by Tom Lloyd
She sat herself, thighs pressing themselves tight together. The tattoos ran the length of her body and every part now seemed to be alive with awareness. It was a heady mix of sensitivity and arousal, coupled with a strong sense of the other marked Cards.
Lynx intruded most on her thoughts, the sweet spice of his sweat and great warmth of his body, the power in his limbs and the rumbling, bear-like presence of his mind. Layir and Teshen could have been pressed right up against her too, given how close she felt them. Sharp, youthful eagerness in one, a jagged knife-blade of a soul in the other. Aben loomed behind them both, a reassuring lodestone after their years of friendship.
Then the rest spiralled around her mind. Sitain appeared as a towering presence of night-clouds roiling with uncertainty, anger and warmth too, Atieno a pillar of shifting grey-blue. Acidic and painful to be near yet also sustaining for the power residing within him.
Toil fought to open her eyes again, panting for breath at the effort it took, only to see Lastani calmly moving her hands over the glyphs. Two were lit up, the grooves cut into the stone shining with a frosty light. A third joined it as Toil watched. Somewhere at the back of her awareness she felt something shift deep underground, some change or movement that bypassed her usual senses.
The power pulsed and surged through her, following Lastani’s gestures in some way now Toil could watch her, though her thoughts were elsewhere. For all the fascination of watching a mage work, of feeling the activating mechanism she was now linked to, Toil’s body had its own focus.
Gods, I hope this feeling hasn’t hit Lynx when he’s in the same room as Kas, she thought with a crazed laugh that escaped only as a strangled squeak. Mind you, I’d screw her too right now. I just don’t need to feel it going on in the back of my mind!
Even as she thought that, new sensations blossomed in her head. She gasped, thoughts clearing as a flicker of anger raced through her mind. In the next moment she realised it was not her connection to Lynx though, it was Safir and Estal – the pair apparently wasting no time in engaging in the most desperate and glorious sex.
With stars bursting in front of her eyes, Toil was about to settle back and simply enjoy the second-hand sensations rushing through her, but something began to nag at her mind. She forced herself to straighten and blink away the blur of light that was filling her eyes and watch Lastani finish the ritual. Distantly, Toil noticed it was brighter now, not quite the glare of day they’d arrived in, but every detail was clearly visible.
She looked around blurrily then stopped dead. The light was only coming from their tattoos, but it had not got any brighter. Just as he fainted away and broke his grip on Lastani’s hand, Toil saw the old man blazing white down the side of his face. Beside him the boy, eyes wide, was looking at his own shining hands and all the other mages in the link started to realise the same.
‘Oh shit,’ Toil croaked before slumping backwards against the stone wall and darkness descended.
Chapter 22
Toil blinked and groaned. The world was a blur before her, dim smears of brown and black. She tried to lift her head, but failed at first to make any other part of her body obey. Finally, the heaviness eased and she shifted, hands slapping against the stone until she could right herself.
There was a welt on her head where she must have banged it against the wall. Toil groggily touched her fingers to the lump and found a little blood, but not enough to worry about. The ghost of memory wavered in her mind; the vast surge that had flowed through her body, through her tattoos.
She felt dampness on her skin and between her legs, while her tongue was dry and rasping. Toil tried to speak but all she could manage was a grunt. Even as she tried to right herself, she felt the ghost of sated lust thrum through her body, her limbs shaky and uncertain amid that strange afterglow.
Distantly, Toil felt a pang of something rare in her life – embarrassment, shame even. The connection to the other marked Cards, the torrent of sensation that had become something primal and sexual. Her mind was a tangle of confusion. Unpicking everything was more than she had the strength for right now. Embarrassment at the burning need she’d felt well up through the swirl of minds, their own desperate desires mingling with hers. The memory was uncomfortable and she fought to drive it from her thoughts.
It was something she had little time for in her life. Embarrassment was a poison you fed yourself, Toil believed, shame the cut you let others inflict. She had no use for either except as a weapon to wield. Instead, she focused on the other memory that loomed large in her thoughts, that of the stone tree beneath the Labyrinth.
