“True,” Martennan said. “But much of blood magic’s power lies in its ability to harness the forces of the confluence. Without its aid in his spellcasting, and with a group of us working together to counter him, we have every chance of defending against Ruslan.”
“How many mages are you bringing on this little mission?” I asked.
“Not so many from Tamanath,” Martennan said. “Only myself, my two lieutenants—Lenarimanas and Talmaddis, you know them both—and an arcanist. But once in Ninavel, we’ll have assistance in spellwork from the mages already stationed at the embassy.”
“I’ve never understood how so many of you can mesh minds so closely.” A hint of wistfulness lurked in Kiran’s tone.
Martennan didn’t miss it. “If we succeed in Ninavel, I hope to sway the Council to ease their restrictions on you. The moment they do, I’ll be happy to teach you our style of magic.”
Kiran looked like a man dying of thirst who’d been offered a waterskin. My hands twitched with the urge to strangle Martennan. It’d be a bright day in Shaikar’s hells before the Council decided to trust a former blood mage, if the way they treated him now was anything to go by. But arguing that point wouldn’t help anything.
Kiran’s spine straightened, and stubborn determination replaced the yearning. “Even if you can counter Ruslan, my condition stands: either remove my binding, or I won’t go.”
I raised a silent cheer for him, even as I bit back the words that wanted to burst free: I’ll go even if Kiran doesn’t. Time enough to try again for a solo deal with Martennan if the Council refused to take their spell off Kiran.
Martennan tapped his fingers on the chair back, his black eyes gone as opaque as onyx. At last he said, “I fear the Council would refuse any request to release your binding before we leave Alathia, but I may be able to persuade them to authorize our embassy in Ninavel to perform the ritual.”
I grunted in disgust. “So you’d leave Kiran helpless for weeks while we cross the Whitefires? Come on, Martennan. Ruslan’s not going to wait for us to reach Ninavel before he casts.”
“We won’t be crossing the Whitefires,” Martennan said. “The situation is too urgent to waste weeks traveling through the mountains.”
I stared. “Then, how…?”
“You intend to cast a translocation spell? For a distance of that magnitude?” Kiran was goggling at Martennan like that was as crazy as us growing wings and flying to Ninavel.
“Yes.” Martennan didn’t so much as blink.
“But…the power required would be incredible! And the border wards! How could your spell penetrate a barrier so strong—” Shock flared in Kiran’s eyes, his head rocking back. “The wards…you’re going to release them, and draw on their source to cast the translocation spell?”
“You’ll understand if I can’t discuss the particulars of our spellcasting.” The sudden impassivity of Martennan’s face was an answer in itself. My own jaw dropped.
“Release the wards?” I demanded. “Did the entire Council eat staggerweed by mistake? How is that a good idea?”
Kiran added, “Even if you intend to rebuild the wards immediately after casting your spell, you must realize a few moments of opportunity are all Ruslan needs to destroy your defenses beyond repair. How do you know this isn’t what he’s been waiting for all along?”
Martennan said, “Whatever the risks involved in our methods, be assured they’ve been carefully weighed, and steps taken to ensure Alathia’s safety.”
I chewed my lip. If the border was unwarded for only a few moments, then yeah, I could think of a host of ways the Alathians could use their people in Ninavel to make sure Ruslan was too busy to spellcast at a specific time. What worried me more were the implications of the ultra-cautious Council taking such a drastic step merely to save a few weeks’ travel time.
“How close are your wards to failing?” If the Council was truly desperate, Kiran and I might have a hell of a lot more leverage than I’d thought.
The ironic glint in Martennan’s eyes said he knew perfectly well why I’d asked. “The situation is not dire. Merely urgent. But the Council would prefer I complete my investigation in Ninavel within weeks, not months.”
He turned to Kiran. “If the Council should agree your binding may be removed in Ninavel, would that satisfy you? Once in the city, we’d need a little time to prepare the casting, but no more than a day. I promise you, you’d be safe until then. And afterward, for that matter, though I can understand your desire to mount your own defenses.”
