“I don’t know. I swear. I was just there to sell information about some Ubanian noble.” He took a step back, ready to run should Lem make a sudden move.
“I figured as much,” Lem said. “But you told someone about the meeting, yes?” When Kirko didn’t respond, he added: “As of now, there is no reason to involve the magistrate. What’s done is done. But you need to tell me everything.”
Kirko looked to Killia, who gave him a nod. “A woman approached me. She said I’d get five gold pieces if I’d help her. She said she saw me talking with Shemi and wanted to know why.”
“So you told her?”
“For five gold? I’d be a fool not to. I told her about the information I was selling, and she said she wanted to know when and where I’d deliver it. That’s it. I never laid a hand on Shemi.”
“Are they still in town?”
“One is. He paid Shemi’s neighbor to let him stay. To watch the apartment is my guess.” He took another step back. “Goes to Bricks and Mugs at night. That’s all I know.”
Bricks and Mugs was a tavern frequented by the working-class locals. Good food and entertainment, with never a spot of trouble beyond the occasional tussle between inebriated friends. “Describe him for me.”
* * *
Lem saddled up to the bar, raising a finger to catch the bartender’s eye. The attention of the man sitting to his left was focused on the young server, a short, dark-haired girl who, in Lem’s estimation, based on a brief conversation he’d had with her a few days before leaving Throm for the Bard’s College, was far too lovely and bright to be working at a tavern.
“Why won’t you at least let me take you to dinner?” the man implored.
“I told you a hundred times,” she replied, with undisguised irritation. “I’m seeing someone.”
“He’d never know,” the man pressed, with a knavish grin and clearly thinking that his charms should be effective.
“I’d know. So if you don’t mind.” She spun away with her cargo of spirits, darting through the gradually building crowd.
“Tough luck, friend,” Lem said, holding up his mug.
The man turned back to the bar and sighed. “I’m beginning to think I’ve lost my appeal. It wasn’t long ago I could have my pick of comely lasses. And now, spurned by a servant girl.”
Lem laughed, taking a sip of ale. “If it’s company you’re after, I know a much better place.”
The man rolled his eyes. “In Throm? I doubt that. This is the stiffest bunch I’ve ever seen. Not a brothel in the whole town.”
Lem leaned in and whispered, “Not one that operates openly.”
The man cocked his head, scrutinizing Lem carefully. “What would you be doing in a brothel? You’re young and handsome. Not like me—old and broken-down.”
This was an exaggeration. The man was probably not out of his thirties, his black curls yet to see the gray of age, his skin ruddy, and his frame lean and muscular. In fact, the rejection he’d just suffered, particularly the blunt manner in which it was delivered, was in no small way a testament to the girl’s character.
“I don’t enjoy the chase,” Lem said. “Sometimes it’s better to get down to it … if you catch my meaning.”
The man clapped him on the shoulder, the sting of failure instantly forgotten. “I do indeed.”
Lem placed his drink on the bar. “I can show you where it is, if you’d like.”
The man turned up his mug, ale spilling from the corners of his mouth, then slammed it down. “A bloody fine idea.”
Lem tossed the bartender a coin and led the eager-faced man from the tavern. The streets were sparsely populated, the hour not late enough for the nightlife to be in full swing. The wealthier residents would often wait until an hour before midnight before leaving their homes. But those establishments were on the west side of Throm. He would be leading them north.
“I hope you’re not taking me to that dung heap on the edge of town,” the man said.
“No. This place is hidden.”
He belched out a laugh. “A secret brothel. Bet the wives would throw a fit if they found out.”
“Some of the husbands too,” Lem remarked, grinning over his shoulder.
They turned down a narrow street a few blocks from the end of the main avenue, then through an alleyway between an old warehouse and a building that was under construction.
“What brings you to town?” Lem asked.
“Business,” the man replied with another belch. “Are you sure there’s a brothel down here?”
“Absolutely. Just a bit farther.”
The alley ended at an empty lot surrounded by storage buildings. Most of the wares and supplies were kept here, rented by the local merchants. This enabled them to convert their upstairs into apartments that they could rent to new arrivals and those needing temporary accommodations.
“You never told me your name,” the man said.
Lem slid the vysix dagger from his belt as he reached the rear door of the building to their left. “Lem.”
There was an audible gasp as Lem spun, the tip of the blade catching the back of the man’s hand. As he’d seen so many times before, the wide-eyed stare of unforeseen death was looking back at him. The body collapsed, in the fading light giving the impression of nothing more interesting than a pile of rubble.
“Sorry, friend,” Lem said. “But I can’t have you sending word ahead of me.”
As he started back, the image of the young girl drawing cold steel across her father’s flesh insisted its way to the fore. The way he had agonized over what the man had done to his own child! He longed for those feelings to return. Then, at least, he’d know he was still human.
11
LESSONS AND FURY
The first step to understanding magic is understanding one’s self. Without self-knowledge, power is empty and magic devoid of beauty. It is from this lesson all others are founded.
