Han guessed Miphis wouldn’t be reaching for his amulet, since he had both hands busy.
Dancer had their passes. Han picked up their lantern and carried it into the hallway. Instead of walking out the door, they climbed the wide staircase to the third floor and ducked into a side room. Han shuttered the lantern while Dancer threaded a rope through the carry handle. Unlatching the window shutters with his good hand, Han threw them open, feeling the chill night air in his face.
Sneaking in and out of places was a skill that Han had mastered at a young age. All his life, people had been trying to keep him inside places he didn’t want to be, or out of places he needed to get into.
Still, it wasn’t easy being a one-armed cracksman. He was glad Dancer was along.
Boosting himself onto the wide sill, Han poked his legs through and dropped the few feet onto the roof of the galleried walkway. When he landed, a tile broke loose and dropped to the stone walk below, shattering into a thousand pieces and sounding loud as a scream in the dead of night. He froze, but no one came running.
You’re out of practice, he thought. And his bound arm affected his balance.
Dancer followed with the darkened lantern. They light-footed it along the gallery roof, a story above any provost guard or nosy proficient patrolling down below. The roofed walkways made a network of secret pathways that could take him unseen to most anywhere he wanted to go.
No one else seemed to be out past curfew, save two cloaked sweethearts who had stowed themselves in the corner where the gallery met Mystwerk Hall. They folded into one another, holding hands and whispering.
Han felt a pang of regret, thinking of Bird. He wondered if she ever thought of him. No. She’d made it plain enough she never wanted to see him again.
The lovers didn’t notice Han and Dancer passing over their heads like undead spirits.
They had to crab sideways along the wall to where a window opened into Mystwerk Hall. Han fished his blade from under his cloak and slid it between the shutters, tipping up the latch inside. He pulled the shutters toward him and peered into an empty classroom. Resting his rump on the stone sill, he turned and slid through, dropping feetfirst to the floor on the other side. Dancer handed down the lantern, then followed.
This is likely not what Leontus meant when he told me to take it easy, Han thought, trying to ignore the nagging ache in his arm and shoulder.
Carefully uncovering one pane of the lantern, Dancer peeked out of the door of the classroom. He stood and listened for a moment, head cocked, then motioned Han into the corridor.
They followed the corridor until they found a staircase up. Han liked stone staircases—they never creaked. They climbed past the proficient and master floors, circling wide around lighted offices and laboratories.
The belfry door was locked, but easily managed with a narrow iron slider that Han had brought along. This door led to an even narrower staircase—wooden this time. It twisted upward, the walls brushing Han’s elbows on either side.
Rats skittered up the stairs ahead of them, sliding into hidden crevices to either side. At the top of the stairs an unlocked door lead into the bell chamber.
Unshuttering the lantern, Dancer set it in the corner, and they looked around. Bell pulls dangled like ghost tails from the four huge bells that provided the cadence of Han’s life these days. A ladder leaned against one wall, allowing access to the bell mechanism.
Han circled the room, noting every detail so he could return from Aediion. He settled into the corner and retrieved the copy of Kinley from his carry bag.
Dancer leaned back against the wall a short distance away. Pulling out a sketchbook, he rested it on his lap. “When should I begin to worry?” he asked.
“Give me half an hour,” Han said.
“That’s too long,” Dancer objected. “You don’t know how much power you’ve been able to store up. Try a shorter time at first.”
“I can be dead in five minutes,” Han said. “I either do this or I don’t. I got a lot to learn and not much time.”
Still, he was nervous, sweating, despite the chill wind that leaked through the walls of the belfry. He took deep breaths, trying to settle into a calm place.
This time, Gryphon wouldn’t be available to haul him back if he stayed too long. Hopefully Dancer could stand in if need be.
Watch your back, Bayar had said. I know where you live and I’ve got plenty of time.
Han’s resolve hardened. He settled Kinley onto his lap and thumbed through to the chapter on Aediion. Looking around the room, he stowed away images to anchor him there. Then took hold of his amulet and spoke the spell that opened the portal.