Toil gasped as the image of the light-tattoos filled her mind – the last moment she’d woken up like this.
‘Shattered gods!’ she moaned. ‘At least we’re not bloody naked this time round.’
She hauled herself forward on hands and knees, eyes starting to clear as she sought another body there. It all came back to her now, Lastani’s workings and the flare of light from their tattoos just before she’d passed out. From all their tattoos.
The first person she reached was Lastani, barely stirring and half fallen over the old man. Toil shoved her unceremoniously out of the way and grabbed the man, yanking his robe and shirt aside. His brown skin was dry and flaky, peeling under some sort of ailment, but all the same there was the willow-pattern leaves marked in white upon him.
As he started to blink up at her the young boy nearby started to wail softly. He’d recovered his wits enough to see the tattoo on his hands and check the rest of his body. Toil couldn’t understand the words, but his confusion and fear were plain in any language.
Soon, more voices started up, filling the spiral chamber with a babble of voices. Toil heaved herself upright and looked over at Layir and Teshen. Both men looked fine, Layir slightly glassy-eyed but she’d have expected nothing less. A cry of confusion came from Aben, left in the study.
‘Bet that was fun for you,’ Toil called to Layir. ‘Assuming you also felt what Safir was doing there.’
He shuddered and covered his eyes. ‘Oh gods, I need a drink.’
‘Hangover’s gone then?’
He shook his head. ‘To the deepest black with my hangover, I need to be drunk right bloody now.’ He sat up and got unsteadily to his feet. ‘Or Sitain could just put me out, I don’t give a shit but I need to not be remembering that.’
A howl came from further down the stairs and Toil instinctively went for her gun. Before she found it, however, Sitain staggered into view, if anything looking more sickened than Layir.
‘Someone make it stop! Shitting broken gods, I had Deern in my head!’
Toil shivered. Fortunately, the rat-faced man had been a distant presence for her. She wasn’t sure if she was going to be able to look Kas in the eye any time soon without some really odd feelings going on, but she realised now that was getting off lightly. Sitain disliked Deern and the touch of men in equal measures. Having a man she loathed getting horny in her mind was going to do a real number on the girl.
She stood and waved the young woman up. ‘Go – get upstairs and sink some with Layir.’
Sitain didn’t even stop to speak, she just bolted up the slope. Toil worked her way down the line, helping the assorted mages up and checking them for injuries. A few were dazed and bore cuts from falling on to stone, but they had all escaped anything more serious.
‘What happened?’ Tanimbor demanded woozily as she reached him.
‘You got all pretty,’ Toil said with a manic grin.
‘I always said some o’ the Cards were contagious,’ Teshen added, following her down. ‘Didn’t realise it’d be this way too.’
‘Turns out it’s not only our sense of humour,’ Toil said.
‘That and the crabs.’
She winced.
‘How is this possible?’ Tanimbor wondered with his hand up in front of his face, marvelling at the outline of leaves on his skin. ‘Am I …?’ He paused and Toil felt a pulse of magic echo thro
ugh her body as he drew on his power.
‘Hey!’ she snapped, clipping the man around the head for good measure. ‘Stop playing with it or you’ll go blind.’ To make her point she slipped a knife from her belt and waved the tip in front of his eyes, but he was too awestruck to be either angry or cowed.
‘So much power,’ Tanimbor gasped. ‘This is … remarkable.’
‘Just don’t let it go to your head,’ she insisted. ‘Last thing we need is some sort of pissing mage coup going on here. One we get the blame for anyways.’
‘We are linked,’ he said. Tanimbor reached out to take the hand of the nearest mage, a broad young woman with defensive cuts on her forearm. The eyes of both widened as his fingers closed around hers then let go. ‘Touching or not, we are linked. This … this is unheard of.’
‘Two for the price of one,’ Toil said. ‘Assuming … Lastani, did you get the thing working?’
