The Deep and Shining Dark

by Juliet Kemp

  “Mid-Year.” Reb shrugged. “Doesn’t make much odds to me, though. Other than that I’ll have more need for a bunch of late-protection charms in the next couple of days. Good job that’s almost all herbs, rather than magic, or we’d have a little population explosion in nine months. I suppose I should double-check what I’ve got around…”

  She was turning to her workroom door, intending to check the levels of the jars she’d need, when Beckett made a peculiar noise, and she turned back.

  They stood against the wall by the window, rocking backwards and forwards. Their eyes were fixed on nothing at all, and their face was distorted out of its calm expression to what she could only read as fear.

  “Beckett?” she asked cautiously, then, as Beckett didn’t react, “Beckett!”

  They were still rocking, more and more violently. Reb got up and went over to stand in front of Beckett, and, still getting no reaction, hesitated for a moment before gently putting her hand on their shoulder. It was the first time she’d touched Beckett, and she wasn’t sure what to expect. But they felt just like any other human. That was almost more disconcerting than any of the possibilities that had briefly run through her head.

  Then Beckett’s hand shot up to her wrist, moving inhumanly fast. For a moment Reb could feel her pulse beating hard against the imprisoning fingers and the pressure of her wrist bones grinding against each other, and wondered if she was about to break the other wrist. Almost as soon as the thought was formed, Beckett let go again. Reb took a hasty step back.

  Beckett was focusing on her again, but they still didn’t look normal.

  “Beckett? What… is something wrong?”

  Beckett swallowed. It was an oddly human gesture on a body that still didn’t quite hold itself like a human one.

  “The festival,” Beckett said, after a moment, and stopped.

  Reb frowned. “Yeah. Mid-Year. Today. So what?”

  “Do you know how much power that generates?”

  Reb shook her head. “Surely not. I mean, nothing I’ve ever noticed. There’s, well, for certain there’s an atmosphere to it, but…” She stopped. “Now I come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever used a spell on Mid-Year. Other than once.” That time, ten years ago – and it kept coming back to that. Exactly ten years ago, now, to the day. That had been Mid-Year, and now Reb remembered, reluctantly, the fizz of her skin as they went in. She’d put it down to the excitement, the adrenalin. But if there was more power that day…

  She blinked. “How could I not know that?”

  Beckett shrugged. “The power is… It goes inwards. Not outwards. You wouldn’t, necessarily…” They made a frustrated gesture.

  “Inwards?” Reb said. “Inwards – to you?”

  “It was to me. Now…”

  “To the new one,” Reb said, understanding beginning to dawn.

  There was a knock on the door, and Reb hurried to answer it. It was Marcia, looking slightly harried.

  “Come in,” Reb invited, feeling an unexpected warmth in her chest, despite her building anxiety. “Beckett is just explaining that Mid-Year is a big deal, cityangel-wise. Which – well. Come in.”

  “They must be planning to use it,” Marcia said, her voice absolutely certain, once she understood what they were saying.

  “But they wouldn’t have known,” Reb argued. “If I didn’t know, how would they have known?”

  “If it, whoever is in my place now, did not know before, then they do now,” Beckett said.

  “But what for?” Reb asked.

  “I don’t know,” Marcia said. “But – I wonder, now, if it might have anything to do with this absurd idea of my mother and Gavin Leandra. Given that Urso is involved with both. It seems too much of a coincidence otherwise.”

  She explained the previous day’s meeting. “But I don’t understand how it could hook into the cityangel business,” she finished. “Unless it truly is coincidence. But Urso, again… I can’t believe it isn’t linked.”

  “I can’t believe I missed another sorcerer,” Reb said, scowling.

  “He’s Marekhill,” Marcia pointed out. “He’d be trying to keep it quiet. And he was never much of one, back when – back then. I suppose he must have improved. But Gavin Leandra wouldn’t be hanging around with a known sorcerer. It would ruin Leandra. It’s an absolute prohibition.”

  “Hang on,” Reb said, slowly. “The prohibition. Gavin Leandra taking this Urso along to your meeting and not Daril.”

  “I don’t know why he doesn’t just get on and disown Daril, if he’s going to,” Marcia said, irritably.

