Shadow and Storm

by Juliet Kemp

  “Your boots are filthy. Don’t be disgusting.”

  “My socks aren’t much better,” Cato said.

  “Then keep your boots on over them and sit like a decent human, for the love of the angel.”

  Cato looked at her thoughtfully for a moment, then shrugged and left his feet on the floor where they belonged. Marcia, startled, wondered just how bad she looked.

  “What’s up, then?” Cato asked. “Council back in action, yes, but I don’t see how they can have done anything all that interesting yet.”

  “It wasn’t the Council,” Marcia said. “Not exactly. It was the Lord Lieutenant.”

  “The Lord Lieutenant? Really? But isn’t she just a figurehead?” He frowned. “That new one, though…”

  “You’ve met her?”

  “You should know. Reb said it was you put her onto us.”

  Marcia paused, then decided not to pursue that hare any further. “Well. Anyway. She made a speech, in Council. All about linking more closely with Teren, and Marek-city-of-Teren. Inviting us – insisting, almost – to send representatives to Teren.” She looked down at her fingers. “Not a word about the Guilds. Just the Houses.”

  Cato pursed his lips and nodded slowly. “Well, it could be nothing. Hot air. Political point-scoring for her to refer to back home.”

  “It didn’t sound like nothing,” Marcia said.

  “She can hardly force you all to go.”

  “Can’t she?”

  “How? What’s she going to do, send an army down the river for us to pick them off as they land?”

  “It’s not like we have an army to do the picking off,” Marcia pointed out. “You going to send the City Guard with their sticks in their hands?” Cudgels, the Guard would say, but a cudgel was still just a glorified stick. “Or all those young House types that fancy themselves down at the salle?”

  “You go to the salle,” Cato said. “And you own a very nice sword, as I recall.”

  “And I’m not about to go up against a damn army, even a hypothetical one.” She fenced for amusement, and for exercise, and a little bit in case she was out late on her own at night; not that she regularly carried a blade.

  “We do have Beckett,” Cato said.

  “Are you seriously suggesting that Beckett would get involved in a war?”

  “I wasn’t seriously suggesting that anyone get involved in a war. I didn’t think you were seriously suggesting a war.” There was just the echo of a question in his voice, but Marcia didn’t say anything. He tipped his head backwards and stared at the ceiling. “I see your point. It’s a hell of a stretch, though, from encouraging closer links with Teren and issuing invitations, even very pointed ones, to enforcing some kind of, I don’t know, occupation with soldiers.”

  “I’m not sure it’s an occupation if we’re technically Teren,” Marcia said.

  “That ‘technically’ is doing a lot of work there. If being Teren were less of an issue then none of this would matter, would it? You’d all just trot along to Ameten and be done with it. The fact that you’re worrying about it suggests to me that you don’t think it’s that straightforward. I studied Marek history too, remember, back in the schoolroom, with you and Nisha? It was direct rule back in the day, and now it’s not, but there’s always been a certain tension around the matter. I’d have said that the tension was in both directions and it could, as it were, maintain itself, but if one side starts pulling harder…” He shrugged. “‘You don’t boss us around and we won’t actively contradict you’ works just fine until the bossing around starts. Is that what you’re concerned about?”

  Marcia shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe you’re right. All she actually said was about restoring the, uh, in-person links. Like when Mother was younger. And maybe it would be no bad thing for some of the younger House members to be off doing that.” She and Cato had discussed that before, although Cato’s position on the matter was that he couldn’t care less how bored a bunch of over-privileged House-sprigs were; they should count themselves lucky and shut up. “But what’s the point? Teren’s almost entirely cut off by those mountains. We already have Teren’s trade. We should be making better connections with the Crescent, or Exuria, or the islands out beyond Salinas, if we can buy passage there.”

  “Well then, no wonder Selene and those she represents are pissed off,” Cato said. “Might be worth sending some of the young fools off just to keep Teren sweet.”

