The Fire Mages

by Pauline M. Ross

  We made small talk for a while, the wife flirting with Drei and the envoy struggling to get a word out of me. Then the talk became more serious – the Regent had a son who might be of interest to Bellastria, so it was just the envoy and Drei talking. The envoy said something quite innocuous, to do with Bellastria’s great beauty, that her reputation had reached even to the ears of the Regent, some flattering nonsense, and there it was, a great blue flare around his head like the sun’s corona, so bright that I almost had to turn away. In an instant, it was gone.

  I reached for Drei’s arm, to give him the signal, but there was no need. His eyes were wide and he gave a little squeak. The blue was so vivid that he had seen it too. He hastily settled his features and made some bland response, but as soon as politeness allowed he made an excuse and turned away from the desert people.

  “Did you see that?” His voice was high with excitement. “Well, of course you did. But have you worked it out? What it means?”

  “You know? Tell me!”

  “He lied!” he said triumphantly. “He told a blatant lie. That’s what the blue is about. That’s why it’s only when people are talking. That’s why you see it so much in taprooms – everyone boasts in taprooms, and half of what they say isn’t true at all.”

  “Why does the intensity vary, then?”

  He frowned, thinking it over. “I’d guess the deepest blue is for the biggest lies. The paler version is for when you say – oh, you know, that gown really suits you, or you ride really well. Little lies so you don’t hurt people’s feelings. But a flash like that – a big, big lie, and such a sincere smile on his face too. What a lying bastard! Oh, this is going to be so useful!”

  14: The Imperial City

  We settled into a routine of sorts. Early each morning, Drei went off with the guards to exercise his horse or practise his sword skills. The nobles were expected to acquire some competence with weaponry and battle strategy, so that they could rush to the defence if Bennamore were ever attacked by savage hordes. Mostly it was just a hobby to pass the time and socialise among their peers, but Drei took it seriously.

  After morning board in the apartment, there would be meetings with Bellastria’s potential suitors, or members of the Drashon’s retinue, or distant kin, or those with an interest in the Kellon’s affairs. It was unbelievably dull, but Drei insisted I attend, and even questioned me afterwards to make sure I was paying attention. We developed a system of signals, so that I could let him know who was lying – scratching my nose, or a little cough, or fiddling with my scarves. After the noon board, we rested in the apartment for a while, reading mostly. Drei selected my books for me, the sort of standard texts any half-way decent education would have thrown my way, but which were far out of my mother’s price range. Then he tested me on what I’d learned.

  Sometimes we walked about the Keep, shopping, perhaps, or admiring the fine artwork in the public rooms, and sometimes we went into the town outside the Keep, with Drei explaining, describing, showing me the detail of Kingswell that I would probably have missed otherwise.

  Occasionally he would ask me things beyond his knowledge, about the scribery, the mages, how the spellpages worked and what happened in the renewal. I couldn’t reveal much about that because I was still bound to secrecy, but I told him as much as I could. I rather liked knowing something he didn’t.

  Some suns I practised riding under his supervision. Everyone at the village knew how to get about on one of the plough horses, but it was a different matter on a decent mount with a saddle.

  Drei was teaching me, extending my limited education, but I wasn’t really sure why. I would only be with him for seven moons, and after that... I didn’t like to think about the future. I’d worry about that when the time came.

  He was a strange man, but I liked him much better than Cal. Drei took good care of me, and I was inspired to improve myself under his training. He shared my bed amicably, and liked to sleep touching me, for the little trickle of magical energy I transmitted. Sometimes he dreamed, and moaned restlessly, half talking, but I could calm him just by placing a hand on his forehead. It was lovely to be so needed, even if we didn’t dare go any further than touching, in case he set fire to the bed.

  He was good looking, too. Where Cal was tall and pale and skinny, like a plant grown spindly in a dark corner, Drei was well-shaped, quite muscular, and he wore his clothes well. He never shouted at me or abused me, he never neglected me. Only once was he angry with me.

  He had begun to grow a little moustache, which was rather fashionable around the court.

  “What do you think?” He peered into the mirror. “It’s coming along, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it’s almost as impressive as the one on the Drashon’s drusse.”

  He spun round, hissing. “Are you making fun of me?”

  I was taken aback. “I – I was only teasing a little bit.”

  “Don’t you ever laugh at me!” His face was a boiling red, fists clenched.

  “Sorry. Sorry.” I backed away from his vehemence. “I didn’t mean anything. Really, I’m sorry.”

  He was so full of rage that for a moment I was almost frightened of him.

  “Please don’t be angry.” My voice came out as a squeak. “It’s just – that’s what friends do, tease each other a bit. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  He glowered at me. “Let’s get to the bookseller’s before they close.”

  It was a full hour before he calmed down and became his usual unruffled self. “Friends, eh?” he said, eyeing me with sudden amusement. “I suppose we are friends, aren’t we?”

