The Stone Mage & the Sea (Books of the Change Book 1)

by Sean Williams

  “But what is this void?”

  “Shilly, I don’t know, and I doubt anyone does. It just is.” He looked very tired. “If you have no further questions, I think we should return to the matter at hand. Sproule is going to be looking for Sal much more closely than he’s looked before, along with the Alcaide and the Syndic. Now--”

  He stopped as Sal suddenly clicked his fingers and said: “That’s who she is!”

  “Who?” Shilly asked.

  “The Syndic! I knew I recognized her voice from somewhere. She’s the one I heard in the sea that day, calling me!”

  “Syndic Zanshin?” asked Lodo, coming round to look at his face. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. It was definitely her. She called me by my real name, which made me think it might have been my mother. But the Alcaide knew my name, so the Syndic would too. My mother must have told them. They said that she…” He stopped. The enormity of what he’d heard was still creeping up on him. “They said that she’s dead.”

  There was an uncomfortable silence until Shilly said: “Yeah. I’m sorry about that.”

  “It’s okay.” He took a deep breath and tried to keep his voice steady. “I never knew her.”

  “That doesn’t matter. If I found out my parents were dead, whoever they were, I’d still be upset. They’re my parents regardless.”

  “Thanks, Shilly.”

  But Lodo wasn’t listening to them. “Why would Syndic Zanshin be calling you? Why not some underling better suited to this sort of far sensing?” He rubbed his chin. “This is very strange.”

  “What about the Highson Sparre she mentioned, the man Sal’s mother married?” asked Shilly. “He’s her nephew. Maybe he has something to do with it.”

  Lodo turned to face her, one finger raised and his mouth open to speak. Then he stopped and turned back to Sal. “Yes,” he said softly. “Yes, maybe that’s it.”

  Sal had had enough speculation for the time being. The two of them would stand around talking all day while the Sky Wardens wrapped the house in charms. “What have they done with Dad?”

  Lodo seemed to shake himself out of a deep thought. “What? Oh, he’ll be back in prison by now.”

  “I want to see him.”

  “Yes, I can imagine--”

  “Lodo, I need to see him.” Sal couldn’t find words to express the ache he had felt upon seeing the vision of his father before the Alcaide: broken, despairing, and very alone. “We have to find a way to get him out of there.”

  Lodo nodded firmly. “We will, I promise. And you’ll talk to him soon. But now isn’t the right time, Sal. Later, during the Alders’ Feast, I’ll take you there. It’ll be dark and everyone will be occupied. You’ll be safer then.”

  Sal looked out of the kitchen window. It was barely midday. Evening seemed a month away.

  The kitchen door burst in and all three of them jumped.

  “Are you still here?” demanded Von, her face red and flustered. “I’ve got twenty people to feed!”

  “Of course, I’m sorry.” Lodo retreated across the room with his hands raised. “I’ll get out of your way, now. Thanks for being so patient. While I’m gone, I’ll leave these two here to give you a hand, to make up for the inconvenience.”

  “What?” Shilly looked as surprised as Von. “But--”

  “Don’t argue. I’m going to meet with Centofanti.” Lodo shrugged away a look that might have been nervousness. “Best to get it over with, I think. In the meantime, you two make yourselves useful. Stay back here and clean out the laundry if you get a chance. The less seen, the better.”

  “I suppose.” Shilly didn’t try to hide her unhappiness. “But that’s the last time I do your dirty work for you.”

  He nodded. “If I’m not back in two hours, perhaps you should start to worry.”

  Sal did as he was told without qualms. Von didn’t seem overly enamored with the idea of looking after Lodo’s two apprentices, but she did put them to good use--so much so, there wasn’t time for talking or thinking. They chopped, mixed, stirred and washed under her watchful gaze. After an hour, Sal’s hands felt like wrinkled leather, but at least it was all done. A solid meal was ready for all of the hostel’s guests. Von took the steaming bowls and platters out into the common room, and left her impromptu assistants alone with a small portion of food for themselves. Sal shut the door carefully behind her, nervous of the voices they could hear just down the hall. The guests weren’t Sky Wardens, but they were still too close for comfort.

