by Kaylin Lee
I nodded. “It’s part of what keeps us alive. Right?”
“Yes, but it’s not just in living creatures. It’s in the air, the trees, the very stones of this building. It’s what brings order to natural chaos—it creates structure, pattern, rhythm. And the Kireth people—mages—store some of that magic in our bodies. We can’t help it—it’s as natural to us as breathing. We simply must store it. I believe the Western philosophers who studied our mages called it biological magic, or something like that.” She shook her head and waved her hand dismissively. “Anyway, expellant mages use that magic by pushing it out, then reabsorb new magic from the air over time to replenish their supply.
“Absorbent mages have the same storage capacity. The difference is, they leak. They can’t keep the magic stored up inside. Powerfully absorbent mages leak magic almost as quickly as they absorb it. The result is that they store hardly any magic at all, leaving a large, empty capacity that wants to be filled. They can pull a great deal of magic in from an outside source to fill that space. A less-absorbent mage can store some magic, but still leaks—”
“Ruby!” We both started as a man’s booming voice filled the room.
Lord Falconus strode through the entryway and into the studio, a wide smile on his tan, lined face. The older widower had gray hair and creases around his eyes, but he was energetic enough for a man half his age. He was well-dressed and tall for a Fenra lord—at least as tall as the Kireth mage herself.
Mage Fortis and I sank into curtsies. “My lord,” she said softly.
I echoed her greeting. From the corner of my eye, I saw her cheeks flush red, as they often did when he entered the studio.
Never one to stand on ceremony, Lord Falconus strolled across the studio and clapped me cheerfully on the back. “You came. I’m delighted, Ruby.”
“I’m certain you don’t need me here.” I shifted, feeling uncomfortable with his sudden attention. “But Mage Fortis asked me to join her, in case the actors have any questions.”
Lord Falconus and Mage Fortis exchanged knowing smiles. I glanced from one to the other. What had I missed?
“Actually …” Mage Fortis tucked a blonde curl behind one ear. “My lord requested your presence, Ruby.”
I bit my lip. Was I in trouble?
“Don’t look so frightened.” Lord Falconus held out one arm. “Join me on the couches for a moment. We’ve much to discuss.”
“I was going to help—”
“I’ll do the test myself,” Mage Fortis said with a secretive smile. “Now go!”
I took Lord Falconus’s arm and went with him to the nearest set of couches, feeling bemused and more than a little nervous. We sat, a corner angle and side table between us. I tried to keep my back straight and appear professional and responsible, rather than sinking into the comfort and luxury of the leather couch like I had done so many times before.
Lord Falconus stretched out his long legs and crossed them at the ankle. “How long have you been working for me? Two years, now? Three?”
“Yes.” I cleared my throat. “I mean, two and a half, my lord.” I’d interviewed him once for an article on one of his art studio’s most famed pieces, and he’d loved my article so much, he’d hired me to write a script for his favorite mage’s newest project, the now-famous fabulator crystals.
“We’ve had fun, haven’t we? Telling stories and sharing them with the city.”
“Of course, my lord. I’ve enjoyed my work here a great deal.”
Lord Falconus nodded. “But we could have done more. Surely, you’ve felt that as well.”
I shifted uneasily. “I’m not certain—”
“We’ve barely produced more than a few hundred crystals each year since we began. The whole Procus Quarter loves your stories, Ruby, but the rest of the city hasn’t had the chance to hear them.” He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward earnestly, resting his forearms on his knees. “With these new, smaller crystals, Mage Fortis and I believe we can produce far greater quantities at once—perhaps even a few hundred crystals each week. We’ll offer them at lower prices. Even commoners will be able to purchase them.”
Something about his words made the skin on the back of my neck prickle.
“Your stories could reach everyone. You could be famous, dear. You should be famous. You should be sharing in the success of this project along with us.”
I felt my cheeks flush at his praise, and I had to remind myself to keep breathing. Just what was he saying?
