by Frank Tuttle
Chapter Sixteen
Meralda began to measure the passage of her days by the arrival and departure of Donchen and his silver serving cart.
The mysteries of the cursework tethers fell away, inch by inch. By midnight of the second day of her self-imposed exile inside the laboratory, Meralda began to understand how the tether spells were integrated into the much larger array of the Tower’s structural spells.
By two in the morning, Meralda found a way to use the twelve original latching points to tether new spells.
By four, she could see a way to overlay new spells onto the old, and activate them when Otrinvion’s tethers began to fail in earnest.
Mug slept. The spark lamps in the laboratory were too dim to keep him alert. Meralda poured the dregs of her last cup of coffee into Mug’s pot, smiled when he muttered something about beetles, and then fell asleep herself with her head down on her desk.
Donchen knocked softly at the laboratory doors. A moment later, he opened them and looked inside.
Meralda did not awaken. Donchen and Tervis crept past the door, Donchen as silent as snow, Tervis rattling and scraping with every step. Still, they managed to reach Meralda’s desk without disturbing her slumber.
“Should we wake her?” whispered Tervis.
Donchen shook his head. “I think not.”
Tervis wriggled out of his red guardsman’s coat and draped it gently over Meralda. She shifted, but did not wake.
Donchen motioned toward the door. Tervis followed, attempting without success to tip-toe in his steel toed boots.
Outside, Donchen pushed the doors closed, and then put his back to them.
“I’ll be glad to stay, if one of you gentlemen would care to nap,” he said. “Tomorrow is likely to be another very long day.”
The Bellringers exchanged glances.
“Pardon, sir, but we’ll remain at our posts,” said Kervis.
Donchen smiled and shrugged. “As you wish. I’ll stay too. Have I ever told you gentlemen the story of Murdering Hosang and the Five Wandering Grooms?”
The Bellringers shook their heads.
Donchen took in a deep breath, and began to speak.
“Good morning, Thaumaturge!”
Meralda regarded the captain with bleary, half-open eyes.
“You needn’t be so cheerful about it, you know.”
The captain grinned. “Sorry. Here’s coffee. And a biscuit with ham. I know it’s not quite so fancy as you’re used to, these days, but I left my silver serving cart in my other pants.”
Meralda groaned and rubbed her eyes. The captain chuckled.
“Forgive me, Meralda. It is a bit early for humor, now that you mention it. Nearly ten of the clock.”
Meralda’s eyes flew open, and she shot to her feet. “Ten? Ten in the morning? Mug! Why didn’t you wake me?”
Mug kept all of his eyes aimed at the ceiling. “Oh my, deary me, how did I forget? Observe how contrite I am. Some days I have the brains of a cucumber, isn’t that right?”
Meralda glared. The captain put the biscuit in her hand. “The houseplant did you a boon, Mage. You’ve been running yourself ragged, these last few days. We need you alert. Especially now.”
Meralda paused, hot biscuit halfway to her lips. “Now? Why now?”
The captain grinned. “There’s been quite a lot of trouble, Mage. Started small, a couple of days ago. I didn’t bother you with talk of it. But last night—my, oh, my—last night was quite a busy one, for our friends the Vonats. Eat. I’ll talk. You look half-starved.”
Meralda bit and swallowed.
The captain pulled back the rickety old chair Fromarch favored on his visits and sat. “Looks like we’ve got a war of wizards on our hands, Meralda. Spells flying all over the place. Bangs and thumps and lights at all hours, that’s how it started. Vonats complaining that their quarters were either haunted or cursed. Yvin even moved the lot of them, twice. Didn’t make much of a difference.”
Meralda nodded and fought to keep her face blank. Fromarch and Shingvere, she thought. Armed with heaven knows what.
“Saw some of it myself. Two wagonloads of Vonat laundry marched right out of the palace, they did. Marched all the way across town, all the way up the park wall, all the way around it.” The captain slapped his knee. “You should see the dancing gargoyles, Mage. All dressed up in Vonat underclothes. They claim the Vonats nearly declared war, right here in the palace.”