  “We shouldn’t be here,” said Shilly, wringing her hands and pacing the room. “I feel like we’re trapped.”

  “Lodo said to stay.” Sal took a seat and picked at the stew they’d made. It tasted salty, like everything else in Fundelry, and he was too nervous to be hungry. “It’s all part of his ‘hiding things in the open’ plan, I think.”

  Shilly uttered a humph and went to find a mop to clean the laundry floor. Barely had she gone when a high-pitched scratching at the window made Sal look up with a start--right into the eyes of a huge seagull flapping at the glass, cawing for attention.

  Sal ducked under the table and called for Shilly. She came back into the room, saw the bird and slammed the blind shut.

  “Did it see you?”

  “I don’t know.” Sal eased out from under the table, feeling like an idiot.

  “I don’t care what Lodo says, it’s a bit too open for me in here.” Shilly gathered up a bread roll and some cheese and put them in a bag. “I’m not sitting around waiting for them to find us.”

  “But--”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll leave a note.” She found the piece of chalk Lodo had used in the laundry and scribbled some symbols on the back of the kitchen door. “Not safe. Gone to workshop. See you there. That should do it.” She put the chalk into her pocket and looked at Sal. “Well? Are you coming?”

  He looked around. “What about the laundry?”

  “It can wait. Who’s going to look in there anyway? Come on.” She took his arm and approached the kitchen door. “Most of your charms are still working,” she hissed. “Put your bracelets back on, concentrate on the Mandala, and be quiet!”

  Sal did as he was told, feeling the tingling safety net creep back over his skin. Shilly eased open the door and peered through it. The corridor was empty. She inched out of the kitchen one step at a time, looking both ways and up the stairwell. When she was satisfied no one was coming, she hurried for the front door, trailing Sal behind her. Her hand clasped his so tightly he had no choice but to go with her.

  The door clattered as she opened it, but she didn’t stop to bemoan the fact. They were outside in the gray daylight and hurrying across the porch, not pausing even momentarily to look who might be there. Sal concentrated on not being noticed. If Shilly was right and the charms were still working, he hoped their confusing influence would help them escape attention.

  They made it to the side of the hostel without anyone sounding an alarm. When they were a block away, Sal started to look around. The sky was dark, but at least it wasn’t raining any more. The streets were muddy and relatively undisturbed. Not many people were about, and few of those appeared to notice the two young people hurrying past them.

  Of greater concern were the specks circling high in the sky, swooping lower here and there to look at something more closely. Sal saw birds poking their beaks into dark spaces under houses and behind sheds; some were even going through open doors and looking inside. Their squawks filled the air all around him, urging him on. Individually, the birds didn’t worry him, but the entire flock was a concern. As a whole, it had too many eyes. It could look too many places at once. The lone gull at Von’s might have been confused by the glass and the charms, but it was only a matter of time before another saw through the illusion and realized who he was.

  All he and Shilly could do was hurry. The squ
awking never changed pitch around them. Gradually, Sal began to think that they might actually make it. He could tell from the way the gulls were swarming that they were concentrating their search on the town. Once he and Shilly made the safety of the dunes, they could relax slightly.

  Their breath came heavily by the time their feet touched the soft sand of the dunes.

  “Not far now,” Shilly gasped, clutching her sides.

  Sal struggled to keep up. It was much harder running in sand. They tried to keep to the valleys between the dunes to save going up and down their slippery sides, but that wasn’t always possible. Every time they crested a new dune, Sal felt horribly exposed and slid down the far side as quickly as possible.

  They were more than halfway there when they heard the sound of crying from nearby.

  Shilly raised a finger to her lips and slowed her pace. They crept around the next dune rather than over it, and found a small figure hunched in its shadow.

  “Tom?” Shilly slapped Sal’s arm for speaking, but he couldn’t help himself. The small boy looked utterly disconsolate. “Tom, are you all right?”

