by Greg Curtis
It was him! She could see the burn around the side of his head where his hair had caught fire. She could also see his face, and was pleased that for once that the smirk she knew so well was absent. Still, she had no trouble confirming his identity.
“You!” He screeched at her when he spotted her. “Bitch!”
He didn't recognise her Dariya realised. Not as his niece. But he knew her face from the night when she had shot him. But that she intended to change.
“Yes Uncle, me.”
“Uncle?” The last of that permanent smirk of his went away as he stared at her. “Dariya?”
“The same. And the woman who shot you and set you on fire!” It might be wrong but she was proud of that.
“Bitch!” This time he screamed at her with all the strength he had, and pulled with all his might against the chains holding him. But there was no chance of him breaking free. The chains rattled and clinked, and the wagon rocked, but nothing gave way. “You can't be. Dariya was such a lissom lass. A pretty young thing who took after her mother. Not a creature with hulking shoulders. An accursed lumberjack!”
“Spend a decade training with weapons and see what happens!” Dariya shot back. Despite it having been years since she had heard a word out of his mouth, and having hated him for all that time, his charge wounded her.
“I should have killed you!” He snarled like an animal at her. “If only I could have!”
“Like you killed my mother?” She threw that in his face, not sure he even knew what he'd done.
“Amberlee's dead?” He suddenly stopped struggling against his bonds and for a moment he even seemed shocked. “How? When?”
“When you sent that spinning blade flying at me to cut me in half. She stepped in front of it.”
“No!” He denied her claim and the look of horror that appeared in his eyes seemed genuine. “How could that happen?! I would have known!”
“Yes,” she told him quietly, while all around her soldiers stared. “You cut her in half. You murdered your sister, while trying to murder your niece.” By the gods it felt good to say that. To let the accusation fall from her lips. To name him as the vile murderer he was. “And now the gods will have their fun with you.”
“The gods?!” Suddenly his anger returned. “Don't be a fool Girl. This has nothing to do with the gods! Nothing to do with righteousness or justice or whatever you may imagine. Your blessed King Richmond isn't going to kill me. Don't you understand? He can never kill me! That miserable windbag needs me too much. I made sure of that long ago!”
“I think you overstate your importance Uncle. And under-estimate how much you're hated for what you've done.”
“What I've done?” He raised his voice a little louder and almost allowed a little mockery to shine through. “You think I had any choice in what I did?! I've done nothing more than what I had to do to survive. You might ask instead what your dear old King's done! And his rotten father before him! He started this, after all! Andris should have been strangled at birth! Then none of this would have happened!”
Dariya didn't know what he meant by that. But as the Commander suddenly appeared in front of her and escorted her back to the others, she realised that she had learned as much as she was going to. But the rest didn't matter. She had called him out on his crimes. Let the world know what he'd done. That was what truly mattered.
But then why did she feel a chill as she walked back to her fellow riders? Surely there was nothing in his claim?
Then things unexpectedly changed again. She and the Commander reached Master Thyman who was standing there, looking as though everything was under control. Even though he was probably upset with her for her lack of discipline. And then the Commander pulled out a letter sealed with wax from inside his jacket and handed it to him.
“With regards from King Richmond,” he announced.
“Thank you.” Master Thyman quickly opened the letter and started reading it by the moonlight. And as he did so, his expression changed to one of disbelief. He looked as if he couldn't believe what he was reading. Perhaps that was why he appeared to read it again.
“Master Walkerton.” Master Thyman turned and called to the wizard, who got up from the fire and walked over.
“It seems I’ve been given the duty of thanking you for your service in tracking this criminal down and then formally discharging you from your place within the Friends.” Master Thyman’s face was a picture of disbelief and confusion even as he said it. There might even have been a hint of defiance.
Dariya's mouth fell as once more she found herself shocked by events. But again she wasn't alone. All around the fire she could see the others looking just as shocked. Even the wizard, though this was exactly what he'd wanted, seemed stunned.
“Al … right? Thank you?” Baen didn't seem to know quite what to say. “So … I'm free to return to my store?”
“You are. And you have my gratitude for what you've done here.” Master Thyman reached out a hand and the wizard took it. “But you should also know that the King has issued a decree. No one with any magical gift may be employed in His service.”
Dariya gasped. There had never been any restriction on anyone with a gift working for the King up until now. Not as a soldier and not as anything else. They were just the same as any others. Often though, they hid their gifts out of fear of being laughed at or mocked. And truthfully, until she'd met Baen and seen what he could do, she'd never imagined that any of those with gifts could really do anything much at all. Tricks and minor spells at most. The ban therefore seemed ridiculous.