  “But now that Selene’s said it, will they want to do it? Won’t they get their backs up about Marek’s independence?” She sighed. “Although… the people in the Chamber, the Heads and the Heirs I mean, they didn’t look… as disapproving, as I might have thought they would.” She thought about the conversation with Piath, at House Berenaz, and bit her lip.

  “Huh,” Cato said, slowly. “You know, I’d have thought that showing her hand that clearly was an error… so either she’s not very good at this, or she’s been laying the groundwork.”

  “I don’t want to assume she’s not good at it,” Marcia said. “I’ve got the uncomfortable feeling that I’ve been underestimating her this far. I think that’s exactly what she’s been doing.” She hesitated. “And I think she’s been arguing for the Houses to keep their control over the Guilds.”

  “You’ve not had much luck with that, then?”

  Marcia shook her head, and sipped at her tea in silence for a moment. “Cato, are you sure you don’t want to be involved in any of this? You’ve the mind for it, you know.”

  “Sorcerer,” Cato said with elaborate patience. “Disowned. You must remember. You were there, and she shouted loud enough.” Even now, Cato never used their mother’s name.

  “I know, but… I said to Reb, you know. Maybe it’s time that sorcerers were represented on the Council. Along with the Guilds.”

  “For the love… No. Absolutely not. That is a fucking terrible idea,” Cato said. “What did Reb say?”

  “Same as you,” Marcia admitted. “I just thought…”

  “Well, stop thinking. I won’t talk to you about this if you’re going to see it as fitting me for up there.”

  “Very well. I hear you. But – why not?”

  “For me? Because I left, and I won’t go back.” Cato’s face was grim. “In the general case, because we’ve had one go at mixing politics and magic this year, and it didn’t end well, did it? And before that? There’s a reason for that rule.”

  “I thought you didn’t like rules.”

  “I don’t like baseless rules. Or rules that I don’t like. I am quite happy with that one. And so, more to the point, is Beckett.”

  “Fine, fine,” Marcia said. She hesitated. “Reb didn’t… I mean, she said she’d mention it to you, as well. That it was a matter for the Group.”

  Cato raised an eyebrow. “She hasn’t yet. But then, we’ve been talking of other things.” He had the look of someone tucking the information away for the future, and Marcia wondered whether she should have mentioned it or not; but then, leaving it as Reb apparently making the decision by herself wouldn’t have been right either, would it? Would it?

  Cato drained his tea and looked in dissatisfaction at the tray, and Marcia abandoned the train of thought as unproductive. “Nothing proper to drink?” he asked.

  “Alcoholic, you mean?” Marcia rolled her eyes, and summoned the waiter, who brought a flask of red wine.

  “What of the Guilds, then, since you mentioned them a moment ago?” Cato asked, once the waiter had gone again.

  “Well, I don’t think they were thrilled with Selene so blatantly ignoring them,” Marcia said. “Other than that – well. Mother thinks it would take years, and she won’t vote for it either way. I don’t have any of the other Houses on board, although I’ve tried talking to a few, just raising the idea gently, you know? Maybe Mother’s right. Maybe I just have to keep bringing it up for years and gradually get people’s opinions to shift.” If the Guilds would sit still for that. “Nisha’s helping, too,” s
he added.

  “You realise,” Cato said, taking another slug of red wine, “that you’re barely scratching the surface?”

  Marcia frowned at him. “What do you mean?”

  Cato shrugged. “Houses, Guilds… even if the Guilds did get something that looked more like effective voting rights, it’s hardly going to affect anything over this side of the river, is it?”

  “But the Guilds and the Houses are the ones controlling Marek’s prosperity,” Marcia said, “and that affects us all.”

  “They control Marek’s prosperity for their own ends,” Cato said. “Come on, even you must see that. You’ve been to the squats, yes?”

  “The squats are exactly the sort of thing I mean. Free housing, safe.”

  “Some of it,” Cato said.

  “You live near people who don’t care for that,” Marcia said. “You could move.”

  “So, you think House Fereno, or the Jewellers’ Guild’s Master’s place, is just the same as, say, Reb’s house?”