  “No,” Reb said. “That’s it. That’s the point. Why does Daril b’Leandra wastrel around town like that? Because his father won’t allow him any power, and isn’t likely to. That’s what you and Jonas said. What would you do, if you were him?”

  “A coup,” Marcia said. Her eyes were wide and horrified.

  “But that’s hard work, and chancy. Unless you get magic involved.”

  “I told him,” Beckett said.

  Marcia and Reb looked around at them.

  “Told who?” Reb asked.

  “The one who asked me, a while ago. I told him what I always tell them. Magic and politics do not mix. That is part of my deal, with Marek and Beckett. I tell them that.”

  “You told them no,” Marcia said, her voice flat. “So they worked out how to replace you with someone who would say yes.”

  “Because the deal was between you and Marek and Beckett,” Reb said. “The new one doesn’t have that limitation.”

  “And it’s about to get a whole bunch of power, today,” Marcia said. “When the Council chamber will be full, for Mid-Year.”

  They all three looked at one another.

  “A coup,” Reb said. “They’re planning a coup. Today.”

  FOURTEEN

  Marcia was trying to process the idea of what Daril was intending, to fit it in with everything else that was happening, politically and otherwise. Her brains felt scrambled.

  “Well,” Reb said. “Now would be a good time to establish whether the cityangel is responding to magic.”

  Marcia blinked. “Surely it is a better time to go and warn the Council!”

  “And tell them what?” Reb demanded. “Ask them to do what?”

  “Daril has broken the law!”

  “Can you prove it?”

  Marcia opened her mouth, then shut it again. If she could find Cato… And then what? She’d hardly had much luck in persuading him of anything the last time she’d tried that, had she?

  “Can you ever provide proof enough to persuade Gavin Leandra to allow them in to search?” Reb pressed.

  “My word as Fereno-Heir,” Marcia said. “I saw, in the Park…”

  “And then you passed out. They’ll say it was hallucination, imagination. We need to know what is happening with magic, before I can have any idea what to do next.”

  “It is today,” Beckett said. There was urgency in their voice, rather than their usual flatness.

  Marcia shut her eyes and pushed the heels of her hands against them.

  “Reb. What do you need?” she asked, opening her eyes again. “You mentioned grounding, before. What does that mean?”

  She couldn’t quite read the emotions playing across Reb’s face. Angels, she really was tired; she was good at faces. You could hardly do anything useful in the Council if you weren’t; at least not when you were half the age of the rest of the vote-holders. She couldn’t impose and intimidate like Gavin Leandra, or even like her own mother, when she laid aside the gentle coaxing and drew herself up as Head of her House. Marcia had to guess and gently manipulate.

  And she was tired of it.

  “I – thank you,” Reb said, eventually.

  She gave Marcia a half-smile, and Marcia felt her shoulders relax just a little. “Actually, I could use you, if you think you’re capable. I mean, you look a little tired.” She sounded cautious.

  Marcia shrugged. “
I should be fine as long as you’re not expecting anything very strenuous. Remember I haven’t done this in ten years. Not since Cato left home.”

  Reb nodded, and went to unbolt the workroom door. “Beckett, best you stay out here. If the cityangel does respond – well, I don’t know if it would be able to tell that you’re here, or who you are, but maybe let’s not find out right now?”

  There was warmth in the pit of Marcia’s stomach, as they entered the workroom and Reb shut the door again. Reb trusted her to help. Reb was letting her in.

  Reb was muttering to herself as she moved round the small inner room, collecting bits and pieces and dumping them onto the long table. The table juddered as she slammed jars down, working one-handed. A carved wooden spoon nearly bounced off the table’s edge. Reb lunged with her splinted arm, caught it with the tips of her fingers, then swore, evidently in pain. She swapped the spoon to the other hand.

  “Are you…” Marcia asked tentatively.

  Reb grimaced. “I can’t do magic in this state of mind. Give me a moment.”

  She looked down at the delicately carved spoon. Gradually, Marcia saw her face relax, and heard her breathing slow. Marcia could have sworn she could hear Reb’s heartbeat in the still room; and her own heart beating along with it. No sound leaked in from outside. It felt as though the world was shrinking to just this room, and the two of them in it. Marcia’s skin prickled.

