by Juliet Kemp
Next to him, Tait was shaking, very slightly. Cato hesitated, then reached out and took their hand again. Tait didn’t stop shaking, but they did turn a grateful face to Cato. Cato did his best to give them a reassuring smile, although he wasn’t at all sure how good his best might be. Tait didn’t look any worse for it, so that was something.
Beckett was going on foot, rather than telling them where to go and meeting them there. Cato added that to the mental list of things he didn’t want to ask about. He strongly suspected that it was for the same reason his light spell had failed; that the demon’s attempt to get into Marek was taking all of Beckett’s energy. Which raised the alarming question of what the hell they were going to do when they actually got there.
Another alarming question was: the demon was outside the city, because Beckett wouldn’t let it in. But could Beckett leave Marek? And if they couldn’t, what happened then? There was a point where Marek ended, but if Beckett couldn’t go past that point, could Beckett’s power? If Cato stepped over that line, would he still be able to do magic? One couldn’t do Marek magic in Teren. Was it an absolute cut-off point, or a gradual change? Cato cursed the fact that it had never previously occurred to him to test this. Of course, he’d never intended to leave Marek – he still didn’t intend to leave Marek, come to that – so it hadn’t seemed remotely interesting or important.
Ugh. Why was he even here? Following dutifully after Beckett towards some demon bent on attacking the city; instead of, say, hunkering down and waiting for it all to pass. Except that he wouldn’t be able to do much in the way of sorcery until Beckett got rid of this thing. That was a reasonable reason.
The less reasonable reason was that he wanted Tait to think well of him. Which was absurd, not to mention foolish.
Tait was still holding his hand. Or Cato was still holding Tait’s. One of those. Cato probably ought to let go.
Of course, everything they were doing right now was predicated on the assumption that Beckett could get rid of this thing. One thing that had been categorically established during the summer’s ‘exciting’ events was that being immortal didn’t make spirits immune to damage from other spirits. What if the demon turned out to be stronger than Beckett? Cato really didn’t want to think about what might happen if they needed to find a replacement for Beckett. That had hardly gone well before either.
He tried to tell himself that they were all going to be fine, that Beckett was going to snap this demon into kindling. He didn’t find himself very convincing.
He glanced beyond Tait at Jonas, who was a nasty pale green now and only on his feet, as far as Cato could tell, because Reb was helping him. At this rate Jonas would be no use to them at all, especially given how erratic his magic had been at the best of times. But they could hardly just have left him behind at Reb’s.
Beckett led them to a spot just past the middle of the square by the docks where the barges and distance-carts unloaded. The square was empty, not only of people but also of the pigeons and crows and seagulls that Cato would have expected to be here, bickering over scraps; he could certainly see the scraps, and smell them, but there wasn’t a living being here other than themselves. Under the smell of dock and river and rotting vegetable matter, the air smelt like a storm was coming, and the hairs had risen up on Cato’s arms. Tait dropped his hand to scrub at their own arms; not just him, then. The clouds were towering ever higher, and the sky to the west was grey-black, with swirling purple clouds that were far too close to the ground.
“Where is everyone?” Marcia asked. Not being a sorcerer, arguably Marcia really should have stayed behind, but making that suggestion absolutely wouldn’t have been worth the argument that would’ve ensued. Cato knew his sister.
“I sent them away,” Beckett said.
“What, you showed up and told them?” Marcia was visibly shocked.
“No. I made them go away,” Beckett said.
Cato and Reb exchanged glances. Cato reckoned Reb was just about as horrified by this new information about Beckett’s abilities as he was, but there wasn’t time to deal with that right now. The strange feeling in the air was thickening.
“It’s coming,” Jonas said, hoarsely, and suddenly Reb was struggling with him, his body a dead weight.
“He’s fainted,” she said, unnecessarily, and lowered him to the ground, frowning down at him in concern.
“If it’s just a faint, he’ll be fine,” Cato said. “Also we have rather more urgent things to be worried about. Look.”
