by Juliet Kemp
Tait could feel themself shaking. No harm done yet, at least, but…
But they had banished it. They were certain of it. They’d seen it disappear, they’d shut everything down…
“I did banish it,” they said, but Reb didn’t look convinced. “Someone must have raised it again. To look for me.”
Reb was shaking her head. “Why on earth would they bother? Just for one sorcerer?”
“The Academy,” Tait said. “They don’t want, they don’t let you go…” But Reb must have been in Marek for years, long before the Academy was established. She wouldn’t know. And Tait themself hadn’t wanted to think badly of the Academy until the very last minute. They’d ignored so much. They scrabbled for words to explain everything to Reb, but nothing would come together. And they couldn’t be certain, not any more, that it definitely wasn’t their fault…
Reb looked away, obviously giving up on Tait.
“I should hand you straight over to the Teren Lieutenant. Send you back to solve your own damn problem.”
Tait stood up, trembling, almost knocking the chair over as they stood.
“I won’t,” Reb said, with an irritable wave of the hand. “I’m not going to take you on as an apprentice, and I don’t want to see you around Marek again. But I won’t send you to her.”
“But Marek’s the only place that’s safe,” Tait said. They swallowed.
“I said,” Reb said, distinctly and slowly, “that I don’t want to see you around Marek. Because if I do, I might have to reconsider this decision. Do you understand me?”
Tait nodded, jerkily.
“Now. Get the hell out of here. If you’ve any morality at all, you’ll go back of your own accord and find a way to deal with that thing. Maybe the city sorcerers will let you help without just throwing you to it.”
Tait knew how unlikely that was. Reb, presumably, believed what she was saying; but there was no point in trying again to explain. And perhaps it was Tait’s own screwup, after all. Maybe they really had messed up the banishing, and just not realised. In which case maybe they ought to sacrifice themself to their own screwup. Gods and angels. What had they done?
Tait couldn’t think of anything to say to Reb. Goodbye, thank you – none of it could possibly be right. They just nodded, again, walked across the room, and let themself out the door. They felt Reb’s eyes on their back the whole way.
k k
Tait couldn’t afford to let themself think about anything Reb had said as they walked back through the city to the White Horse. They didn’t know this place; if they started trying to work out what to do next, or thinking at all about the demon – how could it still be here, what had they done? – they would just end up lost, and that wasn’t going to help the situation. Time enough to panic, or break down, or whatever, once they were safely back in their room at the inn.
They’d pinned so much on Marek’s sorcerers being helpful. They hadn’t let themself think about what to do if they weren’t. And they hadn’t even thought that the demon might be on the loose, again. Still. They’d seen it go back, they’d seen the link to the spirit plane close. They’d seen it, they’d been certain, before they’d run, and now… ? Bile rose in their throat, and they swallowed it back down. It might not have been that, after all. But it didn’t really matter, did it? If there was a demon coming to Marek, it was still Tait’s fault. They’d raised it; they’d run; they’d run here.
Tait had walked through the market square – this was the Old Market, as opposed to the New Market where they’d entered Marek – more or less without seeing it. The river was in front of them now, with a small passenger ferry loading at a dock to one side, and Tait turned right to walk along the riverside towards Old Bridge. The barman at the White Horse had said that there were quicker ways to get from the Old Bridge to where Reb lived, but sticking to the riverside was the least likely to get Tait lost.
There was another sorcerer. This Cato that Reb had mentioned, and that the barman hadn’t thought much of. Reb hadn’t sounded like she thought much of – him? them? her? – either. But then Reb didn’t think much of Tait, either. Tait swallowed back misery. Cato had sounded potentially dangerous, but… more dangerous than the alternatives? Tait shook their head, trying to dislodge the spiralling loop of thoughts. Best just not to think about any of this until they could sit down quietly and peacefully and work it all out. Otherwise they’d wind up screaming in the middle of the street.