Book of the First Ascension: Introduction
Mariyah let out a feral scream. The bands of magic were slithering around her torso and legs, stinging and biting into her flesh. The counter spell she had cast was ineffective, and the protection charm had been no better. It was as if the attack were crafted from some unknown form of magic, one that was immune to traditional defenses.
Aylana sneered from across the practice yard. She was enjoying this.
Mariyah dropped to her knees. “Kylorian!”
In a blink the attack ceased, along with the pain.
“You still don’t see,” Aylana scolded. “You refuse to look past what your eyes are telling you.”
Mariyah glared up and spat. “Go to the depths, you filthy sow.”
Aylana laughed, unmoved by the childish display. “Calling me names won’t get you what you want. Neither will anger.”
Spirits, she hated this woman! She hated her smug expression; the way she spoke to her as if she were a child; most of all the way she could make her behave as one. “Then tell me, curse you. What am I doing wrong?”
“Nothing. It’s not what you are doing. It’s what you’re not doing.” She held out a hand, flicking her fingers for Mariyah to stand. “Again.”
No elemental magic; those were the rules. And the wards in this particular courtyard prevented cheating. But this only left glamor and transmutation, and the latter was still out of reach.
Mariyah took a long breath and rose to her feet. This would be the eighth … no, ninth attempt. She spread her arms and cast the only protection spell she had not used thus far. This drew a malevolent smirk from Aylana. Yes. The blasted woman was definitely enjoying this.
“I’ll give you a few more seconds,” Aylana called. “Remember: You can stop it. It’s not the power you’re lacking. It’s the wisdom.”
“Get on with it,” Mariyah snapped. “I’m tired of hearing your voice.”
“As you wish, my dear.” Aylana extended her right hand and twirled her index and middle fingers.
A pair of glowin
g red ribbons of light sprang forth and fell to the slate floor. As promised, they moved toward Mariyah more slowly by half. Mariyah cast a counter spell—one of six she knew—but like before, it was as if she were casting it at thin air. As a distraction, Mariyah cast a ring of blinding white lights to surround Aylana, hoping to break her hold on the spell. But as with every other illusion she’d tried, a casual wave of the woman’s free hand banished it with no more effort than if she were shooing a fly.
Again, Mariyah recast every defensive spell she knew, until the ribbons reached her feet. The pain returned in force, as the magic winding up her legs sent tiny sparks of pain through her clothing like stinging wasps. She looked over at Aylana, who was again wearing that loathsome smirk. Mariyah set her jaw and squeezed her eyes shut. This time she would not surrender. She would not give Aylana the satisfaction of hearing her call for the negation spell that would stop the pain.
The ribbons reached her chest, her neck, her cheeks. Hot spears of magic stabbed into her eyelids. It felt as if her skull would explode into a million shards of bone.
“Say it, girl!”
Aylana’s voice sounded distant, muffled. And still the pain increased.
“Say it!”
No.
“Stubborn child. Kylorian!”
* * *
The sheets were cool; the pillow soft. The pain … gone. At least from her body. The memory was burned into her mind. She touched her face and neck. How something so excruciating didn’t leave a mark was in itself mind-boggling.
“You’re a bullheaded child.”
Mariyah realized her eyes were still closed. Though opening them revealed nothing. That she was in bed told her that someone had brought her back to her room. The voice—Aylana’s voice—was coming from over to the right, where Mariyah knew a small table and chair were situated. There was a lamp on the nightstand. But she left it alone, having no desire to see Aylana’s wretched face.
“What do you want?” Her throat was dry, and her tongue a bit swollen.
“To forget I met you. But Felistal won’t allow it. He’s under the impression you’re worth the trouble. So here I am.”
“If it’s permission you’re after, you have mine to leave me alone. I’ll explain it to Felistal.”
“Explain what?”
Mariyah shifted into a seated position. “That you can’t teach me. That I’ll return to Ubania to learn what I need.”
“From Loria Camdon?” Aylana said, with a derisive laugh. “Granted, she’s powerful. But an instructor she is not.”
Mariyah didn’t like the way she spoke about Loria. “And you are?”
There was a long pause.
“No. Up until now, I have failed you. I allowed my personal feelings to cloud my mind.”
“Your feelings? I’m the one you wronged. I did nothing to you.”
“Would you care to know how I ended up in Ralmarstad? Why I was able to infiltrate the Archbishop’s inner circle?”
Mariyah reached over and turned on the lamp, sparking the flame with a snap of her fingers. Aylana was wearing a soft white robe; her hair was pulled back from her face and held in place by a silver comb. She looked to be deep in thought, as if revisiting a distant memory.
“My father was the Archbishop’s Light Bringer. One step away from being Archbishop himself.”
For some reason, this was not surprising. Mariyah had guessed Aylana was originally from Ralmarstad. That was not unusual. Many people who showed a talent for magic came from there. Assuming the church didn’t find out before they were able to cross the border.
“So you came here to learn magic?”
“Not of my own free will. I was sent here as a spy.”
Mariyah lifted an eyebrow. “And you turned on your own father instead?”