Kiran stood silent, his head bowed. When he spoke, his voice was so low I could barely hear him. “If the Council agrees, and you show me their authorization and give me your personal word you’ll remove the binding in Ninavel—then yes, I’ll go. But Marten, if you lie to me in this…” His voice cracked and he stopped, his hands fisting at his sides.
“Kiran.” Martennan’s voice was soft. “I have never lied to you.”
“There’s always a first time,” I snapped. Yeah, men like Martennan didn’t lie. They didn’t need to. Play on a mark’s emotions, earn his trust, and he’ll fill in any omissions with his own assumptions and walk placid as a lamb to his own funeral. “Tell me, Martennan, if you want Kiran to go so badly, why the song and dance? You and I both know the Council could’ve ordered him there. Told him either he goes, or they hand him straight over to Ruslan.”
From Kiran’s dark glance at me, he wished I hadn’t suggested that idea. But if he thought Martennan hadn’t considered it, he wasn’t nearly as wary of the man as he should be. Personally, I suspected Martennan didn’t have the Council’s full support in this little plan to take along his own personal blood mage. But I wanted to hear what Martennan would say in answer.
Martennan spoke with cool confidence. “This investigation is my responsibility, and as such, I choose what methods to use, not the Council. Our task in Ninavel will be challenging—and yes, dangerous, I don’t deny it. I want people at my side whose efforts are wholehearted, not grudgingly given under duress.”
Kiran looked reassured. I wasn’t. Martennan certainly had an interesting definition of duress. Despite my distrust, I’d play his game so long as I thought we had the slightest chance of survival. Crazy as this venture was, no question it was my best hope for Melly’s freedom, and my own.
* * *
I spidered sideways along the garden wall, my fingers cramping from clinging to tiny imperfections on the stone. Beneath me lurked the thorny sea of rosebushes, and above, the wards that prevented me from touching the wall’s lip. Between roses and wards, the traverse was as challenging as an overhanging ascent up chossy sandstone. My forearms burned by the time I reached the wall’s end, and I nearly impaled myself on a set of thorns as long as my thumb when I jumped down to the flagstone path.
Lena sat on one of the benches beside the fountain, the vivid red of the cinnabar wood contrasting with the muted fabric of her uniform. After Martennan had left, she’d agreed readily enough when I asked if I might traverse the wall for a bit of exercise, though she’d watched me keen as a banehawk the whole while.
I dodged around flowerbeds to cross to her bench. The sun had set only moments ago, and the thin clouds streaking the sky glowed in a brilliant display of carmine and orange. Fireflies sparked green in the shadows, and the splashing of the fountain’s water mixed with a growing chorus of nightbugs in the trees. Beyond Lena, the door to the house stood open, a warm golden glow from the oil lanterns spilling out onto the lawn.
“Where’s Kiran?” I asked. Last I’d seen, he’d been pacing between the redbud trees behind the fountain, his shoulders up around his ears, but he wasn’t there now. If he’d gone inside, I thought it odd Lena hadn’t followed. I’d never seen a mage on guard duty let him get more than a room away.
“When Talmaddis came out to relieve me, Kiran said he was tired and went in. I thought I’d stay and enjoy the sunset.” Her smile involved her eyes more than her mouth. “I also enjoyed the
climbing demonstration. You make it look so easy.”
“Ha. That’s because you don’t have anything hard, here.” I flexed my hands backward, one after the other. Coal hauling had helped me regain the strength in my back and biceps, but the small muscles of my wrists and forearms were sorely out of shape after two months without serious climbing. I had a feeling I’d need all my skills in Ninavel.
“And Ninavel does.”
“Ninavel has buildings more than three stories tall. And towers.” Not that I’d ever climbed one of the slender, soaring spires that formed Ninavel’s highest districts, though I’d given them more than a few longing looks. But the high towers were the province of mages, and every streetsider in Ninavel knew better than to piss off a mage.
Hard to believe I’d soon see Ninavel’s familiar skyline again. Martennan had said the Watch would have the translocation spell ready by tomorrow night. Kiran had tried to hide his dismay, but it was clear he felt that was horribly soon.
For me, the trip couldn’t come soon enough. I prayed the Council didn’t balk at releasing Kiran’s binding. The more I thought on Kiran’s plan for Melly, the more badly I wanted the chance to try it. Besides, anybody could see Kiran wanted his magic back as bad as a Tainter just past their Change.