Again, the rush of darkness. When the light returned, Han was standing on the main floor of the belfry. Moonlight poured through the arched windows, inscribing bright patterns on the wooden floor and illuminating the dust that hung in the air. The dust coalesced, took shape, and organized itself into Crow. As if he’d been waiting eagerly for him.
“Thank the Maker,” Crow said, looking vastly relieved. “I was beginning to think something had happened to you. I didn’t know whether to keep coming or…”
“I’ll hear you out,” Han broke in. “I’m not making any promises.”
Crow waved away Han’s words. “I’ve no doubt that once you see the potential for…” He stopped abruptly, eyes narrowed. “What is that you’re wearing?”
Han looked down at himself. He was clad in clan leggings and shirt, bearing no evidence of his recent injuries. Was that how he saw himself?
“Try this,” the blueblood said. Han’s clothes reorganized themselves, taking on color and trimmings until he stood dressed in a deep navy blue velvet coat and a snowy linen shirt with lacy cuffs that draped over his hands, narrow black trowsers with a silver-buckled belt, and black leather boots. The clothes were finer than any Han had ever owned.
Crow grinned. “Much better. And, to finish…” He pointed.
Han looked at his hands, now weighed down with rings, the stones shifting from rubies to emeralds to diamonds. If they were real, they’d be worth a fortune.
“Hey!” Han said, shaking his hands as if he could fling off the baubles. “Get those off or I’m gone.” And just like that, the jewelry evaporated and his clothes shifted to a plain gray coat and black breeches. The clothes still felt different, though, made of finer, softer fabrics and cut closer to his body.
“There, now,” Crow said, sighing and rolling his eyes. “You look like a flatland cleric. Is that what you want?”
“What I want is for you to leave my clothes alone,” Han said through gritted teeth. “I an’t here to play dress-up.”
“You should dress like who you aspire to be,” Crow said. “It’s all part of the game.” Crow extended his arms in front of himself, admiring his lace sleeves and the many rings on his fingers, like a ragpicker trying on the dress-up clothes bluebloods threw away. The only plain thing about him was his amulet, a black crow carved out of onyx, with diamonds for eyes.
“I told you. I an’t a fancy, and don’t want to be,” Han said, already sorry he’d come. He didn’t like that Crow could change their surroundings at will. Putting his back to the wall, he conjured up a blade and made sure that his amulet was exposed and ready for use.
He looked up to find Crow stifling laughter at his efforts. “Why not a sword, instead?”
Han clutched a massive sword in his fist. Its blade extended nearly to the ceiling, running with blue flames.
Crow grinned. “Would you like…some armor as well?”
Instantly, Han was weighed down by a heavy gold breastplate, his arms enclosed in chain-mail gauntlets.
“Perhaps that’s a bit overdone,” Crow said. The sword and armor went as quickly as they came.
Han glared at Crow. He’d not come here to be toyed with.
Maybe I should step out and close the portal right now, he thought. He took hold of his amulet. It glowed through his fingers like a fallen star.
>
“Please forgive me,” Crow said, taking a step forward and raising both hands. “Here’s my point—your blade’s no good here. It’s an illusion. I’m not saying that illusions cannot be extraordinarily powerful. But the only way to hurt someone in Aediion is through the direct use of magic.”
That’s what you say, Han thought. It all looks rum convincing to me.
“Are you at least willing to tell me your name now?” Crow said.
“My name’s Alister,” Han said. He waited for Crow to reciprocate with an actual name, but he didn’t. He seemed distracted, his attention caught by every little sight and sound—the clatter of horse hooves over the cobblestones outside, the flames on the hearth, the pattern on his velvet sleeves. He was like a small child, examining everything as if it were fresh and new and fascinating.
A peculiar cove, all the way around. This was who he was partnering with?
“Where do you come from?” Han said. “You sound like a northerner, but I an’t seen you around campus.”
“Doesn’t it stand to reason that I would assume a different guise in Aediion if I did not wish you to recognize me in the real world?” Crow said. “There is always the chance that I’ve misjudged you, that you will betray me if you know who I really am.”
