Shadow of a Slave (The Blood Mage Chronicles Book 1)

by Saffron Bryant

“You knew? But you didn’t—”

  “Turn you in? Kill you? No, I didn’t. Maybe I thought you seemed like good people.”

  “Rae is a good person,” Ash said.

  “I heard you died.”

  “I nearly did.” Ash rubbed the raised scar at his throat.

  Tup frowned and stepped closer. “You didn’t have that before.”

  “City Watch cut me.”

  “But it looks years old.” Tup looked up at him, wonder sparkling in her eyes.

  Ash shrugged.

  “Maybe you’re not completely powerless.”

  “If you thought I was dead, what are you doing here?”

  “I said I’d heard you died, not that I believed it. The people I spoke to said your body had been dragged outside, but I couldn’t find it. It wasn’t hard to work out that you’d come here if you were still alive.”

  “I have to save her.” Ash’s legs gave out and he slumped to the ground with his back against the wall.

  “You can’t storm the Faceless Monks with just a dagger.” Tup slid down the wall beside him and picked his knife up off the ground. She twirled it in her hand. “Especially when you barely know how to use it, let alone stand.”

  “So teach me.”

  “Even if you were the best knife-handler in all of Falconwall, you still wouldn’t be able to find their secret base and take on the Monks.”

  Ash slapped the cold ground at his side. “So what am I supposed to do?” Every muscle in his body itched to get up, to run north and find the hidden temple, but he forced himself to stay sitting.

  “Why do they ban twins?” Tup said.

  Ash rolled his eyes. “You know—”

  “Humor me.”

  “Twins are too powerful and unstable. Therefore, dangerous.”

  “Why powerful?”

  “If I knew that they would never have taken Rae in the first place!”

  Tup turned to him. “Can you do magic?”

  Ash dropped his gaze.

  “Can you?”

  Ash hesitated, then shrugged. It wouldn’t make any difference now. “Rae can.”

  “But she’s smarter than you. I bet if you put your mind to it…”

  “Hmm, I never thought to try that.”

  “Would you listen?” Tup said, a red flush staining her cheeks.

  Ash let out a long breath before turning to her and nodding.

  “Right. Twins are supposed to be powerful; it has to be magical. Maybe if you learned magic properly, you’d be a match for the Monks.”

  Ash stared at her, thoughts whirling through his head too fast to catch. “You might be right—”

  “Of course I’m right! When have I ever been wrong?”

  Ash stared down at the pavement. Tup’s revelation left him in exactly the same place he and Rae had been in before. He had to get to the Institute. If anyone knew where the Faceless Monks’ secret temple was it would be them. And if he could learn magic…

  “I still need money to get there.”

  “Come and see Aldrick. He wants to talk to you anyway, provided I found you alive.”

  “Oh no, I’m not going back there. The City Watch will be guarding it, not to mention your so-called friends.”

  “Somewhere else,” Tup said. “It’ll just be us. Trust me.”

  Ash ran a hand through his hair. He had to act fast. There was no way to know how long Rae had, and if he was going to get to the Institute and learn everything he had to… “Fine. I’ll come.”

  “Good,” Tup said, jumping to her feet and holding out his knife. “This way.”

  35

  Tup led Ash through a series of winding streets to where a tunnel-like pipe, as big as Ash was tall, dribbled a thin stream of muddy water and sewage into the street. A rank smell of rot and mold wafted out, carried on a steady stream of hot air.

  Tup ducked inside, her feet to either side of the stream. “In here.”

  Ash hesitated at the entrance and squinted into the darkness. He glanced back over his shoulder before stepping into the gloom.

  Stale air surrounded him like a warm blanket, burning his eyes and nostrils. It filled his lungs, heavier than normal air, and left him feeling like he’d sucked in a cloud of steam.

  He coughed and covered his mouth and nose with his sleeve.

  “If it was nice, everyone would wander in.” Tup’s voice weaved back to him from somewhere in the darkness ahead.