If only getting the Taint back was so easy. I arched over in a stretch and asked Lena, casual as I could, “Hey, whatever happened to that Taint charm of Simon’s, the one that fucked me up so bad?”
Her face had grown indistinct in the twilight, and I couldn’t tell if the question surprised her. She said, “The charm was destroyed on the Council’s orders not long after Kiran’s trial, along with all the other charms of Simon’s that were determined to have deadly effects.”
Her answer hit me like a crossbow bolt to the gut. Damn it, damn it…I turned aside to stare at the shadowed bulk of the fountain, struggling to weather a black wave of loss. Stupid, to think I could ever have the Taint back. To have that dead void in my mind alive again, to feel whole, even if only for a few moments at a time…that was all I could have dared to wear the charm lest it rip my insides to shreds again, but to have even that chance vanish…
“I’m surprised Kiran didn’t tell you,” Lena said. “He asked about Simon’s other charms some weeks ago. He was…quite upset, to hear the answer. It’s the only time I’ve ever seen him shout at Marten. He said we should have waited to destroy them; that studying them might have given him more insight into Simon’s methods of design, and helped him to decipher the border charm faster. I believed that at the time, but now…he wanted that charm for your sake, didn’t he?”
Damn. She might not have Martennan’s skill at manipulation, but clearly she shared his cleverness. I shrugged. “Not likely. Kiran said I’d be a fool to even touch the charm again.” But I had to wonder. Maybe he’d thought he could find a way to make it safe to use—I stomped that thought flat, as pain lanced my heart. The charm was gone. No point in mooning over it.
“He was right. You couldn’t possibly use that charm safely without an entire group of mages casting continuously to heal you.” Lena shifted forward on the bench. “You miss the Taint so badly, then? Even though it meant you lived in slavery as a child?”
“Slavery?” I laughed. “Is that what Martennan told you?”
“Isn’t it true that you were sold to a criminal as a child, and forced to work for him?”
I stopped laughing. Yeah, she had the basic facts right. I’d been sold to Red Dal when I was too young to remember it, and I’d used my powerful Taint to steal for him for years. Until puberty hit, my Taint vanished, and he sold me off to someone far worse. I gritted my teeth, glad that the growing darkness obscured my face. I had no intention of explaining to Lena that my years as a Taint thief hadn’t felt like slavery at all.
“So? Don’t sit there and tell me how different things are in Alathia. Kiran told me how mageborn kids here get taken from their parents and dragged off to live in some soldiers’ barracks as soon as they’re old enough to talk. It sure didn’t sound to me like there was a choice involved.”
“That’s different.” Lena’s voice gained an edge to match mine. “Mages are vital to Alathia’s security, and with mage talent so rare, the Council can’t afford not to have every talented child inducted into the service.”
“A strong dose of the Taint is rare, too,” I said. “But in Ninavel, the parents have a choice.” True, the choice might be between their entire family dying of thirst versus selling a strongly Tainted kid to a handler for a lifetime of water rations, but no need to get bogged down in details. I frowned as something occurred to me.
“How does Martennan know that I—”
A harsh, ragged shriek drowned out my words. I leaped to my feet and sprinted for the house, not waiting for Lena. I knew Kiran’s voice when I heard it, though I’d only heard him scream that way once before.
Chapter Five
(Kiran)
Blood everywhere, pooled within darkened channel lines and clotted on the workroom’s anchor stone, the gaping wounds in Alisa’s limp, manacled body black with it. Kiran couldn’t move, his body frozen as Alisa’s head turned toward him with a terrible, wet sound, dark fluid oozing from the flayed muscles of her neck. Her remaining amber eye fixed on him.
“You did this,” she whispered, the words an airless croak. “You, and no other.”
No, Kiran tried to say, though no sound came. Ruslan had been the one who savaged Alisa’s flesh as Kiran battered against the magic holding him helpless. Yet when Kiran reached for Alisa, in his hand was a silver knife, the blade streaked with gore. A scream hung trapped in Kiran’s chest as Ruslan spoke soft as a lover in his ear, “Did I not tell you, akhelysh? Our natures are the same.”
