

  ‘Aye,’ he said, doubtfully, and went through a doorway some ten feet away to what was presumably the kitchen.

  ‘You can give him a silver coin if you have to,’ Brix said.

  ‘Sure.’ I dug through my bag for a couple of coppers, avoiding her eyes.

  ‘Here.’ The barman returned and held out our food, which apparently did not come with the dignity of plates – two thick slabs of bread with equally thick hunks of pale cheese balanced precariously on top. I put two coppers on the bar.

  Brix’s face had gone dangerously empty. She grabbed the food and headed for a table in one corner. The conversation in the rest of the room had picked up again, making what would have been a comforting backdrop if it hadn’t been for the table of Guildie apprentices, who were stealing glances at Brix and her robe, whispering among themselves. As if that wasn’t bad enough, the runes on my arms were passing from itching to pain.

  ‘Your stout,’ the barman said. ‘That’ll be three more pence.’

  ‘I don’t want it,’ I said. ‘That was a mistake.’

  He smiled, unamused. ‘Look, my lad, I don’t want your bribe, but I’ve already drawn your drinks.’ He pushed two pottery mugs at me. ‘I can’t put them back into the keg, and I don’t fancy drinking them myself. As far as I’m concerned, you ordered it, and you’ll pay for it or I’ll know the reason why.’

  I fished out my last coppers and dropped them in his hand before grabbing the beer and going after Brix. The mugs were over-full – you had to give the barman credit for giving honest portions – and liquid slopped on to my hands. I put the cups down, sat and licked the spilled beer off my finger. I couldn’t look directly at her.

  ‘Gods, I’m a soft-hearted fool.’ Brix’s hands were moving in quick, angry fidgets, crumbling her bread. ‘You told me that story outside, and I actually bought it. I actually believed you were trying to save somebody’s life.’

  ‘I wasn’t lying,’ I said.
‘Not about that.’

  ‘I came all the way here with you and all along you were—’ She snorted, her jaw working. ‘You don’t have any money at all, do you? I can’t believe I was so stupid.’

  ‘Just listen to me. I don’t have the money right now, but I’m not going back on our agreement. I’m not—’ I stopped and frowned at my finger. Something in the beer had made my tongue go numb.

  ‘No, you don’t get to tell me to listen.’ It was a violent whisper, jagged with pain. ‘You don’t deserve that from me.’

  I swallowed my retort. There was no time to explain or apologise. ‘So punish me later. At the moment, we’re in trouble.’

  Her face went blank. ‘Why?’

  ‘The beer’s tainted.’ I pushed one mug towards her, keeping my voice as low as I could. ‘Probably a drug or a poison of some kind. Don’t drink it.’

  She touched her little finger to the surface of the beer, tasted it carefully and made a face. ‘Someone trying to collect the bounty? Maybe they’re trying to knock you out, so you can’t cast a spell.’

  ‘Could be. We have to get out of here, though gods know how we’re going to do it without making anybody suspicious.’ I took a deep breath. ‘I’ve got spells scribed, so we’ll try to walk out. If something happens, I’ll make a nuisance of myself and you run away, as fast as you can. Understand?’

  She stared at me for a second, then stood up, leaned across the table and gave me a hard, ringing slap across the mouth.

  The patrons’ raucous talk stilled. Every eye in the place was on her.

  ‘I’ve had enough of this, you little cheat,’ she said, in a voice loud enough to carry across the room. ‘You bring me here with false promises and then you expect me to be understanding when you get caught? What else have you lied about?’ Brix’s cold eyes held mine for a moment longer. ‘I’m leaving, and I don’t want to see you again.’

  ‘Wait,’ I said, my mouth still tingling from the blow. ‘Let me—’

  ‘No. Leave me alone, prick.’ Brix spun on her heel and made for the door. A scattering of chuckles followed her as she exited.

  ‘Shouldn’t have kept a doxy, ye wicked boy,’ called one old man in a corner, and the room erupted in laughter.

  Hot blood rushed up the back of my neck. I sat there with my untouched beer in front of me, as red as if I really was a philandering partner. I made myself count to three hundred. I would have counted to five hundred, but the Guildies got up and went to the bar to pay their tab. If Brix was waiting outside, I didn’t want them to catch her unawares. I made my way out, ignoring the amused glances of the patrons.

  Once outside the tavern, I crossed the street and halted, shivering in the dark between two houses, breathing hard and searching for human shapes against the cobblestones.

  Brix wasn’t there.

  ‘Shit,’ I whispered. ‘Good work, Corcoran. You’ve driven her away for good, now, and it serves you right. Idiot.’ Waves of sticky, familiar shame rolled over me. Why had I allowed myself to hope she’d wait for me? I wasn’t usually this foolish.

  Someone cleared their throat. I froze.

  ‘It was an act, wizard,’ Brix said, ‘to get us out of the pub without making them suspicious. But it did serve you right.’ It took me a moment to find her silhouette, standing just outside the pale light of the lichen to my left. ‘What are we doing now?’

  We? Whatever happened to leave me alone, prick ?

  ‘I’m waiting to see if the Guildies follow me out,’ I said. ‘If they don’t, I still need to find Lorican. You’ll do what you think is best.’ I studied the row of buildings on either side of the tavern. If I could get behind it, I could try to use a divination spell to see if Lorican was anywhere in the building. ‘There’s got to be an alleyway, doesn’t there?’

  ‘Are you contemplating breaking into the same place we just got out of?’

  ‘What do you care?’ I said. ‘I’m a liar, remember? Or are you saying you’re still willing to get me into the temple?’

