“Yes.” She let the breath out and nodded. “Thank you.” Then she smiled. “Though I do want to continue having lessons here, despite the other girls. I enjoy them.” It would be much harder to find an excuse to see Izare if she no longer needed to walk home from the temple each quarterday.
He beamed at her. “Well, that’s the best compliment a teacher could wish for! I will have to tackle a few other matters first, so will not be free for another quarterday or two, but after that I will see what I can do.”
CHAPTER 9
“Don’t overwork it,” said the shadow at her shoulder.
Rielle looked up from the painting she was working on. “Is it done, do you think?”
An odd half-smile pulled at Izare’s lips. “I think so, but then I have other reasons to want you unoccupied.”
She tried to adopt a lofty expression of suspicion, but it dissolved into a smile. He chuckled and leaned down to kiss her, plucking the brush out of her hand. She heard it clatter to the floor as he misjudged the distance to the table.
“So … is it done?” she repeated after some time.
He turned to consider the painting. It was a small one of a basket of fruit. “Is a painting ever done? I can always find something to fix. I usually stop when I’ve run out of time or money. Or it’s starting to bore me. You have done very well. You only need practice and a little guiding hand.” He took a step back and nodded. “I think if you continued now you would risk spoiling it. Which is a common beginner’s mistake.”
She sniffed. “I’m not a beginner.”
“You are at this kind of painting. It is less detailed than what you are used to.”
“And yet gives the illusion it is more realistic.”
He sighed. “I love that you understand that. That you understand … me.”
Rielle’s heart leapt and drummed out several quick beats before slowing again. Don’t get too excited, she told herself. He didn’t say he loved me.
But it was impossible not to feel a thrill as the kissing resumed. Soon they had drifted to the cluster of old chairs. Each movement that necessitated the separation of their lips was resented, but the change of location brought new ways in which parts of their bodies might be pressed together. Rielle loved the feel of his skin under her fingers, warm and smooth. She had been the first one to explore under fabric, sliding hands beneath his shirt. She hadn’t anticipated that he might do the same, but then it hardly seemed fair to object – and it proved to have very pleasant consequences.
She drew the line at removing clothing. He sighed wistfully at her modesty, or restraint.
“You do know I can’t lie with you?” she’d said as she left, the day of the festival.
He’d smiled. “Can’t or won’t?”
“Won’t.” How she’d wanted to add “yet” to that.
“I know.” His expression became serious. “I want you, but I would never want you hurt or diminished because of me, Rielle. I can’t avoid that, if you have to choose between me and your family.”
I think I fell in love with him at that moment, she thought. At least, consciously.
A door slammed below, and they both jumped. As the sound of hurried footsteps followed, she leapt away and quickly straightened her clothing. Izare rose from the chair gracefully and smoothed his shirt as he walked over to the stairwell and looked down.
“What is it, Errek?”
The footsteps stopped.
“Priests are about. Might be another inspection.” Errek paused. “Is Rielle here?”
Izare sighed. “Yes. Thanks for the warning.”
Rielle moved to the railing and smiled down at Izare’s friend. “Thanks, Errek.”
He shrugged. “Just looking out for our new friend.” He turned and descended to the door, waving once before leaving.
“Well. I’d ask the Angels to curse them, except they’d hardly curse their own priests,” Rielle muttered.
“Ask them to curse the tainted the priests are looking for,” Izare replied darkly. “Or the one who’s teaching them. He’s the reason our homes are being searched so often.” He turned and drew her into a close but quick kiss. “Go. And be careful. They might be chasing this new tainted.”
Her stomach swooped. “Can you come with me?”
He considered, then nodded. “I’ll hide a few things first.”
She tied her scarf around her head, watching as he rearranged a few paintings. He slid his portrait of her into the hollow back of an unfinished spiritual. When he paused before her painting she shook her head.
“Don’t worry. It’s only a practice piece.”
“They might guess that I’m giving lessons,” he said.
“So? They won’t know who you’re teaching.”
He turned away and waved her towards the stairs. “We shouldn’t delay, anyway. Pull your scarf up and keep your head down. You should leave first, then I’ll follow.”
She would rather have walked with him, but his presence behind her was reassuring. He hummed as he walked, letting her know that he was still close by. When they were drawing close to Temple Road she felt a touch at her elbow. She looked back and stopped as she saw he’d caught up with her.
“I’d better go back now.”
She nodded. He smiled and she hoped he would kiss her, but there were people nearby so he winked before turning and hurrying away. As she continued towards home disappointment ate at her. She had little enough time with him as it was, without the priests forcing her to leave early.
Early? I can’t go home early. She stopped. Narmah and my parents might notice and wonder why I don’t make it home at this time every quarterday.
But what if it was a hunt for a tainted that had brought the priests into this part of the city? She thought of the last time she had seen Stain, and her insides froze. It hadn’t been that far from here. The memory of the crazy old woman sprung into her mind and she shuddered. She now avoided that convergence of streets. Each time she walked home she recalled the strange things the old woman had said. There had been too much of the lure about her words. All that talk of “good reasons”.