On the road leading out of the square, past the barge-docks and winding along beside the river towards Teren, there were two figures, still a fair few yards away; and the purple clouds were boiling down towards them. Cato looked up, and saw more purple clouds, directly overhead.
“Where’s the boundary?” he demanded, with a jolt of horror. “The city boundary. Between here and there, obviously. But where exactly?”
Beckett paced towards the road and the figures. If they’d been human, Cato would have described their body as tense. He wasn’t sure if that really translated in spirit terms.
The purple clouds around the two figures coalesced, suddenly, and there was a third figure there, outlined in that unnatural purple, together with a feeling like Cato’s ears had popped, but located in his sense of magic.
Jonas, on the ground, jerked and woke up, his eyes wide and pupils blown. “It’s here,” he said, somewhat unnecessarily in Cato’s view.
Jonas scrambled unsteadily to his feet. Tait was damp with sweat around their hairline, their eyes terrified.
Beckett had stopped a few metres from where the road left the square, just by the edge of one of the barge-docks. Cato swallowed and made himself walk towards them, doing his best to retain his usual nonchalance. It was hard to do that, walking closer towards that purple shape on the road.
“Here,” Beckett said, without turning round. “Here is the boundary.”
The purple shape, and the two humans with it, were moving towards them.
Reb swore, and Cato echoed her. They caught each other’s eye. Without needing to say more, hastily both began to spread rosemary and salt around their little group. Two rosemary-and-salt circles, one inside the other; that was more than double the protection that Cato usually worked with, when he bothered with protection at all, and yet he had the horrible sinking feeling that it wouldn’t be enough.
“Someone must be outside the boundary,” Beckett said. “Or we cannot reach the demon. One of you. I cannot go further.”
Cato stopped for a moment and looked around. He really, really didn’t like this. “Right. So. You’re standing exactly on the boundary? Just the Marek side of it?”
Beckett nodded without looking away from the purple outline of the approaching demon.
“Use Beckett as the centre of the circles,” Reb said, curtly, and Cato gestured agreement.
Which meant he would have to go outside the boundary of the city himself in order to complete the circle. He really, really didn’t want to do that. He didn’t see that he had much option. He gritted his teeth, and glanced over at Reb. He was slightly heartened to see that she too was visibly bracing herself.
“Go,” Cato said, and they both stepped out over that invisible boundary at the same time, scattering salt and rosemary.
The sudden change in pressure nearly knocked Cato off his feet, and he saw, out of the corner of his eye, the purple shape speed up. But in barely a second more, he’d met Reb, and between them they had a full circle. The pressure didn’t go away, but it reduced, enough that he felt he could take a breath. He and Reb exchanged another glance and continued around. Once they were done, they’d each made a full circle, and were back inside Marek. Cato stumbled as he stopped, then pretended he hadn’t.
“It won’t hold,” Beckett said.
“It will if you put some bloody effort into it,” Reb said through her teeth. “I thought you were the cityangel. You’re on your home ground here, and that thing is not.”
Beckett looked a bit startled. Cato tried not to cheer out loud. Then Beckett scowled down at the ground, and there was a sudden flare of magic that nearly had Cato falling into Tait. (Well, it was an ill wind, and all that… ) The air changed smell, just a little, and the hair on Cato’s arms tingled again.
“Thank you,” Reb said.
She looked around at them. “How are we going to do this?”
“Someone needs to be in that side of the circle,” Cato said. “Outside Marek. Tait’s the one with the link, so they should stay inside Marek’s protection or risk losing it. Beckett has to be there and no further. Marcia at the back, she’s got no powers at all. But stay inside the circle, you hear, Marcia? And stay behind Beckett.” He scowled, not liking where this was going.
“You and me in front,” Reb said. She didn’t look any happier than he did, that was the only consolation.
“And me,” Jonas said. He still looked like hell.
Reb and Cato looked at each other. “He’s an apprentice,” Reb said.