  He was perfectly affable then, but I took care what I said to him after that.

  ~~~~~

  It was almost a whole moon before we gained permission to go to the Imperial Library. Drei was very impatient, but there was a complicated process to go through and the mages in charge would not be rushed. There were forms to fill in, then interviews, then another form, and finally an interview with two of the Drashon’s own mages. Always they asked the same questions. Why do you want access to the Imperial Library? What will you do there? How long will it take? Do you understand the risk?

  I was alarmed by the idea of risk. How dangerous could a library be anyway? But it was very old, perhaps it was dilapidated. Drei was unconcerned and answered their questions in his easy way. Obviously, we couldn’t tell them we wanted to find out about our abilities as natural mages, so he had convinced his father to commission some research into land use in earlier times. He had papers of authority from the Kellon, lists of likely areas worth investigating from various academics and his own persuasive charm.

  “You have Nessatan, I take it?” one of the mages said, lifting his head from the papers.

  “Of course,” Drei said.

  “And Breshtorian? Gratakkian? Old Pentish, New Pentish?”

  A silence. “A little Gratakkian, perhaps.”

  The mage rattled off a long stream of gibberish, eliciting only a blank expression. “So, no Gratakkian, then. I’ll assign you a translator for the other languages.”

  Drei nodded, but his mouth was set in a narrow line.

  “What about her?” said the other mage, with a casual nod in my direction. “Why does she need to go?”

  “She is my research assistant,” Drei said smoothly.

  “A drusse with a village name?”

  “She has some scribing experience...”

  “She understands the restrictions over there, I suppose? She must obey the mages’ orders, for her own safety. She knows about mages?”

  “She understands. Her previous drusse-holder was a mage.”

  “Oh, well... So long as you take responsibility for her.”

  Fuming, I listened to them talk about me as if I weren’t there. I was treated so deferentially everywhere else, it was irritating to be ignored altogether. And this talk of restrictions was unsettling. Part of me wanted to go there, naturally, for who would not? The Imperial Library
was talked of as the repository of all knowledge. But in another way I would have been quite happy if I’d been banned. Then I could stay away from whatever this unknown risk was. But Drei got his way. Somehow he always did.

  “You’re very eloquent,” I said, rather impressed, as we walked back to our apartment. “They didn’t want to agree, but you convinced them.”

  “I always get what I want,” he said. I threw him a quick glance, but he was serious. “I’m good with people.”

  “It seems like magic to me,” I said airily. He eyed me suspiciously, in case I was making fun of him again, but I’ll admit I was curious about what he could do. What either of us could do. Maybe charming people to get his own way was one of his abilities, just as I could see the blue light when someone lied, and he could see my aura. There was no knowing what we might be capable of.

  ~~~~~

  The sun came when we were to enter the Imperial City. Drei was so thrilled he could barely string a coherent sentence together, and was ready well before the appointed time. I was nervous, and dawdled enough to make him impatient. It was lucky I didn’t have to fasten any buttons myself, for my fingers were shaking.

  Drei led the way, walking fast through the streets, so that citizens ambling about on their morning business had to step smartly out of his way. I scuttled along behind like a well-trained dog.

  It struck me as odd that there was no clear view of the Imperial City from the Keep. Much smaller towns than this managed to align their principal buildings so that the gateway from one imposing edifice would be connected to another by way of spectacular gardens, or a series of sculptures or squares or arches, or at least a broad road. Here the Keep was surrounded by a jumble of mismatched tall buildings, as if intentionally to spoil any open vista. The very topmost floors of the Keep might have sight of those glowing walls, but from street level nothing could be seen.

  It was a shock, then, to turn a corner and find the vast golden cliff towering above us. I could feel the power emanating from it, as clear to me as the heat from an opened oven door. It pulsed low, like a vast cat purring just below the threshold of sound. It drew me forward irresistibly.

  “This way!” Drei called out and reluctantly I stopped, but I couldn’t withdraw my eyes from it. The buildings ended abruptly a few paces from the wall, leaving a moat of clear space all the way round. No construction marred that perfect surface, no brick or stone or timber rested against it. And no door or gate, either.

  “How do we get in?” I asked Drei.

  He grinned conspiratorially, and whispered, “Through the sewers. Follow me.”

  There was a casual market blocking the street, carts laden with candles or buckets or caged chickens scattered haphazardly, or craftsfolk selling scarves or patched boots from blankets on the ground. Drei threaded through the mess to a modest brick building, set unobtrusively between a taproom and a sun temple. There was a front door, but he ducked into a narrow alley and down some steps to a basement entrance. Dragging me behind him, for I was still mesmerised, he dived inside.

  “What do you mean, sewers?” I exploded, as soon as the door had clunked shut. “We have to crawl through tunnels full of filth?”