  The boy looked up with a start. His eyes were red; his face was blotchy. He looked so startled Sal thought he might bolt. Then a look of confusion passed over him.

  “Who...? Is that you, Sal?”

  Sal came closer. “Yes, it’s me.”

  “You look strange.”

  “Don’t worry about that. You’re crying.”

  The boy didn’t bother denying that he had been crying, like a lot of boys might. He simply shook his head.

  “Can I help you?”

  Tom shook his head again. Shilly made an exasperated noise.

  Sal turned to her. “If you’re so impatient to keep going, feel free. I’ll catch up.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t leave you alone. Lodo will kill me.”

  “Then be quiet and wait.” He turned back to Tom. “Tell me what’s wrong. I’m in a hurry, but I don’t want to leave you like this.”

  “It’s just...” The small boy stopped to wipe his nose on his hand. “I don’t understand. What’s wrong with Fundelry? What’s wrong with me?” He looked like he was about to cry again, so Sal squatted down in front of him and put a hand on his shoulders.

  “Take it easy. There’s nothing wrong with you.”

  “There is. Tait says so. He says I’m an idiot for not wanting to be Selected.”

  Sal thought about what life would be like for a bright boy like Tom in an out-of-the-way town like Fundelry. Sky Wardens or not, at least he would have more opportunities in the Haunted City. “Well, he might have a point--”

  “No! I don’t want to leave. I like it here!”

  “Because Tait’s here now?”

  “Yes, although…” He shook his head, scattering tears down his cheek. “I dream strange things. I’m afraid.” Tom put his head in his hands. “I don’t want him to go!” he wailed.

  “Who says he’s going anywhere?” Sal did his best to comfort the boy, nervous of the noise he was making. Behind him, Shilly kept a close watch on the sky.

  “He does.” Tom sniffed. “Tait says he never wanted to come back. He doesn’t want to be here. He wants to be in the Haunted City, with them.” It was clear from Tom’s tone just how much he resented “them”. “But they won’t let him, and that makes him angry. He’s not like he used to be. He wants to go, but I want him to stay. And if he stays and I have to go …”

  Sal squeezed the boy’s shoulder while he sobbed. “They can’t force you to go, can they?”

  “Not officially,” said Shilly, “but they could make it difficult for Tait.”

  Tom nodded. “He says I’m making him look like an idiot. He says I’m an idiot. I don’t know what to do. I’m so afraid!”

  “What are you afraid of, Tom?” Sal asked, but Tom didn’t answer. He just shook his head and pulled away from Sal. His thin legs scrabbled for purchase in the sand, and suddenly he was gone, vanishing over the dune and out of sight.

  “A complete waste of time,” said Shilly, shaking her head. “Will you get a move on now? And can we ignore any other losers we stumble across on the way home?”

  Sal didn’t respond to the gibe, although annoyance at her flared inside him. Instead he just nodded and they set off again. He didn’t want to fight with her, as she was doing a lot to help him and putting herself at risk in the process. Even if her efforts weren’t remotely good-natured, he still owed her his gratitude.

  It was with a feeling of intense relief that they made it back to the workshop unscathed. Back in the familiar surroundings, he was able to remove the bracelets and let his guard down for a time. The Mandala had left a permanent imprint on his mind; he still saw the circles turning when he closed his eyes. Maybe that was a good thing, he thought, but it was unnerving. He didn’t know how long he could live like this.

  Then he remembered his father, and all the years he had been running. He wanted to talk to him so much it was like a physical ache. It was so frustrating that he couldn’t just reach out with his mind as Lodo had hinted might be possible by using the Change, and talk to him by thought alone.

  From the other side of the room, Shilly looked up from where she had collapsed on her bed. “I felt that. What are you doing?”

  “Nothing.” Sal was as startled as she looked. “I was just thinking about my father.”

  “I felt you calling him--and it must have been strong for me to hear it, even in here. Did you know you were doing it?”