‘I … I think so,’ came her reply. ‘My head hurts so badly I’m not about to try and check.’
‘Ah, you got the full taste of Deern getting the horn in your mind too?’
‘What are you talking about?’
Toil paused. ‘You didn’t feel all the Cards in your head?’
‘Only distantly, but I had the power of the other mages flowing through me at the time.’
‘You missed out on all the bloody fireworks then, it was … well it was an experience. Mebbe not one I need to recreate any time soon.’ She grimaced and shook her limbs out as though she could get rid of the memory that way.
Lastani leaned heavily against the wall as though she had just imagined having Deern inside her all too clearly. ‘Toil, I’m … I don’t feel well.’
Toil covered the few yards between them in record time, suddenly filled with the sense that the powerful young mage was more precious to her plans than anything else could be. ‘Hurts? You about to pass out?’
Lastani looked up at her, allowing Toil to hold her steady. In her eyes Toil saw more concern and questions than imminent unconsciousness. ‘I think it will pass. I just need to rest.’
‘Can you make it back?’
Lastani nodded.
‘Right then, Teshen – grab her. We’re heading back to the company.’ That being said Toil turned back down the slope and placed herself directly in front of Tanimbor. ‘Time to pay up. I want that name.’
‘Name? Oh, of the guild that might be able to help your supply needs.’ He nodded. ‘I make no promises, mind. They may refuse you outright.’
‘That’s my problem. I can be pretty persuasive.’
The guildmaster paused. ‘About the matter of payment, though. Can you even tell me if the job was completed?’
‘It’s done,’ Toil insisted. ‘If anyone’s able to, it’s Lastani and I want paying no matter what the result. We didn’t guarantee your mechanism was in perfect working order, lots of the ones by the sea are ruined. And anyways, you got something at least as good in the bargain. How about I charge you more for that bit?’
He smiled wanly. ‘And if I refused to pay?’
‘I could always try taking back those bits of tattooed skin,’ she said. ‘Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had to do something like that, but I hope that’s not necessary. I reckon we’ve both found ourselves an ally here today, no need to mess with that relationship.’
‘You make a good point. We seem to be tied together now. Whatever the result, my guild is enhanced by your actions. Speak to the Waterdancer Guild, they are the ones you seek.’
Toil nodded. ‘Pleasure doing business with you.’ She looked around at all the tattooed mages and felt a profound disquiet at what it might mean, but right now Lastani and the Cards were her only concern. ‘Reckon we’ll be seeing more of you very soon, but I need to see to my own.’
‘Certainly. This mechanism, these tattoos – I have work of my own.’
Toil caught his attention. ‘Don’t whip it out just to impress any girls or guildmistresses you might run into, understand?’
His gaze turned suddenly frosty. ‘I will do as I see fit, Mistress Toil, you do not give the orders here. However – I am not a man to act in undue haste, you may be assured of that.’
So much for friends and allies, Toil thought to herself. She set off up the slope to collect the others and start the journey back. ‘Guess that’ll have to do me. Until next time, Guildmaster.’
Lynx stared down at the sour puddle of food and tea on the floor. Half-chewed pieces of fish and soggy lumps of bread spattered his moccasins. His stomach ached, his head throbbed and the remaining bits of him didn’t really know what the hells they felt.
Well that was a waste of a good breakfast.
He could hear voices elsewhere in the lodging house, a bit of shouting, but right here was his own dull little piece of misery and Lynx wasn’t planning on leaving it soon. Despite the smell.
I’m starting to regret going back to bed, Lynx thought as he stared down at the floor. This must be Toil’s doing. How does that saying go again? She made her bed and now I’ve puked in it? Close enough.
He rolled back on to his bed and lay on the tangled blankets that unfortunately smelled more of him than Toil, looking up at the ceiling of whitewashed plaster. It was pockmarked with holes as though someone had spent a long time lying here in bed, throwing things up at it. Either that or they had some weird rodents in these parts, something Lynx certainly wasn’t going to rule out.