  Ash crept forward, careful to keep his feet out of the oozing water. The smell and the oppressive heat grew worse the farther they went and the thin circle of light behind him shrank, eventually disappearing around a bend in the tunnel. He caught up to Tup and they went on in silence. Ash wrestled with his thoughts, shoving away anything that reminded him of Rae and clinging to his one purpose—get to the Institute.

  “All right, Fish?” Tup whispered.

  Ash frowned and opened his mouth when a shadow to their right shifted.

  “All right, Tup,” a gravelly voice replied.

  “How can you even see in this place?” Ash said.

  “You get used to it,” Tup said.

  “I thought you said it was just going to be us.”

  “Don’t worry about Fish. He watches the entrance for Aldrick, but he doesn’t leave the Underworld.”

  Ash grimaced. The Underworld perfectly described the network of wet, putrid tunnels they trudged through.

  “How much farther?”

  “Right here.” Tup’s footsteps scuffled to a stop, followed by three sharp knocks.

  Movement sounded nearby and then a square of brightness flared to life on their left; a door. Ash squinted against the glare and laid his hand on his knife.

  “He is alive.”

  Ash recognized Sinder’s voice.

  “Took me longer to track him down then I thought,” Tup said.

  Ash stepped into the room after her but stopped just inside the door, ready to leap backwards into darkness if things went badly.

  Sinder and Tup stood to either side, and Aldrick sat behind a desk directly in front. A wooden door stood closed at his back.

  Sinder laid a hand on Ash’s shoulder. “I’m sorry about what happened. She was a good kid.”

  “Is,” Ash said. “She’s not dead.”

  Sinder hung his head and stepped back.

  Aldrick stood and came toward Ash. “You may be right. The things I’ve heard…”

  Ash’s heart clenched and his hand tightened around his knife. “Don’t you dare come any closer. You forced us to join your stupid gang, promised us protection, and look where it got us!”

  Aldrick held up his hands, empty of dice for the first time Ash had ever seen. “I’m sorry for what Nate and Rusty did. I—”

  “No!” Tears blurred Ash’s vision. “If it weren’t for you, Rae would still be here. We’d probably already be at the Institute. This is your fault.” The last few words came out as rasping sobs.

  Aldrick sighed and let his hands fall. “You’re probably right.”

  Ash towered over Aldrick, chest heaving.

  “I keep my promises,” Aldrick said.

  Ash snorted.

  “I do. I will do everything in my power to help you, to help Rae.”

  “Don’t you dare say her name.”

  Aldrick’s hand disappeared into his pocket, returning a moment later with two gold Marks. “To get you to the Institute and hopefully help with some expenses.”

  Ash stared at the coins. They were everything he and Rae had been fighting and striving for over the last year, and Aldrick held them out like spare change. If he’d given them the money just a week ago… Ash gritted his teeth. “And what price is attached to those?”

  “None,” Aldrick said. “It’s all I can offer as an apology. I know it doesn’t bring her back, but maybe it will help.”

  Ash lifted his hand but hesitated.

  “Take it.”

  He snatched the coins and buried them deep in his jacket.


  “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry,” Aldrick said.

  “Yeah,” Ash said. “Me too.”

  “If you’re ever back in Falconwall, you know where to find me.”

  Ash clenched his jaw, said nothing.

  Aldrick nodded. “Tup will take you back and introduce you to a reliable merchant who’s about to head toward the Institute.”

  Ash spun on his heel and marched back into the Underworld. He spared a brief nod for Sinder before stepping out into darkness.

  “Maven,” Tup said. “This is the traveler I told you about.”

  The thin merchant nodded to Ash and went back to loading the last of a pile of boxes onto a wooden wagon. Two brown horses stood tethered to a post at his side.

  “Payment?” Maven said.

  “He’ll pay you when you get there,” Tup said. “And remember the deal. If anything happens to him…”

  Maven’s face lost some of its color. “I remember.”

  “Good. Get that wagon loaded, your passenger has important places to be.”

