The Mages of Bennamore

by Pauline M. Ross

There was a long silence. I couldn’t believe they would be so brazen as to walk down to the harbour openly wearing swords. They could see nothing wrong with it. I supposed they were right, in a way. This was a part of Bennamore now, so their laws took precedence. Perhaps.

  “Very well,” I said, fastening my coat tightly. “Let the responsibility be yours. I have advised you. I can do no more than that.”

  The tall guard opened the door and led the way outside.

  4: A Healing

  A sleety wind nipped at us as soon as we left the shelter of the walls. The mages’ green robes were not the flimsy silk I was expecting, but they were not heavy enough to withstand the gusts. Since they were open at the front, they soon flapped free and then tangled themselves like wet sheets. The mages made no complaint, walking in file down the path, one guard in front and one behind. I trotted along at the rear, envying the guards their armoured leather, thick boots and heavy woollen cloaks. The wind was no bother to them. I pulled my coat more tightly around me.

  We snaked down the hill into the town, reaching the larger houses, and onto the main road winding down to the harbour. Here, for the first time, we encountered others out and about, and our little procession drew some attention. Passers-by stopped to stare at us, and whispered behind their hands. A group of workers repainting windows set down their brushes and stood, arms folded, to watch us pass, their expressions unfriendly. The mages sailed on, taking no notice.

  Sheep and goats filled the market square today. The farmers stopped their haggling to gawk as we skirted the packed animal pens and avoided escaped chickens. It was unfortunate that the herring fleet was in, too. The quays were busy and crowds loitered outside the bars and soup houses. One or two drunks jeered at us. “Go back to Bennamore!” one shouted. “We don’t want no wizards here!”

  I will give the mages credit, they showed not the slightest nervousness or hesitation. They sailed through the confusion with great dignity, ignoring the rabble. Even so, I was very glad to reach the harbour-master’s house, and not just for the welcome warmth.

  While the mages consulted with the child’s mother, the rest of us huddled round a fire blazing in the centre of the entrance hall.

  The tree-like guard inched round to stand beside me. “You look blue with cold, fair lady. Don’t you have a cloak?”

  Goddess, the man was annoying.

  “I’m a recorder,” I snapped. “I don’t expect to trail round the streets. Only outdoor workers wear cloaks.”

  “Perhaps you need a thicker coat, then.”

  “How observant of you. I’ll be sure to consider that when I get my salary next quarter day. It might be enough for me to buy a sleeve.”

  He laughed, thinking I was joking, but decent clothing was expensive. I hated handing over my earnings to a smug tailor who sat about with a needle all day, bitching about what an awkward skinny shape I was, and how difficult to clothe. And then they took forever to do the work they were paid for. Still, if the mages were going to make a habit of visiting their clients, I would need a winter coat, and that would mean plundering my savings.

  “Mistress Recorder?” The harbour-master drew me to a quiet corner, looking askance at the guards with their swords. I’d never met him before, for he was far above my station, but he was much as I’d expected; a weather-worn, middle-aged man, with the waist-length beard of a sea captain.

  “Can they do what they say, these people?” he murmured.

  “I have no idea. I’ve not seen them perform yet.”

  “It’s a lot of money. They want three rounds in advance, but they don’t guarantee anything. I mean, with the herbalist, at least you can see what you’re getting, even if it doesn’t work. These people – these mages – they just say some words… a spell, they call it. But anyone can say words, can’t they?” He stroked his thick beard. “We’ve been burning candles to the Goddess and saying all the healing prayers ever since the poor child took ill. I don’t see what these people can do that’s any different. But my sister’s distraught… her only child, and her husband went to the depths three years ago. We have to try everything.”

  I didn’t know what to say to him. I had the same misgivings, the same suspicion of trickery. Expensive trickery, at that. Three rounds! That was a third of a year’s salary for me. A sailor would never have so much coin in his hand.

  The harbour-master led us into his office to make the payment, just the two mages and me. He insisted that the guards wait in the entrance hall. He unlocked his coin box and placed three silver rounds on the desk, and three copper bits next to them.