After a while he heard more shouting outside and wondered if he should get up. His head had cleared a little and everything else seemed to have calmed down, but there would be talking and Deern out there. He didn’t much fancy being around either of those things right now. The memory of images and sensations rolled over him. Lynx decided he probably wasn’t ready to be around Kas either, however preferable the
idea was.
Instead, he simply lay back and contented himself with knowing this was, for the time being anyway, someone else’s problem. Anatin was the commander of the company after all, he probably missed giving all the orders. A good chunk of the company passing out before waking up shudderingly hungover and horny was no doubt familiar territory for him.
His door was thrown open with a crash and several figures barged in, all talking together. Lynx closed his eyes against the voices and when that didn’t work, he rolled on to his side away from them. That just earned an insistent finger prodding him in the back until he swatted it away.
‘What in the hairy fuck am I standing in?’ yelled one of the interlopers. ‘Oh deepest black, I thought you held on to yer food better’n that, Lynx.’
‘Go away.’
‘Oh stop yer whining.’
‘What do you want?’
‘First of all, for you ta shut up and sit up.’
Lynx did so, scowling at Llaith’s grinning face as he did so. Kas’s friend, Colet, was next to him, looking disgusted at what was on her sandals, while Varain was so flushed Lynx could tell what was going on with the man.
‘Anatin wants you,’ Llaith informed him.
‘Now?’
Llaith grabbed Lynx’s arm and hauled, making little headway until Varain took the other one. ‘Right shitting now, master honour or death,’ the greying mercenary added. ‘All you marked Cards.’
‘It wasn’t my fault!’
‘What wasn’t?’
‘Um … whatever he’s pissed off about?’
‘I’m pretty sure whenever he’s pissed off, it’s your fault, my Hanese friend, remember? Come on.’
The pair largely dragged him out of the room while a disgusted Colet followed on behind, muttering about the deficiencies of westerners. A stone stair took them to the main courtyard of the lodging house. There a half-dozen tables sat in the sunshine around a pond, half covered by foliage.
Hummingbirds danced their skittish steps around a spray of pink and white flowers shaped like trumpets. At their arrival, the birds raced away to the raised section at the far end where more flowe
rs surrounded a pair of dwarf apple trees. The air was heavy with the hum of bees, but it was the waspish expression on Anatin’s face that concerned Lynx.
Llaith and Varain deposited him at one of the tables where more Cards were assembled, all of them looking dazed and awkward. Lynx caught Kas giving him a hard look and felt his cheeks redden as he looked away. Suth, the new Knight of Tempest, sat opposite him, her calm resolve spoiled somewhat by Varain’s lustful regard.
‘Finally – that all of them?’
Llaith grunted. ‘Except Toil’s lot and Atieno.’
‘Why didn’t you fetch him? He’s most likely to get me some answers.’
‘You want me to drag a grumpy and scary-powerful mage of tempest from his bed?’ Llaith scoffed. ‘Boss, you ain’t paying any of us enough for that.’
Anatin hesitated. ‘Aye, fair point. Right then, which of you idiots can tell me what just happened?’
‘Toil happened,’ Deern said.
‘Fuck off,’ Lynx replied. ‘That weren’t Toil. Must’ve been Lastani.’
‘At whose damn orders, eh?’
‘Can’t blame Toil for them not knowing what they’re on about.’
‘But what happened?’ yelled Anatin. ‘Half o’ you just collapsed, while Estal dragged Safir into a storeroom and did things that made him squeal!’
Kas coughed. ‘Something magic happened,’ she said, ‘one whole lot of magic.’
‘So? They’ve done that before and none of you wet yerselves last time.’
She nodded. ‘Probably a good sign, hey?’
Anatin hissed and scratched at the stump of his missing hand. ‘More magic than they needed to put down a whole regiment of Charnelers or withstand the explosion of a bloody mage sphere?’
‘Felt like it to me. Anyone say different?’
None of the marked Cards spoke up.