  Ash watched the whole exchange as if in a dream. A sour feeling filled his stomach and he couldn’t focus on anything without thoughts of Rae creeping in.

  Tup laid a hand on his shoulder and caught his eye. “Things will get better.”

  “They never do.”

  “Don’t do anything rash. Make sure you know what you’re getting into before you dive in. I want to see you again… you and Rae.”

  Ash swallowed, not trusting himself to talk.

  “Just be careful,” Tup said. She threw her arms around him and squeezed him tight.

  Ash froze, stifling sobs that threatened to choke him.

  Tup broke away and turned, hiding her face. “I’ll see you again.” Then she was gone, fading into the crowd that milled about the gate.

  The journey to the Institute took seven days which were spent in stony silence. Ash kept his head down, ignoring the passing scenery because every time he looked up he could hear Rae’s voice bubbling away about every tree and stone they passed. Whenever they passed through towns, Ash kept his hood up and busied himself about the wagon.

  Maven stayed out of Ash’s way, and by the time they reached the Institute, Ash knew nothing more about him than he had when they’d first met in Falconwall.

  “One Mark,” Maven said, pulling the wagon to a stop.

  “This is it?”

  “Yep.”

  Ash reached into his jacket and pulled out one of the precious coins Aldrick had given him. Maven took it and nodded before turning his wagon around and riding off to the creak of wooden wheels.

  Ash watched him go, the constant ache in his chest throbbing in time with his heartbeat. He braced himself, readying to face the place that he hoped held all the answers, that he hoped would help him bring Rae back. The Institute.

  36

  A broad cobblestone avenue led away from Ash, lined on both sides with stone buildings. Colorful signs hung above every door sporting pictures of herbs, intricate metal devices, clothes, and beer. People bustled past Ash; some old and bent, but most of them his age. They wore colorful silks, and jewels sparkled from their necks and wrists, reflecting the noonday sun.

  Ash hoisted his ratty sack higher on his shoulder and followed a brightly-dressed group down the avenue. He made a gray smudge on the otherwise bright street and many people eyed him, their noses tilting up as they turned away.

  He ignored them, searching instead for signs or directions, but everyone seemed to know instinctively where to go. He let the crowd carry him along. The farther down the avenue they went, the older and taller the buildings became, growing to more like castles than shops. Instead of merchants, people carrying books streamed in and out of the doors, chattering in a constant buzz that filled the air.

  Sweat trickled down Ash’s face and he scanned the sides of the street for a quiet place to get away from the press of people and noise. Heat crept up his neck and he swallowed, pushing down panic and forcing himself to keep walking. He focused on his goal; the enrollment office. But without signs, he had no idea if he was getting closer or farther away.

  After half an hour, he pushed his way out of the crowd and stumbled to the quietest piece of street he could find. He ended up settling for a small patch of shade beside a barrel filled with waste; the smell kept the colorful crowds away. He let out a long breath and some of the panic eased from his chest.

  He clenched his fist; why was he suddenly so afraid? Falconwall had crowds much bigger than this. But deep down her knew the answer; here it mattered. He had to find a place here, had to make it work, for Rae’s sake.

  “All right, lad?”

  A deep shadow fell over Ash. He jumped and scrambled for his knife.

  “Whoa, don’t want any trouble.”

  Ash squinted up at the giant man who towered over him. A thick beard hid most of his face but beneath his bushy eyebrows his green eyes sparkled.

  Ash lowered his knife but kept his hand clenched around the hilt.

  “Forgive me for saying,” said the stranger. “But you don’t look like you belong here.”

  “Not yet.”

  “Is there any reason you’re here, hiding beside my garbage?”

  Ash glanced down at the barrel and then at the man. “Just trying to get my bearings.”

  “Ah,” the man said. “I don’t suppose I can help you on your way?”

  “I’m looking for the enrollments office.”

  “Suspected as much. Every year I tell ‘em they need to put up signs. But they don’t listen. You’ve just got to go back up this street, take a left at the fountain, and it’s the door with a book and pen painted above it.”