A hand gripped Kiran’s arm. He flung himself blindly away. “No, don’t—!”
He choked and stopped. The room before him held bookshelves gleaming in the mellow light of oil lamps rather than bloodied stone in magelight. And instead of Alisa’s mutilated body, he faced Lieutenant Talmaddis, whose hand was still outstretched, his mouth open in shock.
“I told you touching him was a bad idea,” Dev said from the open door of the study. Behind him stood Lena, her brows angled in concern.
“My apologies.” Talmaddis bent to Kiran in a little half-bow. “I only meant to wake you. You seemed, ah…distressed.”
Kiran winced. The scream he hadn’t been able to voice in the dream must have escaped his throat after all. His head swam. The colors in the room seemed too garish, the whole scene unreal, as if any moment it would fray into the bloody twilight of Ruslan’s workroom. He bent to brace his hands on his knees.
“You okay?” Dev dodged around Talmaddis to offer a steadying arm.
“I…” Kiran struggled to calm his breathing. His thoughts felt as tattered and insubstantial as mist. “Yes. Only a nightmare. I’m sorry for…for alarming you.” He let Dev steer him to one of the chairs before the fireplace. The other had been knocked over, presumably a casualty of his panic upon waking. The shattered pieces of a mug lay about the chair, the dregs of his tea puddled on the polished wood of the floor. Embarassment heated Kiran’s face as he sat.
Lena said, “I’ll get some water for you, Kiran. Talmaddis, perhaps you could get a towel or two; I think we can clean the floor without the housekeeper’s assistance.”
As the door shut behind them, Kiran blessed Lena’s tact. She and Talmaddis wouldn’t go far, but a little privacy was better than none. Almost, he wished Dev had gone with them. He shut his eyes and took slow, even breaths. Gradually, his stomach settled, the lingering sense of unreality fading.
Dev righted the toppled chair and leaned against one of the arms. “That must’ve been one hell of a nightmare. You didn’t make half so much noise in the Whitefires.”
Kiran strove for a light tone. “I have to say I’m not much impressed with the housekeeper’s calming tea.” He’d hoped the tea combined with reading the most boring treatise he could fin
d might ease his nerves before sleep. He should have known nothing would suffice for that.
“Calming tea?” Dev bent to touch a finger to the liquid on the floor. He sniffed his finger, then tasted it. His brows shot up. “There’s vallis root in this.”
“That’s not meant to calm?” Kiran had no idea what vallis root might be.
Dev spat into the fireplace. “Oh, it calms all right. For most people. For some, it works the opposite, brings on nightmares. One time out on a convoy trip we had a stonemason who drank some and near brought an avalanche on our heads with all his yelling afterward.” He prodded the remains of the cup with a foot. “Who made the tea for you?”
“The housekeeper,” Kiran said. “I asked if she had any blackmallow tea like I used to drink in Ninavel. When she said no, Talmaddis suggested I try one of her calming teas instead.”
“Did he.” Dev’s eyes narrowed.
“You think…what? He wanted to induce a nightmare? What would it profit him?” Kiran could imagine Stevannes stooping to that kind of petty malice, but not Talmaddis. Kiran hadn’t seen as much of him as Lena, but in their few interactions Talmaddis had treated him with a measured friendliness that lacked any hint of disgust or disdain. “In any case, it’s not like I need the aid of herbs to suffer nightmares.”
“True.” Dev sighed. “You know, if the thought of going to Ninavel makes you wake up screaming like you’re being gutted, maybe we should rethink this.”
Kiran looked away. “It’s not that.”
Dev made an exasperated noise. “Go on, tell me you weren’t dreaming about Ruslan.”
“I wasn’t. That is…not entirely.” Kiran stared at the slate lip of the fireplace and took a deep breath. “Tomorrow is…was…Alisa’s Naming day.”
“Alisa.” Dev’s voice had turned careful.
“You heard…in Simon’s cave, when Ruslan came…” He’d never spoken of Alisa to Dev, but Dev had been hiding in the wreckage left by the cataclysmic backlash of Simon’s disrupted spell. Dev must have heard what he and Ruslan said to each other in the aftermath.
The Tainted City Page 7