  “No.” A chill swept through him. “Do you think anyone heard?”

  “I doubt it. It couldn’t have been that strong. Lodo has the workshop pretty well shielded. It’d take a decent punch to get through. You did well for a first try, though,” she added, looking impressed despite herself. “You really do have the knack, you lucky sod.”

  He didn’t respond. An idea had come to him. “Where did you say this workshop is, really?”

  “What?”

  “You told me the other day that it was the same when you lived in another town, that you thought only the entrance had changed. If the tunnel stretches from door to door but the workshop stays where it is, the workshop could be anywhere. Nowhere near Fundelry, in fact.”

  “Yes. So?”

  “So if I did try to call my father from in here, and if it was loud enough for the Alcaide and the Syndic to hear...”

  He got no further. She straightened bolt upright. “If they heard, they’d think you’re where the workshop is--and it could be hundreds of kilometers away. Sal, that’s brilliant!”

  He was thrown by her response. He hadn’t expected anything so enthusiastic. “It is?”

  “Of course! They’ll be thrown right off the scent! We should try it right now.”

  He was even more unnerved by that suggestion. “What about waiting for Lodo?”

  “Why? The sooner we do it, the better. Anyone who’s seen you with me would guess what’s going on. They might have got the truth out of Von--or Tom. Lodo could be in trouble. We have to help him before it’s too late.” She jumped up and crossed the room to where he was sitting. “Come on, Sal! What are you waiting for?”

  He was waiting for a good reason, albeit half-heartedly. He knew she was only exaggerating--and he knew she knew--but her excitement was infectious anyway.

  “Do you think it’s safe?”

  “Sure. What’s the worst that could happen? If they don’t hear you, we’ve lost nothing. If they do hear you and they can’t tell where we are, we’ve at least confused them. And even if they do pin us down precisely, wherever the workshop really is, they still won’t be able to find the entrance. We have nothing to lose, and a lot to gain. No?”

  Sal thought about it. The way she put it, it did seem foolproof. “Okay, I guess. What do I do? I’ve never tried this before--not pr
operly. I was just wishing when you heard me earlier.”

  “There’s not much else to it, really. I’ve only tried it a couple of times myself, and then only using Lodo’s talent to talk to Aunty Merinda from across the market. I probably shouldn’t help you much--otherwise they’ll know it’s not just you--and I don’t know exactly how far away we are from your dad...” She got up and looked around. “The first thing we need is something to draw with.”

  Sal was getting used to this. Shilly, being a natural artist, needed visual clues to pin down the Change. Sal, on the other hand, knew that he would have no trouble conjuring up a mental image of his father. He could see him in his mind’s eye all too easily, still scruffy and roughed-up by the prison officer. He could also hear the sound of his voice and smell his sweat. Every detail was fixed in his mind from years of close contact, a lifetime of travel together.

  When Shilly returned holding parchment and charcoal, he shook his head and took her hand. With the image of his father filling all of his mind, he let her in to show him what to do.

  “Yes, perfect,” she breathed. “Relax. I’ll show you the visualization.” Straight lines danced in front of his eyes--white on black, rotating around a common center. “Try to bring them together into one line. When you have that line, the link is open.”

  Sal concentrated on the lines. They spun like pieces of falling straw, tumbling end over end through space. He was reminded of the Void Beneath and wondered what would happen if he opened a connection between him and his father only to have it broken by the Sky Wardens. What part of him would he lose? The part that knew and loved his father?

  But he didn’t stop to worry about that. He had to bend the lines to his will. He had to. It was the only way to talk to his father--his father, locked in his stone cell; bloody, dirty, tired; alone...

  Slowly, but inevitably, the lines did respond. He felt as though his mind was being stretched--stretched and squeezed at the same time, like he was trying to force his head through a rubber sheet. Something was resisting him; maybe the defenses of the workshop, he thought. But despite that, part of him was moving. He was definitely making progress. He could feel the kilometers between the workshop and Fundelry contracting like leather drying in the sun.