  “You seemed – anxious,” she said tentatively as Reb looked up again, after a final long exhalation.

  “I seem anxious,” Reb repeated, a little dryly. “I’ve a fallen cityangel camping out in my front room and one of the Noble Heirs stood in my workroom. Magic has stopped working the way it’s done for my entire life, a very competent and completely amoral sorcerer,” Marcia winced, “has decided to involve himself in politics and in particular in some plot of Daril b’Leandra, who is not famous for his patience or tolerance. Why under the skies would I feel anxious?”

  She sighed, then smiled at Marcia. “Come on then. I just need an anchor, truly. Nothing too taxing at all. You said you did this for Cato?”

  “A long time ago,” Marcia said. “When we were sixteen or so. He used to ask me when he wanted a bit more freedom to let his mind go wandering.”

  “Right, yes, that’s surprisingly sensible, for Cato,” Reb said. “This should be easier than that. All I’m going to do is a simple guardian-spell; wouldn’t dream of bothering with an anchor normally. I mean, I nearly never do anyway, these days, what with…” She trailed off, and Marcia knew they were both thinking of the plague.

  “Then why now?” Marcia asked, pulling her mind back to the moment.

  “It refers to the cityangel. So I’m not sure what will happen when – if – it responds. Best to be careful.” She wrinkled her nose.

  “What do you need me to do?” Marcia asked.

  Reb knelt down and began to draw a circle with chalk on the floor around them.

  “Come in here with me – yes, that’s it.”

  She completed the circle, enclosing them both within it. Reb stood up, and took a pinch of something out of one of the little bags that hung from her belt, then turned slowly, casting it around the circle. As she came back to the beginning, Marcia felt something reverberate in her bones, a sound like a huge door shutting softly.

  Reb glanced at her but didn’t comment.

  “Best maybe if you sit on the floor,” she said, after a moment of consideration. And we need a physical connection, to be safe.” She snorted. “Seems ridiculous, doing this much for a guardian-spell. Still. Better cautious than drowned, eh? And I’m used to being able to use both hands, there is that.” She snorted.

  Feeling faintly foolish, Marcia settled herself to the floor – her mother would be horrified, a little voice told her, at the lack of dignity – and, at Reb’s direction, laid a light hand on the other woman’s ankle.

  “Skin contact,” Reb said gruffly, and Marcia slid her hand under the wide cuff of Reb’s trousers.

  Reb’s skin was warm and smooth, the little hairs on her ankles gently prickling Marcia’s hand. The back of Marcia’s neck prickled, too, and Marcia swallowed.

  Reb took a deep breath and began the steps of the spell. Marcia watched her pinch a bit of that, and a bit of the other, and finally mutter something under her breath. For a moment, the air within the circle felt strangely empty, then Reb dropped her hands. A shiver that ran through the air around them.

  “Nothing,” Reb said.

  “Nothing?” Marcia echoed.

  “Like calling and not getting a response. Or, more, calling into an empty room, and you know that it’s empty, except, you also know it’s not empty at all.” She scowled. “I’ve never known a guardian-spell not answered in some way. Even if you just got the echo.”

  “Does that mean the rules have changed?” Marcia suggested.

  Reb’s scowl deepened, but she didn’t answer. She nibbled on her thumbnail absently for a moment, obviously considering her options. Then she cleared the circle out carefully with a fold of her tunic, dusting the floor clear to beyond the edge of the circle. She set the circle again, and again Marcia felt that soft silent reverberation in her bones. This time, the spell took longer. Goosebumps rose on Marcia’s skin as Reb scattered a pinch of this, and then a pinch of that across it, as she bent and traced something through the scatterings on the floor. By the time Reb spoke the final syllables to release the spell, Marcia could barely stop herself from twitching, her tongue pressed between her teeth and her breath coming fast.