Which meant he could be anyone.
Han closed his hand more tightly around his amulet. Maybe this is what he’s really after, Han thought. My amulet. Crow was just stringing him along until he had the chance to take it. Well, Han wouldn’t lie down like an easy mark.
As if Crow had read Han’s thoughts, Crow’s amulet changed so it was identical to Han’s. “There, you see? I am not lusting after your amulet. I have my own,” he said.
In the dream world, it was easy to go all mumble-minded about what was real and what wasn’t.
“Look,” Han said. “You said you could teach me magic.”
“I can,” Crow said. “What I can teach you will make you the most powerful charmcaster in the Seven Realms.” He walked to the arched window and gazed out, then turned and rested the heels of his hands on the sill. “But there’s a price,” he said.
Ha, Han thought. Here’s where the Breaker demands my soul in payment. Well, he’d dealt with connivers before. He knew when to walk away from a bad deal.
“What’s your price?” Han asked, feigning indifference.
“I will not invest my time in someone who will never make full use of the gift of knowledge I offer,” Crow said. “If we are to be allies, I shall expect improvement in every aspect of your life—your speech, your manners, your…attire.” He flicked his hand toward Han, taking in his clothing.
Han stared at him, taken by surprise. “You want me to turn into a bleeding blueblood? That’s your price?”
Crow studied his hands, twisting the elaborate ring on his right forefinger. “Our time in Aediion is limited as is. I don’t want to spend it showing you how to navigate in society. Surely you can find someone else to teach you those skills.”
“Look,” Han said, “I don’t got time to learn the things I need to learn, let alone studying pretty speech and manners.”
Crow stepped close to Han, leaning in so they were nearly nose to nose. “Don’t underestimate the Bayars. You have been lucky so far, but it’s only because they’ve underestimated you. They will destroy you if you don’t learn to meet them at their level. It’s more than spellcasting. It’s more than a powerful amulet. It’s politics, and the law, and winning powerful people to your side. That requires you to be articulate, at least.”
“Why do you care if they destroy me?” Han said. “It’s no skin off you if I lose.”
“Let’s just say it’s a grudge match,” Crow said, turning to look out of the tower windows. “I hate Aerie House,” he said softly. “They destroyed everything I care about.”
We have something in common, then, Han thought. If he’s telling the truth.
Still, the blueblood was right, now he thought on it. Han had to learn to fight on their turf. If he didn’t, he would go down quick. He recalled the humiliating experience of the dean’s dinner. It might be worth his time to avoid a repeat performance.
“All right,” Han said. “I’ll look for a teacher. But if you’re going to help me, it can’t wait until I learn to talk pretty. The Bayars have come after me twice now. Third time’s the charm.”
Crow stiffened, his blue eyes brilliant against his pallor. “They’ve come after you? What do you mean?”
“They’ve been trying to kill me and take the amulet. I need to put a stop to it.”
Crow shook his head, a quick, dismissive movement. “No. I will not allow this,” he said, pounding his fist into his other hand. “I’ve finally found someone I believe I can work with, and I won’t let them…” He trailed off, as if belatedly recalling that Han was there. “We will stop them,” he said, his face hard and resolute. “I’ll show you a charm that will destroy them and never leave a trace to connect it with you.”
“No,” Han said, surprised that Crow would take his possible murder so hard. “That an’t what I want. I do that, I’ll be climbing the deadly nevergreen in no time.”
“You’ll what?” Crow stared at him.
“They’ll send me back home for hanging,” Han said. “Anyway, killing an’t all that impressive. Any fool can kill you if they want to make a name and don’t care what it costs. That’s why even smart streetlords go down, sooner or later.”
Han slid back his sleeves, finding that he liked the feel of the soft wool. “Killing is one way to handle a rival, but it also shows respect. It shows he’s important enough to have a chat with. A better way is to humble him. Make him look a fool. Show him that the price for coming after you is his reputation.”