  “It’s not like that. Really, Kyra, you do fuss sometimes. They’re very big sewers, apparently. How much filth can there be from a deserted city?”

  We were standing in a scullery, disused judging by the thick layer of dirt coating every surface. Windows brown with debris let in a gloomy light. Cobwebbed brooms stood in a corner next to a rusty old bucket. There were bare shelves, and an open door leading into darkness. A wavering light appeared beyond the door – a lamp approaching us.

  “Come along, come along,” said a petulant voice. A face peered from behind the lamp, surrounded by a mass of near-white hair. “You could have come in by the front door, you know. Much easier.”

  “I was told this way,” Drei said, annoyance in his tone.

  The old man chuckled. “No point in secrecy when everyone in the town knows what we do. Follow me. This way. There you are – in here.”

  The room he led us to was quite different, furnished for comfort with a thick rug, several soft settees and a couple of pots steeping above the hot water pipes. A big window with clean glass let in plenty of light, but there were several lamps in niches around the walls as well.

  “There now,” he said, setting the lamp back on a shelf, “sit down here and I’ll explain the rules.”

  “I know the rules,” Drei said.

  “I expect you do, but we have to go over them again. Just to be safe, you understand.” He cast a glance at me as he spoke, and Drei nodded, understanding. Of course they have to explain it all again for the village girl, who’s too stupid for words.

  It crossed my mind that Drei knew far more about all this than me, and he hadn’t bothered to enlighten me. Book after book about the history of Bennamore, but nothing about the Imperial City. All I knew was tiny snippets I’d gleaned here and there. And that it was dangerous, somehow.

  Drei and I sat at one side of the table, and the white haired old man sat opposite us. His forehead bore a curious mage tattoo, all swirls and curves. He pulled a paper from his sleeve – our permit, presumably – and read it over, half mumbling the words to himself, murmuring “Yes, yes” at intervals. Once he looked up, staring at me in distaste.

  “Well, that seems to be in order,” he said at last, rolling the paper up again and glaring at me. “Very well. I will show you the way this time, but after that you can come and go as you please. Now. Rules. You must follow the prescribed route precisely, no deviation whatsoever. Do not dilly-dilly. Do not touch anything. Do not take any materials in or out. Once in the library, you will be safe. Do not disturb the scholars. Do not leave the library. Do not wander the streets. Do not linger overnight. Return by the exact same route. Clear?”

  I coughed politely. “May I ask—? What exactly happens if... we deviate?”

  He tossed the paper onto the table, and sighed heavily. “Bad things happen. What more do you need to know? Do as you are told – precisely as you are told – and it is very likely that you will survive. Deviate and we cannot be liable for the consequences.”

  “I’m not going to hold you liable,” I said mildly. “I just want to know what the consequences are. Precisely.”

  He exhaled noisily, then forcibly calmed himself. “Very well, very well. I suppose you have a right to know. People disappear. Just vanish. Never seen again. Ever. We have no idea what becomes of them, they are just – gone. Is that precise enough for you?”

  I said, “Yes, thank you, Lord Mage,” in my most polite voice. He looked at me suspiciously, and I smiled back at him.

  I expect he thought I was mad, but actually I was relieved. Vanishing was not so bad. Demons of the dark – that would worry me. Knives, poisons, bottomless pits, deep water – all these things would mean suffering, followed by a slow, painful death, and I was terrified of that. I’ve always been a coward. Maybe it’s because I’ve never had to suffer much pain or illness, so the threat of it seems far worse, somehow. But vanishing, one minute there and the next – poof! Gone. That didn’t scare me.

  It’s lucky I’ve never had much imagination, I suppose.

  The mage rose from the table, and picked up the lamp again. We followed him out of a different door, along a tiled corridor, the mage’s shoes clacking, and then down some tightly wound wooden stairs. At the bottom, through a rotting wooden door, was a brick-lined cellar, dank and cool. Somewhere water dripped. At the far end we came to another lamp, a closed metal door and a figure lounging against the wall beside it, hooded and cloaked.

  “This is Marras, your translator,” the mage said, using some kind of magical token to open the door. “Come along now, we must stay together.”

  He rushed on through the doorway into the darkness beyond. The figure detached from the wall, and slid back the hood, revealing a mass of red-gold hair swept up into a knot, with a cheerful face underne
ath.

  “Pleased to meet y’both,” she said, grinning and sketching an ironic bow. Turning with a swirl of her cloak, she picked up the second lamp and ushered us after the mage.

  Through the arch was a dark, fetid tunnel, carved roughly through reddish rock. The lamps flickered and shifted, casting jittering shadows in front and behind. We had barely gone thirty paces when the mage stopped, set his lamp down on a niche and blew it out. A faint light emanated from a hole in the floor.