  Ash put his knife back in his belt. “Thanks.”

  “Not a problem. Us northerners have to stick together.” The man winked and tapped his chest twice with two fingers.

  A pang of loneliness washed over Ash at the familiar norther greeting; it reminded him of Rae. He returned the gesture and stepped around the barrel, back into the main street.

  “My name’s Grenwall and this fine establishment is the Spilled Mug if you’re ever looking for a place to drink,” Grenwall said, stepping back and nodding at the sign above the nearest door. A painted glass overflowed with amber liquid.

  “Thanks.”

  Grenwall wrapped his arms around the barrel of garbage and hoisted it off the ground as if it weighed no more than a small chair.

  Ash hurried up the street, not looking over his shoulder. If a man like Grenwall could tell he was a northerner in such a short space of time then he wasn’t doing a very good job disguising himself. He hunched his shoulders and continued up the street, hoping no one was looking for him.

  At the end of the street he came to a round fountain with three marble figures at its center, two men and one woman. They looked out in different directions, water spouting from each of their fingers. A gentle mist floated out from the fountain and landed on Ash’s face, leaving a cool chill.

  He turned left and continued up the street, ignoring the people who stared at him and whispered to each other behind jewel-studded hands.

  He came to a door just as Grenwall had described. He knocked once and pushed it open, stepping into a darkened room that smelled of must and old books. A broad mahogany desk loomed at the opposite end of the room, behind which, a short man wearing glasses sat reading over a sheaf of papers.

  Ash approached the desk, his worn shoes clicking on the marble floor. Portraits and carved heads stared down at him from the walls. Books lined the wall behind the desk, dusty tomes with crumbling covers and gold-embossed spines. Ash’s fingers itched to reach out and touch them, to read them, to feel them. He buried his hands in his pockets and came to a stop a few feet from the desk.

  He waited.

  The man in glasses continued to read without looking up, occasionally making notes on a sheet in front of him.

  Ash cleared his throat.

  The man
still didn’t look up so Ash cleared his throat again.

  “If you’re sick you should be in the medical wing, not here,” the old man said, still not looking up.

  “No, sir,” Ash said.

  “Professor Archibald.”

  “What?”

  “You call me Professor Archibald, not sir.” Archibald said, all the while still reading his papers.

  Ash swallowed and forced himself to take three long breaths before he spoke again. “Yes, Professor Archibald. I’m looking for the enrollments office.”

  “Would you like a prize for finding it?”

  Ash faltered and studied the old man to see if he was joking, but his expression hadn’t changed since the moment Ash walked in.

  “I’d like to enroll,” Ash said.

  “Semester has already started.”

  “That’s okay. I’d still like to enroll.”

  “No late enrollments. You should have been here three weeks ago. Next semester starts in three months, come back then.”

  Ash’s throat burned. He couldn’t wait three months; Rae needed his help now. “I’ll catch up.”

  Professor Archibald rolled his eyes and laid his papers on his desk. He took off his glasses and studied Ash, eyes running over his unkempt hair to his worn shoes and tattered clothes. “Have you ever studied…. anything… before?”

  Ash squared his shoulders. “No.”

  “You can’t pass if you’ve missed the first three weeks. There’s too much you don’t know and the professors don’t have time to waste trying to catch you up.”

  “I’ll catch up on my own.” Ash met Archibald’s gaze and didn’t flinch.

  “Impossible. A street urchin can’t come to the Institute and expect to suddenly catch up to students who have been studying their whole lives.”

  “I’ll catch up.”

  Professor Archibald sighed. “I’m sure you have excellent fantasies for what you’ll achieve here, but that’s just not how we work.”

  Ash strode forward and leaned on the desk, fingers splayed across Archibald’s papers. “I’ll catch up. If I don’t then you can throw me out. You won’t have lost anything.”

  “I also don’t gain anything by risking admitting you,” Archibald said.