Meralda nearly choked on her biscuit.
“You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you now, Mage?”
Meralda shook her head. “I haven’t left this room for two days, Captain. I certainly haven’t had time to animate anyone’s unmentionables.”
“It’s been three days, Mage, and it’s a good thing, too. The Vonats can’t accuse you of making off with their socks when everyone in Tirlin knows you’re holed up in here trying to move the Tower’s shadow.” The captain’s grin didn’t falter. “That is what you’re doing, isn’t it, Mage Ovis?”
Her mouth full, Meralda just nodded. The captain snorted.
“Well, Meralda, I hope you know you can call on me anytime, for anything. I don’t have to know why, and I won’t ask any questions. You do know that, don’t you?”
“I know. And I thank you.”
The captain shrugged. “Well, I’ve said my piece. I’d better be off now, in case that pair of daft old codgers manages to start a war right here in our kitchens.” He rose, reached into his jacket, and withdrew a short, black bladed dagger in a black felt sheath.
“I didn’t forget, by the way. Had this special made for you. Double edged. I had old man Kinnon put the edge on it. It’ll cut daylight. Blade is black so it won’t shine in the dark. Hilt is soft leather for a good grip. The felt will keep it from nicking your ankle. Will it do?”
Meralda took the dagger. It was heavy in her hand, and cold.
“Perfectly,” she said.
“I hope you never do more than put it away in a drawer when all this is over with,” said the captain. “But if you use it, strike underhanded, with the blade level. It’s good sharp steel. Go right through leather.” His face darkened. “I’ve got a granddaughter your age. You be careful, you hear? Don’t go breaking any old men’s hearts.”
Meralda put the dagger on her desk and caught the captain up in a sudden fierce hug.
“Just a few more days, Captain. A few more days, and we can all go back to pilfering the royal kitchens and idling on the royal stairs.”
The captain didn’t reply. He patted Meralda awkwardly on her back, and when Meralda released him he turned and stomped out the doors.
“Sounds like the daft codgers have been busy,” said Mug, once the doors were firmly shut. “The bit about the marching clothes? Shingvere’s, or I’m a petunia.”
Meralda made for the laboratory’s tiny water closet. Mug watched her go, then turned his eyes to the notes she’d left the night before.
His eyes all went wide at once.
“Tower,” he said, in a whisper. “Does this mean she’s found a way to save Tirlin?”
“It is possible,” said the Tower, matching Mug’s whisper. “Your mage is possessed of a formidable intellect.”
Mug’s eyes hovered over the page, darting back and forth across it in a wild tangle of motion.
“You’re an ancient construct possessed of a formidable intellect yourself,” said Mug. “Do you think this will actually work?”
The Tower was silent for a moment.
“It seems plausible. If a number of assumptions and estimates are correct.”
Mug emulated a sigh as the sound of running water issued from the back of the lab.
“Don’t overwhelm me with your confidence.”
“We have no time to pursue further research,” it said. “This is Tirlin’s only hope.”
Mug tossed his leaves. “Sunlight,” he said, to the glass.
Warm, bright morning sun flooded the desk, bathing Mug’s
leaves in light and warmth.
“Well.” Mug spread his leaves and closed his eyes. “I suppose it will have to do.”
Meralda emerged from the water closet at the same time the Bellringers knocked at the door and announced coffee and pancakes.
“No sign of Mr. Donchen this morning, ma’am,” said Tervis. “Shame, too. I was looking forward to some more of those Hang vittles.”
Meralda beckoned the Bellringers inside with a frown.
“Did either of you sleep last night?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“No, ma’am.”
Meralda sighed. Kervis kicked his brother in the shin, causing Tervis to yelp and amend his reply.
“Mr. Donchen stayed with us until a couple of hours ago,” said Kervis. “Said he had some bird watching to do.” Kervis frowned. “I told him most Tirlish birds don’t fly till after sunup, but he left anyway.”
Bird watching, mused Meralda, as she cleared a place on her desk for her breakfast. What are you up to, Donchen?