The docks were busy, and Tait tried to distract themself in watching all that was going on. This section of the dock was evidently Salinas, although there were only a couple of their big sleek sea-going ships there at the moment. People did mysterious nautical things with rope and paint on the decks. Tait had never met anyone from Salina. Teren, other than Marek, was land-locked, and the Salinas were devoted to their ships. Smaller boats were loading and unloading crates with various stamps across them. It was fascinating to watch, despite Tait’s anxiety. Tait knew about Marek’s status as trade-city for Teren, but seeing the reality of it was something else. They loitered for a while, leaning on a rail at the edge of one of the docks, out of the way of the people moving about their business, just watching; then straightened up with a sigh. They were just putting off the moment of deciding what to do next. At least they felt a bit calmer now.
Old Bridge was another five minutes’ walk along the riverside. Close to the bridge, the path became a stone embankment for walking, right next to the river, rather than skirting behind the edge of a working dock. It was mirrored on the other side of Old Bridge – the flashier side, Tait had already realised – by a much more elaborate one, with more elaborately-dressed people walking along it. Over here, Marek’s poorer citizens might take a few minutes at the middle of the day for a stroll, if they were lucky and had the time and energy; over there were Marek’s richer citizens, who could presumably choose to take rather more time for their strolls.
Once Tait reached the White Horse, they found their stomach growling; they’d been too nervous to eat before going to see Reb, and they’d taken their time walking back. Perhaps before going back to the room, they could have something to eat in the taproom.
“Ah, Ser Tait,” the barman said – the same one who’d given Tait directions to Reb’s. “I trust your errand this morning went well. I’m afraid you’ve just missed someone asking for you.”
Tait’s heart warmed slightly. Surely it must be one of the expedition, Bracken perhaps, or, less likely, Captain Anna. Tait hadn’t thought either of them had become fond enough of Tait to look them up, but it would be nice to be wrong.
“Or at any rate, he was asking after a Teren sorcerer, just come in,” the barman continued.
The warm feeling disappeared. Bracken or Captain Anna would have asked for Tait by name.
“Had a bit of a Teren accent, so I figured him for a countryman of yours, looking for a chin-wag,” the barman was saying. “I said you’d doubtless be back later, but he didn’t want to leave a name. Just said he’d be back another time. You only just missed him.”
Tait’s appetite had entirely disappeared. There were no good reasons for someone from Teren to be asking for them. Tait supposed it was just about possible that one of the expedition had mentioned a Teren sorcerer to a Teren friend, and that friend was so desperate for the accents of home that he came looking… but then he’d have Tait’s name, wouldn’t he? And would have mentioned Bracken or whoever it was?
There weren’t many people who knew Tait was here. The expedition. Reb, now. There weren’t many people who would have any interest in a Teren sorcerer. But Reb had said that the Teren Lieutenant knew about that wretched demon, and by implication, that she was looking for whoever raised it… That didn’t make sense, though. How would they be looking for Tait here in Marek, already? Unless it was sheer luck, that the Lord Lieutenant had heard, somehow, of the presence of a Teren sorcerer here and thought it was worth checking…
The barman was looking at Tait, h
is eyebrows raised.
“Hmm?”
“I said, Ser, was there something you wanted?”
“Uh. Um, are you serving something for lunch? Could I have some of it sent up to my room?”
“There’s fish stew with bread?” the barman offered.
“Yes. Absolutely. Here, let me pay for it – no, I’d rather not put it on my account, thank you.”
Tait walked heavily up the stairs to their room, and didn’t think to wonder if the Teren enquirer really had gone away and not, say, gone to wait for them, until they’d walked into the room. Thankfully, there was no one there. But it just showed that Tait wasn’t thinking clearly.
It could just be coincidence. And even if it wasn’t coincidence, maybe if that person did come back, Tait could talk their way out of it. Brazen it out. Would there be a description circulating? It wasn’t like anyone else had been around at the time, and the demon was surely unlikely to be co-operating with anyone if it was on the loose… unless it thought it might get fed if it did.
Tait shuddered at the thought.