“I won’t be if we don’t fix this, will I?” Jonas said. After a moment, Reb, reluctantly, nodded. Jonas stepped forward to stand with her and Cato, and the three of them waited as those three shapes on the road drew nearer to them, Cato’s heart thrumming in his chest.
k k
Reb squinted at the three figures closing on them in the dusk-dark light, the sun wholly invisible behind the dark clouds boiling overhead. Her heart was hammering. She had no idea what to expect here, and two rosemary-and-salt circles didn’t feel like remotely enough protection, even with the cityangel at her back. The figures were still indistinct, the purple of the demon wisping and clouding around them. Was that…
Marcia, behind her, swore. “Selene.”
Marcia had been right, then, however ridiculous it might sound that the Teren Lord Lieutenant would be attacking Marek with a demon. There must be something more to all of this – and whatever was going on, it couldn’t possibly be in anyone’s best interests for Teren and Marek to be at odds – but politics wasn’t Reb’s strong point at the best of times, and right now it wasn’t important. Once they’d – if they – dealt with this, Marcia could take on that side of things. Surely it could be resolved.
She reached out to Cato, and, after a moment of hesitation, he took her hand, and reached out to take Jonas’ on his other side.
“Is this necessary?” Cato asked. “We’re in a circle, that ought to be enough.” Cato never had been much of one for working with other sorcerers. He’d never ever apprenticed. She wondered, suddenly, feeling the tenseness of his hand in hers, if he felt he’d missed out.
“Skin contact helps,” Reb said. “And I think we need all we can get, here.”
“Do we need – herbs, or anything?” Jonas asked. His voice shook, just a little. Cato couldn’t blame him.
“Something to strengthen the Marek bond,” Cato said. “And something to strengthen us. Soot, and floor sweepings, for Marek.”
“I have those,” Reb said, using her free hand to reach into the herb-bags at her belt.
“I have ginger,” Cato said, dropping her hand and digging into his own pocket.
Together, they threw a pinch of each into the circle at Beckett’s feet. The ingredients began to swirl in their own little dust spout, and Reb took Cato’s hand again.
“You need me too,” Marcia said. “The Marek bond.”
“Marcia…” Reb said.
“This is my fight too,” Marcia said. “I can’t do magic, but I am of House Fereno. I am of Marek.”
“Yes, and being of the Houses is exactly why you shouldn’t be doing magic,” Reb pointed out. “Again.”
“I’m not doing magic,” Marcia said. “I am supporting the defence of our city. And I am damned if I’m going to put the House absurdity about magic over the safety of Marek. Or – well. Never mind that now.”
Cato was looking over his shoulder at Marcia, and Reb couldn’t quite read his expression. Of course, Marcia had spent the last ten years interpreting Marekhill strictures about sorcerers as loosely as possible so she could stay in contact with her brother, and she’d been getting away with it just fine. Then Marcia met Reb’s eyes, and Reb wondered… but she couldn’t think about that right now.
Marcia moved next to Tait and laid one hand on Reb’s shoulder and the other on Cato’s. Reb’s back tingled at the touch. She smelt Marcia’s lemon soap; she felt Marcia’s hand on her shoulder linking her down into the ground, and a taste of Marekhill in the back of her throat. There was a rush of energy through Cato’s hand into hers: Marekhill again, more distant this time; three different overlaid sets of feelings about the city; a sense of connectedness; the calls of seagulls in her ears and the smell of the sea – Jonas?
Selene, and the person who must be the Teren sorcerer controlling the demon, and the demon, cloudy deep purple and oozing a power that Reb could feel even through the barrier, stopped in front of them.
“Selene,” Marcia said.
“Fereno-Heir. Is this really your business? Sorcery?”
“You’ve brought a demon to Marek. It most certainly is my business,” Marcia sounded furious. “And if you don’t back off right now and send that thing back where it belongs, I will tell the Council all about it. I thought you wanted closer links between Marek and Teren? This is hardly the way to go about it.”