“Thank you for breakfast,” said Meralda. “Now then. I’m heading for the Tower at three bells. Both of you will now go get a few hours sleep.” She raised her hands at their protests. “Have the captain send up a pair of guards. That’s an order. I’ll lock the doors and set the wards. A dozen Vonats couldn’t get past both. Go.” She stabbed a bite of pancakes with her fork. “I’d better not see either of you until three of the clock.”
“Are you sure, Thaumaturge?”
Meralda glared. Kervis caught his brother’s elbow and led him out.
“Back to the Tower, is it?” said Mug.
“I’ve got enough of the shadow moving spellwork finished to latch it. It’ll give me an excuse to have a look at the Vonat spell, too.”
“It’ll also expose you to anyone out there with mischief on their mind,” said Mug.
Meralda swallowed and shrugged. I won’t even mention that I’m going home to change and have a proper bath, she thought. Mug would lose leaves.
“It has to be done.”
“So you’re nearly done with the shadow spell?”
“I’m taking quite a few shortcuts,” said Meralda. “I’ve halved the number of refractors. It won’t be as bright as day, but the king won’t be in deep shadow, either.”
“Ooo, Yvin will have a fit.”
“If he wishes.” Meralda put down her fork and found her coffee. “He can always ask for my robe back. Another night in this chair and I may give it to him anyway.”
“Now you sound like Fromarch.”
“Hush, Mug.”
“Now you really sound like Fromarch.”
Meralda shrugged and sipped coffee until her mind was clear again.
“You put a ribbon in your hair,” said Mug.
Meralda regarded the park from atop the nearly completed spectator’s bleachers which now lay full in the Tower’s long shadow.
The park was full. Two dozen dirt smeared Alons charged and bellowed and ran, and a crowd of several hundred spectators gathered about them, all hooting or jeering or shoving each other for a better look at the running mob of Alons. Food sellers wandered, hawking their wares in strident tones. Minstrels played and sang, often so close to one another their songs were little more than shouting matches.
“It’s a red ribbon,” added Mug. “In case anyone asks.”
“I know perfectly well what color it is. I did, after all, put it there. It’s just a ribbon. I often wear hair ribbons.”
“Seen Donchen yet?”
“I have no idea where he might be.”
“Well, keep looking, he’s bound to turn up.”
“I’m not looking!”
“No, of course not, you were just pointing your eyes toward the crowd, my mistake.”
Kervis came charging up the wooden stair. “Ma’am,” he began, breathless. “I told—the foreman—he’ll blow a whistle—when everyone is clear.”
Meralda smiled. “Thank you, Kervis. Please make sure no one ascends the stair after the whistle is blown.”
Kervis nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
“I didn’t see Mr. Donchen, by the way.”
Mug snickered.
Meralda turned, and Kervis stamped away down the stairs.
“Mistress,” said Mug, all humor gone. “Look west. By the ice cream vendor. Tall man in a black hood.”
Meralda didn’t look. “Is it him?”
Mug’s eyes swiveled and bunched.
“Yes. Just standing there. Arms folded. Can’t see either of his hands.”
“He wouldn’t dare attack me openly here.”
“No, that would be rash.” Mug shook his leaves. “Sorry. No, I don’t think so either. But let’s get this done, mistress. I’d feel safer with a few feet of solid stone between me and Ugly, if you don’t mind.”
Meralda reached into her right pocket and withdrew the Hang magic detector. She opened it, and watched as the needle swung around to point south, toward the Hang ships still moored at the harbor.
She laid the device down. The needle never moved, and the rings never spun.
“Keep one eye on that, if you please.”
Mug aimed a bright blue eye at the dial.
From the base of the Tower, a whistle blew. Meralda could see a ring of curious workmen gather in the shade, mopping their brows and watching her. One waved.
“It’s time,” said Meralda. She found her long copper latch, broke the silver thread she’d strung through its open ends earlier, and spoke a long, soft word.
“Sight,” she whispered.
The Tower flared to life, now glowing with a flickering corona that clung to it like sheets of pale, bluish flames.