This was all falling apart. Tait had known that the Academy would look for them – everyone knew what the Academy did to runaway sorcerers – but they’d figured that if Tait could stay out of sight for long enough, for example, hidden in Marek, under the cityangel’s protection, then in due course the Academy would give up. One junior sorcerer; it couldn’t be that important, could it? But that had been when Tait believed that the demon was safely back on its own plane. Not when it had yet to be banished, and when everyone knew that the easiest way to do so would be to find Tait and feed them to it. And if they’d gone to the trouble of raising it again just to look for Tait, that was still the story they were putting about, so that was still what Tait had to assume they were planning.
The demon hadn’t hurt anyone yet. That didn’t mean that it wouldn’t. It might mean that it was under control; it might just be luck.
And the other thing Tait had been counting on was Marek’s magic. Not just the protection; Marek’s magic, to them, sounded almost impossibly wonderful. A long-term, permanent contract with a spirit, that didn’t require blood or sacrifices of other sorts or deals or fear or… But Reb had turned them down. No magic. No protection.
Jerkily, Tait started stuffing their things back into their bag. They had to run. Again. But where to, this time? One of those Salinas ships, maybe – did they take passengers? Did they take broke passengers? Tait had their money from the expedition, but they couldn’t imagine that it was enough to get them passage anywhere particularly useful. And in any case, where else did sorcery? The idea of a life without magic… but the alternative to just losing their magic was losing their life as well.
Maybe Reb was right, maybe they should go back. But… Tait didn’t have the fortitude to go back and voluntarily feed themself to a demon. Even if it was their fault – but it had gone, though, it had gone – and certainly not just to feed the Academy’s unwillingness to let anyone get away. To let anyone believe they had an alternative, once they’d stepped through those stone doors.
There was a knock at the door, and Tait jerked, horrible visions running through their head, before a bored voice called “Your food!” and Tait cautiously opened the door to take a plate of stew and a small loaf of bread.
The food looked and smelt appetising enough, except that Tait had precisely no appetite at all. They forced themself to sit down and eat at least some of it – they didn’t need to start out hungry. They were going to have to leave the White Horse, that was clear, but where to?
As they ate, their mind kept coming back to this Cato. Another sorcerer. Who Reb disliked, and who clearly had a bad reputation. But what other options did Tait have? Maybe the bad reputation would be a help; maybe if Tait made a clean breast of everything that had happened, maybe Cato would find it amusing to help a demon-raiser. A cowardly one, Reb had said, and she wasn’t wrong. (But the demon had been banished, it had. Tait felt tears start in the corners of their eyes and furiously blinked them away.)
And if not, then presumably Cato would take Tait along to the Teren Lieutenant and hand them over, and maybe that would be what Tait deserved.
It wasn’t like there were any good options available. Tait pushed the bowl of stew away, shoved the loaf of bread into their bag for later use, and did a final check of the room for abandoned belongings. They didn’t want to leave officially; there were too many people around who were watching, too many people who might be able to tell someone, later, which way Tait had gone.
Tait counted out onto the table enough coins to cover their bill, and a little more, strapped their bag across their chest, took a deep breath, and threw open the window.
THIRTEEN
Marcia had been looking forward to seeing Reb all day. It had been more than a full enough day: the bank, the barracks, and the conversation with Ilana; the expected tediousness of the Council opening interrupted with Selene’s weird speech; and then that conversation with Cato, which she was still turning over in her mind.
She took the ferry across the river to the foot of the dock at the Old Market. At this time of day it wasn’t that busy; mostly day-servants from houses and shops on Marekhill who lived over in the small terraced houses and flats clustered around the Old Market, and who were paid well enough for the ferry-fare to be worth the saving on their feet compared to walking around by the bridge. The ferry moved so slowly that Marcia had to slap away the mosquitos that caught up with it. As she disembarked and walked across the Old Market, the last stallholders were putting away their barrows, and apprentices were hauling water from the well in the corner to sluice across the cobbles into the gutters, from which a faint smell of rotting vegetables wafted. A couple of children carried a bucket of water between them in front of Marcia up past Reb’s house, squabbling about whose turn it was to help their father with the dinner.