  ‘You still owe me something, if you’ve forgotten,’ she said. ‘Forty silver coins. I’m stuck in this city that I know nothing about because of you, and I’m not going to let you die or run off until I’ve been paid. I reckon that the surest way for you to have the money to pay me is to get you into the temple so you can steal something, in addition to whatever it is that you want. Am I right?’

  ‘Yes.’ I caught myself before I could flinch. I had no idea whether there would be valuables to steal. The important part was getting into the temple, getting the artefact for Acarius and finding a way to rescue him. Clearing my debt had to remain secondary, no matter how much I wanted Brix and her shrewd eyes and her left hook out of my life.

  I started walking, and after a moment she followed, catching my wrist as we made our way through the dark. It didn’t take us long to find a gap in the brick walls. The alley hadn’t been seeded with lichen, however, leaving nothing but starlight to see by. I stopped, blind and overwhelmed by the eye-watering stench. Apparently, the alley had been used as a privy by every drunk the tavern had ever hosted.

  ‘I don’t suppose you have a plan?’ Brix said. ‘Do you ever know what you’re going to do next?’

  In the dark heart of the alley in front of me, a blue flame spurted to life.

  ‘We’re going to get into a fight,’ I said. ‘Duck.’

  Seven

  They were apprentices, just kids, and ignorant. I knew that much from their robes, the way they stood three abreast and also from their stupid choice of first spell. In a wizards’ duel, speed wins. These clods chose to cast simple illumination, a tongue of floating blue fire that would hover where they told it to. Of course they meant to send it towards us, but in the split second it took me to push my sleeves up, it lit them up beautifully.

  I lifted on to my toes and pronounced the runes written on my left arm. They activated with a sizzling sound against my skin – pain, certainly, but the kind of pain I live for. Gouts of emerald fire burst from my fingertips.

  ‘Might want to run away, children,’ I said, and sent a bolt of green at the middle wizard. It hit and enveloped her, cutting off her incantation mid-syllable. She hit her knees and began heaving up her guts, splattering everything she’d eaten in the last ten hours or so on the pavement. Nausea spells have so much utility.

  I couldn’t keep myself from smiling. Even though magic hurts, there’s something about it like poetry, or music. A week without spells of any sort on the road had left me lonely for it.

  ‘You’re under arrest!’ It was the one on the right, trying to shout threateningly. And gods, his voice was cracking under the stress. How old could he possibly be? Seventeen? Eighteen?

  He put his hands together and a beam of violet pulsed from between them. I dropped to the ground and waited, the hair on my body prickling as the spell missed me. That’s the downside to a paralysis spell: you have to aim it. A confusing choice, if they wanted to arrest me. Paralysis can stop a subject’s breathing – it’s a spell for killing.

  The second string of runes, the one on the inside of my arm, left my mouth as rapidly as I could get them out. Either the Guildies wanted to murder me and Brix, or they were so naïve they didn’t know that what they were doing could murder us. I didn’t want to kill them, but I wasn’t going to die for them, either. Slipknives it was, then.

  The weight of the spell settled on me, and I grunted. The shielding runes were holding, though, better than I had thought they would. I got my feet under me and rose to a crouch, one hand pressed to the slick damp of the cobblestones.

  The light that left my hand was white, writhing along the pavement like a snake. It took the form of a set of spinning blades, chopping their way towards the apprentices. I held my hands out, focusing on controlling the incantation’s direction. A cramp started at the base of my neck, tightening into a shrieking muscle spasm that jerked my shoulders backwards.

  Concentrate. I kept my eyes fixed on my opponents and
pushed the slipknives towards the one on the right, the one who had tried to paralyse me.

  He danced to avoid it, failed and yelped. The sound came to me muted, as though I was submerged. Bright blood flew in little arcs from his legs and feet. He slipped and stumbled backwards.

  I let the spell end and breathed again. Maybe now they’d have the sense to run.

  The bleeding one and the puking one both looked like they were having second thoughts. The third kid must have been the one running the illumination orb, and it seemed to take his full attention. There wouldn’t be any additional casting from him, not unless he let the alley go dark.

  ‘Come on!’ I shouted. ‘Run away! Don’t – be – stupid!’ My right arm was already tingling, as though the runes wanted to be called up . . . alas, I knew it was just the noxious effect of the paint. I’d have sores the next day.

  The bleeding one, apparently a resourceful chap, dipped his finger in his own blood and began writing on the pavement. I glanced behind me to see Brix lying on the pavement, unmoving, eyes wide and glassy. The paralysis spell I had dodged must have struck her.

  I didn’t have time to feel the panic that sliced through me. The spell paralysed limbs first, then moved inwards towards the organs. Soon it would be tightening around her lungs. I only had a few minutes to end it.

  Written on my right arm was my own invention, a combination of fire and illusion. It would hurt, both them and me, but I had no choice. I strode towards them, pronouncing it as I went.

  The bleeding one managed to get his spell off, a simple ball of red force that flew at me like a hammer. It caught me in the chest and knocked the breath out of me. They started running towards me just as I got my wind back and spat out the last six syllables.

  My arms flew wide. From between them blasted a sheet of flame. The hair on my forearms singed off.

  As the fire licked at the apprentices, I heard them screaming and I knew it had worked. To them, the illusion would make it look like I had been consumed with my own spell. I stood, frozen, arms stretched out. All of my mind was bent on controlling the magic, on building the tower of fire and death, on frightening their wits away. Their robes burned and they ran, slapping at the flames, cursing by the name of every god in the pantheon.