  Marcia’s lips tightened. “Of course not, but…”

  Cato shrugged. “Then it’s not like the wealth and prosperity is coming into everyone’s palm, is it?”

  “There’s nothing wrong with where Reb lives.”

  “I’m sure it’s perfectly charming,” Cato said. “You’d know better than me, sister mine. But I’ll bet you anything you like that it doesn’t look like House Fereno. Does Reb have servants? She certainly doesn’t dress like you.”

  Marcia felt herself flush. “That doesn’t matter.”

  “Not saying it does. You and Reb, that’s between the two of you. I am most certainly not going to get in the way, don’t worry. I’m just saying. Why are you fussing about getting Council votes for the Guilds, when they already have wealth and power and control? Why aren’t you looking round here for people to give a little power to?”

  Nisha and Reb had been saying the same thing, hadn’t they? And yet…

  Cato sighed. “Never mind. You keep on with fiddling around the edges, eh? Just try not to get yourself into too much trouble, nor yet interfere too much with this much-vaunted Marek prosperity. I wouldn’t like to find even less of the House gold trickling down into the squats. That really might put us into trouble.”

  They talked of other things for the rest of their time, but afterwards Marcia kept coming back to what Cato had said; an uncomfortable lump in the back of her mind that wouldn’t quite wear away.

  TWELVE

  Reb wasn’t difficult to find, once Tait started looking. Apparently there had been some plague, a couple of years previously, and most of Marek’s sorcerers had died. This Reb was one of those who remained – her, and someone called Cato who lived in the squats, who the barman at the White Horse was clearly a bit dubious about. Tait made themself eat something before they set out, and it sat like an indigestible lump in their stomach as they walked over to the Old Market.

  Reb, when she opened the door to Tait, didn’t look terribly pleased to be disturbed; though surely she’d be happy enough to see a potential client. Not that Tait was a potential client exactly, but Reb couldn’t know that yet. She eyed them narrowly, and folded her arms. “What do you want?”

  “Uh. I’m looking for a sorcerer. Can I come in?”

  “I suppose so,” Reb said, and stood back, allowing them through the door.

  Once inside, Tait wasn’t quite sure where to start. Or where to go, come to that. The room was small, with two internal doors at the back, both of which were closed, and one of which had a heavy lock. A workroom? To Tait’s right was a stove and kitchen equipment; in front and to their left a collection of mismatched chairs and a low table. It was a bare room, but a vase of flowers sat on one windowsill, the only real splash of colour or decoration in the place.

  Reb stood, arms still folded, and glared at Tait for a few moments; then she sighed and gestured to the chairs. She stomped across the room and sat down in the battered armchair, and, when Tait didn’t immediately follow, gestured again at the wooden chairs by the armchair.

  “Well then? Sit down and tell me what you want.”

  Tait obediently sat, then took a deep breath and went for the bald approach.

  “I’m – I’m from Teren. I came…” They stopped, and tried again. “I’m a sorcerer. But I don’t want to be, I don’t want to work how I was taught in Teren, not any more. Everyone knows about Marek’s magic. I want…”

  “You want to apprentice here, instead?” Reb said. Her voice was even. Tait couldn’t tell what she thought of the idea.

  “You’ve done it,” Tait pointed out. It was guesswork – something about Reb’s vowels, something about the way she was looking at Tait – but they were prepared to bet on it.

  Reb didn’t react, though her shoulders tensed, perhaps, ever so slightly. She didn’t deny it, either. “Why?” she demanded.

  “Well, why did you do it?” Tait asked, and got a glare in response.

  “That’s none of your business, and you’re making a lot of assumptions right now. Why do you want to?”

  “I don’t want to deal in blood, and I don’t want to summon demons,” Tait said, which was slightly more than they’d meant to say outright.

  It had been a hell of a shock, realising what they’d got themself into, that first time back in the Academy in Ameten. As had realising why they’d been trained in the first place. There might have been more sensible reactions to this than to banish the spirit they’d raised and run for it, but Tait hadn’t been able to think of any at the time.