“We just need your full, undivided focus. That’s why I’d like to formally offer you my patronage.”
My heart seemed to stop. “Your what?” I asked, my voice hollow. Wasn’t Procus patronage only for mages?
The tall Procus lord leaned back against the couch with a satisfied smile and stretched his lanky arms over the sofa back on either side. “You’ll live at the Falconus compound, with your own suite, of course. Room, board, a staff of maids to see to your every need. Six days of work at the studio with Mage Fortis, and a seventh day of rest each week—yours to do as you please. And …” He smiled widely. “A stipend of eight hundred marks per month.”
My mouth dropped open. “Eight … um … that …” That was more than ten times my monthly stipend from Grandmother at the Herald. “I think I’ve misheard—”
He laughed, clearly entertained by my flustered response. “Eight hundred marks per month. Room and board in your own suite in my compound. And all the time you’d like to devote to writing scripts, plus whatever resources you need to make them come to life in the fabulator crystals.”
I held my breath, ill from the dread that had seeped into my stomach since the conversation began.
“What do you say, Ruby?” He shot a grin toward Mage Fortis, who now stood quietly, beaming at me over his shoulder. “Will you join us?”
Chapter 2
I blinked at Lord Falconus, then crossed my arms. “Um …” I uncrossed my arms and shifted, the beautiful, leather couch uncomfortable for the first time. “I … well, I …”
A sudden burst of chatter from the front door made me jump. The voice actors for the fabulator crystals had arrived.
“Thank you, my lord, for the generous offer.” I restrained a sigh of relief. “I’ll have to think about it.”
The Procus lord’s eyebrows shot up, but he nodded slowly. “That’s fine, Ruby.” He stood to greet the boisterous group of actors filing in to the studio.
I stood as well and ignored Mage Fortis’s searching gaze.
How much had I offended Lord Falconus by showing reluctance after he’d done so much for me? No doubt, he’d never dreamed that I might decline his patronage. He was not a man familiar with rejection, that was for sure.
If Grandmother had anything to say about it, he’d experience the sting of rejection soon enough.
We spent the rest of the day rehearsing the script and recording six dozen pairs of fabulator crystals. It was a record for our little team, but I was too numb with shock to celebrate it with the rest.
My walk back to the Herald office was slow and quiet—or perhaps the noisy chaos of my own thoughts had simply drowned out the normal sounds of the city.
What do you say, Ruby?
I shook my head in a silent response to the impossible offer. I could picture Lord Falconus’s shocked expression as clearly as if he were still sitting right next to me. Shame sent heat up the back of my neck. How would he ever forgive me for letting him down?
Twilight fell as I passed the border between the Procus Quarter and the Merchant Quarter, where the Herald had its enormous old press and towering labyrinth of tiny, dusty offices. Luminous street lamps twinkled on one by one, dousing the footpath in brief showers of delicate, golden sparkles as they lit the darkening city streets.
I should have taken the trolley, but I’d needed to extend the trip home for a bit of time to be alone with my own thoughts.
Grandmother wouldn’t be happy I’d stayed so late at the Falconus stud
io, especially when I had that article on River Quarter employment prospects to finish by tomorrow evening.
She hated my side job at the Falconus studio. “That frippery,” she always called it, as though the many, painstaking hours Mage Fortis and I had poured into the fabulator crystals could be dismissed like the vapid trends in Procus fashions.
The sky was black by the time I turned onto Maragos Street. The familiar scents of grease and cinderslick filled the air, and the street was crowded with food carts, fomewagons, and commoners bustling along the footpaths. Most of the shops on the wide avenue were closed by now, but nearly every light in the Herald’s building was still on.
A gaggle of young writers dodged past me down the narrow, sagging steps of the building’s main staircase. Some of the girls shared my dormitory room. I nodded a general greeting.
“Oh, hello, Ruby,” said the one nearest me. She flushed. “We were just … um …” The girls on the stairs behind her shuffled awkwardly.