  There was a pause within the circle. Reb cocked her head, as if listening, but Marcia couldn’t hear anything. Then the air thickened, like a hammer blow coming from every direction at once. Reb went flying across the circle then bounced off an invisible wall at its boundary. She screamed; it looked like she’d taken the force of the blow with her bad arm. Marcia’s hand was still clutching Reb’s ankle, and she too was dragged across the circle with Reb, then had her own wrist painfully bent as Reb hit the floor. Reb began to shake, as though a huge hand had her by the scruff of the neck. Marcia clung grimly onto Reb’s ankle, her arm flung backwards and forwards with whatever was moving the other woman. Suddenly, Reb was still, and her body began to slump forwards. Marcia relaxed her grip, just a little, then clenched her fingers hard again, desperately hard, as she felt Reb being pulled away from her. The pull got harder and harder, Reb’s skin slipping under her fingers, now growing damp with sweat, yet Reb wasn’t moving at all. There was no physical sign of the huge force of whatever was tugging at her. Wherever she was being pulled, it wasn’t in this plane of physical existence at all.

  Marcia’s breathing was coming shorter, a scream rising up in her throat which she tried to push back. She could react later. Right now she had to, had to, keep hold of Reb. Her fingers slipped a little more, and she swallowed hard and wrapped her second hand over the first. It felt like she too now was being dragged across the floor, yet still neither of them were actually moving.

  Then, abruptly, whatever was pulling them let go. Reb slumped onto the floor. Marcia’s fingers were still wrapped tightly around her ankle. She didn’t dare loosen them.

  The room was silent, but there was no longer a sense of any presence other than the two of them. Marcia could see Reb’s chest shallowly rising and falling, but she wasn’t moving.

  Without letting go of that ankle, she shifted herself round to check Reb’s pulse with her other hand. It was fast, but steady, and easy to find. She was breathing, her heart was fine, Marcia couldn’t see any blood… But she was still out cold.

  Then Reb coughed, and stirred, and opened her eyes.

  “Reb!” Marcia’s voice cracked a little.

  Reb levered herself up to a sitting position one-handed, and coughed rackingly. She looked around her, blinking a little, seeming to check everything against some inner expectation. She took a long, deep, ragged breath, and let it out again.

  “Well then. Let me bring
the circle down, and you can let go, Marcia.”

  Marcia’s ears popped as Reb released the circle, and she saw Reb shake her head quickly too. Trying to conceal her reluctance, Marcia let go of Reb’s ankle. Her fingers were stiff and slow to unclench.

  “Thank you,” Reb said quietly. “If you hadn’t been able to hold on…” She swallowed. It was disconcerting, to see confident tough Reb look suddenly so pale. “Well, I suppose you’d be sweeping up little pieces of me now. Or nothing at all.” She shrugged, and pasted on a grimace of a smile. “I owe you one, anyway.”

  “No you don’t,” Marcia said, then stopped, and swallowed in her turn. “We’re quits now. That’s all.”

  Reb looked at her for a long moment, and Marcia felt her breath come faster. She felt like Reb might be looking straight into her heart. Then Reb nodded, softly, once, and looked away. Marcia locked her fingers against their trembling. Reb tolerated her now. Trusted her, even, at least a little. That was all, it was enough, and she shouldn’t go looking for anything else.

  “So then,” Reb said, more loudly. “There’s something there. In case you missed that part. And it didn’t like me bothering it. It may have the power of a cityangel, but it certainly doesn’t have all the responsibilities. Or,” she paused, “the limits. That one,” she nodded out towards the other room, “would never have done that. Never.”

  Marcia swallowed.

  “I don’t know what to do,” Reb said, sounding lost, and Marcia didn’t know what to say.

  k k

  Marcia was still looking at her. Reb couldn’t work out what – if anything – Marcia was expecting from her. She could still feel the imprint of Marcia’s fingers around her ankle.

  “I need to wash my face,” Reb said, turning towards the washstand in the corner.

  Her good hand was still shaking. Hell, the other one would be if it weren’t strapped up. The water in the chipped enamel washstand had a few flecks of dust floating in it, but she couldn’t face the idea of going out to the street tap to refresh it. She couldn’t ask Marcia to do it. She splashed the water onto her face one-handed, then kept her wet hand over her face for a few moments, breathing deeply and trying to let her shoulders sink back down again, trying to ignore, just for a moment, everything that was waiting for her.