Crow blinked at Han, looking as astonished as if one of the bricks in the wall had gotten up and given a pretty speech.
“I could hush that lot if I wanted to. I don’t need your help for that,” Han went on. “That’s one thing I’m good at. But I don’t want to. I just need to make them sorry they came after me, so they don’t try it again. So I can get on with my business.”
Crow furrowed his brow as if surprised that Han had plans of his own. “Your business? Which is?”
“My business,” Han repeated. He could keep secrets as well as Crow. “I want to use magic to scare off the Bayars. I want something nobody’s seen before, so I won’t be suspected nor expelled.”
“Hmmm,” Crow said, rubbing his chin and regarding Han with grudging respect.
“Don’t think too long, all right? I got to do something before they come after me again. Meantime, I need to keep them out of my room. I want something that won’t kill anybody, but will keep them out,” he repeated for emphasis. “Got anything like that?”
“Of course,” Crow said, rolling his eyes. “To clarify: Do you want to exclude specific people? Or everyone but you?”
“Specific people. I also need to know how to get through any protective charms they’ve laid down.”
Crow extended his hand, and lines of flaming spellwork appeared on the stone wall of the tower. “That’s the incantation,” he said. “You need to speak it at each entrance to your room—doors and windows. Anchor it to your enemies with this line, using their hair, blood, or flesh.” More spellwork appeared. “Not only will this keep them out, but it will mark them so you can tell if they’ve tried to cross your threshold.”
“Mark them? How?” Han asked suspiciously.
Crow smiled crookedly. “Boils and pustules,” he said. “Lots. Now, here’s how to disable charms of protection they may have laid. It’s very versatile, and you don’t need to know what charms they used.” He reviewed more spellwork.
Han studied it over until he was sure he had it down. But the hard knot of suspicion in his stomach wouldn’t go away.
“I’m taking a big chance here,” he said. “If I snabble their rooms, and your charm doesn’t work, I’ll be in a world of trouble.” He waved his hand. “S
how me something. I want to see you do magic in the real world.”
Crow thought for a moment, then said, “Fair enough. But we’ll have to leave Aediion in order to do that.” He walked straight toward Han. Han backed away, but he came up against the wall. The other wizard kept coming until he seemed to slide into Han, chilling his bones like an icy wind out of the Spirits.
“Now speak the charm to close the portal,” Crow said inside his head.
Han took hold of his amulet and spoke the charm.
Again, the passageway through the darkness.
Dancer looked up, startled, as Han opened his eyes. The slant of the light told Han he was back in Mystwerk Tower—the real one. He wore his regular clothes, the sling supporting his right arm. His collarbone throbbed, suddenly painful.
Dancer scrambled to his feet. “Hunts Alone! What happened? Why did you come back so soon?”
“This requires very little power, which is all you have,” Crow whispered in Han’s ear. “Use the same anchor charm with this one, too.”
Han’s fingers described a charm, and conjure words spilled out of his mouth as Crow spoke through him.
For a moment it seemed that nothing had happened. Then Han heard a rush of sound, thousands of tiny movements all around him. The walls of the belfry seemed to come alive, with bright eyes and whiskered faces and rodents’ teeth.
Rats and mice poured from every crevice and crack, swarming out onto the floor and rolling toward him like a furry gray sea capped with flickering wormlike tails.
Han heard a flapping sound overhead, and clouds of bats dropped from the highest reaches of the belfry, soaring down toward him, opening triangular mouths, exposing needle-sharp teeth.
“Aaah!” Reflexively, Han threw up his left arm to protect his head and face. Leathery skin brushed over him. Bats smacked into him and dropped to the floor, straightening their wings, looking bewildered.
Dancer seized hold of the lantern and swung it in a wide arc, forcing the rodents back. Han joined him in his corner, and they put their backs to the walls.
Rats and mice slipped past Dancer’s lantern, swarming over Han’s feet, sinking their razor-sharp teeth into his ankles. The magic was real. The magic had crossed over. And it was anchored to him.
The Seven Realms- The Complete Series Page 68