  “What are those for?” It was the first time the younger mage had spoken since we left the Red Hold. “Three silvers, that is the deal.” I’d never seen him so alert.

  “The recorder’s fee,” the harbour-master answered patiently. “She gets one bit for every round.”

  “That is so, Kael,” said the older mage. “It is all in the contract.”

  “We pay her a salary. Why does she get a transaction fee as well?”

  “That is just how it is. The client pays it, not us.”

  Kael grunted, looking suspiciously at me, as if this were some devious scheme I’d invented. Then he swept the three bits off the table and dropped them into my hand, closing my fingers around them with clammy hands. The silvers were dropped into his own leather purse, deftly retied and tucked away again.

  I would never have suspected he was the money man of the family.

  It took a few minutes for me to write the transaction into my new book. The mage and I signed it, and the harbour-master added his mark.

  Back in the entrance hall, the harbour-master indicated a door. “The child’s room is through this way.”

  “You can wait here, Fen,” the older mage said. “Your job is finished now.”

  “I have to observe the transaction in full. To ensure that the client receives the agreed item.”

  He sighed. “Very well. But say nothing, you understand? This requires concentration, we cannot have distractions. None of you must speak once we are at work. Allow me to talk to the child freely, and do not interrupt.” His gaze swept over the harbour-master and his sister. They nodded, eyes wide. They’d just paid a great deal of money for this, they were hardly likely to disrupt the occasion.

  The door led to a dark corridor, which, after several turns, brought us to a cramped rear quarter of the building. Several servants huddling outside the child’s room were shooed away before we went in.

  It was a tiny room, stuffy and gloomy, for the curtains were shut fast. A brazier burned fitfully. Three low pallets lined the walls, but only one was occupied. All I could see was a froth of yellow hair and a curled-up lump under the blankets.

  The older mage chased out three women weeping in a corner. He strode across the room and flung open the curtains. Next he opened the window. A gale howled in, bringing flurries of snow, so he adjusted it to stay open a crack. The sick child made a noise and rolled over to face the wall.

  “The light is painful for her,” the mother whispered. She knelt down beside the child. “Lucinna? Lucinna, my sweet, someone is here to help you. He’s going to place his hands on you and then you’ll be all better. Won’t that be lovely?”

  The child said nothing. The older mage knelt down on the floor and spoke to her with surprising gentleness. I’d set him down as arrogant, like all the Bennamore folk, not a man much used to lowering himself to be kind. But if he thought himself a healer, perhaps it was a part of the job. And who knew, maybe such gentleness was enough to effect a cure in some patients? That could be the source of his reputation.

  After a while, the child turned onto her back, although her eyes were still screwed up against the light. She was pale as death, with the slick sheen of fever on her skin. With his staff in one hand, the mage laid the other on her damp forehead and sat motionless, head bowed, eyes closed, for many minutes. At length he rose again.

  “Would you mind if my esteemed colleague
tries too? He is learning the skill, and the experience would be most beneficial.”

  The mother nodded her assent, and the younger mage, Kael, repeated the whole ritual, holding his stone sphere. The child lay unmoving the whole time. Nothing seemed to happen.

  The older mage began a long chant. I couldn’t even tell what language it was. Some words seemed familiar, but there was a lot that I couldn’t get at all. And the rhythm was queer, oddly staccato. Then he knelt down and went through the whole eyes closed business again.

  Getting to his feet, he smiled. “All done. She will improve now. Good day to you.”

  Well, that was dull, to be sure. No lights or smoke or dancing. No indication that anything had happened at all. I could see the astonishment on the mother’s face as the mages left the room.

  She rushed across to the child. “Lucinna? What happened?”

  A sliver of a voice. “It was warm. Inside.” A tiny cough. But no sign of the fever abating.

  I caught up with the mages in the entrance hall. “That’s it? Did it work?”