“You’ve been undermining that since I got here,” Selene said. “Guilds and the prosperity of Marek and all that nonsense. You’ll talk to the Council, though, will you? Really? You’re prepared to instigate civil war between Marek and Teren for the sake of some Teren sorcerer? And out yourself as using magic? Are you sure?” She gestured to Tait, standing next to Beckett. “Alternatively, you could hand that one there over and we would be all done here. No more trouble.”
“I’m not using magic,” Marcia said.
Selene’s eyebrows went up. “You are standing immediately next to someone who is. Are you certain you can defend yourself from the accusation?”
“I am certain that you should keep your nose out of Mareker matters which do not concern you,” Marcia snapped. “It is not for you to decide what using magic does or does not look like. And I’m certain that I’m not going to hand someone over for you to feed to a demon.”
“No one is doing that,” Reb said. Whatever she might have said before, right here and now, she finally knew she couldn’t consider doing anything of the sort. She felt a wriggle of regret and self-recrimination that she’d sent Tait away in the first place. Not that taking them in would have helped avoid this, and Cato had stepped up where she’d failed, but…
But she should have known better. Cato doing a better job than her was a hard thing to swallow.
Selene shrugged. “It’s their demon in the first place.”
“I banished it,” Tait said, their voice shaking.
“True,” the demon said, in a voice that scraped glass across the nerves. “And then this one brought me back to search for you.”
“Ha!” Cato said. He glanced over at Reb. “Told you so.”
Then why? Why did tracking down one sorcerer matter this much; so much that Selene was prepared to antagonise Marek for it? Or was she assuming that no one else would know about this, that she’d win?
Reb glanced over her shoulder and saw Marcia biting her lip, lines of concentration folded between her eyebrows. Marcia was the one who knew politics. This wasn’t her problem. Her problem was the magic here; and if the demon was giving things away, maybe that was a sign that it wasn’t as predictable as Selene thought.
Of course, that didn’t mean it was any less powerful; but it might make it possible to scare it away. Spirits didn’t normally try to bother Beckett. Reb didn’t believe that this one would be trying this of its own accord. Gently, a tiny movement, she squeezed Cato’s hand, and he squeezed back, just as small a movement. Marcia’s hand tightened on her shoulder.
Selene scowled at the demon. “Quiet!
” She turned to the sorcerer, a quiet person in a dark hooded robe. “I thought you were in control here?”
“This isn’t easy, you know,” the sorcerer said through clenched teeth. They gestured, and the demon, evidently about to say something else, bulged at the corners of its shape and howled instead. It reached out towards Tait, and bounced off the rosemary-and-salt circle.
The circle was suddenly almost visible in the air around them, a dome of protective power that Reb could see with a sense that wasn’t sight. The demon dented it inwards, pushing as hard as it could, before it rebounded off again.
But as it pushed, Reb felt, attenuated by the circle, a change in the atmosphere around them, as if in trying to breach the protective circle, the demon had taken its attention away from its attempt to break into Marek as a whole.
Now.
Beckett’s voice echoed in Reb’s mind, and without hesitation, Reb opened her magic up, and felt Beckett grabbing fiercely at her attention. It was nothing like linking up with Zareth had been. It was terrifying, an out-of-control feeling like nothing she’d ever done before, and it took all she had not to close herself back down again, yank herself out of it.
Through Beckett she felt again a faint echo of Cato, and the sea-tinged feel of Jonas, unsure and untrained but with something behind his sorcery that she couldn’t identify at all. Beckett linked them all through to Tait, and Reb could feel them too, Tait’s worry and ambivalence and a willingness, now, to do whatever it took to solve this problem. Behind that, echoing back through her shoulder and Cato’s into Beckett, without any tinge of sorcery, Marcia and the Houses and Marekhill, a deep and unbreakable linkage to the city that rooted all of them into the ground, tendrils spreading out underneath them.