The possibility that she had encountered the corrupter was frightening. But she also felt anger at the trouble the woman had caused and the lives she’d ruined. Yet it was followed by guilt. I should have told Sa-Baro about her. I could have told him what she said. There was no need to tell him I’d seen Stain. Yet the cryptic things the old woman had said did not prove beyond doubt that she was the corrupter. She could just be a mad old woman who could see Stain – who would tell the priests that Rielle could, too. And what if the priests thought it too much of a coincidence that Rielle had encountered both a tainted and the corrupter, and started to suspect she was more involved with both somehow?
Still, it might be worth the risk, if it led to the corrupter being found.
Rielle began walking again. I need proof before I take that risk. I need to see her use magic. The woman was hardly likely to use it in plain sight, however. She’d have to be lured into it. Rielle slowed her steps. What if I pretend to want to learn magic, then change my mind? Or pretended to fail?
That would be dangerous. The corrupter was a magic user. Who knew what she would to do Rielle if she realised she was being tricked. Besides, if the old woman was the corrupter then surely she would never appear in the same place twice for fear of capture.
So if she is still there, that proves she isn’t the corrupter.
Rielle slowed. Which meant there was no harm in checking. This, at least, she could have an answer to. If the woman was the corrupter, she wouldn’t be there. If she wasn’t, she was a crazy, harmless old woman. All Rielle needed to be careful of was not reacting to Stain, if it still lingered there, in case somebody else noticed.
As if making the decision for her, her feet took her in a different direction. Her heart was beating quickly by the time she arrived. Forcing her breathing to slow, she relaxed her shoulders and strolled into the small courtyard.
Her senses stirred. Stain did still linger, but it was shrunken and patchy. Another woman was striding across the space but she was only around ten years older than Rielle and didn’t look up as she passed. A few steps from the other side of the convergence of streets, Rielle glanced back as if to look twice at the woman, letting her eyes move across the entrances of the other streets. Nobody stood there. She breathed a sigh of relief and turned back …
… to find her path blocked by a familiar, wizened creature.
“Looking for someone?” the woman hissed, ignoring Rielle’s yelp of surprise.
“No!” Rielle replied and stepped around the woman.
The woman didn’t move to block her, but she followed Rielle’s every move with her unwavering gaze. Rielle turned to hurry away.
“She can help you,” she said softly.
Rielle checked her stride in surprise. “She?” The old woman wasn’t the corrupter. But she knows the corrupter. She’s here to find potential tainted and direct them to her, she guessed.
She could tell Rielle how to find the corrupter. Slowly Rielle turned. She could not meet the old woman’s eyes, but that would hardly be unusual among those who sought magical knowledge.
“How?” she whispered.
“Only she can tell you that.”
The old woman moved closer, then extended a hand. Reluctantly, Rielle held out her own, palm upward. A curl of paper dropped into her grasp. The woman leaned even closer.
“Buy a yellow scarf and ask for the way to the baker. She will find you.”
She backed away. Rielle stared down at the paper, then closed her fingers over it. The woman shuffled into a side street. The courtyard was still empty of people.
What should I do?
Unsure, she opened the curl of paper. A map had been drawn there, a tiny scrap of the city’s plan. No words. No street names. No familiar landmarks. How am I supposed to follow this?
Then she saw the yellow dot. Was this where she must buy the scarf? Her eye snapped to a black mark where several streets converged. Ah. Very clever. Only someone who could see Stain would know what that meant.
The shop – if that’s what it was – was not far away. I don’t have to go in. I don’t have to do anything but find information that might help the priests. Taking a deep breath, she set one foot in front of the other. The map contained no indication of a specific path to take, which left three different options. She chose the quieter, more shadowed streets that did not approach her destination directly.
What if this is a trap set by the priests to see who might succumb to the temptation? They might not believe that her intention was to help them. Surely they will wait until the trap is sprung, and there is no question that the target had actually learned magic?
As she reached the spot marked in yellow on the map she slowed. There was indeed a shop selling scarves. Coloured awnings shaded the front, and the owner’s wares were tied up on rails across the wall, like a multi-coloured fringe. It was on the corner of a little courtyard of shops that sold jewellery, home furnishings and fabric. A few locals also lingered in the space: a musician, a shoe mender occupied with a customer and two children selling flowers. As Rielle moved forward to inspect the scarves a woman appeared in the doorway.
“Is there a colour you prefer?” she asked.
Avoiding the woman’s gaze, Rielle touched a blue scarf, not quite but close to the rich shade associated with the Angels. It had silver bells instead of tassels at the corners.
“Midnight on the sea, the waves sing to me…” a voice crooned. Rielle turned to see that the musician was watching her, strumming a very round-bellied baamn as he sang the popular love ballad.
“Don’t worry about him,” the scarf seller said. “He always does that. It’s a little strange at first, but there’s no harm in it and some customers like it. So … the blue?”