  The older one nodded solemnly. “I believe there was some improvement, yes. Magic is not just fireballs and lightning, Fen. It is far more subtle than that.”

  Of course it is, old man. Just keep paying me and I’ll keep going along with that. I caught a glimpse of the harbour-master’s face. He shrugged and rolled his eyes. He was as cynical as I was.

  The harbour-master shuffled us outside as quickly as was decent, and shut the door on us. We stood on the step, blinking in the soft-falling snow.

  At once I was aware of the change. The crowds were much thicker now, encircling us. All the usual market-day bustle had coalesced here, around the harbour-master’s house. Word of our presence had spread and the hostility was palpable.

  As we emerged, a low rumble emanated from them, like thunder. The mages took a few paces forward, and then stopped, uncertain. The way we’d come, the road up the hill, was filled with people. The guards moved to the front, eyes scanning the mob. Lenya rested one hand on her sword hilt.

  I tugged at the tall guard’s arm. “Up to the left. The Hold road is clear.”

  “Can we get home that way?”

  “There’s a path, yes.”

  He muttered some instructions to the others and slowly we made our way towards the white-paved road. We had to pass a group of bars, their patrons spilling onto the road, but beyond that the way was clear.

  At first it seemed we would be allowed to pass unmolested. The murmur rose to a roar. Amidst the tumult I heard, “Go back to Bennamore!” and “None of your trickery here!” But the crowd parted before us and closed in again behind. Step by cautious step we moved forward, although my thumping heart refused to quieten. The end of the buildings was in sight and beyond that the white road shone, empty and safe. I breathed a little easier.

  The older mage was serene, as calm as if this were just a pleasure stroll, but the young one, Kael, was jittery, muttering under his breath and turning his sphere device round and round in his hands. The guards were stony-faced, eyes flicking back and forth, cloaks pushed back so they could draw their weapons with ease. I skittered along in their wake, blinking the snow out of my eyes.

  I don’t know what happened, but something changed. Maybe one of the watching crowd took exception to something about us. Maybe they were simply spoiling for a fight. Whatever it was, one of them threw something and within seconds we were in the midst of a storm, as hurled gravel from the road rained down on us. The noise was deafening. A pebble caught my cheek, and I gasped at the stab of pain.

  The guards drew their swords in unison with a blood-chilling yell, and pushed the two mages behind them. The crowd fell back a little, jumping out of the way of their swords as they prowled round, then closing back in after they passed.

  In the confusion, I found myself outside the sweeping swords. Hands reached for me, pulling me into the crowd. Now the shouts and jeers were all around me, voices shrieked in my ear, elbows thumped me, I was pushed this way and that. I clutched my recorder’s box like a shield. I think I screamed.

  Then the tall guard loomed over me, his face a mask. He yelled at the mob, waving his sword, and they jumped aside. Grabbing my arm, he dragged me over to the two mages. He shouted something at me, but I couldn’t make it out. He turned away to the mob.

  Kael shook from head to foot, eyes almost popping out of his head. His father had hold of his arm, trying to calm him. He shook himself free and a great roar burst from him, louder and louder, until I thought my head would burst.

  His arms shot forward, one hand clutching the stone sphere, the other outstretched, fingers wiggling.

  “No!” shrieked his father.

  Too late. Great sheets of flame shot from Kael’s fingers, leaping thirty feet or more, passing barely above the heads of the crowd.

  Instantly, there was chaos. Screaming, smoke rising, arms frantically waving, the all-pervading smell of burning. The mob scrambled away from us, tripping over each other, men grabbing women, women pulling children, crying, yelling, running. They poured over the Hold road, blocking it, but for an instant the way up the hill was clear.

  “Run!” yelled the guards in unison.

  We ran.

  5: Punishment

  We pounded past the market square and up the hill towards the town, leaving the chaos of the harbour behind us. Lenya led the way, then the two mages, Kael puffing like a dragon, then me, panting to keep up. The tall guard brought up the rear, half facing down the hill, his sword sweeping from side to side as though itching for a fight.