The copper tube grew warm in her hands. Meralda spoke the word that released the new latch, and the tube leaped in her hands as the first part of the shadow spell flew toward the Tower.
Even with her Sight, even knowing where to look and what to look for, Meralda couldn’t see any hint of the Tower’s subtle actions as it accepted the new spell and gently latched it in place.
If Humindorus Nam is watching, thought Meralda, let him spend the rest of his life wondering just how I managed to latch that.
The copper tube in her hand grew cool. The ends began to rime, and Meralda laid it down next to her notes.
“Ugly is leaving,” said Mug. “He try anything, mistress?”
“Not that I could tell.” Satisfied that the latch was firmly in place, Meralda let her sight fall. “Still, he walked all the way out here for some reason.”
“Probably just curious about the Tower,” said Mug. “I’d bet a pound of good mulch Shingvere and Fromarch aren’t far. Might have ruined his plans, if he had any.”
“Possibly.” Meralda began packing her bag with her various implements and her wind whipped notebook.
“Back to the flat?” asked Mug. His voice fell to a whisper. “Won’t you at least take the captain and a dozen guards, this time?”
Meralda shook her head. “Why? Tower means me no harm. There’s no ghost.”
“It’s not Tower I’m worried about. What if Ugly sneaks in, somehow? What if that’s his plan, to catch you on the stair alone?”
Meralda hefted her bag. “I won’t be alone.”
“Mistress, the lads mean well, and I’m sure they’d be handy in a fight against irate middle-schoolers, but this could turn deadly.”
“And if I summon the captain and a platoon of pikemen, what does that say about the Mage of Tirlin, Mug?”
“It says she’s surrounded by large men with sharp pointy things.”
“It tells the world I’m afraid. It tells the world I can’t go about without relying on soldiers. No, Mug. I’ll take the Bellringers, but no more.”
Mug flung his vines. “Can you at least tell if you-know-who and you-know-what are nearby?”
Meralda shrugged. “I have no idea. And I can’t wait until I do. Please, Mug, don’t worry.” Meralda grinned and patted her bag. “I’ve taken
extra precautions.”
Mug grunted. “Well. I’ll just stay here and keep watch.”
Meralda patted his topmost leaves. “Thank you, Mug. I’ll be back soon. You’ll see.”
Meralda turned and mounted the stairs. The Bellringers looked up, squinting into the sun.
“To the Tower, ma’am?”
“To the Tower. Please make sure someone watches the stairs. I don’t want Mug disturbed.”
Kervis darted off, grabbing a pair of idling palace guards by their bright red shirts and ushering them toward the stairs.
Meralda waited until the bewildered guards were in place, and then she led the Bellringers on the short walk to the Tower.
The Tower was as dark as ever, as silent as ever, and as empty as ever.
Meralda felt none of the dread she’d come to associate with her previous trips up the winding stair, though. Yes, I know I am being watched. Yes, I know the shadows hide an ancient and powerful being.
But Tower now has a name, of sorts, and I can’t feel threatened by him, even if he is the handiwork of Otrinvion the Black, himself.
Meralda smiled up at Kervis, whose wide-eyed gaze and sweaty face belied anything but calm. Tervis, too, was pale and wary, his hand continually darting to touch the hilt of his sword.
Meralda watched the shadows at the edge of her magelamp for any tell-tale sign of Nameless or Faceless. She listened between the scrape of boots on stone for any hint of wings. But she saw only darkness, and heard only echoes and silence.
Perhaps the staves are being discreet because of the Bellringers, she thought.
Or perhaps they simply aren’t here at all.
The stair wound up and up and up, vanishing in the dark above and swallowed by the dark below. Meralda counted steps until she reached nine hundred and forty, and then she called the Bellringers to rest.
Both put their backs to the wall and eyed the shadows warily. Meralda fumbled with her bag and then withdrew a glass sphere held at the end of a long brass funnel by a net of faintly luminous gold wires.
She handed the magelamp to Tervis. “Hold this please,” she said. “This will only take a moment.”