“No.” Rielle pretended to consider, allowing her hand to hover over one of the few yellow scarves. Her heart began to race. Would the woman guess her intention from her choice? “Blue is nice. But this … is for someone else.”
“Yellow is a bright, happy colour. Even so, it does not suit many people. I think this is a safer gift.”
As the woman untied a scarf the colour of dark leaves, the musician’s song shifted into a lament about being lost in the forest. Rielle mused that she had never seen a forest. Or the sea. She shook her head and gestured at the yellow scarf.
“I know this person well,” she explained. “She likes yellow.”
The seller looked as if she might be prepared to argue, then to Rielle’s relief she shrugged. “Well, if she changes her mind you can exchange it for another, if it is still in good condition.”
Rielle nodded. Her skin itched as she haggled a little over the price because it would have been odd not to. As she counted out the coins, the musician’s tune changed again and a chill ran down her spine.
“Your love is like sunshine…” he sang, clearly enjoying the game.
The seller rolled the scarf carefully and wrapped a piece of cheap cloth about it. Rielle watched, holding back her impatience and anxiety. Finally, she was free to go. She hurried away. Only when she had turned into the next street and saw she was in a narrow alley did she realise she hadn’t asked where the baker was. She mouthed a curse and looked back.
A woman walking a few strides behind her looked up and smiled. Her clothes were the colour of the desert, and her face was well weathered. She was not quite Narmah’s age yet she had deeper lines between her brows and around her mouth. At the woman’s direct, appraising look Rielle felt her knees go weak.
“That’s a lovely scarf you bought,” she said, without taking her eyes off Rielle. “My favourite colour.”
Her tone was full of expectation. Rielle stood frozen, her heart racing. It is her! It must be her! What do I do now? Run? She imagined herself caught by magic and lifted off the ground, writhing in pain, as had happed to her abductor. Taking a slow, shaking breath, Rielle held out the wrapped scarf.
The hand the woman extended was covered with rings. She took the package then gestured towards something behind Rielle. Turning, Rielle saw a longcart as weathered as the woman filling most of a nearby alley entrance. It was covered by a cloth canopy the same colour as the woman’s clothes.
A hand hooked around Rielle’s arm. “Come inside.”
Heart pounding, Rielle let the woman guide her to the back of the cart. The corrupter pulled aside a flap. Peering in, Rielle saw a surprisingly comfortable interior filled with cushions and small travelling chests. She hesitated. If she entered first she would be trapped, with the woman between her and the exit.
The woman smiled faintly, then climbed the small ladder and crawled inside. She turned back to hold the flap open.
“See? Perfectly safe.”
Rielle took a deep breath, let it out slowly, then forced herself to follow the woman inside. The corrupter settled herself onto the cushions, close enough to reach out and touch Rielle. They regarded each other in silence for a long moment.
“Did you enjoy the festival?” the woman asked.
Rielle nodded.
“Did you celebrate with family or friends?”
“Both,” Rielle replied.
“You’re a native Fyrian, right?”
Rielle nodded again.
“Have you ever travelled beyond the city?”
After Rielle shook her head, the woman regarded her in silence.
“Where are the directions you were given?”
Mutely, Rielle held out the slip of paper. The woman took it then tucked it under a pillow.
“You’re not a chatty one,” the woman observed. “That is good. So, tell me how I can help you.”
Since deciding to follow the map, Rielle had considered and reconsidered what to say if she came to this point. She needed proof that the woman was teaching magic, but the woman was expecting that anyone who came to her badly needed her help. Whatever she
asked for must be something about which it was reasonable for Rielle to change her mind. Or something she didn’t need straight away. Remembering what Greya had said about the woman of her homeland using magic had given her an idea. She kept her eyes lowered.
“I … I don’t need it right now. It’s just … I’ve heard that there’s a way to stop a woman … conceiving.”
The woman smiled. “There are many. Have you tried any?”
Rielle shook her head. “I heard some make you sick, others don’t work every time and some are permanent.”
“And some are forbidden. But you must be willing to ignore that, if you have come to me.”
Rielle bowed her head and nodded.
“Is avoiding a pregnancy worth that risk?” the woman observed.
Rielle grimaced and nodded again.
“Are you sure? The inconvenience or shame, for yourself or others, of you bearing a child is nothing compared to what they will do to you if they discover how you prevented it.”
“I know,” Rielle said. “But once I am married I won’t need it. And … I might not need it at all.”
The woman sighed, then reached forward. “You aren’t already carrying, are you?” Rielle resisted the urge to shrink away from the hands that reached towards her.
“N-no. I don’t think so,” she mumbled as a warm palm pressed against her belly.
“Good,” the woman said, her eyes fixed beyond her hand.
Twin knives cut into Rielle’s flesh. She cried out, grabbed the woman’s wrists and thrust her away. Looking down, she was sure she would see wounds leaking blood, but her clothes were undamaged and no red stain welled up from beneath them.
Thief's Magic Page 20