Just heading out to dinner, but we really don’t want you to come, I answered for her in my head. I patted my satchel and forced a smile. “I’m headed up to finish a story. The work never ends, right?”
There was a relieved titter of agreement, like they were all releasing their breath at once. “Have a good night,” called the lead girl as they hurried the rest of the way downstairs.
“You, too,” I muttered.
At least they were polite. The squatters in the River Quarter would prod at my auburn hair and numerous freckles, laughing like they couldn’t believe someone could have such unfortunate coloring, then making a show of rubbing their hands on their pants, lest they contract the plague from my Western appearance. The commoners in the Merchant Quarter would shoot me suspicious looks on the street, too busy with their own weariness to pay me much more mind. At least my colleagues at the Herald seemed to respect me, although that was probably because they respected—and feared—my Grandmother. Only the art-obsessed mages and actors at the Falconus studio cared nothing for my heritage. They loved me for my skill and didn’t seem to mind my appearance.
My office was on the sixth floor, next door to Grandmother’s large, editorial suite. I stumbled on the final few steps of the last flight of stairs, drained from a long day of work at the studio and dreading what Grandmother would say when she saw me.
But when I stepped into the constricted hallway I shared with another senior writer, their offices were empty. The uneasy tension in my stomach tightened. Grandmother almost never left the office this early.
I ducked into my office and turned the dial on the wall. The overhead luminous sent a gentle glow out, lighting up the small room. I dropped my satchel into my chair and froze.
A scrap of paper covered in a familiar, elegant scrawl sat at the center of my paper-strewn desk.
Ruby—
Join me for dinner at the first evening bell. I have a new lead for you, and it will require your complete focus. Don’t be late.
Yours,
Grandmother
I picked up the note and swallowed the desire to curse like the river dwellers I’d spent yesterday interviewing. It was well past the dinner hour, and I was beyond late.
So much for hoping she hadn’t noticed my absence today.
~
Left at the first alley, then right, then right again, left again, right.
I tossed the occasional glance over my shoulder as I darted through the maze of alleys around the Herald’s office building, making sure the route I took was different than the last time I visited Grandmother’s. As always, the paranoid routine sent anxious tingles into my fingertips.
We’d lived with the secrecy and fear ever since the death threats began twelve years ago, when Grandmother published the Herald’s first piece on aurae in Asylia. I’d been a newly orphaned child—quiet, shy, and terrified of losing my last surviving family member. I’d listened carefully as she explained how to change my route from school or the office to our hidden home, and how to make sure I wasn’t being followed.
I’m counting on you, she’d said, her hands tight on my shoulders, her unfamiliar attention making me feel guilty, like I’d already given away our location and we would soon be discovered. No one can know where we live now. If you cannot keep my secret, you cannot live with me.
I’d faithfully followed her instructions every day for a decade, until I’d finally worked up the courage to request a move to the ladies’ dormitory across the street from the Herald.
I checked the street behind me one more time before I ducked into Grandmother’s apartment building and hurried up the stairwell to her suite. I knocked—two short raps, a pause, and one more. Then I waited.
No one answered.
I pressed my hand against the door, wishing I still had my key. She’d been worried I would misplace it after I moved out, so I’d given it up when I went to the dormitory.
“Grandmother?” I kept my voice soft.
A man’s laugh suddenly rang out, followed by a woman’s rapid-fire, indistinct words. Was that Grandmother’s voice?
I pounded the door. “Grandmother!”
The voices fell silent, and footsteps approached the door. I barely had time to lift my fist from the door before it swung open to reveal Grandmother’s face, her expression uncharacteristically amused.
“Ruby,” she said dryly. “I specifically told you not to be late.”
“I’m sorry,” I said quietly, the words slipping out instinctively. “Wait, who—”
“Ruby! You’re here at last.” A young man with black hair, dark skin, and narrow shoulders appeared behind Grandmother. “We meant to save you some dinner, but I’m afraid there’s not much left now.”