Marcia reached Reb’s house with a sigh of relief. For now, she could just forget all of this, and ignore Cato’s weird ideas. She could spend a pleasant evening with Reb, and relax a bit. She rapped on the door, and smiled when Reb opened it to her, taking in the sight of the taller woman. There were a couple of smudges on the brown skin of Reb’s cheek, and her short dark curls looked, as usual, like she’d been running her hands through them.
“Hello you,” Reb said, with an answering smile of her own. “Come on in. It’s good to see you.”
For Reb, that was unusually expressive, and Marcia basked in the warmth of it as she stepped into the house. Once she was indoors and the door had shut behind her, Reb opened her arms, and they embraced. Apparently, Reb felt that it was beneath the dignity of a sorcerer to engage in public displays of affection. To be fair, Marcia wasn’t sure how she’d behave if she was over her side of the river, where there was more likelihood of being seen by someone who might report back to her mother. She was gloomily aware that as Fereno-Heir, she shouldn’t really be consorting with a sorcerer, even if she wasn’t involving herself in any actual sorcery.
Well. There was no point in wasting her time and energy thinking about that right now. Things were what they were, and there was no point in borrowing trouble.
Reb let go of her, and nodded over at the stove.
“I’ve pan-dumplings cooking, if you want some?”
“That would be lovely,” Marcia said. “Can I help?”
“I doubt it,” Reb said. “Go and sit down. Or, no, choose an infusion.”
Marcia glanced over the row of jars and chose greenherb. By the time the water was boiling and she’d poured it into the cups, Reb had put a dish of pan-dumplings on the table between the chairs. Steam rose from them, scenting the whole room with delightful smells.
“So,” Marcia said, once she’d eaten her first dumpling. Reb was a good cook; the minced vegetables were flavoured with something that gave them a pleasant sharpness, and the outer pastry was correctly thin. “Something I thought you might want to know. My expedition over to Exuria retu
rned today, and the captain told me they hired a sorcerer in Teren to help them through the passes. Apparently at this season, you get dragon-bears, and magic is a damn sight easier for dealing with them than brute force, I’m told.”
“Yes,” Reb said, with an expression that suggested she might know more than Marcia about it. Marcia was once again tempted to ask Reb about her Teren background, but pushed the idea aside. It had never seemed that Reb would be pleased to be asked.
“Wait.” Reb frowned over the low table at her. “Sorcerer? A Teren sorcerer?”
“Yes, and the odd thing is – this is what I thought you might want to know about – once they reached Marek, they chose to come into the city, rather than take their paid passage back up the river to Teren.”
“A Teren sorcerer in Marek?”
“Yes. Is that likely to be a problem?”
“I’ve met them,” Reb said. She put her fork down and folded her arms. “And yes, they’re a problem. I don’t know what your expedition were doing, bringing them back.”
Irritation swept over Marcia at Reb’s tone. “There’s no law against folk coming from Teren to Marek, is there? I don’t see how the captain could stop them doing what they chose.“
Reb snorted. “Well, it’s a damn nuisance.”
“They came to see you? What did they want?”
“Apprenticing,” Reb said.
“That’s good, right? Aren’t you looking for an apprentice?” Marcia had a sudden pang of worry. If Reb had taken this person on as an apprentice, maybe Marcia shouldn’t have told Selene about them.
“Not a Teren one,” Reb said. Marcia saw a muscle in her jaw twitch.
“But you’re Teren,” Marcia said, confused, then regretted it as Reb glared at her.
“I’m a Marek sorcerer,” Reb said. “And more to the point, when I came to Marek, I wasn’t on the run from raising an uncontrolled demon.”
Marcia’s stomach lurched. “That was this one, then?” She might have told Selene, but she realised now that she’d been hoping that it was a coincidence.