  Beyond the market square, the streets were full of the usual bustle. People turned as we approached, then leapt out of our way, aghast, watching us pass with horrified eyes. I was horrified myself. Running through the town with naked swords was not something that happened often, not in Carrinshar.

  When we turned into the quieter streets we slowed to a walk, and I was able to catch my breath.

  The tree-like guard jogged up to me. “Would it have been any better by the Hold road?”

  “No,” I wheezed. “Longer. All the way… up cliff… then… narrow path… on cliff edge.”

  “I should have checked possible routes of retreat.”

  “Shouldn’t… have to.”

  “True.” He gave me the glimmer of a smile. “There are men following us some way back, ten at least, all in black. A problem?”

  I spun round to look. “Watchers. To safeguard the streets. Only carry clubs.”

  “No knives?”

  “No, but… Defenders… will come.”

  “Ah. Swords in the street. As you advised. What’s the penalty for that? Disembowelling? Imprisonment for life? Death by stoning?”

  His casual joking was infectious and made me smile. “Severe talking to.”

  He laughed outright then. In regular circumstances he was very trying, but I had to admit that when escaping an angry mob, his calm competence and relaxed good humour were wonderfully reassuring.

  The Red Hold was a welcome refuge. The guards closed and barred the outer gate in the wall, and put the servants on alert. Kael, sweating and almost gibbering, was whisked away out of sight by his father. I went through to the table room and poured myself some wine, hands trembling.

  The tall guard found me there some time later, slumped on the floor against the wall, wine glass in hand. “Are you all right?”

  “Fine. Why wouldn’t I be?” Did Bennamorians understand sarcasm? He gave no sign.

  “I’ve brought water and cloths,” he said. “Come, sit over here.” He stretched out an arm and pulled me to my feet, holding my hand for a few seconds longer than was strictly necessary. For a moment, I thought there was a tingling in his touch, but then he let go of me and I was sure I’d imagined it. Shock, I suppose. It makes people fanciful.

  “Does it hurt?” He dabbed at my cheek with a damp cloth, making me jump.

  I’d forgotten all about the stone that hit my cheek. I shook
my head.

  “It’s not deep. There, that should do it. Now, tell me seriously – how much trouble are we in?”

  Before I could answer, Lenya raced in. “About twenty Watchers outside the gates. Also, several men in green uniforms riding down the path from the Hold road. Armed.” She dashed off again.

  “Defenders,” I said.

  The tall guard grunted. “I’d better go and talk to them. Don’t wander off, will you? I may need your advice.”

  “I’ll stay here. Master Guard…”

  “Mal.” That slight smile again.

  “Thank you.”

  A broader smile, a quick nod, and he was gone.

  Within the hour, the cliff outside the wall was thick with Watchers and Defenders, and the Holder himself rode down in stately procession. One of the Defender Captains had informed us tersely of the impending honour, so we gathered in the table room to receive him, the mages, the guards and me. In the entrance hall, an array of senior servants stood in a silent line.

  Four Captains and a Commander filed into the room, immaculate in their well-fitted wool uniforms, with gleaming leather boots and belts, and silver buttons. They were fine Holding men, tall and blond, sharp-eyed and serious, their beards neatly trimmed. They made the Bennamore guards look like hay-makers. Over-sized hay-makers, in one case, for the tree-like guard was twice their size.

  The Holder strode in behind them, stern-faced. He was a slender man, bookish by nature, but a sensible ruler. The Bennamorians made arm-waving gestures, while I made the full bow of deference.

  “The Blessings of the Goddess on this house.” His voice was light, almost like a woman’s.

  “May the Goddess protect you, Very Honourable Carrinshar.” I was the only one in the room who knew the proper response.

  “You may be at ease.”

  I stood straight again. The Defenders placed themselves around the room, spaced so that they could watch everything that went on.

  The mages were unruffled by the protocol. The tall guard had one eyebrow raised, but the female guard gaped in astonishment. What did they expect? This was our ruler, the equivalent of their Drashon.