Her faced tightened. “No. It was he who betrayed me. He sent me away when it was discovered I possessed the gift. He proclaimed that I was no longer his daughter. I was only twelve years old at the time. Had I been older, he would have sent me to the mines. But instead, I was banished from my home and left to fend for myself. I lived on the streets of Lobin for two years. Two years of stealing, sleeping in alleys, begging for food. Turned out that I ended up in the mines anyway, after I was arrested for theft.” She looked down at her palms. “I can still feel the hammer vibrating in my hands.”
“How did you get out?”
“My father. He found out where I was and had me released.” Her lip curled. “But on one condition: that I seek out the Thaumas. Become one of them. And report their activities to the Archbishop. Of course I agreed. Anything was better than the mines.”
“I don’t blame you for betraying him. I can’t imagine doing that to any child, least of all your own.”
“Betray him? I didn’t betray him. I did exactly what he told me to do.”
“But why?” Mariyah asked. “After what he did to you?”
A single tear spilled down Aylana’s cheek. “Because I was a little girl who still loved her father. It wasn’t until I was older that I came to understand the man he was. By then, I had been giving the Archbishop information for ten years. He knew about every Thaumas in Ralmarstad, thanks to me.” Her voice dropped to a near whisper. “Many were caught and sentenced to death as spies. People I knew. People who trusted me.”
Mariyah knew that some who came to the enclave from Ralmarstad would return home once they reached the limits of their abilities. The identities of the students were a closely guarded secret. This enabled them to go home without fear of persecution, so long as they were careful.
“How are you allowed to be here?” Mariyah said. “You should have been executed.”
“Yes, I should have been,” she admitted. “But when Felistal discovered my betrayal, he took pity on me. He showed me what it meant to truly love. He … he healed me.”
“Is that why you returned to spy for the Thaumas?”
Aylana nodded. “I went home a few years later and told my father the Thaumas had discovered my treachery.”
“But you were a Thaumas yourself by then. Why did they allow you back?”
“Because they’re greedy fools. The Archbishop decided two years prior to convert or eliminate the western free tribes. But they would not submit easily. Time and again they raided the Hedran to free their captured kin. I explained that with my abilities, I could put a stop to it.” She gave Mariyah a sideways look. “You see? What I did to you is the least of my sins. But it was the only way to gain their trust. So I became a cleric. Soon after, I was named High Inquisitor.”
“What happened to the free tribes?” Mariyah had heard of them: nomads who lived in the forests west of Ralmarstad. Very little was known about them other than that they were wary of strangers and avoided contact with the rest of Lamoria.
Aylana shrugged. “They fled deeper into the wild. Not only due to my efforts, mind you, though they did cease their attacks on the Hedran once they learned about the wards. The Archbishop instructed the king to send an army west to root them out. But they retreated before the first battle was fought. No one has heard from them in more than ten years.”
“And your father … what happened to him?”
“He died a month after my brother became the Archbishop.”
Mariyah caught her breath. “Your brother?”
“I’ve quite the family, yes?” She let slip a self-deprecating chuckle. “He was the one who uncovered that I was sending information to the Thaumas. Or at least he was the one who started the inquiry. It wasn’t long after you and I met, actually. If not for my friends, I would have been put to the axe.”
“Your own brother would have done that to you?”
Aylana snapped her fingers. “That quick.” She folded her hands on the table, head bowed. “And now that he has ordered my death, you may very well have your vengeance. Even here where I am protected, I’m essentially a prisoner, gilded as my cage may be. Until my brother is dead, I am not safe beyond these walls.”
<
br /> Mariyah’s inner voice was telling her to feel pity. But she could not. The scars left by Aylana’s actions were too deep to set aside.
“Why are you telling me this?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted, with a tight-lipped smile. “I guess I wanted you to understand why I did what I did to you. Then perhaps you will let me help you achieve your true potential. If Felistal is right, and he usually is, you are the key to victory.”
Mariyah pulled her knees to her chest. “Can we win?”
“I wish I knew. Belkar is powerful. More so than any Thaumas alive. Once he’s free, there will be nothing to stand against him.”
“So you hope I’ll be able to somehow keep him imprisoned? Is that it?”
“Yes. Which is why it’s crucial you learn transmutation. Though we’re not sure what the ancient Thaumas used exactly, we are certain transmutation was involved. It’s the only thing which might be powerful enough to seal the breach.”
“You don’t sound convinced,” Mariyah remarked.
“I’m not. But there’s nothing else we can do.”
“Then why not just tell me what I’m doing wrong?”
“I can’t. The power to alter the fabric of the world must come through revelation. Otherwise its full potential can never be realized. I’ve already shown you what you need. The rest is up to you.”
As Mariyah pondered this, Aylana rose and crossed to the door. “Though I’m unsure Felistal is correct in thinking you can save us, he is right that you have more strength than any Thaumas I’ve known. As soon as you believe it too, you’ll have what you came here to find.”
Mariyah remained in her bed for a time after Aylana was gone, staring up at the ceiling. What was she not seeing? The practice yard. Something about the spell Aylana had used. The ward prevented elemental magic, and yet the glowing ribbon was identical to a spell she had learned early in her training—a simple binding spell, though Aylana’s was a bit more complex, able to inflict pain as well as immobilize.
A Chorus of Fire Page 19