  But they were safe in Marek now. It might notionally be Teren, but the laws were different, and the magic was different, and the sorcerers were different. And Reb was from Teren, and she’d become a sorcerer here. Maybe this might work out yet.

  Reb was still eyeing them. “Have you ever used unwilling blood?”

  “No,” Tait said, and pushed up their sleeves, showing Reb the tracery of scars right up their arms. Arms were easiest to get at, for blood work. Reb raised an eyebrow, and Tait dropped their sleeves again. Even in Teren they didn’t much like showing their arms unless they were working. Here it seemed like a particularly bad idea.

  “Have you ever used someone else’s willing blood?”

  “Ye-es,” Tait said. “My tutor. And her other student. And someone who wanted me to perform a spell on them, and I needed it to tie it together.”

  Reb nodded. “Nothing you paid for?”

  “No!” Tait said indignantly. They were aware that some people did that, paid for blood to use in their own spells, rather than use their own, but Tait had always seen it as a bit like cheating. Not as bad as just taking it, of course, but…

  Which was why Tait’s arms looked the way they did, and some sorcerers seemed to have barely a scar. Of course, the other reason for that was that some sorcerers went directly to summoning-and-binding and Tait had avoided that for a long while, scared for reasons they couldn’t quite articulate, until the Academy pushed them into it.

  Of course, it turned out that they’d been right to be scared. And right, although they hadn’t thought of it quite that way before, to be unsettled about what exactly the Academy was asking for. They wished, now, that they’d run earlier; but then, once they entered the Academy it had already been too late.

  Reb was chewing at a thumbnail. “Why have you come here?”

  This was the tricky bit. “I told you already. I got fed up with slicing myself open, and I don’t like binding spirits,” Tait said. Which was true, as far as it went, but they hadn’t had the notion of leaving home and coming here until they were already on the run.

  “So you’ve come here.”

  “I still want to do sorcery,” Tait said, and knew that that must sound true because it was, desperately and entirely true. “Marek has sorcery, a different sort of sorcery. I wanted… I thought, maybe, someone would teach me.”

  “And you came to me.”

  “I was told, there’s only two sorcerers left in Ma
rek now,” Tait said. “You, and someone that my informant didn’t recommend.”

  “Cato,” Reb said. “Hm, well.” She didn’t elaborate.

  “So I came to you,” Tait said. “To ask if you’ll teach me.” She was still looking at them, so Tait chanced another reminder. “And it looks like you did the same yourself, once. If you’re Teren. Did you start off with Teren magic, too?”

  Reb stared flatly at them, and Tait looked away. “Sorry,” they muttered. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

  “No,” Reb said, and their tone was absolute.

  Tait’s stomach plummeted. “No?”

  “No, I won’t take you on as an apprentice,” Reb said. “You’re not telling me the whole truth, and I’m not taking on someone who isn’t.” Her eyes narrowed. “Are you the sorcerer the Teren Lord Lieutenant was talking about?”

  “W-what?” Tait managed. Horror pulsed through their skull.

  “The one who raised some demon they couldn’t control, did a runner, they’re still struggling with it back at Ameten.”

  “No!” Tait said. “I mean, yes, but…”

  But they’d got rid of it. They had! Hadn’t they?

  Too late, they realised that they’d missed their opportunity to deny it, to look casual and unconcerned and maybe faintly surprised. Reb was shaking her head.

  “You are,” Reb said. “That’s you. What on earth are you thinking, coming to Marek, with that thing maybe after you? What on earth were you thinking, just running away from it?” She sounded disgusted. “You have no idea what it could have done. Well, that’s not even true, you do have an idea, don’t you. That’s worse.”

  “I couldn’t… I banished it. I did. Half those scars, the new ones…” Tait felt panic rising. “Surely I couldn’t have…”

  “You thought you banished it but you didn’t check?” Reb said. She sounded scornful. “Well, even if that were true, it doesn’t exactly bode well for your careful attitude, does it?”

  “Gods, is it free?” Tait demanded. They felt sick.

  “Yes,” Reb said. “So I’m told. No harm done yet, but who knows what’ll happen.”