“She knows the rules,” Grandmother said. She moved out of the doorway, and I stepped into the apartment, where the savory scent of roasted vegetables greeted me. “Arrive on time or take your chances. Right, Ruby?”
I crossed my arms over my stomach. “What is Sebastian doing here?” The ambitious young reporter was my nearest rival for good stories at the Herald, and he was always sucking up to Grandmother.
“Sebastian has a new source in the River Quarter. I brought him here to talk strategy.”
We walked to the kitchen, where they took their seats. Sebastian was in my usual chair, so I dragged a stool from the corner and pushed it up to the table before sitting down.
Sebastian scooped the last of the vegetables into a bowl and handed it to me with a smile.
“Thank you,” I muttered.
“I quite enjoyed the clandestine route to your apartment, Mistress Contos.” Sebastian leaned forward in his chair and rested his hands on the table. “Thrilling.” He wiggled his eyebrows.
“Yes,” I said under my breath. “Quite thrilling.” I was glad to know he found it so entertaining.
Sebastian cocked his head. “I’m part of the inner circle, aren’t I? Now that I know how to get to the secretive Mistress Contos’s apartment, I mean. Although I got so turned around on the way here, I’m not sure I really do know.”
Grandmother winked. Winked! Then she chuckled. “All part of the plan.” She pushed the bowl away from her place setting and pulled her napkin from her lap. “Sebastian has a new source at the docks. Tell Ruby what you heard.”
“Not what I’ve heard.” Sebastian drummed his fingers on the table excitedly. “What I’ve been hearing, for going on weeks now.”
I tensed. I never contradicted Grandmother when I could avoid it. But she didn’t even seem to notice Sebastian’s irreverent correction.
“There’s an aurae dealer making a name for himself in the tenements,” he continued blithely. “Word is, he’s grown so powerful that even though everyone knows where he is, the local quarter guards don’t dare arrest him.”
Grandmother’s expression soured. “The cowards.”
Sebastian lifted one shoulder. “Cowards, or aurists, who knows?” Once again, Grandmother didn’t appear phased by his correction. �
�The essence saps the will of even the toughest guards, or so I hear. The result is the same, regardless. This smuggler’s building a kingdom of his own, right under Prince Estevan’s nose, and no one outside the river dweller’s domain seems to know a thing about it.”
Grandmother’s eyes flashed excitedly. “You’ll go looking for him first thing tomorrow, Ruby. We don’t have a moment to lose. This could be the break we’ve been working for.”
A shadow darkened Sebastian’s face for a moment. “I thought I’d—”
“The river dwellers love Ruby,” Grandmother said with a wave of her hand, cutting him off. “They only ever want to talk to her. She’ll get the story, just like she always does. Isn’t that right?”
I swallowed. “Yes, Grandmother.” I didn’t always want to admit it, but she was indeed right.
Asylians, as a general rule, were uncomfortable with my Western coloring. I was a sixth generation Asylian, but the copper hair and overly-freckled skin I’d inherited from my father’s line were painfully distinct. My heritage was undeniable, and the plague had come from my people.
The river dwellers tended to view me with a strange mixture of fascination, fear, and glee. If the city of Asylia were a pyramid, with the Procus lords at the top, the mages and commoners vying for second in the middle, and the squatters in the River Quarter beneath them, I represented the pyramid’s squashed, unfortunate base. Westerners had been the source of the plague and had paid for it by being wiped out completely. I was probably the only person in Asylia that a river dweller could safely look down on. For some reason, it tended to make them particularly chatty.
“Tomorrow, Ruby.”
“Tomorrow.”
I forced myself to eat the small bowl of cold vegetables while Grandmother and Sebastian loudly debated the factors that had led to the Crimson Blight’s rise, their opinions rocketing back and forth across the table like speeding fomecoaches. Then I wiped my mouth with a napkin and stood. “Long day. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to head back to the dormitory now.”