And yet she understood why King Richmond had made the decree. Her uncle had attacked both the Fae and the people of Grenland with magic. He had brought the two realms to the point of war and defeated a small army. He had proven just how dangerous magic could be. And now King Richmond was restricting it. She also feared that this would be only his first step.
Suddenly she understood why her uncle had started laughing. This was his true victory.
Chapter Eighteen
Business was slow. Deathly slow. And the terrible thing about it was that it was all because of the King. He had decided to make life tough for anyone with a gift. Why?
Baen felt betrayed. After all he'd done. And he probably wasn't the only one.
How could the King have turned the realm upside down like this? And in only three weeks? In fact it was literally three weeks to the day since the Duke had been caught and he had been discharged from the Order of the Friends of the Golden Concord. Where once life had been simple and straight forward, suddenly the King had decided that years and centuries of calm, quiet rule should be turned on its head. He'd announced that the peace was ended. Not with the Fae – he wasn't stupid enough to go to war with them – but with magic itself. He'd declared it evil.
He had then followed up his declaration with a series of other decrees over the previous weeks. And while the first one – not being permitted to work in the King's service – hadn't affected him too badly, some of the others had.
The second decree – that all those with gifts had to report them to the local Magistrate – had frightened him. Even the blind would have seen it as the start of something sinister. It was drawing a target on the backs of those with gifts.
Naturally he'd gone down to the courthouse and done what was required of him. He hadn't really had a choice since it was the law and so many already knew about his gift. And he'd done the same for his Aunt Millie. Again, they already knew she was gifted since he'd so foolishly told an Inquisitor long ago that she was, and she wasn't going to be able to do it for herself. Not when she was locked in her garden, drinking her strange teas and eating the Lady only knew what. He hadn't done it for his grandfather because Grandpapa Nicholas could speak for himself. But he'd hated doing even as much as he had. It had felt like he was reporting himself and his aunt as having some sort of disease.
The lists of those who had reported themselves as being gifted had then been made public.
He was sure that should be some sort of violation of his rights. But even if it was and he could have proven it, it was too late to do anything about it. Court records had been posted for all to see and his name had been right at the top of them. All his customers, not just the nobility and the guards, knew he had magic. And they weren't coming near him anymore. They certainly weren't buying books from him. Not when magic had been proclaimed as the enemy.
Times had changed. Magic was no longer a joke any longer. It had become something dark and dangerous. And those with it should be avoided. Baen couldn't believe it. He couldn't understand that anyone would accept such wild claims. But sometimes as he sat at his counter and watched the world go by he actually saw some of his former customers cross the street just to stay away from him. The King had spoken and the people believed him.
But he could have dealt with that. Learned to live with it, because in time he knew that it would blow over. People would forget that magic was dangerous. Things would return to how they had been. Unfortunately King Richmond had then issued another decree. Those with gifts had to wear a mark. A yellow star on their collar.
Now it wasn't just his friends and family, the city guards and the Court who recognised him as gifted. Everyone did. If he walked down the street, people saw the symbol and gave him a wide berth. Some shouted at him. Cursed him. Some even spat at him. In just a few weeks he had gone from being a respected businessman to a pariah.
It was then that he'd understood that this wasn't going to go away so easily. Things weren't going to return to how they'd been. King Richmond was busy creating a panic. Why? After it all, his enemy had been his own uncle who just happened to be gifted. Not anyone else.
Baen didn't know why the King had done this. But he did know that they were already being singled out. That people were pointing and staring at them. It was only a matter of time before they started throwing stones at them and burning down their homes. Driving those with gifts out of the towns and cities. Killing them.
But they couldn't fight back. King Richmond's next decree had been that to use magic against someone for any reason was a capital crime. Punch someone in the face and you'd probably get a night in the cells. Use magic to do the same thing and you'd be hung!
It was just so damned unfair! So bloody wrong! Not just for him, but for everyone else like him. And there was nothing anyone could do about it. If they tried to ignore it, to hope it would be forgotten in time, people would be emboldened to strike at them knowing they wouldn't fight back. If on the other hand they fought back using the only weapons they had – their magic – they would not only prove that magic was dangerous and get themselves hung, they would add to the panic the King had started.
The real question though – the one that gave him bad dreams – was how many had already been dropped from the gallows? He already knew that some of the others like him in the city had been driven out of Cedar Heights. Their homes had been torched. And this was only the beginning of something darker.
The doorbell rang, but Baen didn't bother looking up. He knew who it was and she wasn't a customer. He didn't have any of them anymore.
“Your neighbour's got a sale on,” Nyri remarked as she walked in.
“I know. He's closing up shop. He doesn't want to live next to me. Not now that my store’s been marked. It's bad for business. Especially when the rocks start flying!” Which was why his neighbour had pushed all his wares out into the street that morning, marked them down enormously, and was busy trying to sell the lot in a day. Bradshaw was running. Baen couldn't blame him, despite the fact that they'd been neighbours – and friends for years. At least he’d thought so. It still left a bitter taste in his mouth.
“The pages are downstairs, on my desk.” He flicked a thumb in the direction of the staircase, and let her go about her business. Oddly, her business was good.
It was true what they said. Even an ill wind blew warmly for some. And for the moment this wind was blowing in the Fae's direction. They had come to Grenland hoping to encourage people like him to join them – he still didn't know why. They'd had little success. Now people with gifts were flocking to them. More than anyone had realised were out there.
That struck him as bitterly ironic. Whenever he asked himself why the King was doing this, the one thought that had come to him was that he was declaring war on the Fae. If magic was evil, then so were magical wares. People wouldn't go into their Trading Missions and buy. Not if doing so could get them marked as supporting magic. But that wasn't the Fae's main business any more. Recruitment was.
Naturally he was helping. He had to do something to help those like him. So he had started using his printing press to copy the journals of the magistrates containing the names of all those who had reported their gifts. It allowed the Fae to identify who was gifted so they could visit and make their case directly to those who were still on the fence, before the information was posted. Every one of the gifted who had reported their gift to every magistrate across the realm. He couldn't imagine that many would refuse their offer.
Oddly the Fae's actual business was also doing well – so far. People were visiting their Trading Mission in town and buying everything in sight, despite the King's clumsy attempts to stop them. He wasn't sure why. Somehow it was alright to have the Fae in town with their magic when they'd only just turned up and buy their magical wares, but not him who'd been here for years and sold plain old books? He didn't even have riding wolves or eagles! The very creatures who'd first scared the people senseless when the Fae had arrived.
Maybe, he thought, he should get some!
“Thank you,” Nyri walked past him in a swish of light-coloured cotton, heading for the stairs and the promised pages.
The doorbell unexpectedly rang once more while she was downstairs and Baen looked up, just in time to see Aribeth come flying in.
She was in a state. Her hair was messed up, tears were streaming down her cheeks and she wasn't making a lot of sense as she ran over to him and threw herself into his arms. And as he held her and tried to make sense of what she was saying, he worried that something terrible had happened to the family. But he hadn't expected what she told him next.
“He’s left me!”
“What?”
“Edderson!” She cried. “He said there's no future for us! We can't be together!”
“That swine!” Baen grew angry as he held her tight and felt her sobbing. Even though he hadn't thought the two of them were that close as yet, it still seemed cold blooded. What sort of a pig would do such a thing?! And to his sister of all people?!
“He's a bastard!” Baen told Aribeth as he tried to comfort her. “Not worth your time or your tears!” Though of course he knew the words wouldn't help much. Just as he'd secretly guessed that this day had been coming ever since the damned King had started issuing his decrees. Edders was from a noble family, however minor. They couldn't afford to be associated with magic. And the Walkertons now had at least two people listed as gifted in their family. He would have said three but he didn’t know if Grandpapa Nicholas had reported his gift. Still he had hoped Edders would have had a little more spine than this. Couldn’t he have at least stood up to his family for a few more weeks?
Baen hated himself just then. But for his gift and helping the King, his sister and Edders would still be together. He was the cause of her pain, however unintentionally. It had only taken three weeks to go from the hero who had hunted down Duke Barnly to a cause of shame. And yet he had done nothing wrong! In fact he had done everything he was supposed to do! He had done it perfectly! And somehow it had all gone wrong. And he still didn't understand how.
“How could he do that?” She wailed. “I thought he cared!”
“I'm sorry,” he told Aribeth, even as he patted her on the back in an attempt to comfort her. He just wished he could have told her something more useful. Or even that it would all be alright. But he wasn't sure it would be. Not for any of them.
But then, just as he wa
s trying to find a few useful words for her, things went from bad to worse.
At first he didn't know that that was what had happened. All he knew was that the shop door had opened once more and the bell had rung again. But when he looked up to see who had entered it was to discover that it wasn't a customer. It was a small boy, dressed in little more than torn rags. A guttersnipe. He came racing in and tugged on his suit, begging frantically for help.
A moment later the boy was grabbing on to him, clutching at his suit with dirty hands, and begging him frantically for help, while Aribeth had turned away and was dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief, trying to pretend that all was well with her.
